Page 58 of The Dreaming Beauty
“Marcus, are you listening? I don’t want anything to do with that woman or her silly aunts, and that is final. From now on, that family does not exist to us.”
He blinked, and the memory of Tansy being in his arms flooded through his mind. Her head tipped back. Her smiling lips ripe for the kissing. To not think of her, not be with her, would be akin to lying to himself. He had studied many examples of dishonesty during his interviews. Denying goodness and truth had never made anyone happy, and he was not about to do that to himself.
* * *
Tansy waited until the entire house was asleep. Time stretched long, until finally the whispers ceased from Aster and Iris’s room. How she wished she knew what they were saying, and yet, at the same time, she feared they would never quiet. She worried Marcus would have come and gone already, and there was so much she wanted to tell him, to ask him.
She slipped out of bed and took her nightdress off, revealing her puce dress beneath it. It had pained her to wrinkle her nicest dress, but she had not wanted to face Marcus again in her nightdress. He would think her a seductress. Her long braid, though, would have to suffice, as she had not the time to pin it up again. Instead of putting the decorative muslin overlay on, she snatched her wool shawl.
When she opened the front door to the night, her slippered foot nearly slid on a folded piece of parchment. She picked it up and brought it close to her eyes. It was too hard to read. Had Marcus left this for her? If that were the case, he had taken a great risk. What if she had missed it and one of her aunts had found it? With a sigh, she realized that him meeting her in the dark of night was just as risky as a letter.
She let herself back inside the house, disappointed that she would not be able to meet him tonight, for that was the only reason he would have left a note. She had no idea when she would see him again or if they would ever be alone. Instead of despairing at the constant frustration of her circumstances, she moved to their small drawing room and lit a candle. Her name was across the front of the letter. Unfolding the paper, she held it up to the light and read the short note.
Leave this place. Whitfield has no need of you.
The words were like ice, freezing her into place. She read the words over and over again. The tension around her had been mounting, but this was proof that it was not in her head. They had not been welcome in their last hometown, but this was different. A threat was a precursor to violence. The image of the ripped portrait came to mind. She saw it differently now. She saw it on the gap on the wall and at the angle of a hand reaching up and destroying it.
Shuddering, she dropped the letter onto the floor. What was she to do?
Marcus. He could still be coming. But dare she wait for him in the willows when someone clearly meant to scare her? Would they be waiting for her? She blew out the candle, picked up the note, and folded it back up again, tucking it into her sleeve. She had to risk it. There was more at stake now than just her solving the mystery of her parents. Her family’s and her own safety might depend on what aid Marcus could lend.
* * *
Marcus tied his horse up before he came to Rose Cottage and went on foot the rest of the way. What was he doing out here in the dead of night? If it were not for Tansy, he would never take such a risk. He came up behind the house, and all seemed clear. The sky was overcast, and he was certain no one saw him slip beneath the cover of the willows.
After a few moments he heard a soft rustle. Footsteps? He parted the willow branches closest to the house and saw Tansy hurrying toward the trees. She did not see him yet. Her head moved frantically in every direction, as if searching the darkness. For him? She startled at something and turned her back toward the house. Eager to set her at ease, he moved to her in a few quick steps and put his hand on her shoulder.Her mouth opened to scream, and without a second thought, he wrapped a hand around her mouth. “It’s me.”
She whimpered and he released her. She turned and threw her arms around him, a sob escaping. He had not expected such a welcome, but if she was scared or worried, he was all too happy to be the one to comfort her. When she buried her face against his cravat, instinctively, his arms came up around her back. Was she cold? Her whole body was shaking. He rubbed a hand across the middle of her back, trying to soothe her.
She remained in his arms for a long minute before pulling away and putting space between them. “I... I did not ask you here to...”
He grinned. “To embrace me?”
She swatted at an errant tear on her cheek and shook her head quickly.
He hated to see her upset, but he already missed having her in his arms. “I would be disappointed, but after that hug, I cannot complain.”
No laugh or even a hint of a smile crossed her lips. “I was afraid you would not come.”
He sobered. “I almost didn’t. Meeting accidentally at night is one thing, but on purpose...”
“I know. And I promise my intentions are innocent. I needed to speak with you in private, and I was so desperate.”
He slipped off his jacket and tucked it around her shoulders. “You’re trembling.”
“I cannot help it. There is so much to tell.” She looked to either side of her before asking, “May we speak under the trees? I am afraid someone will see us.”
He nodded and pushed aside the branches so they could both slip inside. The tree cover shut out more light, and she whimpered again. “I should’ve brought a lantern.”
“A lantern would be too bright. Not to worry; I came prepared.” He hunched down, and in a matter of moments, a soft glow flickered.
He held up a beeswax candle, its small flame illuminating her face. Some-thing about the glimmer of light relaxed her, though he wished his presence would’ve had the same effect on her.
“I am glad one of us is prepared,” she mumbled, managing a half smile.
When he saw she was wringing her hands, he wanted to take them in his own and reassure her about whatever it was that had upset her. “Simon was right. You do not seem well. Are you ill?”
“I will be if I do not speak to someone,” Tansy said. “And I trust you.”
