Chapter Seven
Fable’s eyes fluttered open as dawn broke through the unshuttered windows of the second floor guest chambers.
She was alone in the bed.
Had she dreamed of him holding her, warming her, their arms and legs tangled together?
What was she doing here again? Had she really left last night, or was it all a dream? What had happened in the rain? How had she gotten back to Colchester House? She remembered the duke saying he would like nothing more than to stop concerning himself with her.
Yes, she’d left.
Who brought her back?
She didn’t wait long to find out when Edith entered her bedroom with a basin of fresh water.
“Who brought me back?”
Edith set the basin down and looked away.
“Why, it was the duke, of course.”
Why would he bring her back when he didn’t want to concern himself with her? “Where is he?”
Edith looked around.
“I thought he’d be here.”
“Edith,”
Fable tried to sit up but a wave of dizziness washed over her and she lay back down.
“Was he here with me last night?”
“Where, Miss? In this room?”
Fable didn’t answer.
“No, Miss,”
Edith told her.
“I didn’t see him.”
Suddenly Fable was overcome with loneliness.
Oh, she’d experienced it before, plenty of times.
But this time was especially painful.
Benjamin West was a man she could have loved passionately, madly.
But she was poor–and poor wasn’t a good thing to be.
So much that a father reached across the grave to make certain his son never married beneath him.
Fable had been poor all her life.
It never hurt as much as it did now.
He’d never be with her.
Even if he defied his father’s last wish, his sister wouldn’t give him a moment’s peace.
He went and brought her in from the rain.
It didn’t mean anything except what she already knew.
He was a good guy.
He was staying away now, wasn’t he? She sighed with frustration.
How long before she was well enough to leave?
She asked Edith to ask the physician, who informed the duke of her question.
He finally showed up by her bed when night settled over Colchester and she woke from a fevered dream of being in her bed with him, safe in his arms.
He wasn’t in her bed, but standing by it.
Light from the hearth-fire and the many candles surrounding them provided Fable a clear view of him.
When he saw her eyes open, he let out a sigh.
Then, “How are you feeling?”
She might be delusional but the quiet gentleness in his voice was missing, leaving his question cold.
“I think I’ll live.”
He was silent for a moment, then, “What do you mean by asking the physician how long before you’re well enough to leave?”
“Listen, Your Grace, you’ve done enough for me.
I need to be going.”
“Going where? I don’t want you going off alone again at the mercy of someone unpleasant.”
She froze as an icy fissure ran up her spine, to her head, bringing back the memory of being followed in the pouring rain–and the time-traveler’s voice.
You call for the duke.
Do you know him?
Why would he ask that of all questions? Did he know the duke? She set her gaze on Ben’s face.
“I heard his voice.”
“Who,” he asked.
“The one who brought me here.
The time-traveler.
That night in the rain…he was following me and then he asked me if I knew you.”
“You saw him the night you left?”
His voice quavered a little and the blood drained from his face.
“Yes.”
“I thought I saw…something.
When I reached you, you were alone.”
She nodded her head.
“He was there before you.
He may have still been there when you arrived.
It was almost impossible to see him in the rain.
Otherwise, if he had more time, he would have probably tied me to his horse and taken me to Ipswich.
Why else would he have followed me here?”
He stood over the bed, grinding his jaw and balling his hands into fists at his sides.
“I should have come for you sooner.
I shouldn’t have let you go.”
She remembered his words before she left.
“Your Grace, I know you don’t want to have to concern yourself with me.”
He grimaced as if her words pained him.
“I misspoke.
Forgive me.”
She nodded easily, but then shook her head.
“You’re not responsible for me.”
“I said I would protect you.”
“Well, I release you from that obligation.”
“I can’t be released from it,”
he told her.
“Though, I can’t promise how long until I’m called back to fight for the king.It’s what I have been waiting for.
It’s what I need.”
She tried not to let it prick her in the heart that he couldn’t wait to return to battle.
That he would rather possibly die than stay here–with her.
He said he needed it.
She knew all that silent darkness in him needed a way out.
She knew now what had put it there–Rage toward his parents’ murderers and the inability to save his mother.
I would have killed others around me, possibly myself.
Battle saved me.
“What if he doesn’t call?”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
he asked, his tone laced with alarm.
“How badly were you injured?”
He sat at the edge of the bed and loosened the laces at his throat, then pulled down his collar to show her his shoulder.
She almost gasped at the sight of it.
