Chapter 4

MAB PACED HER ROOMS frantically trying to come up with a plan. It just wouldn’t do for her threat to her father to be idle.

Feet crunching against gravel sounded from below her window. She crossed her room and glanced out, watching her father and his dear friend, Lord Dudley, walking along the gravel path and towards the woodland that flanked the manor.

Lord Dudley had barged in upon them unannounced mere hours ago, as was his custom. How long he would stay was anyone’s guess. This time, he’d brought one servant with him, so Mab hoped it would only be for a night or two.

Lord Dudley’s interruption meant that she’d not had the opportunity to stomp about the house and silently – verbally, at least – showcase her displeasure with her father.

Mab let out an exasperated sigh as she glanced towards the stables. Dameon, curse his name, was brushing down her father’s horse. The horse nickered in annoyance at Dameon’s hard strokes, but he didn’t go any gentler. The horse butted its head against Dameon’s shoulder, a gentle prompt to desist. Dameon stopped what he was doing and said something to the horse, though Mab couldn’t make out what it was. The horse, in response, curled its lips. Dameon looked from side to side, making sure there was no one around. He grabbed a stick from the ground and walloped the poor creature repeatedly. The horse’s cries echoed throughout the yard, rattling her windows and causing her father and Lord Dudley to glance around the grounds in confusion.

Mab’s insides curdled in disgust.

Dameon has to go.

As if struck by lightning, Mab suddenly realised how she could solve all her problems.

IT WAS LATE, AND HER father and Lord Dudley had long since retired. Mab snuck past the servants clustered in a room off the landing, who were trying their best not to make a noise as they discussed who would be tasked to retrieve breads and cheeses and argued about what wine her father wouldn’t notice was missing.

Mab crept further down the hallway and stood in front of the door to the library. She fixed her hair, the flaming locks loose and billowing down her back. She wore the silk nightdress that split down the side and a matching dressing gown. Bile rose in her throat as she recalled Dameon acting like a man possessed when he’d first seen her in it.

Feeling her guts churn, she placed a hand on the door.

She could still walk away if she wanted to ...

The thought of Robert Alabaster, a pink blob though he might be in her mind’s eye, being the man that she would be forced to spend the rest of her life with was more than she could bear.

Taking a steadying breath, she opened the door.

Dameon leaned against her father’s desk, picking his nails. His mousey hair was tousled, and the smell of straw filled her nostrils. There was a time when his chiselled looks had made her heart flip. Now it was all she could do not to spin on her heel and flee. His grey eyes slowly drifted up to meet hers. Her skin crawled as he looked her up and down, a triumphant smirk on his face, before his attention was back on picking his nails.

“Got your note. Thought you’d had enough of me,” he said coolly.

“I thought so too,” Mab said, desperately trying to keep the disdain from her voice.

“I told you” – he paused and smirked at her – “that you wouldn’t be able to stay away for long. They always come crawling back. See, I know how to show a lady a good time.”

Mab gritted her teeth, and she had to muster every ounce of her power not to throw back a scathing remark.

A faint giggle echoed from somewhere deep within the house. She had to move quickly if her plan was to work. Mab crossed the room and stood firmly in front of Dameon. Reluctantly, she raised her hand to her shoulder and pushed the silk gown, exposing her pale clavicle. Dameon’s eyes narrowed on her, and in a flash, he’d picked her up by the waist and twirled her around to sit on the desk. Within a split second, he’d pushed her nightdress up around her waist.

Dameon buried his head into her neck as he fumbled with his britches. Mab held in her sigh of relief as she saw the light of a candle moving from behind the door. Just as Dameon’s britches dropped to the floor, the door swung open.

Mr Ross, the cook and a handful of servants, including Lord Dudley’s valet, stood silently, their mouths hanging open, as they took in the scene before them.

Dameon’s eyes narrowed on Mab as he realised she’d planned this. He pulled up his britches, fumbling just long enough that Mab was able to fix her nightdress without exposing herself. He cast Mab a death stare and, without looking at any of the other servants, turned on his heel and left.

