Lord of Deceit (Heiress Games Book 2) (14 page)

Octavia didn’t know if she had ever deserved the favor. But she’d always asked for it anyway.

Tonight, perhaps the Maidenstone had finally taken pity on her. The legend was that the stone had originally been a girl seduced by the devil. She had repented at the last moment, and God — or the gods the pagans worshipped, long before the monks arrived — had turned her to stone so that the devil couldn’t take her to hell with him.

Octavia knew it was superstition, convenient because the rock had a vaguely human shape and stood, eerily alone, in the middle of the forest. But if anyone would take pity on Octavia, it would be a woman who had lost everything by loving the wrong man.

So perhaps it
was
a blessing from the Maidenstone when fog rolled over the ground, cloaking Octavia’s feet in mist. Fog wasn’t uncommon, but this mist was perfectly timed. She heard Rafe’s party from the abbey moving through the forest, making enough noise to raise the ghosts of everyone who’d died in Devonshire over the centuries.

Octavia hesitated. Even with the fog, and even with her dress, it was unlikely that anyone would believe she was a ghost. If she was caught, it would be too embarrassing for words.

But if she was caught, someone would have to acknowledge why she wasn’t invited to the party.

She couldn’t let herself think of what she would do when she was caught. She hadn’t been caught yet, and the surest way to ruin the mission was to hesitate now. She slid the veil down over her face and waited for her cue.

The group of ghost hunters reached the edge of the clearing. They were to her right, a quarter of the way around the circle, so that she could walk through the clearing in front of them without facing them directly. It was twenty feet from the edge of the clearing to its center — not far enough to obscure her completely, but it would be impossible to see her face beneath the veil in the dark.

She could tell by the tone of their laughter and their boisterous conversation that Rafe had gotten them properly foxed before bringing them outside. From her hiding place, she couldn’t see exactly who was in the party, especially with the dark, heavy veil over her face. There were perhaps fifteen people trailing behind Rafe — more than she would have guessed would be interested in ghost hunting. He must have spread the rumors well to get so much interest.

There were also women among the men, which surprised her. But it was a wise tactic — the suitors would be less likely to think they had been targeted if some of the women were scared away from the party as well. And if they were scared, women’s screams would add to the eerie atmosphere of the clearing.

“Is this it, then?” Lord Anthony said, loudly enough that Octavia identified him immediately. “The infamous Maidenstone clearing?”

“Infamous indeed,” a woman said. “My husband, rest his soul, said fell deeds have happened here. Some of his stories were beyond incredible.”

Lady Maidenstone
. Octavia frowned. What was her grandfather’s widow doing among the party?

“We won’t see anything at all if the lot of you can’t be quiet.” That was Rafe’s voice. He sounded thoroughly in his cups — so drunk that Octavia wondered, for a moment, whether he would remember to pursue their plan.

“I never heard of any ghosts here,” Sir Percival Pickett said. “I thought all of the hauntings occurred at the abbey itself.”

His skepticism was the first intelligent comment Octavia had ever heard from him — an unfortunate time for Sir Percival to demonstrate sense. “I’m sure you’re mistaken, Sir Percival,” Lady Maidenstone said cheerfully. “Lord Maidenstone would
never
have come here at night.”

That was true — but only because Octavia’s grandfather preferred to spend his evenings with the contents of his wine cellar rather than tramping around the countryside. But why would Lady Maidenstone encourage this story?

Octavia couldn’t stop the proceedings now, even though Lady Maidenstone’s presence was a warning shot. Rafe, drunk or not, was moving forward with their plot. “Everyone, hush,” he said, drawing out the
shhhhh
like he might lose control of his speech at any moment. “Portia, dear, will you do the honors?”

“I do not know, Rafe,” his sister said. Octavia had never heard the girl’s voice, but while it was deeper than Serena’s, they shared the same cultured drawl. “I’m positively terrified.”

There was a tremor in her voice — if she knew about the plan, she was an excellent actress. Serena came to her rescue. “Let’s say it together, Portia. The Briarleys were known for fighting each other — perhaps the ghost will like it if two sisters say the words rather than one.”

“I still think we should leave well enough alone,” Portia said.

“As do I,” Sir Percival said. “Ghosts aren’t to be trifled with.”

Lady Maidenstone laughed. “Where’s your sense of adventure? I’ve always wanted to see if the ghost would visit the clearing.”

This was all wrong. Lady Maidenstone would guess that Rafe was up to something. Octavia suddenly realized, with sickening certainty, that Lady Maidenstone already knew about Octavia and Rafe’s alliance, or at least that he had called on her regularly during the party. If Octavia’s servants were reporting back to Lucy about her whereabouts, they would also report about her only visitor.