For it wasn’t simply a scar.
It was more like a carved out web of smaller scars left from reattaching what muscles and tendons they could.
“I practice strengthening my arm everyday,”
he told her.
“It’s taken hard work.”
She ran her fingers down his shoulder.
“Can you wield a sword?”
“Yes,”
he answered in a low murmur.
“I’ll show you how well I wield it if the traveler comes here.”
She decided she loved the sound of him.
She also decided something else.
“I’m not going to give him the pocket watch.
When you go back to war, I’ll find out how to use the watch and go back to the twenty-first century.
You don’t have to worry about me.”
He was quiet for a while, until she wondered if she’d said something wrong.
She was still so sleepy.
“I just mean I understand you have enough to worry about.
I don’t want to add to it.”
“If I want to worry about you, I will,”
he told her with a stubborn tilt of his chin.
She never wanted to kiss anyone more.
She felt feverish.
Was it him who made her so hot? “What did you say? If you want to kiss me, you will?”
“What?”
He looked lost, but only for a moment, then he smiled, looking as feverish as she.
A full seductive smile and Fable felt her body going weak facing him.
“Oh, yes,”
he amended silkily.
“I did say that.”
He leaned in closer.
Fable’s heart crashed against her chest.
But wait, no! She wasn’t staying here.
Was she?She didn’t pull away when he fit her chin in his fingers and tilted her head for her to look at him.
She wanted to tell him so many things, promise him everything–though she had nothing to give.
She closed her eyes and parted her lips, hoping he would kiss her.
When he didn’t, she opened her eyes again to see him smiling at her in the candlelight.
“Fable,”
he said her name in a deep, needful voice, “you don’t have to run anymore.
You are safe here.”
She closed her eyes again and smiled at the thought of such protection and safety that she could stop running.
She wanted him to kiss her but his arms coming around her sent her head to the clouds, and her heart to the safest refuge she’d ever known.
Later, she fell into a fevered sleep and dreamed of kissing him.
She dreamed of smiling when his kisses crossed her mind.
She’d seen her mother kiss her boyfriends and it always sickened her.
When she grew older the only boys she ever kissed were Ed Drake and Bobby Hudd.
They were nothing to dream about.
But she was sure Benjamin West’s kiss could make her dream when she was awake.
She thought he may have wiped down her forehead and face throughout the day, but she wasn’t sure. All she could do was pray for the night to come when she could hold him in her arms again.
“Are you hungry?”
he asked, sitting by her bed.
Had he been waiting for her to wake up? She smiled to show him that she was awake and also because it was nice to see his face when she opened her eyes.
“More soup?”
He nodded with the slightest expression of pity on her, then he stood up and called out for Edith.
A servant Fable knew as Kevin appeared instead.
Where’s Edith?”
the duke barked.
“She…she…”
the servant stammered.
Fable could see why he would.
The duke was quite an imposing man with his arrow straight spine, and eyes that could penetrate even the most formidable defenses.
“She what?”
His quiet words were laced with impatience.
“She was ordered to tend to your sister.”
The duke went still and silent.
Witnessing him turn so seemingly unaffected, so guarded and cold was almost more frightening than his dark scowls and booming shouts.
“Bring Miss Ramsey some soup.
Then go tell Edith that if she isn’t back here in–”
“Your Grace?”
Fable interrupted.
When he turned to her, she smiled and softened her brow, motioning him to lighten his tone.
He caught on and did as she bid.
“Bring the soup.
That will be all.”
When they were alone, he returned to the bedside and gave her a concerned look.
“You look pale.”
She crooked her mouth at him and felt her lips crack.
“Hmm, I don’t feel so good.”
Without waiting for another word, he dashed out of her rooms.
She heard him shout for the physician to be brought to Miss Ramsey immediately.
Then he rushed back to her and took her hand.
“You’re on fire!”
He brought her basin of water closer and wiped her down, behind her neck, in front, over her forehead.
“Come now, dear Fable.
You’re not going to let a thing like a fever defeat you.
Hold on to me.”
She had enough strength to reach for him and take his hand.
But that was all.
In her head, she scoffed at her weakness.
He was right.
She’d fought worse things than a fever.
She’d been stabbed by one of her mother’s enemies, she’d had pneumonia, chicken pox, and the measles.
She was allergic to strawberries and barely survived on the sofa of a friend of her mother’s. There was more but she couldn’t remember all of it. Fever. Schmever.
