The Wolf of Winterthorne: Scandalous Secrets, Book 4 (36 page)

She took her husband’s hand. “Yes, we shall.”

Of course, their turn was a ploy to survey their surroundings and get a better look at the guests, to scrutinize everyone in attendance for any sign of Sybil.

Motioning to one of his footmen, Logan asked for Arabella’s cloak. It would soon be time for the fireworks, when she and Victoria would switch places.

Tristan and Victoria came up from behind.

Arabella met her friend’s smile with her own. In truth, she could not have been happier to see Tori, relief flooding Bella at the sight of Victoria’s familiar visage. “I am so glad to see you.”

“Don’t you look exquisite?” Victoria beamed as she hugged Bella before whispering. “Sybil is on the terrace. Dressed in a jade gown and gold gloves. Tristan is informing Logan now. I shall grab my cloak and meet you outside.”

Bella turned to glimpse Logan shaking Tristan’s hand.

Tristan and Victoria exited the ballroom, to where her cloak was waiting as Bella donned hers before stepping out onto the terrace with Logan.

Surrounded by their guests, with a violin solo drifting through the faint breeze, the fireworks illuminated the sky above the lake. Brilliant bursts of color rained down from the heavens, dazzling the grounds in different hues, reflecting upon the glassy water of the lake.

It was breathtaking, each colorful explosion causing audible gasps from the crowd.

Logan studied those who surrounded them, searching for Sybil. Arabella did the same. Though the fireworks were loud, Bella could discern a female voice shouting something inaudible at first.

The crowd began to shove each other, shouting and screaming. Logan clasped Bella’s hand as they were tousled with the momentum of the crowd.

A man with a ragged voice yelled, “A wolf has attacked. Look—”

Shrieks drowned out the rest of his statement. As another burst of sound and color, this time white, exploded above them, the dark outline of a male form, lying on the grounds near the lake was visible.

“Wolf!” Another male shouted.

“The legend is true,” yelled another.

Panic overcame the crowd as they pushed one another in an attempt to flee. During the mêlée, Bella’s hand slid from Logan’s grasp.

“Bella,” Logan shouted as he rammed through the crowd to catch up to her.

Momentum was moving against him, bodies packed, descending like groundswells, impeding his progress.

Arabella fought against the crowd, though the momentum sent her backwards, farther from Logan, until she was pinned against the terrace doors. A hand clamped onto her arm, and relief flooded her.

“Logan—”

“Think again, dearest sister,” Sybil snarled, yanking Arabella through the French doors that led into the salon.

Cloaked in shadow, the room remained unlit. The only light emanating from the colors streaking across the sky outside and the iridescent glow of the full moon peeking through the French doors to the terrace.

Time for Plan B
, Arabella thought as she sprinted out of the room.

“You can’t run from me,” Sybil taunted. “I will always catch you.”

Bella raced into the library, where she knew that the large windows would display enough light for her to find the entrance to the tunnels. There she would lead Sybil to the theatre as originally planned.

Though Logan had remained unaware, Arabella had practiced many routes in the tunnels while he slept, or worked to secure the planning of tonight’s event. She had feared that going into the tunnels herself might be necessary, in spite of everyone’s best efforts.

Now, Bella was flooded with relief knowing that she had prepared. Relief, mixed with a jagged fear that stole her breath.

She had felt such panic two other times in her life. One was when she was running for her life, unknowingly heading towards Winterthorne on the night Logan found her. The other was when she awakened in a heap, in the back of a bouncing cart filled with dirt, on the way to her death.

Evil was once again hunting her.

She would outrun it.

Bella had no other choice but to survive.

Nimbly releasing the latch, she proceeded down the dark tunnel, counting her steps in silence as the explosions from the fireworks boomed, shaking the foundation, causing dust and dirt to fall from the rafters above.

Blinking dust from her eyes, Arabella yanked one of her gloves from her hand, tossing it on the floor then clutching her fan, the cool handle now warm.

