Defying Destiny (52 page)

decent change of clean clothes and being

dead broke did very little to improve her

wardrobe situation. It was a bit

humiliating to dine with guests at the

manor looking like a peasant, but things

couldn’t be helped. She would hold her

head up high even knowing her aunt would

be silently gloating.

There was a timid knock at her door

and she answered it to find a teenage girl

standing on the threshold. The girl was

wearing a maid’s uniform, and had silky

black hair. Her long lashes rested at the

tops of her cheeks as she stared

respectfully at the floor.

“Mr. Trayburn sent me to help you

dress for dinner, Miss Decatur,” she said,

bowing to her. “My name is Rikka. I

usually clean the manor, but I have some

training as a lady’s maid.”

“I don’t really need any help,” she

admitted.

“I

don’t

have

anything

appropriate to wear.”

There was a loud thud at the head of

the servant stairs. Maralee and Rikka

looked down the hall to see David

Caraway shoving a large trunk down the

hall.

“This thing sure is heavy,” he

complained when he reached the door to

Maralee’s room.

“What is this?” Maralee asked.

“Trayburn made me carry it up from

the storeroom in the servants’ quarters.

He’s been keeping it down there to hide it

from your aunt,” David said. “If you’ll

stand aside I’ll push it into your room and

then return to the kitchen. Jean is probably

wondering where I ran off to.”

Maralee moved into the room and

watched the trunk curiously as David

shoved it into the room. “Uh, thank you,

David,” she said when he stood up and

wiped the sweat from his brow with the

back of his hand.

“You’re

very

welcome,

Miss

Decatur.” He ducked his head and left.

Rikka was already opening the trunk.

She began pulling articles of clothing out

and laying them across Maralee’s bed.

“Those are my mother’s clothes,”

Maralee said, her heart thudding with a

powerful inrush of emotion.

“They are wrinkled and outdated,”

Rikka commented, “but they’ll do for now.

We’d better hurry. Mr. Trayburn wanted

me to make Bailey look like an overdone

peacock next to our beautiful swan.”

Rikka grinned at her. “He doesn’t really

seem the romantic type, but those were his

exact words.”

It turned out that Rikka was an

excellent lady’s maid. She soon had

Maralee looking like the proper mistress

of the Decatur estates. Her shimmering,

pale blue gown was plain, yet elegant

with an empress waist and small, cupped

sleeves. Maralee was surprised by how

perfectly the gown fit her. When she

caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror

over the dressing table, she was stunned

by how feminine she looked.

“For lack of time, we’ll have to do

something simple with your hair,” Rikka

said, pressing her down on the bench in

front of the dressing table. Within minutes,

she had arranged Maralee’s hair into long

loose curls, which draped down the center

of her back.

“Trayburn told me to apologize for not

being able to hide your mother’s jewels as

well as he hid her clothes. Mistress

Bailey quickly realized the jewelry was

missing.”

“I am grateful to him for saving what

he could, and I thank you for helping me

look halfway presentable. I’d better

hurry.”

Rikka helped her slip into a pair of

satin slippers that matched the gown

perfectly. Maralee left the room to venture

to the dining room.

She found her aunt was into the third

course of her meal and her two guests,

while seated at the table, weren’t eating

anything. Maralee pretended not to take

much interest in the two rough-looking

men who were listening intently to

Bailey’s low instructions.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Maralee said

quietly, taking the chair pulled out for her

by Trayburn.

“You look stunning, Miss Decatur,”

the old butler told her with a smile.

“Thanks to you,” she whispered.

His smile widened. “I shall bring your

first course, mistress,” he announced so

that the others at the table could hear.

“I thought you might need some sleep,

so I didn’t send anyone to wake you for

dinner,” Aunt Bailey explained, looking

nervously from one of her guests to the

other.

The two men, one with jet-black hair

and other with dark brown, were watching

Maralee with interest in their amber eyes.

Both men were ruggedly handsome and

had danger written all over them. Both

Wolves, no question.

“I appreciate your concern, Aunt

Bailey,” Maralee said, unfolding her

napkin and laying it in her lap. “Please,

introduce me to your guests.”

“They were just leaving,” Bailey said,

trying to catch the eye of either one of the

men, but they were too busy staring at

Maralee to pay her any attention.

“In the middle of dinner?” Maralee

asked,

hoping

she

looked

mildly

perplexed.

“Very well,” Bailey said coldly. “This

is Marc.”

The black haired man nodded at her,

and Maralee offered him a welcoming

smile.

“This is Jack,” Bailey introduced the

other man.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Marc,”

Maralee said, “and Jack. I am Maralee

Decatur.”

Both men stared as if she’d sprouted

horns and a forked tail and then turned

accusatory gazes on Bailey. Maralee

pretended not to notice their reaction and

instead turned her attention to Jean who

had personally brought the first course of

her meal into the dining room. He set it

before her and lifted a silver cover from

her plate. Maralee’s nose was blessed

with the heavenly fragrance of Jean’s

famous crab quiche.