If, by some miracle, Lady Maidenstone didn’t know about Rafe’s involvement with Octavia, it wouldn’t matter in a few moments anyway. As soon as Lady Maidenstone saw the Tudor dress, she would guess that Octavia was underneath it.

Her hands were clammy and her heart raced. But she and Rafe hadn’t agreed on a signal to call the mission off — the first mistake they’d made thus far. If she didn’t come out of the forest when she was supposed to, it might ruin Rafe’s ability to gather a similar party in the future. She would have to come up with an entirely new plan to ruin Lucy before she inherited Maidenstone — and time was running out.

She drew a breath and steadied herself.

Across the clearing, Lord Anthony sounded positively besotted. “You are so brave, Lady Maidenstone. I hope you shall count on me to protect you.”

The youth was too obvious in his ardor. It was also unlikely that he wanted her for anything other than an affair. Octavia had seen him at enough
demimondaine
parties in London to know that his current aim was entertainment, not marriage. If he did propose to Lady Maidenstone, it would only be to annoy Thorington. But Lady Maidenstone had been married to a man fifty years her senior. Perhaps ardor was what she wanted. “I pray it shall not come to that, Lord Anthony,” she said prettily. “But I trust you could save me.”

Rafe stomped his foot, every bit the impatient drunkard. “Let’s have done with it, shall we? If there’s no ghost here, I’d rather be abed.”

“Or at the pub,” one of the other men said.

Lady Serena and Lady Portia stepped up to the very edge of the clearing. No one else had stepped out of the trees — as Octavia and Rafe had agreed, he had kept them back, making it harder for anyone to see clearly. The girls held hands. Behind them, everyone subsided, suddenly, into total silence.

“
Briarley contra mundum
,” they whispered.

Octavia could barely hear them from where she lurked. She waited.

“Three times, I think,” Rafe said.

“
Briarley contra mundum,
” they said again.

Sir Percival coughed. “This is a pointless endeavor, my ladies. Ghosts cannot be summoned like demons.”

Lord Anthony clapped him on the back. “Devonshire ghosts are different than the ones in your home county, I’m sure.”

Serena and Portia looked at each other, then back at the clearing. “
Briarley contra mundum
,” they said a third time, their voices ringing out over the fog-obscured ground.

Octavia waited three seconds. Then, as slowly and quietly as she could, she stepped into the clearing.

She didn’t look at the people gathered at the tree line, but she heard gasps. She walked toward the Maidenstone in a line parallel to where they were gathered so that they only saw her profile — the Tudor gown obvious as it disappeared into the mist at her feet, the heavy veil obscuring her features. Thankfully, Lucy’s gardeners kept the clearing in order — there were no sticks or leaves to step on, and so nothing made any noise beneath her feet as she walked toward the center of the circle.

The muttering increased. Some of it sounded like laughter — too boisterous and not nearly intrigued enough. The men were either too drunk or too sober — the drunk ones wouldn’t believe they’d seen a ghost, and the sober ones would see through her disguise.

It was too late to change course. She didn’t look at them. She kept walking as though she didn’t hear them at all. When she reached the center of the circle, she raised her arm, slowly. She touched the Maidenstone with one finger.

And then, unexpectedly, she heard a thud, as though someone had fallen.

Portia and Serena screamed.

“Lady Maidenstone!” Lord Anthony yelled.

Octavia desperately wanted to look. But she couldn’t ruin the illusion just when it seemed to be turning into an unexpected success. The girls’ screams had sent the party careening into chaos. She walked to the other side of the clearing, as slowly as she had entered it, and disappeared into the trees.

Behind her, she heard Rafe send two men — including Sir Percival, the most skeptical of all of them — back to the abbey for a horse for Lady Maidenstone. Lord Anthony was shouting for a vinaigrette.

Lady Maidenstone must have fainted.

The rest of the group had stopped screaming, but she heard anxiety in their voices. Octavia didn’t turn to look — there was still a risk she would be caught if she stayed where she was and some enterprising gentleman came after her. She moved through the forest and away from the party as quickly as she could, doing her best not to make any noise. The path to the hunting lodge was ahead of her. She could be halfway to safety before Rafe and the rest of the group left the clearing.

But as she reached the path, Octavia didn’t relax. She couldn’t. Their ruse had seemed to work. Whether any suitors abandoned Maidenstone after tonight remained to be seen, but it was a good first attempt. She should have been satisfied with it.

Instead, her doubts came roaring back.

What was Lady Maidenstone doing? Why had she played along with this farce?

And what would happen when Lady Maidenstone told Lucy? Octavia didn’t think Lucy could evict her from the hunting lodge yet, but she felt a flare of panic. If Lucy somehow convinced Ferguson to send her away before the party was finished, Octavia would have nowhere to go and no one to turn to. She would likely be forced to accept Somerville’s offer and take his unnamed friend as her next protector, whether she liked the man or not.