She held onto his hand while another man poked and prodded her, took her pulse, and fed her horrible tasting “tea”.
She was vaguely aware of the second man leaving, and then the duke’s steady voice that made her insides rumble.
“I’ll be right here.”
#
Fable woke to the sound of music permeating the walls.
She opened her eyes to Edith scurrying around her bed.
When the older woman saw her, she stopped and let her grin fill her face.
“It’s good to have you back, Miss.”
Fable hoped she was back for good.
“I dreamed that I woke up back home in the future, so I was afraid to open my eyes.”
Edith came closer to the bed.
“Oh, Miss,”
she lamented, “you’re not fully well yet then.”
Right, people didn’t travel through time.
Edith didn’t know what Fable knew.
She decided the best thing to do was try to forget it.
But it had truly frightened her.
She didn’t want to go back to a life alone on the streets. Not ever.
“It was a dream, Edith,”
she managed a soft laugh.
“Oh, and what’s that music? It’s pretty…and loud.”
“It’s the musicians downstairs in the ballroom,”
Edith told her, hurrying over to press her palm against Fable’s forehead.
“Thank the good Lord, the fever seems to have broken.”
Yes, Fable agreed.
Her head seemed to be clearer.
Streaks of crimson washed across her face when she remembered how she’d held onto the duke and then held his hand.
She wanted to kick herself.
What was she? Some pitiful soul without an ounce of pride? Ugh.
She disgusted herself.
“Wait,”
she said after a moment of consternation at herself, “the ballroom? Is today Lady Prudence’s Marriage ball?”
Edith nodded.
“And today is over.
It’s tonight, Miss.”
“How long have I been asleep?”
“Two full days,”
Edith told her with a sigh, then leaned in and whispered.
“Had His Grace worried sick.”
Two days.
It echoed in her head.
It was the night of his sister’s ball and he wasn’t here.
Good.
She’d told him not to worry about her anymore.
It seemed that’s what he was trying to do.But Edith said he’d been worried sick over her.
She didn’t want him to be.
Did she? Somewhere deep inside she wanted to take joy in the fact that someone cared for her, but she knew better.
She’d come here via supernatural forces.
None of this was permanent.
She’d wake up for real and in a flash all this would be gone.
Or he’d come for her.
You call for the duke.
Do you know him?
She pushed the time-traveler out of her mind and let Ben take over.
“Is His Grace at the ball?”
She really didn’t want to know–but she had to know.
Edith nodded.
“Yes.
He promised Lady Prudence he would attend if she would stay out of his private affairs.
But he hasn’t left your bedside before that.”
Fable smiled and asked for Edith’s help propping her up against the pillows.
When Edith served her chicken broth and carrot soup, she drank every bit.
“His Grace will be pleased that you ate.”
“Edith,”
Fable said, putting down her spoon.
“I’ve asked myself this question over and over.
Maybe you can answer it.
Why would a duke care one whit about a street urchin, except for pity’s sake?”
“What’s wrong with pity’s sake, Miss? I’d proudly serve a compassionate master rather than a merciless one.”
Fable agreed, although she had no intentions of serving any masters.
“Is the duke compassionate then?”
At least he seemed to be–
“No, not usually,”
Edith told her.
“This is the most I’ve ever seen of his warmer side.
None of us knew it existed.”
“C’mon now,”
Fable shooed her away.
“Don’t you try to tell me you didn’t know the duke was so kind.”
“He’s only been back to Colchester House for three years–”
“Three years is long enough,”
Fable told her.
“Miss, I can tell you this.
He is the king’s soldier first and foremost.
He’s never had us beaten, but no one has ever disobeyed him.”
“Well,”
Fable said, confidently.
“I’m sure if any of his servants was injured or ill, His Grace would do anything in his power to help.”
Edith went about her work with a smile while Fable’s mind raced with a million different images of the duke dancing downstairs.
Who was he with? Was he really choosing a wife down there? Fable’s heart faltered.
Was he? Would she lose him forever to some nobleman's daughter?
The longer she sat there without him coming to her, the more restless she became.
The second Edith left, Fable hurried out of bed.
She swayed a little, feeling lightheaded from not being on her feet for days.
She waited until her head cleared and then padded out of her rooms.
She had to get to the top of the stairs to see into the ballroom.
She just wanted to take a peek.
She stayed down low to remain unseen as the guests filed into the house.
There were very few men entering.