Head held high, Mab crossed the room. She paused before Mr Ross. Her heart hurt at the disappointment in his gaze, but she refused to shake her determined stature.

“I would wager the missing silverware is under his bed. You might want to retrieve it before he slips off into the night.”

Mab glided out of the library and didn’t stop until she was cloaked in the darkness of the hallway. She heard Mr Ross’s hurried footsteps as he presumably went to retrieve her mother’s silverware. Her knees went weak when the other servants began to whisper as they set up their weekly game of cards.

There was no going back now.

MAB LAY AWAKE FOR THE entirety of the night.

She cringed when she heard her father’s jovial footsteps cross the hallway outside her bedroom, and physically curled into a ball when she heard him bellow “She did what? ” from somewhere below. She didn’t leave her bed until she heard the crunching of gravel outside, marking Lord Dudley’s hurried departure.

When Mab finally left her room, she fixed a determined stare onto her face and marched all the way to the breakfast room.

Her father was waiting for her, red faced, breakfast untouched.

Mab quietly took a seat opposite her father, ignoring his intense stare. She poured herself a cup of tea and almost teared up when she reached for the silver sugar bowl. She ran a finger over her mother’s returned heirloom and felt her father’s anger soften momentarily. When she looked back up at him, his face hardened once more.

“How could you?” he seethed.

“Father, you gave me no—”

“Do not say I gave you no choice!” he bellowed. This was, perhaps, the angriest she’d ever witnessed her father. “You’ve had a choice for the past twenty-seven years! You’ve been given more freedom than any of your peers, and I have been behind every decision you’ve made, whether I agreed with it or not!”

The truth of her father’s words cut her to her core. “Father—”

“Do not interrupt me!” he shouted. Mab winced, and her father added in a slightly softer tone, “I know I upset you with my rashness, Mab. But I did what I thought was right at the time. I tossed and turned for two nights and had woken up this morning prepared to have a civil discussion with you ... prepared, once again, to give you a choice. But you ... you silly, silly girl.” He buried his head in his hands.

Mab remained silent for a long moment, waiting for her father to continue.

Eventually, her father looked back up at her. “The servants won’t utter a word. And Lord Dudley has assured me that his valet will say nothing either. But Dameon took off in the night. It just takes one wayward comment from him, and you’ll be ruined. Do you know the seriousness of what you’ve done, Mab?”

“I did what I had to, Father. I’d rather be ruined than forced to marry Robert Alabaster,” Mab said quietly, her confidence in her actions wavering.

“What you’ve done, Mab, is to remove any hopes of you making a choice when it comes to a husband. If word gets out, no one will have you. If you ever were to meet that one man who could give you the world, do you think he would be able to turn his back on his family and society for you?”

Mab’s heart sank. Had she been too hasty in her plans? Had she inadvertently backed herself into a corner?

“You will be pleased to know that I sent a letter to Mr Alabaster yesterday – yes, yesterday, before your shenanigans – telling him that I had been too hasty in accepting his proposal and would need some time to properly consider it.” Mab’s momentary happiness was quelled immediately as her father continued, “I also sent a second letter this morning.”

“To whom?” Mab asked tentatively.

“Aunt áine,” he said with all seriousness.

Mab couldn’t control her laughter. It bubbled out of her in waves, and every time she managed to catch her breath, another titter would creep up on her.

Her father remained eerily silent, his hands clasped in front of him, until her laughter finally died.

“Father, Aunt áine isn’t real. She’s just a made-up tale to get young ladies to behave themselves.”

Her father glared at her. “Is that what you think?”

“Of course! She’s a story told to little girls to frighten them. Honestly, Father. You can’t truly believe such a woman exists?”

“Oh, I wholeheartedly believe in her.”

Mab snorted. “Father, we are forever going to balls and parties, mingling with society. Not once have I met a couple matched by Aunt áine .”

“Well, I guess you have nothing to worry about, then,” her father said with serene calmness.