She had ignored Somerville’s notes asking about her plans for the future. These last few weeks — and especially these last few days, when she had had a willing accomplice — she had survived with the hope that it wouldn’t come to that. She hadn’t even realized how much she relied on that hope until tonight, when it felt, for the first time, like she might fail.

Once Lady Maidenstone told Lucy about what had happened in the forest, Lucy would take action against Octavia. And if Octavia had to leave Maidenstone, there were no good options in front of her.

Unless Rafe….

She couldn’t allow herself that hope. It was even more dangerous than all the hopes she’d harbored over winning Maidenstone.

She pushed it all aside and headed toward the hunting lodge. She couldn’t know, tonight, what Lucy would do or what might happen in the morning. Tonight, their plan had worked. That was something worth celebrating.

And if, in the morning, she had to make a new plan and find a new protector — at least she would have the memories of the last few days to carry with her.

R
afe caught
up to her in the last stretch of forest before the path emptied into the small lawn in front of the hunting lodge. He’d been almost entirely silent as he’d followed her through the woods. His training in Spain was too long and too dangerous to let him walk as freely, and as noisily, as he once would have done.

From behind, in the moonlight that filtered through the trees and the fog that swirled in lazy eddies over the ground, Octavia looked almost like a spirit. The light glimmered over the heavy brocade. She walked with the steady, measured tread of someone — or something — who had known these woods all her life. Even in the dark, even with the possibility that someone could have followed her from the clearing, Octavia was bold and unafraid.

She could have reached the hunting lodge alone. Rafe didn’t need to follow her there to make sure she was safe.

Especially since he was likely the most dangerous thing she faced in Maidenstone Wood.

But the thought of melting into the shadows and letting her proceed alone — of not seeing her until the following day, or the day after that — didn’t appeal. He told himself that he needed to pursue the next stage of his mission against Somerville — not that he needed to see her again.

“Octavia,” he said quietly, when he was a few feet from her.

She jumped, but she didn’t scream. When she turned to look over her shoulder, the smile she gave him was full of life. “The devil chased a girl through these woods once. Have you come to tempt me, my lord?”

“Only if the lady wishes to be tempted,” Rafe said. It was the kind of light, easy flirting that he excelled at — but here, in the dark, with branches stretching overhead and Octavia’s smile aimed at him like a weapon, it didn’t sound like a jest.

“I do not know, my lord.” She looked him up and down as though truly considering his offer. “There is the small matter of our pursuers.”

“My siblings have them well in hand. After Lady Maidenstone fainted, everyone was too enthralled by that spectacle to think of following you.”

He regretted mentioning what had happened in the clearing. Octavia’s flirtation died on the vine, replaced by steely determination. “Why was Lady Maidenstone with you? I think it unwise, given her relationship with Lucy.”

Rafe offered her his arm. “Shall we discuss as I walk you home? We may not be caught by the houseguests, but you could take a chill.”

“Unlikely, in this dress. It weighs a thousand pounds and has kept me as warm as an oven.” But she took his arm and walked with him through the last scrap of forest. “Did Lady Maidenstone say anything when she returned to the living?”

“Merely that she had never seen the ghost in the Maidenstone clearing, and that it always preceded some great disaster befalling the Briarley house. You should be glad she came. Your performance alone might not have been enough to scare the suitors, even with my sisters enlisted to scream at the appropriate moments. But Lady Maidenstone’s fear seemed genuine.”

“That’s impossible,” Octavia said flatly. “There has never, in all my life, been a rumor of ghosts at the Maidenstone clearing itself.”

“Perhaps Lady Maidenstone didn’t know that?”

Octavia shook her head. “She lived with my grandfather and Lucy for years. Between the two of them, she would have learned every scrap of the Briarleys’ tragic history whether she wished it or not.”

“But she fainted. Are you suggesting that she merely pretended to be scared witless?”

She paused. Now that they had made their first strike — now that this had turned from a set of plans to a real battle — she showed the same hesitation he saw in new recruits in Spain. The headiness of crisp uniforms and certain victory was replaced with bitter awareness. It usually only took one battle for men to discover that they might lose everything after all, despite the best laid plans.

Rafe couldn’t comfort her about that. Battles rarely went entirely as planned. And if she lost Maidenstone, her heart would still beat and her blood will still flow through her veins — more than could be said for men who lost their lives at war.

He didn’t think she would appreciate him pointing out that her struggles were less dangerous than they might have been. But she didn’t ask him for comfort. “I do not know why Lady Maidenstone would have fainted, or pretended to faint,” she said. “But I do not like it. I can think of no good reason why she would go along with our farce. She surely means to tell Lucy about it.”

