Seventeen

Zachary

“Powell!” I hollered. The foot soldier peered back at me before he stepped over and around several bodies, walking in the opposite direction. “The men!” I called out.

“I can’t,” he shouted back, throwing his hands in the air. “There are too many. I can’t save them all!”

“We must try,” I pleaded. “Tell me what to do!”

The foot soldier covered his ears amidst the multiplying screams of the wounded and disappeared into a wall of smoke.

“Powell, no!” I cried, leaning down to assess a soldier on the ground. His arm had been blown off. I reached for anything that might stop the spraying streams of blood, then caught sight of a second soldier whose head wound gushed blood down his face. I grabbed a stack of bandages and fumbled in my attempt to dress his injury, but the blood only soaked through the linen. A third soldier clutched the sleeve of my jacket and when I turned in his direction he had no legs.

“I need help!” I shouted. “Somebody help me!”

“Collins!”

The man grabbed my shoulder. “Release me!” I swatted the soldier’s hand away, trying to reach for more dressings, clutching what I could. “I’m trying!”

“Collins!”

“What?” I shouted and sat up to an aggressive shake. Darkness enveloped me, the soldiers disappeared, and only the outline of a man remained nearby, leaning over me.

“You were having a nightmare.”

I recognized Jaxon’s voice.

The striking sound of flint and tinder lighting a candle pulled my attention and the flame now offered some clarity. I was no longer in the trenches; I sat up in my bed, drenched in sweat with my bedding coiled and clenched in my hands.

Jaxon set the sole candlestick back into the sconce of the tiered candelabra resting on my desk. Moving back to the edge of my bed, he gripped my shoulder. “It wasn’t real, mate.”

I pulled my knees up to my chest and rested my elbows on them, raking my fingers through my sticky hair. “It felt real,” I mumbled, then exhaled slowly, trying to slow the thunderous beat of my heart.

“They always do.”

Throwing the covers aside, I stood to my feet and paced the room. The restlessness of the situation coursed through my limbs. “Did I wake you, Jax?” I halted and faced my friend.

“No,” he muttered. “I was already awake.”

“Do you think I awoke the others?”

His brows furrowed. “Does it matter? It’s not as if we can oblige them to stop.”

I sensed an equal frustration rising within him regarding night terrors. It was true, we had no control over what horrors transpired in our minds overnight.

“Do you need anything?” he asked. “Food, laudanum, a drink?”

I shot him a wry look. Of course, I needed a drink, but I had promised to not partake at the moment. I shook my head. “No, I’ll be fine. Forgive me for disturbing your…” I rubbed my jaw. “Your whatever you were doing at this hour.”

Jaxon shrugged his shoulders. “If I don’t close my eyes, the nightmares don’t come.” He offered a shallow bow and walked out of my room.

Though his statement made perfect sense, no one could go on without sleep entirely. I should talk to Hunter and Lucas tomorrow. Maybe we had all assumed that Jaxon was doing well enough.

I changed out of my damp shirtsleeves and breeches and into fresh, dry ones, then like Jaxon, realized I didn’t want to close my eyes again. Seeing those images of the men torn apart and bleeding and me unable to stop the blood flow just wouldn’t leave my mind.

Standing near the window, I wished for the sun to crack the surface and announce a new day, but only blackness remained. I reached for my pocket watch and saw that it was only 3 o’clock in the morning. Even if I wanted to ride, it would be hours before daylight, and I wouldn’t want to risk Thunder’s safety in the dark. I yearned for a distraction but, since the household was likely sleeping, I relied on a little creativity.

So, I turned to writing letters. Though most everyone I frequently corresponded with was in this house, I felt compelled to write to my father. He may never receive it if it went through Frederick, but there was much I wanted to share, so I did it anyway, with the regret of not having written it years ago. Once I finished, I retrieved a fresh sheet of foolscap and dipped my quill in the ink, then before I could stop it, I wrote the name Evie at the top.

At once, my pen had a mind of its own. Words, yearning to be liberated from a treasured part of my soul, eased effortlessly onto the parchment—line after line, paragraph after paragraph.

After a significant length, I stopped writing. Glancing over the missive, I knew if I had a roaring fire at this moment, I would have tossed it in. Though I longed for Evie to know the whole of my declaration, I could not risk depriving her of the future she desired. A chance to see if one of the men here at this house party could offer her all that she deserved, for upon this parchment was the full confession of my heart, and it would only complicate things.

Putting the words to paper, I recognized how much it helped me to admit the truth of it to myself, but, in the end, it could go no further. If she somehow read this letter, she might feel obligated to me, and that would be far worse than her not knowing the truth altogether.

I must have fallen asleep at the desk, because when I raised my head once more, light shone through the window and the aroma of freshly baked bread lingered in the air. I was grateful I no longer smelled the metallic stench of blood. Thankfully, my nightmare had not returned.

Peering over my correspondence, I folded my father’s letter and addressed it. Fingering Evie’s missive in my hands, I reread it, then crumpled it into a tight ball and tossed it aside.

