Chapter 2
Victoria had her head downcast and her brows furrowed as she awaited word on the matter at hand. Her hope was that Lord Reginald would agree to the arrangement. Moreover, she hoped that he would be sensible about it, understanding that Victoria was offering no more than companionship…and very little of that. She was quite aware of the fact that she lacked the feminine ability to placate gentlemen for the sake of their sex alone. She could offer lively conversation, that was to be sure, but she would never soften nor change any of her opinions for the pleasure of others. And if she were engrossed in her own studies and interests, she could not be bothered to attend the whims of another. All her dearest friends knew to not bother her while she had a book in hand. Of course, her dearest friends were all sailors—her father’s men and more like kind uncles than anything else. They were her people, and she had not seen them in nearly a year.
Victoria was lonely. And yet, that was a fact she refused to admit. She attributed her mood to her longing for the sea. For years, the sea had been her home, and she wanted nothing so much as she wanted to be back there again—free to do as she pleased, free to be herself without judgment or reprimand. It was that deep desire for freedom that made Edenbridge Hall, with its land, great library, and distance from the pressures of the capital, not such a terrible compromise.
And compromise she must. Victoria was no fool. She and her mother were in ruin—without a coin to their name. There would be no moving forward without the aid of a man. The two of them were in it together, and as her mother could not marry, their salvation was set in Victoria’s sacrifice.
Six years. Maybe seven. It would take every ounce of her slim patience, but Victoria had resigned herself to this duty. She would do what she could to secure both their futures. No, Victoria did not like it, but it was a necessary inconvenience to attain the life she desired—far away from here.
She was meditating deeply on these subjects when a hooded figure came into view. He was headed her way. Victoria made a sour face. With all this land about, why did some stranger feel it necessary that they cross paths? She cut to the right, venturing farther from the house—away from the annoyance of having to exchange pleasantries with anyone.
There was no formal route to take, so she pressed over rocks and branches and up a slight hill. On the other side of it lay a mossy valley rich with ferns. This was a far more pleasant prospect. Distinctly, she could hear the gentle rushing of water. There was a stream nearby, and she decided she would very much like to find it—for it might be her new favorite escape.
Before she could get much farther, however, there came a shout.
“You there! What do you think you are doing?”
She gazed back in the direction from whence she came. It was the hooded man, of course. She called back to him. “Thank you for your concern, but I require no assistance. Be on your way, sir.”
Instead, he took wide steps, making it up the hill in about half the time it took her to traverse the same distance. Isn’t this annoying, she thought.
The nearer the man came, the bigger she realized he was. Once the two met, Victoria saw that she came merely to his chest. But size meant very little to Victoria. She was raised by large men, and she knew she could hold her own among them.
“I said, what do you think you are doing?” he demanded
How tedious, she thought, that this man insisted on bothering her. “And I say, what business is it of yours?”
Victoria paid little mind to the appearance of the fellow. She was scanning his body for weapons and planning a route of escape—if it came to all that.
In kind, the man was assessing Victoria, and this is what he saw: a tall and slender young woman wearing a smart velveteen vest in a sapphire shade atop a delicate turquoise gown. The neckline was open, exposing her collarbones, which were adorned with a gold pendant. Though her shoes were of a feminine variety, they were serviceable enough for the trek she was making, and so he could not fault her on that particular point—though he would have very much liked to. The woman was of fine breeding, if he were to judge by her attire and not her address of him. She had long brunette hair, that fell in the most enticing natural waves, and in it was a loosely tied ribbon the same shade as her gown. Her cheeks were freckled and kissed by the sun, her lips full and rosy, and her blue-green eyes were…thoroughly unimpressed with him.
It was not a reaction this particular young man was used to. He was accustomed to being met with fear and trepidation, particularly in dealing with women. Unbeknownst to him, he’d come to rely on such reactions. Being met without fear now left him slightly unsure as to how to proceed.
“What business of mine?” He snorted. “Do you know whose land this is?”
Looking him over from head to toe, Victoria judged this fellow to be a groundskeeper or a hunter employed by Lord Reginald. “Certainly not yours,” Victoria answered. “And anyway, it’s land. Who’s to stop me from walking where I please?”
“Go any way you like, but know that the direction in which you are currently headed will lead you straight into the cursed wood.” He very much intended this to have an effect on the girl, but there was none. Indeed, she mocked him.
“Cursed?” She raised a brow. There was a glimmer of a smirk on her lips. “I suppose it must be very frightening for you to venture so near a cursed wood. I suggest you turn back now if you fear the safety of your soul. Know that you have done your duty. I consider myself well-warned.” And with that, Victoria turned her back on him and continued on her way.
She attempted to, at least. But a strong hand gripped her elbow. Victoria spun around to glare at the man. Close enough was he now that she could see beneath his hood. Their eyes met. Shame rose in his breast. It’s done, he thought. Might as well go all the way. He tore back the hood with angry zest, exposing a scarred face.