“Oh, Jean. This looks amazing,” she

exclaimed,

and

Jean

flushed

with

pleasure.

“I made it especially for you. It used to

be one of your favorites,” he said. “And

just wait until you see what’s for dessert.”

“You’ll have me as fat as a cow if you

keep feeding me like this.” She had

already noticed her pants becoming

snugger over the past week. This didn’t

stop her from digging into the perfectly

formed quiche with her fork. It melted on

her tongue and she closed her eyes in

bliss. “Even better than I remembered,”

she told the chef.

He smiled at her and left the room,

returning to the kitchen to complete his

next masterpiece. While she ate, she

attempted

to

carry

on

friendly

conversation. The two Wolves grunted

occasionally, but refused to speak.

“So how did you meet these two

handsome young men, Aunt Bailey?” she

asked in a teasing tone.

“Uh…well…”

Aunt

Bailey

stammered. “They helped me out of a tight

situation several years ago.”

“What kind of tight situation?”

Aunt Bailey laughed nervously. “Don’t

worry about things like that, Maralee,” she

said, her voice squeaky. “You should rest

so you can return to your adventures as

soon as possible. You’ve been home for a

week already. Shouldn’t you be planning

to leave again?”

Maralee chuckled as if amused.

“Whatever are you talking about, Aunt

Bailey? I’m here to stay. I think I should

get to know your friends if they’re going to

be visiting you in my home.”

Bailey glanced nervously at Jack and

then stood up abruptly. “Before you go,

Jack. I have to give you that
thing
,” she

said, grabbing Jack by the sleeve and

pulling him to his feet. Marc climbed to

his feet as well, but Bailey shook her head

slightly and he sat back down. “We’ll be

right back,” she promised in a falsely

cheerful voice.

Maralee watched the two leave the

room and then turned her attention to the

shifty, black-haired man.

“You should have some quiche,”

Maralee told him. “It’s very good.”

He stared at her for a moment. She

could practically feel the animosity in his

eyes. “No, thank you,” he said gruffly.

“So what exactly does my aunt do for

you?” she asked. “I know you do her

killing for her.”

Marc’s eyes widened and then he

shook his head. “You are mistaken.”

“Then I apologize,” she said. “I

suppose you think I’m a threat to your

people.”

“Why would I think that?”

She smiled. “Because I know your

secret,” she said. “I know what you really

are and your weakness to silver.”

Jack was suddenly in the doorway.

“Marc,” he beckoned. “Let’s go.”

Marc glanced at Maralee and then

climbed to his feet.

“Are you leaving already?” Maralee

asked.

“We have a prior engagement,” Jack

said. “Excuse us.”

“Have a good evening,” she said, and

they disappeared into the hallway.

Aunt Bailey rejoined her a few

moments later. Maralee puzzled over her

brief encounter with the Wolves. They

seemed to be afraid of her or at the very

least wary of her. She wondered what

Aunt Bailey had told them.

“Have you really decided to give up

on your adventures?” Bailey asked her

with a false smile. “You’ve always loved

your freedom.”

“Well, we all have to grow up

sometime,” she said. “When will you be

moving out?”

Bailey’s mouth fell open. “You’re

going to make me leave?”

“Well, you’re welcome to stay in one

of the other properties on the estate,”

Maralee said in a civil tone. “I’m not

about to toss you out on your fanny after

all
you’ve done for me.”

“But—”

“Oh, you don’t have to thank me. You

were married to my uncle for almost two

years before he was killed. Surely such

devotion to my family deserves its

rewards.” Though her words were laced

with sarcasm, her demeanor was that of a

young lady having a pleasant conversation

as she dined upon the delicious fare

presented by attentive servants.

“I—”

“Well, think about it. I’ll understand if

you’d rather move to town. You do have

some money of your own, don’t you?”

Bailey’s eyes seemed to flicker with a

fiery hatred. “Why would I have any

money of my own? Your father controlled

all of the Decatur money when he died.

Jason left me with nothing.”

Maralee shrugged. “The Decatur’s

always take care of their own, however, it

seems only reasonable that you would be

a very wealthy woman, seeing as you

cleaned out my bank account months ago.”

All of the blood drained out of

Bailey’s thin face. “I didn’t.”

Maralee looked up from her plate.

“Don’t lie to me,” Maralee demanded. “If

there’s one thing I inherited from my

father, it’s a fighting spirit. Don’t think I’m

going to sit back while you take what’s

mine.” For some inexplicable reason, an

image of Nash flashed through her mind.

She dropped her fork, overcome by a

sudden wave of dizziness.

“Miss Decatur?” Trayburn questioned,

leaning over her shoulder. “Are you

feeling ill?”

She glanced up at the butler who had

taken care of her family since her father

had been a boy. His face swam out of

focus and then back again.

“Miss Decatur?” he said, his voice

sounded far away. “Miss Decatur.”

“I think…I need to…lie down…” she

whispered, before she slumped sideways

out of her chair.

“Is it serious, Doctor?” a distant voice

filtered through the fog in Maralee’s brain.

“Serious?” another voice entered.