3. Chapter 3

Her heart thudded hard in her chest after that interaction with that giant man on that giant, snorting black stallion.

Not exactly a giant, but he was big.

And not local.

The whole of him—the extra height of him on that massive horse—reminded her of nightmares she'd had as a child of death coming for her.

If death was a hulking man on a black horse.

Fear flickering relentlessly in her chest, Nemity attempted to stomp it out. She was only five more minutes from the manor. There was no way his horse could navigate the thick grove of trees as fast as she could on foot.

She looked back only twice after darting into the forest, but the man seemed to have no interest in pursuing her.

Not a threat.

Plus, he definitely wasn't one of the two men that had abducted her. He was too big. They had been too scrawny.

The forest was nestled closer to the manor on the east side of the house, so she stayed in the treeline, instead of running up the south lawn that lined the main garden, as she aimed for the side door that would allow her to slip up the servants' stairs and to her room unseen.

Racing through the trees, she quickly glanced toward the front of Springfell.

Blast.

Lord Hedstrom's carriage. How long had it been sitting there?

Her distant cousin liked to be early. Controlling. Not like his father.

She darted from the edge of the forest to the side door, then opened it as quietly as possible, which wasn't easy given the thick iron hinges holding the heavy oak door squeaked like a mouse in the jaws of a cat every time it shifted.

Stepping into the cool confines of the hallway that ran the length of the east side of the house, she drew a deep breath into her hungry lungs as she set her boots onto the floor. Turning left, she just had to make it fifty short steps and she'd be hidden away in the dark stairwell and could escape up into her chambers.

Mrs. Jorge was surely covering for her right now in the drawing room with Lord Hedstrom.

Change. Hobble downstairs. All would be well.

She started down the hall and a leaf fluttered down past her nose from where it had been caught in the front of her hair.

Her fingers lifted, pushing back the hair around her face and she plucked out two more small leaves that had lodged into her locks.

She didn't even want to think about what her hair looked like.

Didn't have time to think on it, much less fix it.

All would be well if she didn't look in the mirror and just made it downstairs to the meeting.

Step forty-two. Almost there.

"Nemity." Lord Hedstrom's stark and extremely annoyed voice echoed down the hallway toward her.

She stopped, spinning around slowly, drawing her dress up in front of her to hide the fact that she was wandering about in her shift. Her wet shift. Never mind that he surely saw exactly how she was dressed from the backside when she was sneaking down the corridor.

Lord Hedstrom's arms clasped over his chest, his face pinched in disgust.

Why did her cousin always make her feel like she was five years old? A very naughty five years old. He was only ten years her senior, she'd known him her whole life, and still, she felt like nothing but a bug to be squashed when he was staring at her like that.

"Thomas." Her chin tilted up regally as she inclined her head to him. For all he made her feel worthless with one look, she wouldn't let him see it on her face.

"You're a disgrace, though what should I have expected." The elongated sigh that eased from his lips turned the air sour around her, even at this distance.

His words stung, more than they should, for she really didn't care for Thomas. Not like she did for the rest of his family. His brother, Charley, and their father, Heddie, the ninth Earl of Hedstrom, who had been her guardian for much of the last four years. Heddie, as she'd called the earl since before she could walk, had been a lovable bear her whole life. The only father she'd ever truly known. Heddie had been one of her father's dearest friends and a distant cousin on her mother's side, and he had become trustee of her fortune when her mother had died.

But then Heddie had died a year ago. Which had left her under the guardianship of Heddie's eldest son, Thomas.

A bloody raw deal, if she were to voice it out loud.

Which she would never do. Thomas had all the power over her, had control of her fortune, and they both damn well knew it.

Her chin lifted higher. "My apologies. My walk in the woods lasted longer than I intended."

"Walk in the woods?" He looked her up and down, at the dress hanging in front of her damp shift, and his glare landed on her bare feet. "It appears a might bit more than that."

"It was nothing. Fresh air."

He hated her.

Hated everything about her and how she went about in the world. Said she was a wild, unpredictable heathen every chance he got. But she'd never minded his pious, supercilious judgement because it had never affected her. Not until a year ago.

"Your current state did not result from fresh air." His lips pursed. "We talked about this, Nemity. You can't go wandering out by yourself onto the estate after what happened. If you cannot listen to simple directions—for your own safety—perhaps Ravenstone is the place for you after all."

There it was. Right to the threat. He'd been threatening it for months. Dragging her to Ravenstone and making her live there under his thumb until he could suitably marry her off to one of his equally stuffy friends. Never mind that she was quickly slipping into spinsterhood. Already there by some accounts.

How Thomas ever ended up being the exact opposite of Heddie, she would never know.

