Page 22 of The Masked Baron
“Explain your accusations!” Andalin demanded.
“I, explain?” Ellis pursed his lips. “Please, ladies first. I would like to know why you feel so inclined to riffle through my things.” His hand motioned to his desk and the stack of books with the pencil drawing that lay open on top of them.
Andalin stared guiltily at the items. She had never been in such an incriminating situation. Before, she had been a typical respected and well-behaved village girl—with the exception of the times she’d eavesdropped on conversations about the Dark Rider. Ellis was right. She had breached his privacy. He had every reason to be angry, but she could argue she had just as many reasons herself. This is what she had truly wanted after all—a way to strike back at him.
Andalin pinched her lips together. “I will not explain. If you truly regard me as a lady, then you will let me retire to my room without further inquiry.”
Ellis surprised her by turning around and shutting the door. He grabbed the desk chair, blocked the door with it, and firmly sat down. His black riding pants and shirt were covered in dirt, as if he had been rolling in it. Whatever had caused his rough appearance had not displaced his mask. It was ever present on his face—always a barrier between them.
Andalin’s voice sounded shrill even to her. “What, might I ask, are you doing?”
Ellis smiled a small, calm smile. “If my ward is going to act like a spoiled child, then she will be treated as such. If you want me to treat you as a lady, then you must first act like one.”
Andalin folded her arms across her chest. “I would prefer if the rest of your house treated me as if I werenota lady.”
Ellis sighed and rubbed his temples with one hand. “Your resentment toward me is starting to wear on my nerves. One minute you are charming, and the next you are explosive. Nevertheless, I cannot abide a breach of trust.
“You were made aware that this wing is my private solace. I have given you a nice room, more comfortable than you have ever known, new dresses, riding lessons, a chance to marry a respectable nobleman who could give you and your future children a secure and happy home. All this and I find you still despise me. You cannot get past the ugly gossip circulated about me. Nor can you forgive me for sending your father away, when he himself agreed to the idea.”
Andalin found herself humbled by his words. It seemed Ellis truly wanted to understand her. “I can see why you think I am a spoiled child. Though, I have been spoiled not by your fancy dresses or future prospects for me; I have been spoiled by the love and attention of my father. I miss it. I crave it. You are the only thing separating me from him.”
“Your father told me he was hoping to secure you a husband and had been seeking reputable names before his venture here. Your distance from your father was inevitable.”
Andalin cast her gaze to the floor. Papa had tried to broach the subject several times with her, but she had childishly chased away any chance of discussion. Ellis was right. She was disgusted with herself. A single humiliating tear slid town her cheek, but she angrily swiped it away. She could feel Ellis’s eyes on her, and she yearned to run and hide. Her tears were damming up and ready to burst.
After a few moments of silence, Ellis cleared his throat. “I think it would be better if we saved the rest of this discussion for another time. I will not detain you here any longer. I only hope you will respect my privacy in the future.”
Ellis moved his chair and opened the door. Andalin gratefully took the chance to escape. As she passed by him, he caught her elbow. Her heart thudded in her chest.
“The story,” Ellis whispered, “is rooted in truth.”
Andalin stared in surprise, then pulled away. She bolted back to her room, feelings of self-loathing pushing her there. How could he tell her something so personal and frightening when he clearly despised her?
***
At dinner Andalin claimed a headache so she could remain alone. She cried and pouted for several hours until finally, she was ready to put her past life behind her. She went to her writing desk and took out a sheet of paper. She wrote a long letter to Papa confessing her heartache. When three sheets were filled, Andalin put her pen down and flexed and rubbed her tired hand. Her eyes were now dry, but Andalin still felt embarrassed and a bit sorry for herself.
Blaming Ellis for her circumstances would not do. It had been all too easy to find fault with her life at Braitwood Hall simply because she could not be with Papa. Realizing this was what Papa wanted helped her let go of the malice in her heart.
All along she’d seen signs of Ellis’s true character. His servants were loyal, and Lord Kerrigan loved him. She had not once seen Ellis angry with anyone besides her, and that was with good reason. Despite a myriad of stories about the Dark Rider, Ellis had not once shown proof of any violent tendencies. He was strange, to be sure, but not wicked.
From now on she would cast aside her childish ways and learn to enjoy her new life as she had not fully allowed herself to do before. The most immediate course of action was to find a place for Papa’s letters. She would not write them simply to keep burning the more personal ones. It was the only connection she had to him, even if it was one-sided. Andalin ran her hand along the shelves in her writing desk, searching for a place to conceal not just one letter but hopefully dozens. Almost by accident she pushed on a corner slat and caused a false drawer to pop out under the desk. Andalin gasped and pulled the drawer out farther. It was empty, except for a plain blue book.
She wanted to leave it alone, but it was against her nature. She picked it up and fingered its dark spine before opening it, revealing the lined pages of a diary. It belonged to Eliana Cadogen. Andalin cast a glance behind her at her closed door. Dare she read it?
Andalin shoved Papa’s letter into the secret drawer and shut it. Then she crawled into her bed with the diary. Would Ellis think it impertinent for her to read about his relative? She stared at the book for a moment and then set it down next to her and crossed her arms. Surely it could not be betraying Ellis’s confidence if the journal did not belong to him. And if it was at all special to the owner, it would have been collected by now.
It wouldn’t do. It was too much of a coincidence for her to find it in the first place. She picked it up again; she was meant to read it.
A few hours later Andalin finally hid the diary beneath her pillow, blew out her lamp, and sank down onto her pillow to sleep. Her mind would not succumb to rest. Too many thoughts about Eliana spun around in her head.
Ellis had a sister.
Andalin squeezed her eyes shut. She was only halfway through the diary, but her emotions had exhausted her. She would have to wait to discover hints of what had happened until the morrow. For now it was enough to disrupt her sleep to know Ellis had lost not only his parents and his face but a sister too. Shame burned inside Andalin for her judgmental ways.
Eliana had described her family as nearly perfect, with the exception of her jealousy of her brother. As the eldest and a boy, it seemed their parents had favored Ellison. Eliana had been much like Andalin, blind to the good intentions and sacrifices of her parents.
The day-to-day journaling of Eliana made her come alive in Andalin’s mind. Eliana had fears about taking her bows and experiencing her first social Season. Often those concerns were about her looks, though she felt inadequate in other areas as well. Eliana had dreams and passions too. She had a love for painting and drawing. Sketches of things she had seen or experienced that day decorated the margins and several full pages.
