“Moving you will be work,” Sally said. “You want to make more work for us, my lady?”
“Of course not. But I’m not a real lady. My name is Thea. Thea Knight.”
“Have you learned to play billiards yet, Thea Knight?” Martha asked. “We’ll see you after dinner.”
And with that invitation, the pair turned to leave.
Thea stared at their backs, perplexed at their lack of anger. But as they seemed to have no interest in scolding her, she risked another question.
“Sally, may I ask—”
“No.”
“You and Lord Ventnor seemed to know each other.”
Sally hesitated, before turning back. “After Katharine died, I went to London, where I encountered Lord Ventnor. We argued, and he threatened me. I was frightened and I came back here. To my home.”
“Today, you ran away from him. That must have been some argument.”
“It was very unpleasant.”
“About?”
Again, Sally hesitated before answering. “Katharine. It seemed to me that Ventnor did not grieve her suitably. I told him as much, and he didn’t like that.” She sighed. “I beg you, Thea, I prefer no questions. Even if we are friends.”
Without another word, they went out.
Alone again, Thea turned to Arabella’s letter, which contained an account of her trip to London to order a costume for the Prince Regent’s party. The letter ended with a paragraph so astonishing that Thea had to read it twice:
I have long suspected you are withholding information and now I have proof. During our journey, we stopped in a market town, where we watched a short play performed by a traveling theatre troupe. It was astoundingly similar to your pamphlet: It told the tale of Rosamund, a winsome lass who was cruelly wronged by two dastardly knaves. (Although the ending was…surprising.) Why are they performing your story? You will write immediately and withhold nothing of your adventures.
Despite everything—or perhaps because of it—Thea began to laugh. Her impromptu performance in the coaching inn that night must have been seen by someone connected to a traveling theatre company, who thought it worthy of a repeat. Now people were hearing her story in a way she had never dreamed!
Grateful for the distraction, Thea dropped into the big leather chair and reached for quill, ink, and paper. Much of what she had withheld could not be put on paper, but Arabella deserved something for her nagging. If she wanted adventures, well, Thea could pen a whole novel of them!
Oh. Oh. She had never considered that. The sole purpose of her pamphlet was to clear her name; never had she imagined writing for fun. But it would be fun, wouldn’t it?
And it would certainly help take her mind off…people.
It could begin as a letter, claiming to tell the true story of a young lady, who was—yes! An outcast with a secret fortune. She was kidnapped and taken to a castle by a cruel sorcerer who carried a magical ebony stick. It would be a proper castle, of course, gloomy and crumbling, with skeletons and musty books and creatures in jars. And a ghost, who came out of the portraits. No— Who came out of the lake.
Thea looked past her own reflection to the lawn and the lake beyond. Her eyes still burned with the image of Rafe, wading toward her, brandy-colored eyes intent, water trickling down those hard muscles, his body both powerful and scarred.
Suddenly, every part of her ached. Rafe did not want her, and even understanding why did not ease that hurt. One more day, he had said. What if they did have one more day? What if she went to him now and said, “Just one more evening?”
No. That would be a mistake. Rafe had turned out to be as unreliable as everything else in her world. There was no rock for her to stand on here, nothing but the same shifting sands as everywhere else. Rafe offered nothing but another adventure, to keep her entertained until she found her way home.
Thea forced her mind back to her letter.
Not a ghost, she decided, but a cursed man who came out of the lake. He was the rightful heir to the castle, but the sorcerer cursed him when he was swimming, and now he could not leave the water until the curse was broken.
Which meant he would spend most of the story nearly naked and dripping wet.
Arabella would be appalled. Excellent. Arabella was hilarious when she was appalled.
The heroine would seek to free the man in the lake from his curse and overthrow the evil sorcerer. And when the man was freed, he would take the brave, beautiful heroine in his arms and promise her—
Nothing.
Rafe wanted her, but not enough. Because no one ever wanted her enough.
Thea quashed the thought. No more self-pity. She would think about nice things and fun things, things that did not make her ache.