Her hands clasped the length of her dress in front of her to her body. "Please, Thomas, just give me five minutes to right myself and I will join you in the study."

He stared at her for a long moment. "No. No, I don't think so. I think you'll join me in the study right now, as you obviously intended to be seen as you are. For if you were intending to make yourself presentable for company, you would already be so."

Her brow furrowed. "How long have you been waiting?"

"Forty-five minutes."

Hell.

Her lips drew inward. Thomas hated, hated, tardiness from anyone. Least of all his hoyden ward.

She pointed over her shoulder to the stairs. "Truly, Thomas?—"

He cleared his throat.

"Lord Hedstrom. Please. It will only take me a moment to change."

"Get the dress on, Nemity." His arms still clasped against his chest, he turned around to give her privacy, but didn't leave the corridor. Not taking the chance she would escape him again.

Her hands fumbling through the fabric of her peach day dress, Nemity quickly pulled it over her head, wiggling into the fabric that was determined to not properly slide down her wet shift. Her arms into the sleeves, the dress was still half askew when she heard footsteps approaching the hallway.

"There is the little hellion." A voice she loved echoed down the corridor and she leaned to her left to look beyond Thomas.

"Charley," she squealed, forgetting about her crooked dress. "You're here. I didn't know you were coming." A smile beaming wide on her face, she skirted around Thomas and darted toward Thomas's younger brother.

"Miss an opportunity to say hi to my favorite cousin? Never." He threw his arms wide and bundled her up into a giant hug, swinging her feet in a wide circle. "You're soaked, Pip."

She laughed, squeezing him hard. "I am."

He laughed in her ear. "If I know you as I think I do, I would say you're merely hugging me to get me wet."

She leaned back, laughing, batting her eyelashes innocently at him. "You think I would do that?"

"I know you would do that." He set her onto the floor, the grin on his face telling her he didn't mind one bit her slightly evil streak.

Taking a step away, but still squeezing his left arm, she looked up at him. "I didn't even know you were coming up to Ravenstone, and then to here. I thought you were in London."

"I just arrived last night."

Boot heels clicked on the floorboards past them. "To the study."

Nemity looked at Thomas walking past them. "Surely there is time for me to change."

Thomas didn't slow his stride. "No. You'll come with me now. Wet and cold. And you will suffer the consequences of making me wait. We have matters that need to be discussed."

Her mouth clamped closed.

There was no arguing with Thomas. It wasn't a fun way to spend time and she'd never, in all these years, nudged him away from whatever he already believed in his mind. Stubborn. Always right.

Not like Charley, whom she loved to argue with.

Thomas continued down the hallway, not even glancing over his shoulder to see if she and Charley were following. He already knew they would.

And thus, she was stuck in this limbo. In this awful existence of her parents' making, where she was a mistress unto herself, had Springfell Manor at her disposal, a fortune at her fingertips, yet all of it accessible only through this odious guardian.

Not willing to raise the stakes on the confrontation and annoy Thomas any further, she bit her lip, following him. Charley fell in step beside her, grabbing her hand and threading it into the crook of his elbow. He at least cared, which was more than she could say for Thomas.

Into the study at Springfell. Her mother's study.

She imagined it had at one time been her father's study, but she only had memories of her mother in here, handling all the affairs of Springfell Manor.

It still smelled like her mother, years later, especially when a waft of rosemary would drift into Nemity's nose when she moved a pillow or opened a drawer that her mother had kept packets of rosemary in.

Thomas always looked out of place in the study because her mother had chosen furniture that fit her petite frame. Thin lines on the chairs. Two delicate peach damasked sofas that faced each other in front of the fireplace. A beautiful rosewood desk with cherubs and scrolling vines carved into the wood.

It was a woman's room and she had to stifle the urge to shove Thomas out of it every time he stepped foot in it.

Charley, on the other hand, she never had the urge to push out of the study. Charley was at ease in any room he ever entered. Always fit. Always was welcome.

"I truly do not have the time for your antics today, Nemity." In front of her, Thomas strode into the middle of the study, swallowing the space as he railed at her. "I have a hundred other things I could be doing at the moment."

Looking down, Nemity tugged on the side of her dress, still trying to right it. "You are the one that demanded this meeting."

"Demanded?" He turned around to her, stepping to his left. "I wouldn't have had to insist on anything if you would just keep yourself out of trouble."

His last words dissipated into sounds that meant nothing, for she had glanced up and her look had transfixed on the sofa that faced her.

What in the hell was that—no—who in the hell was that?

The man with the dark hair in the woods. The giant on the giant horse, now a giant in her mother's favorite room.