The Wicked Game (A Wicked Game Novel) (25 page)
Read The Wicked Game (A Wicked Game Novel) Online
Authors: Olivia Fuller
They were rolling around now and the images were fuzzy to Angela’s panicked mind. The rider pulled his arm back and pummeled his fist into the Duke’s already bleeding face, but the Duke, despite his age was not as weak as he looked and this time he refused to give up. He grasped for his assailants shirt and using the weight of his body, thrust him against a tree. He returned the punch that he had just received at which point Angela was able to clearly identify her rescuer as Andrew. Her soul overflowed as she realized what his actions meant but her elation was short lived as she watched the Duke’s next move. Instead of continuing to hit him, the Duke thrust his hand into his pocket and a glint of metal reached Angela’s vision.
She gasped and her heart fell from her body as she struggled to her feet desperate to help. But what could she do when she was out matched in both strength and weapons? The Duke’s horse neighed in the background and she decided that she must ride for help in the direction of the other approaching hooves. But the horse was more spooked by the current happenings than she was and so when she tried to take mount he took off at full speed towards the men. Andrew was facing Angela and could see what had happened so in one momentous thrust he freed himself from the Duke’s grasp just in time to avoid the crushing weight of the horse’s body.
A blood curdling scream escaped the Duke’s lips as Andrew threw his body over his wife to shield her from the sight. But she wanted to see, she had to see, and as the night watchmen arrived on their horses she never took her eyes off of him. The men went to him then and gained control of the horse in an effort to save the Duke, but Angela knew her nightmare was over forever. She turned her eyes to her husband now, to the place where they always should have been, and fell into his love.
***
He flicked his eye lids against the rain and forced them to stay wide. How much time had passed? He had dreamed of his entire life in the time he was asleep and to him it felt as if it had actually happened. His body was growing sore, an indicator of passing time, but as he mentally moved through every part of his body he could tell that he had no serious injuries and had most likely passed out from the shock. He flicked his eyelids against the rain again. How much time had passed? Well, it was still raining so it couldn’t have been too long. Long enough for his body to begin to ache and remind him that he was alive, but it had also been long enough for the ache within his heart to intensify. In fact, his heart hurt so much that he was losing feeling in his body.
Angela! Where was she? It was at this time that he realized the touch of something comforting on his forehead. He would know that sensation anywhere and he immediately leaned into it.
“Andrew, Andrew! Look at me!” He heard her voice call to him as another rain drop fell on his face. But when he looked up at her he realized that the drop that had just fallen on him was not rain at all but a tear from the depths of his love’s heart.
“My love.” He reached his hand up to her cheek and gently caressed the soft skin. “Oh how I missed you.”
“And I you.”
“And love? What of that?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Mind, body, and soul.” A pause. “And you? Do you love?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
He smiled; and then, despite the mud and the rain and the pain, he picked up his wife and took her home where he showed her exactly how much he loved her.
Sometime the next morning after the lovers had finally risen from their bed, they stood in the room of their daughter, arm in arm as they looked down at little Mary sleeping peacefully in her bassinet.
“What…” But Andrew pulled her in closer to him as he murmured sweet nothings into her ear.
“She will be safe. I will see to it.”
Angela turned to face him and was moved by what she saw. He was strong and steadfast, eyes fixed on a goal.
“How?” Her voice broke.
He pulled her back to his side, eyes still focused as he held her tight. “We will all be safe… and free. But first I must talk to Lord Abbott.”
***
From the highest balcony of the manor Lady Dillard watched the sun rise with a smile on her face. The sky was painted in reds, and blues, and golds and it reminded her of a beautiful watercolor that Angela had once painted for her. The wind whipped at her robe as the sun rose higher signaling the beginning of a new day and truth be told, a new world.
Soon servants would be opening doors to empty rooms and be confused by what they found. The messenger would be arriving soon and everything would be made clear then, that is if Lord Abbott did not arrive first. The servants would talk, Lady Dillard knew, but they always did when the head of household changed. A new Earl meant many changes but soon enough those changes would become custom and the story of the run away Earl and his wife and daughter would become that of legend. No one would understand of course, especially not the servants for who would choose to walk away from this life of privilege?
