Page 9 of The Masked Baron
“His lordship is often away from home,” Mrs. Lewis said. “You needn’t worry about him looking over our shoulders and measuring your abilities.”
He smirked at the irony behind Mrs. Lewis’s words. He would agree with her, but his hidden stance said otherwise. From now on he would use the private staircase.
Miss Durante turned, and he could see the palpable relief in her porcelain profile, along with a lingering trace of fear. She was concerned about her safety. While he would do everything in his power to protect her, he realized she’d never adjust to her home with him there. This benefitted him, since he was driven to solve the mystery behind his family at all costs and was in no mood to play the role of host. The roots from the forest’s trees might as well have wrapped themselves around his feet, pulling him back to the woods. It was time to ride again.
***
A fortnight passed without Andalin seeing a single glimpse of Lord Cadogen. At this she began to breathe easier. She wasn’t as frightened when she turned a corner or walked through the corridors in the late evenings by candlelight. It was a strange existence, to live in a home with someone she never saw.
Mrs. Lewis had said Lord Cadogen preferred to be alone when he was home. Andalin had also been told that many large homes retained a family wing so they might maintain privacy from their guests. She gave Lord Cadogen’s family rooms a wide berth. She could imagine they lived in two different houses, but she knew better. She was always alone and, then again, never truly alone.
Andalin remained in the lavender room, and five lovely new gowns were added to her wardrobe. Instead of having a tailor as she had expected the rich to have, the gowns were brought to her and altered by the maid Hannah, who seemed irritated by everything. Wearing fine clothes was something Andalin could grow accustomed to. The colors and feeling of the fabric were new sensations, and Andalin was reminded of petals on flowers.
Eating alone was harder to adjust to. After another dinner by herself, she retreated to the sitting room. Someone had forgotten to light the candles again. The dark bothered her, but the soft, overstuffed furniture beckoned her inside. She sat on a settee with large scrolled mahogany arms and clawed feet, near the end of the room, appreciating the luxurious seat of the noblemen.
The wind moaned outside the closed window, and the ghosts from the manor’s past seemed to file in around her. A light appeared in the doorway, and in a panic she dove off the settee and onto the floor. She cringed at the thought of crushing such an expensive dress. One glance at the door told her it was none other than the Dark Rider, and he was enough to motivate her to crawl behind a nearby chair.
“Miss Durante? What are you doing there on the floor?”
He had seen her. Andalin’s heart stopped, and her next breath did not come. She was paralyzed.
“Miss Durante? Are you looking for something?”
Seconds ticked by, and finally the surprise of the moment passed, and Andalin was able to find her mobility. She stood up behind the chair and gripped it like a shield. She was too rattled to be embarrassed.
“I was looking for the door,” she said.
“Wouldn’t it be better done on your feet?” Lord Cadogen had the gall to sound amused.
“Yes, so I will take my leave now.” Andalin peeled herself from behind the protection of the chair. He shifted his body, and she froze. “Don’t you dare take another step closer!”
“Do I look like I’m moving?”
She eyed him. He had not moved an inch. “You cannot fool me. I know exactly what kind of behavior you are capable of.”
“Please, enlighten me.”
“Well, I know all about Sir John Peltier.”
“The man who fell off his horse last month? He was completely foxed. I am surprised with whom you keep company.” Lord Cadogen scoffed. “The nearby inn claimed they had to throw him out, despite the late hour, because he was disturbing their guests. That was Falcon Inn of Thornton Way if you would like to inquire for yourself.”
“Drunk?” Andalin did not want to believe Lord Cadogen, but it sounded plausible. Confusion clouded her judgment, but she reminded herself he was not to be trusted.
“For shame, Miss Durante; your claim was false. You don’t know everything. It seems all of England wants to blame every misfortune or mistake on the Dark Rider. They are incapable of taking responsibility for themselves. Perhaps it helps them sleep better to believe they are without guile, but I cannot pretend to understand.”
Andalin refused to believe him. Even rumors stemmed from at least a shred of truth.
“The door,” Lord Cadogen said, “is here.” He motioned directly to his left. Andalin would have to pass by him to escape. She lifted her chin. She had survived the Black Forest, had she not? She strutted to the door, avoiding Lord Cadogen’s eyes, and marched right past him. It could have been her imagination, but the man seemed to radiate heat. She didn’t have to touch him to know how near he had been to her. A true gentleman would have moved aside.
Andalin made it to her room unscathed and locked herself inside. She would be braver next time. Truly, when she saw him again, she would demand answers. Why must she have someone to dress her when she was perfectly capable? Why did ladies always have to act demurely? Why was the staff so small when the manor was so big? Why were the servants all so very old? And why could she not even write to Papa? Yes, she required answers.
***
Andalin attempted to entertain herself with needlework, writing letters to her father she knew she could not send, and long walks in the garden. Her heart ached for the sight of her papa, and no matter what she did to distract herself, his face was always in her mind.
The manor’s large library became her place of solace. The hundreds of books made her giddy, and she had already devoured one row of the first bookshelf. It would take a lifetime to read them all, but at the rate of activity at Braitwood Hall, she might just have the time for it.
It was in the library late one night when Andalin met Lord Cadogen again.