Up his neck and all along his left cheek, there was something like an old burn or maybe a very violent cut. Victoria neither knew nor cared. She had seen many scars. She’d seen the birth of scars and had nursed dear friends back from devastating wounds. What did she care? Scars were a fact of life—for those who ventured to live anyway. And so, when she looked upon her unwelcomed companion with uninspired interest, it was he who was shocked. The girl was unflinching, and he was a man accustomed to inciting a flinch.
In the short span of their acquaintance, she’d contradicted his desires more than once. He was now severely annoyed. “You must leave.”
“Sir, I am making my attempt. If you would be so kind as to release me, I will continue on my way.”
“You may proceed to the village, but I will not allow you into that wood by yourself.”
“I see. You are trying to be gallant. That is very kind.” She gave him an insincere smile. “I assure you it is unnecessary.”
“Rest assured, I have never been accused of gallantry before. I stop you now only because I have no wish to pull your corpse from the brush. If you value your life, you will return to the village.”
“I’ve no business in the village. This is where I wish to be.”
“Soon, you will be wishing for your life.”
She cocked her head. “Is that a threat?”
“You may as well consider it one. You are stubborn, miss, but I am more so.”
“Ah. I was mistaken. It was not a threat so much as it was a challenge.” She smirked at him, holding her chin high and never once dropping her gaze from his.
“I do not know what your game is, miss, but you have no business here. If you refuse to leave on your own accord, I carry you out.”
“You may try.”
“I will, and I will see that the law escorts you from this property.”
“This property? It is as good as mine. If anything, I will have you removed. If you value your wages, be gone. Stop annoying me. I’m sure you have your work to attend to, and I have mine.”
It was his turn to smirk. “What work could you have in the wood? Are you telling me you are a witch?”
“If I say that I am, will you leave? If I threaten a curse, can I be rid of you?”
His expression grew more grim than before. “What a stupid thing you are to make such jokes. Women have been hanged for hints of witchcraft, and you lay claim to it?”
Victoria ripped her arm away from his hold. “You both insult and bother me! Go away, you wretched man! Can’t you see I wish to be alone?”
“I see you are incapable of listening, and I have better things to do with my time than argue. I say this one last time: Start back, or I will drag you back.”
“If you attempt such impudence, I will see to it that you are escorted from Edenbridge Hall without wages.”
“What a claim! You know a great deal about Edenbridge Hall?”
“More than you, that is certain.”
“Pray then, tell me: who are you?”
“I am the lady of the house.”
At that, the man threw his head back and laughed. Victoria’s anger rose to new heights. She hated this man and decided to focus all her rage, disappointment, and pain from the last three years (as well as the next six) onto this man’s head—or, more specifically, his shin.
The heel of her boot connected, and he buckled forward, a look of pure amazement on his rugged face. Victoria remained there long enough for him to witness the defiance in her eyes before she turned and bolted toward the forbidden forest.
What was her goal? At this moment, it was to anger the man and nothing more. She’d allowed herself to get carried away. It was her nature. And Victoria almost felt good as the man chased her down the mossy hillside. To Hell with him, she thought. To Hell with marriage, duty, and wasted time. All she wanted was a good fight.
He caught up quickly enough. Though it wasn’t exactly fair. He had impossibly long legs to go with that impossibly tall frame of his. Victoria pretended to collapse from fatigue and took the opportunity to draw out her knife. She was up again in a flash, wielding it at her newfound enemy.
For his part, he could not decide if he wished to laugh or bend this rotten woman over his knee for a punishment. He didn’t know who she was, but he knew damn well that she was crazy.
“You are going to hurt yourself if you aren’t careful,” he warned, his arms outstretched in front of him.
“I suggest you start to worry about your own well-being.”
At that moment, there was a howl coming from deep within the wood. The girl’s eyes shifted for a brief moment, but it was enough. He leaped toward her; there was a struggle, and the knife fell. He managed to get his arms around Victoria. It was a bear hug and impossible to pry free from. She relied on her boot once again. This time, her target was his knee. He went down, the weight of him bringing her along for the ride. The angle of the hill caused them to roll a ways. Leaves tangled in their hair. Victoria’s fine dress was not quite so fine anymore, and they landed not far from one another, both ready to continue the tussle.
For her part, Victoria was invigorated—her heart pounding. This was better than the bet she took at the Devonports’ party, where Brandon Devonport ended the night with a black eye, and she with a few extra gold coins in her purse.
But, when she saw that the man was bleeding, some of the fun was removed. With a sigh, Victoria came back to herself. Her stance relaxed, and she rose to her feet. The man was untrusting, however. He did not relax. Instead, he waited for this crazy woman to pounce.
“Alright,” she said. “Enough. You’re wounded.”
He looked at his hand and saw that it was so. Her blade must have sliced him in the struggle. With an exasperated sigh, she pulled the ribbon from her wild hair and stomped over to him to wrap the wound. Still, he did not relax.
“What game is this now?” he exclaimed.