Most of the guests were young ladies with their mothers, though she could scarcely tell who was young and who was older thanks to their powdered faces and high powdered wigs.
They were all here to snag the duke as a husband.
Fable was reminded of a documentary she saw once about animal auctions.
The duke was the animal up for sale to the highest bidder.
It fired Fable’s blood.
Then she saw him.
He stopped in her view, just a side view, but, oh, her gaze fastened on him in an aubergine-colored, velvet justaucorps worn open to reveal his tight physique in a silk-velvet vest and breeches.
He stood with his hands folded behind his arrow-straight back.
Of course, he wore a high, elaborately-tied, uncomfortable looking cravat beneath his square chin and carved jaw.
He wore a black wig with two horizontal rolls above his ears and a ponytail tied with a black ribbon at the back of his nape.
As if sensing her, he turned to look outside the open doors of the ballroom.
Fable quickly hid in the shadows.
But she watched him look her way.
Her knees almost gave out with the threat of being caught spying on him like a fool.
But…it was more than that.
She felt weak at the sight of him, the way his eyes promised her deep, intimate things and said: You’re all I care about.
First before all else.
The reason I live or the reason I die.
It tempted her to step out of the shadows so his eyes could find her and pour out things he couldn’t say.
Edith entered the ballroom and beckoned the duke for a word just out of Fable’s sight.
It didn’t matter.
He came into view an instant later and left the ballroom with Edith following behind.
And headed for the stairs!
Fable held her hands over her mouth while she gasped and took off running to her rooms.
She almost made it to her door when her slippered foot stepped on something small and shot a hot streak of pain through her leg.
She went down like those pitiful women in the movies who fall while they’re trying to escape.
“Fable!”
his voice reached her when he called out.
She swore and tried to get back on her feet.
“Miss Ramsey!”
the duke commanded while he sprinted to her and scooped her up off the floor.
She wanted to disappear into the woodwork.
“What are you doing out of your room with no shoes?”
he asked, carrying her into her sitting room.
He sat her down on the settee and knelt to examine her foot.
“Are you choosing a wife tonight?”
she boldly asked as if that was a sufficient answer to his question.
“No,”
he let her know.
He looked up from her foot and covered it with his hand.
“I want no wife.”
She chewed her lip.
“But you never know.
You might meet that one woman who makes you change your mind–”
Was he smirking at her? It was subtle, but it was there. “Oh,”
she smirked back, “you don’t think you’ll ever meet her, Your Grace?”
“I’ve no doubt I will.
She might turn my head, but my heart remains steadfast to a cause bigger than love and devotion.”
“Nothing is bigger than love and devotion,”
she corrected him with a soft laugh.
“You can live without revenge and anger.
But without love and devotion, you become an empty shell.”
“Is that what I am, then, an empty shell?”
he asked her.
“Yes,”
she answered without hesitation.
“You need someone to fill you up.
If you choose the right person, you can be happy for the rest of your life.
If you choose the wrong woman, your misery will be unmeasured.”
He chuckled softly.
“That’s a very important choice then.”
“It’s nothing to laugh at, Ben.”
From the door came a collective gasp at her familiar use of his name–or that he chuckled–Fable didn’t know which.
She looked up to see Edith and a number of the guests at the door, watching them.
With a glare that sent most of them running, the duke rose up, went to the door and slammed it shut.
Fable watched him return and sit on the settee with her.
“Do you feel up to a dance with me?”
“What?”
she asked, with a series of short blinks.
“Your foot isn’t cut,”
he told her quietly, close enough for her to lose herself in the fathomless depths of his eyes.
At first impression one would say he was stoic and emotionless, but staring into his eyes right now, Fable could almost feel the intensity of many passions buried deep beneath the mask of indifference he wore.
“Do you want to go to the ball?”
She laughed and leaned back a little.It wasn’t that she didn’t want him to try to kiss her.
It was because if he kissed her, she’d probably faint.
“No.
Thank you but–”
“I ordered some dresses to be made for you.
I’ll check if they’re ready.”
“No, Ben, really,”
she said, stopping him.
“I don’t think I can stand those women.”
“Come and stand by my side.”
She laughed a little, but then grew serious.
“Are you ill?”
She lifted her hand to his forehead.
He took hold of her wrist and slid his fingers to hers.
“You should be there.”
Did she hear him right? Would she faint even if he didn’t kiss her? “But why?”
she said, sincerely astonished.
“Because I won’t find the woman I might lose my heart to–that is, if she exists– if she’s not down there.”