But Lady Dillard understood all too well. A soft smile crossed her lips as a tear rolled down to them. “Love helps you make the best decisions…”
And somewhere in the distance Andrew heard his grandmother’s praise as he held his wife and daughter tighter than ever before. Perhaps they would go back to Beldon but for the first time ever the world was open to them and anything and everything they wanted might be theirs. But they wanted for nothing.
They had their daughter. They had each other. They had their freedom.
And that was more than enough for them.
###
Olivia Fuller began writing at the age of 4. She self-published her books using folded paper and a stapler, and gave a new story to her kindergarten teacher every day. She no longer writes about baby dinosaurs, now preferring to write romances instead.
In her spare time she watches too much Netflix, laughs with her husband, and playfully narrates the lives of her cats, Cher and Rocket Kitty.
The Wicked Game Series
Connect with me online:
Did you love it? Don't forget to let me know by
rating it online!
http://www.facebook.com/oliviafullerauthor
https://twitter.com/OliviaFAuthor
http://www.pinterest.com/OliviaFAuthor
Read a sample
of
Something Wicked
, book 2 of
The Wicked Game Series
. Coming March 2013.
Now Available!
London, July 1813
Mary was lonely. And it was not a feeling that she liked in the least bit.
It was quite an unusual feeling, to be lonely in such a large group of people, yet she was. Usually parties were just the thing to raise her spirits, but this time it was the party that was the catalyst of her dissatisfaction.
There was nothing particularly wrong with the party—the hors d’oeuvres were delicious, the wine was free flowing, and the atmosphere was jovial—yet, try as she might, Mary could not raise her spirits and bring herself to enjoy the festivities.
Gregory Howard, Viscount Lincoln and Mary’s oldest friend, had recently arrived back in London and escorted her to the party. He wasn’t keeping her company at the moment but this was not the reason she was lonely. Greg might not be at her side but he was at the party somewhere and she could find him and keep his company any time she wished. Mary was lonely because the person she most wanted to spend time with was not at the party and would never be at an event such as this again.
That person was Angela.
Nearly two months had passed since Mary’s cousin and best friend, Angela, ran off and eloped with a servant from her father’s household. Not surprisingly, her actions sent the social world into frenzy and it was only now, months later, that everything was beginning to calm down. Mary was not ashamed to admit that she initially joined in the social revelry that surrounded her cousin’s scandalous departure. It made for fantastic party talk and Mary knew that if the situation was reversed, Angela would have done the same.
But as the dust settled, and the world returned to normal, Mary was no longer able to ignore this feeling that she was covering with idle gossip. She was alone. For the first time ever, she was alone and she was lonely.
She had Greg, yes, but that was a different sort of companionship—he was steadfast, loyal, and upstanding. While those same things could also be said of Angela, their relationship was based on a different sort of connection. Together they had gotten in far more innocent trouble than should have been allowed. They flirted, they laughed, they had one glass too many, and they enjoyed life.
But now Angela was gone and Mary wasn’t sure what to do with herself.
The worst part was that it wasn’t even the loneliness that caused her be so restless. It was the boredom.
The boredom was driving her mad.
Mary stifled a laugh, narrowly avoiding spitting wine across the floor, at the thought of Greg taking Angela’s place. Greg might be many things but he was not convivial. No, he would not be able to help her this time, even though he may try.
Mary was just reaching for a second glass of wine, sighing deeply, when Lady Thurston, one of the party’s hosts approached her. Though they were of a similar age, the two women had never met before, so Mary wasn’t sure why she was approaching her now. Whatever the reason, Mary wasn’t inclined to avoid her. Ever since Lady Thurston arrived in London last year for her marriage, Mary had secretly admired her graceful yet fiery demeanor—not to mention the beauty of her sleek raven hair and the delicate features of her olive skin that were the polar opposites of Mary’s own features.
