Page 10 of The Masked Baron
“Good evening.”
Andalin nearly threw the book she was reading out of surprise. A touch of fear followed, racing up and down her back. She was wearing her nightgown and robe and had curled up on one of the armchairs to pass the last hour before bed.
Lord Cadogen stood there watching her—how long he’d been there she did not know. His leather mask covered most of his face, but his exposed eyes seemed to pierce her with their intensity. To say she felt extremely vulnerable in her state of undress and current company was an understatement, but she managed to sputter, “Good evening, your lordship.”
“Ellis,” was Lord Cadogen’s only response.
Andalin did not remember him having a lisp. “Ellis, sir?”
He sat down in the seat across from her. “Ellison is my given name. You will address me as Ellis.”
Not a lisp, then. She did not want to address the Dark Rider as anything butthe Dark Rider. Even though she had strong feelings against using his proper name, his words weren’t a question as much as they were an order. She feared his rumored temper, so she would appease him, but only to his face. Around others he would be Lord Cadogen.
“Have you found your stay comfortable?” Ellis asked, his tone almost amiable.
Andalin frowned, finding courage to beseech him with her plight. “I am not useful to anyone. I cannot stray beyond the garden. I cannot keep company, though I don’t know anyone as it is. I find my comfort does not depend on the finer aspects Braitwood Hall affords. Perhaps a visit with my father...”
Ellis flipped his gloves absently against the chair. “Your father made you aware that was impossible.”
“He did. But I do not know if you are a man to be reasoned with, if you have a hidden sympathetic nature.”
“You are right.” The edge to his voice was back. “You do not know me outside the rumors you’ve heard in your remote village. I will clarify for you so we understand one another. I am not a man to be reasoned with. Believe it or not, I am capable of sympathy, but I rarely practice it.”
Andalin closed her book. She had lost all desire to keep reading. Instead she wanted to focus on the disgust and dread she felt for the man before her. How could he keep her from her only family? It was not right.
Gripping the chair near him, Ellis appeared to be battling for patience. “You might choose to hate me. Most do. But it will not change your circumstances or the freedom you are given.”
Andalin set the book on the end table beside her chair and folded her arms. Her fear was slowly being replaced with anger. “And if I choose to like you, or like these terms that have shackled me to you, does it mean I have greater freedom? Or is my lot to always be thus?”
Ellis smirked and leaned toward her. “Ismylot to always be thus? Doyoucare for others? Areyoucapable of sympathy? Life isn’t easy for any of us.”
Andalin huffed. “Was this your real reason for enslaving me? So you could have someone to feel sorry for you?”
“No,” Ellis said, his voice more subdued, “it stemmed from a moment of weakness. Your father played a part, as did your enchanting voice, though your appearance nearly caused me to change my mind.”
Andalin couldn’t restrain her gasp. He might be a gentleman by title, but he certainly was not by character. How dare he insult her looks!
“I must want someone to feel sorry for me,” Ellis said. “Perhaps you could marry me and spend the rest of your life reforming me into someone good and kind.”
She glowered at him. So this was his true purpose. Papa had been made a fool. And he, the wisest man she had ever known.
A dark laugh burst from Ellis. “I am disappointed you do not have a sense of humor. It would make our time together more bearable.”
She lifted her chin and breathed in short bursts through her nose. Marriage to him was not something to make light of. “I find your sense of humor offends me.”
“Most do,” Ellis said. “But do not fret, young Annie, I shall see that you spend more time with me so you do not have the excuse of not knowing my quirks of personality. Then, when you have a question for me, you’ll be able to guess the answer for yourself.”
Andalin shrank back, too intimidated to correct her name. Her questions had provoked this outcome, and she hoped she had learned her lesson. Indeed, her fortnight of loneliness was preferable to any time in Ellis’s company. She did not politely excuse herself as her lessons required of her, nor did she wish Ellis a good night. She would not sleep well, and she did not wish Ellis to sleep well either. That is, if the Dark Rider slept at all.
***
The next morning was uneventful, and the cold, dreary house drove Andalin outside. All its sophistication could not make up for the solitude the very walls seemed to breed. Mr. Birks was the stablemaster and gardener, but he preferred to be called simply Birks. He usually did his rounds during breakfast, leaving her to feel isolated even when she was out of doors. The grounds held great potential for beauty. One caretaker was clearly not sufficient help for the large estate, as most of it was overgrown and covered with weeds.
Andalin began her exercise, choosing a different direction than she had taken the day before. She imagined various routes of escape, but the reality of such a thought was futile. How could a young woman care for herself without means or protection? She needed to bide her time until she could discover a way to communicate with her father and beg him to return.
She chose to make her way toward a small orchard on the other side of the pasture. As it was early fall now, the fruit weighed heavily on the branches. Scattered throughout the grounds and trees were large areas of grass. Several paths weaved around the trees, and here and there were oversized bushes trimmed just enough that they did not hang over the walkways.
Perhaps one of these would make a good hiding place if the Dark Rider decided to hunt her down for her sulky behavior the night before. She had gone out of her way to avoid the library that morning in case of any chance encounters.