Tugging on the bellpull, I called for Jesse’s assistance and, within three quarters of an hour, I was shaved, smartly dressed, and ready for the day, though a bit more sluggish than the day before.

I spent the hours avoiding Lady Victoria, Miss Angeline, and now Miss Baker. I had erroneously led each of them to believe I had some interest in pursuing something more and that was never the case. No wonder Evie lost all respect for me.

I didn’t participate in the ride to the village for a shopping excursion with lunch at the local tea shop, but instead chose to ride Thunder along the perimeter of the estate, including the wooded glen, around the tenant houses, the wheat fields, and finally past the remnants of the medieval stone tower before returning to the stables.

By evening, once I was assured Evie had joined the others for dinner, I requested a tray to the nursery. Miss Lorne, who insisted I call her Banja, and I had become recent acquaintances with my intermittent visits and, when I sought her permission an hour ago, she claimed she did not mind me joining their meal.

The visit turned out to be quite stimulating as I conversed with the two five-year-olds. It was also the longest exchange I had ever engaged in with people of that size. Noteworthy discussions ventured mostly into insects, dinosaurs, and interestingly enough… bodily functions.

After our humorous and lighthearted chat, I slipped out of the nursery and crept down the stairs like a common thief, avoiding the open entry to the parlor, where an evening of music began, only pausing for a moment to listen to the beautiful voice that sang. I had no knowledge of who it belonged to, but I could appreciate a melodious gift without feeling sentiment toward the woman attached to it.

Once outside, I walked toward the stables. The nights had grown a bit crisper as the October days progressed. The autumn leaves crunched beneath my boots, certain to be more than even yesterday. I stepped inside and greeted Thunder with a hearty pat down, despite having only parted from him a few hours ago. Two stalls away, I caught sight of Evie’s horse, Isis. She was a beautiful chestnut-colored Bay with several years behind her, but strong as ever.

I remembered when her father had first purchased the horse at Tattersalls and brought her home to Evie. She had recently finished a book on the ancient gods and goddesses of Egypt and did not hesitate in offering her horse the same divine powers. They were inseparable. Evie rode her daily as if she was in a race against time.

I strode into Isis’ stall and brushed my fingers though her thick mane. “You are one lucky girl.” I rubbed her nose and leaned in. “You get Evie all to yourself.” I reached into a canvas bag hanging from a nearby post and offered her a carrot. She whinnied in delight.

“Are you trying to persuade my horse to like you more than me?”

I whipped around at Evie’s voice, wondering how long she had been standing there and hoping she did not just hear what I whispered to her horse. I glanced briefly at her attire. She wore a shimmering gown of silver with short, capped sleeves and formal white gloves to her elbows. An angelic vision if ever I had seen one. I forced my eyes away and back to her horse. “I cannot help it if Isis finds me more amiable.”

She chuckled. Then I heard her approach, and I stiffened. This was not the place to strengthen my resistance to her charms. Especially if we were entirely alone.

“Well, if you spoil her with treats, I will have to do the same to Thunder.”

I laughed. “Thunder is already more enamored with you. You know this.”

Her smile broadened and her dimple deepened. My eyes fell right to it and my spirit soared that I had not lost my ability to draw it out. Then she tilted her head quizzically. “Why are you not in the parlor for the musicale?” She scratched her horse’s nose despite the pristine condition of her gloves. “There are, undoubtedly, several women in there at this precise moment hoping they might win your heart through their talents.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I could inquire the same thing, Eveline Turner, knowing full well there are gentlemen wondering where you are.”

Evie took a couple of steps backward, leaned against the slats of the stall divider, and sighed. Her slippers surely did not appreciate the filthy ground, and I worried over their condition once she departed, but it didn’t seem to concern her. She fidgeted with the high satin sash below her chest. “I tire of the games.”

I finished giving the carrot to Isis and moved to Eveline’s side. Leaning against the same boards beside her, I nodded. “As do I.”

She quirked a brow in my direction. “Can I ask you something, Zach?

I felt a thread of fear trickle my spine. What might she ask?

“What happened with us?” She bit her bottom lip which undoubtedly drew my eyes to her full lips. “Why do you hate me so?”

“Hate you?” I stood completely dumbfounded. She believed I hated her? I understood both love and hate stirred similar passion, but what I felt for her could not be mistaken for hate. “What made you believe that, Evie?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Things. Things you’ve said—”

The din of men’s voices entering the stables cut off her words. I peered through the slats to see two gentlemen in evening attire. Then before I could identify them, Evie gripped the sleeve of my coat and forced me to duck down with her.

While crouching down inside Isis’ pen provided a suitable hiding place, it did not help my meager restraint. Especially as I stared at Evie’s lovely face right before me.

“I am certain I saw her enter the stables.” A voice surfaced near the front.

I lifted my chin and angled my ear upward as if that might help me hear better and discern the owner of the voice.

“She may have gone to the garden; she enjoys walks out there.”

I was now certain the first man who spoke was Lord Trenton and the second, Sir Charles.

They seemed to pace unsettled near the front. Lord Trenton spoke again. “I have a proposal, Wimpole.”