“I do hope it’s not my party that’s causing you such malcontent, Lady Mary.” Lady Thurston flashed her lashes over emerald eyes.
“Oh, my.” Mary put her hand up against her cheek as if her feelings were actually written across her face. “Do forgive me. I assure you it’s not the party at all. This party is
very
lovely...” She trailed off.
“Oh, lovely is it? What a pity.” A smirk crossed Lady Thurston’s face. “Truth be told, I was rather hoping you were of a similar mind so that I’d have someone to share in my misery.”
Mary raised a brow.
“Not that I wish you misery, of course. But still...”
“Misery does love company.”
“Why yes it does.” Lady Thurston clasped her hands together in front of her. “So, Lady Mary, what is it that has you so miserable?”
“Oh, well, I’m not
miserable
...”
“Forgive me, Lady Mary, I know we’ve only just met but I’m afraid I must call your bluff. I might even be so bold as to say that you’re lying.”
Mary scoffed involuntarily and then smiled crookedly at her new companion. “That obvious is it?”
“Oh, most assuredly so.”
Mary scrunched her face at this assessment.
“Not to worry. I have always believed myself to have a keener eye than most. I’m sure that no one has noticed it but me.”
“Thank God. I must say that I’m not in the mood to be ‘saved’ from boredom tonight. Present company excluded of course, Lady Thurston,” Mary said as she nodded in her host’s direction.
“I believe that once one person has called another person’s bluff then formalities are no longer necessary. A simple ‘Priscilla’ should suffice, I say.”
“I much prefer ‘Mary’ myself... though I can’t say I prefer being accused of such wicked things as lying.” Mary smiled wryly.
“Lying is wicked?” Priscilla let out one sharp laugh. “Lying is probably the most un-wicked thing that takes place in our world.”
“Is that so?” Mary’s eyes lit up as she eyed her new companion. “Tell me, Priscilla, what do you know about wicked things?”
“Ah! I knew it.” Priscilla face brimmed with excitement.
Mary raised a brow, suspicious but intrigued. “You knew what?”
“I do believe I asked you a question first. A question that you are still avoiding.”
“Oh, enough about me.” Mary shook her head. “I should like to hear more about you.”
“You first, and then I promise I’ll tell you whatever it is you want to know.”
Mary exhaled sharply. “Are you sure you’d like to know what’s on my mind? I must warn you that my story is far plainer that you’re probably suspecting. I shouldn’t wish to bore you with it. What with all of this talk of wickedness I’m sure that I shall...”
“
Bore me?
Are we not attending the same party, my dear Mary?” Priscilla laughed and reached out a friendly hand to touch Mary’s own hand. “I promise you, whatever it is, I shall remain perfectly attentive. Nothing you have to say can possibly be duller than the drivel that this lot considers suitable for conversation.”
“If you insist then. But I warned you.” Mary pointed her finger at Priscilla. “What’s on my mind, you ask? Well, several things. But it all boils down to one thing, mostly. I miss my dear cousin Angela and without her I find myself quite lonely.”
“Is that all, then?” Priscilla gave her a knowing look.
“And bored. Without her, I find myself very bored indeed.” And then Mary reaffirmed herself. “Excruciatingly bored and lonely!”
“So it
is
as I expected,” Priscilla said.
“And what is that?”
“You’re one of those kinds of women—those kinds of people I should say—as am I.”
“And what kind of woman is that?” Mary was very curious and excited now.
“A woman who is not satisfied doing only what society says should satisfy her.” Priscilla lowered her voice and leaned in conspiratorially.
“This lot,” Priscilla gestured around the room, “is perfectly content to accept their place in life as a ‘lady.’ Even the ones who realize that something is off and unfair. You and I, we are not like them.”
“Oh, yes. That.” Mary smiled with wide eyes. “I must say that this idea isn’t something new to me. I made that same observation about proper ladies many years ago. Though I’ve never met anyone other than Angela who truly understood exactly what I meant and how I was feeling...”