Page 3 of The Masked Baron
“Very well,” Andalin said. “I will admit I sometimes dream of being a fine lady with fancy dresses and food I do not prepare myself.”
Papa was a hard worker and was ambitious. She was proud of the way he provided for her and for Mama, when she was alive.
“I have always wanted more for my girl.” He finally smiled at her, softening the worry lines on his tanned face for a moment.
She smiled back, hoping to warm his mood. “Lest you think I am unhappy, let me assure you that as a shopkeeper’s daughter, I have plenty of prospects. I am a bookkeeper, maid, cook, and a well-read student of history, geography, and”—Andalin gave a laugh—“gothic novels. A lady could never have the diverse opportunities I do.” She gave Papa a sidelong glance. “Why would you ask such a silly question?”
“Oh, no matter. I started thinking on it when I arranged my meeting with Lord Cadogen.”
Andalin shivered. “The highwayman, you mean. I hardly thinkheshould be our destination.”
Papa seemed vexed. “He is hardly a criminal.”
“Do not pretend you are unaware of the rumors,” Andalin argued. “It’s enough to cause Marybeth’s father to hide their valuables in a different place every night. And Edith’s parents refuse to travel the main road out of town. Why, even children like Saber and Lily know the stories of the Dark Rider.” Andalin had often been amused by the little ones who shadowed her around the store, talking of the Dark Rider and playacting the stories they’d heard.
“We talked about that name.” Papa shook his head. “It is not proper. He is a baron and deserves to be called by his title. You are not like the other girls from Corbridge. You were raised with better manners.”
She knew she was different only because her mother had been a fine lady before marrying Papa. Her mama had insisted against the slang of the lower class and encouraged Andalin’s studies. “I promise I will use the utmost deference when we are in his presence. I only seek to caution you and beg you reconsider selling your wares to a man who feels he is above the law. It is not safe.”
Papa paused before finally admitting, “When I met Lord Cadogen, he offered me an arrangement I cannot ignore.” He turned and glanced behind him as if he could see some evil force all the way back in Corbridge. “Now, more than ever, it’s important I take him up on it.”
She waited for him to explain their hurried escape, but when he didn’t, her mind conjured up several plausible reasons—their lack of money the most likely motivator.
A rock in the road caused her to bounce and come down hard. She wondered what it would be like to travel in a comfortable closed carriage. Her underside was sore, and each dip in the road jarred her bones. She shoved her loose black curls back inside her mobcap and tied her bonnet tighter.
Papa took his eyes off the dirt road to see how she managed. “We’ll be there soon enough.”
Squinting at the endless path, Andalin shook her head. “You must be mistaken. Thornton Way is a full day ahead of us. Did you not see the sign for the town?”
Papa wiped his sweaty brow beneath his cap with a handkerchief before returning it to his pocket. “We’re taking the shortcut through the Black Forest.”
Fear broke her composure. “It’ll be dark soon! There are thieves and murderers who lurk in the trees. You cannot be serious!” A quick nod of his head doubled the panic she felt. It was the final straw. “You drag me from my home with nary a word, you insist on meeting the Dark Rider, and now we must endanger ourselves in the forest. What is going on?”
Papa gave her a stern look. “I told you not to ask.”
Andalin tried to swallow, but the dirt the wheels kicked up made her throat feel dry and scratchy. “I’m afraid, Papa. I hoped you were running toward something, but now I know you must be running away.”
Papa surprised her by pulling the reins back, slowly bringing them to a stop. He turned to face her. “Not from something—from someone.”
Shivers ran down her back. “Who?”
“I dare not tell you until after I speak with Lord Cadogen. Please do not keep asking. I know how uncommonly curious you are, but I must insist on this.”
A million questions froze on her lips. If it was hard to remain silent on the subject before, now it was nearly impossible.
Time seemed to crawl, though Papa kept a brisk pace. A subtle fork in the road loomed ahead. As they drew closer, she saw the right was undoubtedly the preferred route. It was wider, smoother, and strangely brighter. The left choice resembled more of a path carved through the forest with a blunt knife. Papa hesitated for only a moment before pulling his wagon hard to the left and into the thick trees.
Andalin gave her papa another sideways glance. “Papa, the sign saidBeware.”
Papa’s face told her he wasn’t ignorant to the possibility of danger. “I thought my Andalin wanted adventure.”
She knew the choice of direction had nothing to do with her whims. Though, she could not deny the stories she often read fed her desire to see the world and experience new things. Perhaps she should clarify that she wanted asafeadventure.
As they traveled deeper into the Black Forest, the road became treacherous with tree roots snaking near the surface and ruts that caused their wagon to pitch this way and that. She held tightly to her seat, her knuckles white from her fierce grip. She worried for their precious glassware in the wagon bed, protected only by straw and the thin wood of the crates.
The shades of dusk seemed to melt into the trees. “How much longer?”
Papa didn’t take his eyes from the road. “Don’t know, exactly.”