They walked across the lawn in silence. Rafe considered her suspicions. He had thought that Lady Maidenstone had come to the clearing because Anthony had invited her. The boy had practically been living in her pocket these last few days, either out of genuine affection or to annoy Thorington by courting the penniless widow instead of one of the Briarley heiresses.

Rafe hadn’t had time to ask Anthony what his intentions were with Lady Maidenstone — not that it was Rafe’s responsibility to do so. But if Lady Maidenstone had sensed that something strange was happening and gone to the clearing specifically to spy on their efforts, that was an entirely different scenario than if she was there to enjoy Anthony’s company.

The hunting lodge waited, dark and empty. They walked up the short set of steps to the front door together. Octavia pushed the door open, but she didn’t enter. Instead, she turned toward Rafe. Her shoulders were square and her bearing determined — but the look in her eyes said she expected to find death at dawn. “Lady Maidenstone will betray us in the morning, if she hasn’t already. But I still owe you my gratitude, my lord. I could not have made even this attempt without you.”

“Are you so sure you’ve lost the war? Usually I would celebrate a victory like tonight’s.”

She assessed him again. There was something fey and a little wild in her eyes, as though she had been touched too long by the fog in Maidenstone Wood. He wondered what she had thought about in those dark hours while she waited for him to bring their victims to the clearing. Did she dream of victory? Did she fear defeat? Had she kept calm by thinking of other things? Many men dreamed of home, or a lover, but Octavia wouldn’t find comfort in either of those memories.

He realized, then, that he had expected her to be delighted with their success — to already be planning to poison the wells or cut Lucretia’s dresses to shreds. He had been eager to help her plot those things, for reasons that had nothing to do with his revenge against Somerville. None of it was likely to stop Lucretia from winning.

But in Octavia’s company these last few days, for the first time that he could remember in ages, he had had
fun
.

He didn’t mind if she was a little fey, a little wild. In the dark, influenced by all the memories of other nights spent slinking through enemy forests, Rafe felt a little wild himself.

But he didn’t want Octavia to lose the spark of joy he’d seen in her so many times before — to already be planning for defeat, and a life spent warming others’ beds for protection and pretty dresses.

Still, as Octavia’s mouth twisted, suddenly, into a secretive little smile that went straight to his gut, Rafe wondered again whether Fortune had chosen to reward him or crush him under the wheel. “If it’s celebration you suggest, my brave captain, it’s celebration we shall have. I know it’s unwise of me to ask when you’ve already turned me down once, but do you care to join me for a drink?”

His mouth went dry. The threads between them were weaving together into something stronger — something that could bind. He should stop and say his farewells, giving up on his mission before he hurt her or she trapped him. She shouldn’t have given him that minxlike smile — wouldn’t have given it to him, if she knew that he was using her to defeat Somerville. Ultimately, threads could become ties, which could bind them together — or threads could become nooses. And if she ever discovered what he had drawn and how his caricatures had already affected her, she would hate him far more than she could ever love him.

But her smile was all he could see. That damned drawling desire went through his ears and wrapped around his heart. He felt like a schoolboy again, hardening as he imagined stripping her out of that dress.

Fortune sharpened her knives for the kill.

Octavia extended her hand.

He took it, hoping she didn’t notice that he had to clear his throat before he could respond. “I should be promoted to general after tonight’s escapade,” he said, as though she hadn’t affected him at all.

She laughed. “Continue as you are, and you’ll be a field marshal by the end of the year.”

By the end of the year, his mission would be over, Maidenstone Abbey’s fate would be settled, and there would be no reason for them to speak again.

It was a terrible idea to continue. But tonight, he couldn’t walk away from her. He told himself that everything he was about to do was solely for the sake of his mission.

Of all the people he lied to, Rafe was particularly skilled at lying to himself.

He kissed her hand, brushing his lips over her knuckles. She didn’t wear gloves. He was glad for it. He loved that swift little gasp as he touched her. He never failed to draw a reaction from her — just as she never failed to draw a reaction from him.

“I don’t think a promotion will be enough,” he said hoarsely.

“No?”

He turned her hand and pressed a kiss against her wrist. “No.”

Her eyes closed. He saw the decision playing out over her face. On a regular mission, he would have helped her along, kissing her neck, whispering something sweet to help her make up her mind. He could seduce a woman in five languages, but it usually took no words at all.

But he waited. He knew he had lied to himself about this being entirely about his mission. It mattered to him to know that she was making this decision entirely on her own — that she wanted him, regardless of whether or why he wanted her.

Octavia opened her eyes. The certainty there shocked him more than anything else could have.

“Have a drink with me,” she said. “And then we’ll see about your reward.”

She drew him through the open door, closing it behind them.

And Fortune smiled and stabbed him in the heart.