Page 2 of The Dreaming Beauty
“Many thanks. And might I congratulate you for an excellent interview? You did well tonight. Our sly writer told you far more than I was able to extract from him.”
“You must not have sharpened your knife in front of him or put your sword to his throat.”
Cadogen smirked. “After sneaking into his bedchamber, I shaved the hair off his arm in one clean swipe, and he did not even cower at my abilities. No, the prideful ones are the hardest to crack, which is why I needed you.”
“I am glad my powers of observation could offer some good.”
“Now as they have many times before.” Cadogen gave a nod of appreciation. “With the Treaty of Chaumont only three months old, there is still a tenuous balance of the European powers. Men like Newell, who hope to make a name for themselves, could upend everything. We must keep everything stable until the Congress of Vienna to prevent more war and bloodshed.”
“I don’t see any more traveling in Newell’s near future,” Marcus predicted.
Cadogen rubbed his hand along his jaw. “Not now that we know where his allegiance lies. You did well. Until we run into another potential spy, go back to Westmorland and your research. Once your mother and your distracted brother return from their American tour, you will have no peace.”
Marcus’s eyes strayed to the ballroom. He wished he were free to be frivolous and forget the burdens he carried, but his trip to London had been strictly as a favor to the baron, and then it was back to his responsibilities at home. He glanced back at his friend and realized an even greater wish. He wanted what Cadogen had—a newly acquired town house with a devoted wife and dreams for a new child.
But Marcus’s dreams were all nightmares.
And love? He swallowed down the bile forming in his throat. Love was something only the lucky dreamed about.
“You still have them, don’t you.” It was a statement, not a question.
Marcus had told no one about his dreams, but Cadogen had been a firsthand witness to more than one. Yes, he still had them. “I have been tortured my whole life. Why would they stop now?”
“Keep searching. You will find the answers you seek.”
“Your investment in my research is wasted money.” Marcus shook his head. “I should go back to teaching at Oxford.”
“It took me ten years to find my peace,” Cadogen said. “And what I have now made all that frustration worthwhile. Besides, with your gift to aid you, you cannot fail.”
A gift and a curse. Heaven had a sense of humor. Marcus suppressed a sigh. Cadogen was right. He needed to keep searching. If there were ever to be a chance he could have what his friend had, then Marcus would not give up.
Chapter 2
Yorkshire, England
A sudden state of wakefulnessripped away Tansy White’s dream, leaving only the briefest memory of its disturbing ending—one that mirrored a recent reality. She’d thought nothing of her devoted suitor, Mr. Robinson, whispering with Miss Evans after church services on Sunday. He had been relentless in his attentions toward Tansy, and everyone knew it. However, sitting up with a start, she realized now was the time to worry. She had seen the two together in her dream, and she had a feeling she would find them together once more.
“Blast!” She whipped the quilt off her legs and threw herself off her bed. She lunged for the cord to call for Betsy and prayed her maid would hurry. Four quick steps, and she was to her dressing table. After two splashes of water to her face and several ax-like strokes with the hairbrush, Tansy raced to her window. She ran her hand down her face at the sight of the sun nearly midway up in the sky. Abstaining from sleep to avoid her dreams had proved pointless once again. And this time, her late awakening could mean the difference between future happiness or heartbreak.
She moved to her closet and fisted her nightdress, tugging it free from her body. The nightgown slapped the closet door as she discarded it. Hadn’t she just begun to imagine what it would be like if she saw Mr. Robinson every day for the rest of her life? To be married to him? He was one of the only men who overlooked the part of her that others could not. She had to stop him from seeing Miss Evans before it was too late.
She threw on the closest day dress to her, hardly knowing which it was, and fumbled as she tied on her half boots. Pushing a tangled knot of blonde hair off her shoulder, she groaned. She hadn’t the time to brush it again, but she couldn’t very well leave the house like this either. Moving back to the mirror, she pinned the snarls into a tight mound at the nape of her neck just as Betsy entered.
She wore a white apron tied about her waist, and a cheery smile. “Morning, miss.”
“Oh, thank heavens.” Tansy turned around for Betsy to secure the laces on her gown. “We’re going out. Grab your shawl and meet me downstairs.”
Betsy’s quiet demeanor meant she wasn’t one to ask questions. Without even a hint of displeasure at the inconvenience, she hurried from the room with Tansy right behind her.
“Where are you going in such a storm?” Aster asked at the top of the stairs, clutching her hair as if Tansy had disrupted the perfect pillow of grays and amber brown. Of course her eldest aunt had to be the one to catch her. She was prim, proper, and practical and easily the hardest one for Tansy to fool.
“To the milliner’s,” Tansy called as she slowed her pace, avoiding her aunt’s eyes. When Aster moved back toward her own bedchamber without further inquiry, Tansy’s feet pounded down the stairs to the open vestibule. Pulling her primrose spencer on as she went, she was out the door with her poke bonnet in hand and Betsy hurrying to keep pace with her.
Her dream had taken place at the church, but Mr. Robinson often took part in pugilism matches outside town, and she knew she would find him there today. But would she make it before anything happened between him and Miss Evans? Her stride lengthened, her destination pulling her like a tight string toward him.
Once they reached the milliner’s, her plan grew hazy. She needed to lose Betsy in the shop. If she was going to be improper, it was best to avoid witnesses. Tansy led Betsy to a row of laces she knew her maid had always admired and waited impatiently. As soon as Betsy turned away from her and reached for a ribbon, Tansy made the slip. She weaved back through the store in silence and disappeared out the door.
People swarmed the streets, dispersing after the recent match. Her aunts would be livid if they knew where she was. Her eyes took in face after face, searching for what she hoped she would not see. It did not take long for her to learn one of her dreams had once again proved quite prophetic.