“Reserve it for the lady in question.”

“I don’t believe I have won her heart. And while I placed my fallback stakes on the viscount, his foolish ways have put him out of the running as well.”

Eveline’s eyes widened. For a moment there I thought her breathing suspended. I reached for her hand and held it, cursing the glove barrier that kept me from touching her skin.

“What are you saying, my lord?”

“That you might be the only one here that has a chance to woo Mrs. Turner.”

“It is merely a wish at the moment, she has not given me any indication she is interested.”

“The woman doesn’t know what she wants.” Lord Trenton stated, frustration evident in his voice.

Evie almost rose to those words, but I gently held her still. Leaning forward, I whispered in her ear. “Let them finish, then you will know the whole of their scheme.”

“Speak plainly,” Sir Charles snapped.

“I want her plantations,” Lord Trenton confessed. “They are located near the two my family owns and I could double my shipments and profitability by spring.”

“She has plantations?” Sir Charles questioned. “I knew she had wealth, but didn’t know the particulars.”

“When her husband, Sir Colin, passed he left the plantations in the Indies in her hands. It’s why I accepted this invitation from Hunter through the marquess. I was informed she would be here.” A significant pause emerged before he continued. “While her beauty complements the conquest, she has proved to be immeasurably stubborn in many ways.”

I wanted to smile. Evie was blasted stubborn at times. But I refrained, knowing this conversation had the potential to cause her great pain.

“What is your proposition, my lord?”

“If we can get her to accept your proposal of marriage—”

Sir Charles cut him off. “—She has been lovely and kind, but I don’t believe we have reached an understanding yet.”

“Then seduce the chit, Wimpole, make it so she doesn’t have a choice.”

Now a fire lit beneath my skin, and I began to rise when Eveline clutched my sleeve, keeping me beside her. “Wait. I need to hear the rest, Zach.”

Anger threaded through every fiber of my being. If I found myself alone in a room with Lord Trenton, I was certain I would not be able to control myself.

“I compromise her, then what?” Sir Charles asked.

“You will get married and offer the plantations to me, first. It will be a fair price I assure you.”

“What else?”

“What else do you want?”

“Your pair of white Turkmen.”

“They are worth more than all my horses combined!” Lord Trenton exclaimed.

“That is my price,” Sir Charles said.

“Fine.” We heard rustlings as if they shook on it.

“Now, if you will excuse me,” Sir Charles said. “I have a woman to woo… or seduce.”

Both men disappeared in a flash, and I stood to my feet, peering over the boards that separated Isis’ stall from the other horses. Damn them! I peered down at Evie’s lowered head. I could strangle the blasted men at this party. First the viscount and now these two? How could Jaxon have ever been friends with such blackguards? Out of the three of them, I truly thought that Sir Charles had some semblance of honor.

I reached for her hand, tenderly raising her to her feet. She did not look at me. I cupped her cheek with my palm, stirring a bevy of emotion within my chest. My thumb caressed her skin. I wanted nothing more than to close the distance between us.

“Have they departed?” she asked.

I let my hand fall to my side. I could not press my desire. Not tonight, not after what we just heard.

“I will check.” I stepped out of the stall and walked over to the front entrance. Everything inside me wanted to follow the men, particularly Sir Charles because of his newest revelation and intent. Evie must never be left alone. I watched as the men’s silhouettes disappeared in different directions and gripped the edge of the barn door in frustration. What do I say to her? She will believe she has little worth, and I cannot let that happen.

After several minutes of weighing my options, I knew what I needed to do. What I wanted to do. I loved Evie. The answer was simple. Right before me. But would she think I proposed because I felt sorry for her? The damage those scoundrels have caused might be irreparable, but in an enlightening way, I was grateful she learned of their false intentions now and not after she wed.

I turned around and strode back over to the stall. It was now empty. I glanced up and saw the door at the opposite end of the stables open. Evie had fled. I rushed out in an attempt to follow her, but didn’t see her. How long had I left her alone? I feared she might somehow run into Sir Charles without me present. And who knew? Perhaps even Lord Trenton had considered compromising her himself.

I rushed toward the house, trying to keep myself somewhat composed when I entered. I did not want to alert anyone to what just occurred. My first, and foremost, responsibility was to assure Eveline remained safe. After that, it wouldn’t matter if I confronted either one of those men. Planting a nice facer or two, I conceded, would improve my temperament significantly.

Taking the steps several at a time, I arrived at Evie’s bedchamber door and knocked quietly. “Evie are you in there? It’s me, Zach,” I whispered.

Nothing.

Was I wasting my time when I should be out looking for her? “Evie, please. Let me know you are safe. I need to know.”

Light steps sounded within and finally her soft voice penetrated the barrier. “I’m fine, Zach. Thank you,” she whispered. “Goodnight.”

I pressed both palms against her door and rested my forehead against the wood. This miserable two-inch piece of timber stood between me and the woman I loved who surely was in tears by now. How does one rectify this? How does one convince her she is worth so much more than just her money?