Fable stared at him for a few seconds, unsure of what to do–what to say.
Was he teasing? He had to be teasing.
Should she laugh? What if he wasn’t teasing and she laughed? She knew nothing about this.
She had no one to ask.
And why was he trying to start something when he just professed that he didn’t want a wife, when he knew that if the king called he’d be gone without a thought? Would she wait for him? She felt like she was in an historical romance novel, like the one Olivia, her mother’s friend, read to her and the hero was going off to war soon.
If he went he might not return alive.
She pushed away the thought of it. Should she let herself get attached to a guy who, despite his rigorous training, might be denied his dream? What would happen to him then? Would he be alone, too hard for one of those pansy rich ladies to handle?
She let out a deep breath and rolled up her sleeves.
This wasn’t the smart thing to do, but she was moved by him.
Moved by her own emotions for another person for the first time since she could remember.
She decided to ride them out and see where they led, even if it was all temporary.
What else did she have to do? And who safer than Lord West to ride them out with? She straightened her shoulders.
“Fine.
Go get me a dress and send Edith to do my hair–”
she almost lost her breath and couldn’t go on when his smile broke through the gloom and shone like the sun– “and let’s play the game.”
He blinked his dark, dusky eyes. “Game?”
“Yes, the game of me showing them all the only kind of woman you need.”
“Or want,”
he added, his tone surprisingly silky.
Someplace below her navel burned.
Burned for him.
“But I’m immune to your charms–”
His smile, along with his gaze turned doubtful, stopping her.
She cast him a challenging smirk.
“You think your charms faze me?”
He scrunched up his nose and squinted his eyes to offer her a sympathetic smile and a nod to go with it.
“I’ll go get those dresses.”
He slipped from the room before she could gather her wits and reply.
She was glad he was gone.
Was he kidding her with that playful smile? Maybe she couldn’t handle him either.
Before she had too much time to think it all through, Edith returned to her carrying an armful of skirts, Beth, one of the servants, followed behind her with bodices and corsets filling her arms, and Helen–who turned out to be very pretty, and married– carried her new shoes.
Three women dressed her in a mantua, a dress draped and looped over beautiful yellow floral silk petticoats and a stomacher.
The laces were tied so tightly her shoulder blades almost touched.
When she complained about it, Edith told her that it and the high bustle in the back were to enhance her silhouette.
Fable didn’t care about her silhouette.
She shifted and tugged at the dress even while her hair was brushed.
She didn’t complain while fingers pulled and pinned her copper locks to the back of her head and secured it with a thin ribbon.
Tiny yellow flowers were woven through her ponytail and through the long, coiled strands falling over her shoulder.
“Oh my,”
Edith said, stepping back to admire her when all was done.
“You look splendid indeed.”
Fable felt like a fool in a puffy dress.
At least she didn’t have to wear a wig.
She covered her flushed cheek with her palm and smiled at her.
“Thank you, Edith.”
“I checked his whereabouts this time,”
the older woman confessed with the hint of a smile.
“He hasn’t moved from outside your door.”
Fable closed her eyes, unable to believe this was her life right now, dressing like some princess for the ball–with the handsome prince waiting to escort her.
Her heart pounded in her chest.
Lord Benjamin West was too dangerous to her head, her heart, and her body.
She had to tell him the truth about how she survived on her own for so long without giving up her body.
How she hustled and robbed people of their money in cards, and games like chess.
He knew she was poor and he didn’t seem to care, unlike his sister.
But his father cared…even from the grave.
She closed her eyes to stop the burning and bit her bottom lip.
“What is it, Miss?”
Edith asked her softly.
“Don’t you see how his eyes warm on you alone? Why, in three years I’ve never seen the man smile or worry over anything.
But he does those things where you are concerned.
And only you.
Since the Lady Charlotte incident, no one can stop talking about the mysterious woman living here and how His Grace protects her like an angry lion.”
Fable’s eyes widened, and then her smile grew with it.
Edith grinned right along with her and nodded, encouraging her to be brave.
Fable sniffed.
Was Edith her first friend? Her mother didn’t let her play with other kids for fear they would tell their parents about her.
She just grew used to being alone so that even after her mother died, she didn’t make any friends.
She walked to the bedroom door and opened it.
He was there in the sitting room waiting for her.
When he saw her, he rose from the settee.
No one in her life had ever looked at her the way he was looking at her now.
As if she were all that mattered.
First, even before battle.