“The game is up. You’ve lost.” She indicated his hand with no small amount of annoyance. “Or maybe you’ve won, depending on how you look at it. I’ll go back to the stupid house with you. This cut needs to be washed. Might even need a stitch or two.”
“Are you…staying at the house?” He still couldn’t begin to guess who she was.
“Of course I am. I told you as much.”
“You told me you are the lady of the house, which I know to be a lie.”
“Do you now?” Victoria looked down at her dress and winced. Roughly, she attacked the smears of earth clinging to the skirt, trying to brush the filth free. The man, not knowing what to do with himself, pulled a stick and a few leaves from her hair.
“Am I presentable?” she asked, straightening her vest.
The man’s mouth hung open. He couldn’t quite find words. “I don’t think anyone would be able to tell you are insane,” he managed. “Not at first glance, anyway.”
“Funny. I could tell you would annoy me from a great distance.” Now, it was Victoria who firmly gripped his elbow as she led him up the hill. “All I wanted was a little time and space to contemplate my situation. Is that so much to ask?”
“All I wished was to keep you from getting lost in the cursed forest. You must pardon me for saving your life.”
“I will do nothing of the sort. I can take care of myself, as you can see—” She nodded to his hand.
“I’d have overcome you in another moment. Five minutes, and you’d have been back in civilization.”
“Hah! It is I who bring you back. Wounded, no less.”
“That is because I am a gentleman—or something near to it. I went out of my way to ensure you were not harmed. A beast of the wood wouldn’t take such care.”
“I see that your pride is as delicate as your flesh.”
They emerged from the trees and could see the elegant domain of Edenbridge Hall stretched out before them. Victoria ran her fingers through her hair. “How do I look?”
He frowned. “There’s a little dirt on your cheek.”
“Where?”
He indicated, and she rubbed it away with her palm. “Anything else?” She gave a quick spin. It was not a girly type of spin; it was utilitarian. With a heavy sigh, he knelt down to straighten her hem, which had ruffled up at some point in their adventure.
“There,” he told her, feeling very confused.
“What’s your name?” she demanded, seeming irreverent of the assistance he had offered her.
“Elias.”
She hummed in acknowledgment but did not offer her own. At that moment, the front doors of Edenbridge Hall swung open. Her mother and Lord Reginald Harrington emerged. Victoria quickly took up Elias’s arm and led him, as if he were a wounded child, to the doors.
“This young man had a dreadful fall!” she exclaimed; her manner quite different than the one she used with him. “He’s been hurt! I think he may require a doctor!”
“My goodness!” Charlotte cried, looking not at his bleeding wound but at his scarred face. That was the reaction Elias was used to. The one that he had failed to elicit from Victoria.
“Elias, what in the world have you gotten into now?” his uncle questioned.
Elias felt both reprimanded and perplexed. Who were these women? Did his uncle know the girl? And since when did they have female company at Edenbridge Hall? One would think that Elias would have been informed.
Upon the front steps of Edenbridge, Victoria dropped into a deep curtsy and spoke in a tone Elias knew to be false. She sounded, in every syllable, a lady. “I apologize for such a shocking meeting, Lord Harrington. It was my greatest desire to instill a good impression upon our introduction.”
The other woman had regained command over her senses. “My dear Reginald, I would like to formally introduce you to my daughter, Victoria Georgina Fairfax.”
“I am delighted to make your acquaintance, my lord.” Still, Victoria had not raised her head; she had not dared to look Lord Reginald in the eye—not until he had properly received her.
Elias gaped. Even with dust on her skirt, she was now the picture of respectability.
“What care and heroism you have shown, my lady! This is a fine first impression indeed!” Lord Reginald took Victoria’s hands in his and beamed a smile down on the girl…a smile that Elias hadn’t seen in years.
Elias cleared his throat, drawing his uncle’s attention away from the young beauty before him.
“Ah, yes. Introductions are in order. Charlotte, this is the nephew I was telling you about. Elias Thornwood-Harrington.”
“Of course. What a pleasure it is to meet any family belonging to Lord Reginald.”
“What have I told you about titles, Charlotte? I’m just Reginald to you.”
Elias cleared his throat. “You have me at a disadvantage, madam, for I have neither heard of you nor your daughter.” He said this hotly. “You must forgive me if I do not take your hand.”
Charlotte had not offered her hand. She held it near to her, seeming frightened of Elias regardless of his connection to the great Lord Reginald Harrington. Yes, that was exactly the reaction Elias was accustomed to.
“Please, sir. Allow me to help,” Victoria offered, taking his arm. This time, Elias shook her free, though it was to the dismay of the others.
“I can tend to this on my own.” And, shooting each of them a scowl, he strode into the house. Though he left them at the entry, Elias could hear Victoria making excuses for him.
“I think he was embarrassed, the poor dear, to have a tumble down a hill in front of a young lady. I tried to tell him that he need not be so shy about it.”
“Indeed,” Charlotte cried. “We are practically family!”