She gripped onto it for dear life as she continued to count her steps, winding deeper into the dark catacombs, dragging her free palm against the wall to keep her bearings as she continued toward the theatre. Grasping her skirts, she carefully descended a series of twenty-seven stone steps.

“Sister, dear sister, where have you gone?” Sybil taunted in a singsong voice, though it was distant and somewhat muffled. “Sister, dear sister your exhausting antics are making me yawn. For sister, dear sister, me you should dread. Sister, dear sister, you soon will be dead.”

Arabella’s heart constricted.

The men who kidnapped her had discussed her demise, as well.

Arabella had pretended to be unconscious as they discussed what would happen to her.

One man with a mousy voice had asked if they would kill her. “I would, if it were me,” he had said, excitement emanating from his tone, as if he hoped he would get the chance to commit murder. Several other male voices had agreed.

That is why Arabella had waited in silence, until the cart jerked to a halt and the men disembarked, walking to the outline of the woods to smoke and stretch their legs.

Then and only then did she seize her opportunity to flee, shrouded in silence, taking great pains not to make a sound.

Yes, she ran for her life on that night.

Arabella would do the same on this night, with one exception – she refused to hide or cower. She would confront her attacker with the full knowledge that her life depended upon it.

Her predator had made it clear – both of them would not survive this night if Sybil had any say in the matter.

So, Bella would take control of the situation.

Her twin was no longer the puppeteer, pulling the strings, forcing Arabella to dance to her tune.

I own my life.

It was Arabella’s silent vow as she removed her cloak before dropping it on the steps in the hopes that it would trip Sybil.

“No wonder your career is in tatters,” Bella ridiculed, in a deliberate attempt to ensure that her sister would proceed further into her trap. “You haven’t a creative bone in your body. That was the most horrid rhyme I have ever heard.”

Sybil laughed. “It matters not for it will be the last you ever hear.”

Like hell it will.

Arabella reached the stage, her heels clacking against the wooden planks upon which sat several lanterns to illuminate the scene. The theatre was large and draughty, the scent of must lingering in the air, the substance clinging to the rafters and the curtains. Although they swept, it even adhered to the wood, engrained in it, like the natural knots and veins that lined the large, centuries old planks.

A heavy curtain comprised of a tattered fabric that must have once been the rich hue of hunter green, now faded, hung haphazardly. It separated the sisters from the small crowd of witnesses Logan had gathered – at least a dozen of Sybil’s victims. All eagerly awaiting her admission of guilt, all seeking retribution.

Sybil ran after Bella, her eyes widening at the realization of where her sister had led her.

“You seem surprised, Sybil,” Bella paused, tugging her remaining glove with force as she caught her breath. There was a stich in her side, causing her to wince. She had no idea that she had been exerting herself to such an extent.

Anxiety pumped at a maddening rate, rushing against her temples as Arabella prayed this would work, that the crowd would remain quiet.

Straining to hear anything above the sound of her own ears ringing, nothing but silence and her own rapid breaths could be discerned.

Were their guests, Sybil’s victims, even behind the curtain?

Arabella tightened her fingers around the handle of her weapon in disguise, willing her panic to subside.

“What are you thinking, Sybil?” Bella tipped her head to the side, her voice controlled. She hid her panic well. Sybil must not be the only actress in the family. “Pray, answer not. Allow me to guess. It will be our little amusement. You enjoy games, do you not? I surmise that you are questioning whether I planned this little confrontation. Did I predict that you would attend this evening and lure you to this platform so I could face you? If you reached that realization, you would be correct in such an assessment. But were you smart enough to figure it out on your own?”

“You underestimate my intelligence, sister,” Sybil retorted. “I am capable of that realization and so much more.”

Bella scoffed. “Yes, like compromising yourself with my employer and pretending to be me. That was an accomplishment, indeed, Sybil. It was also spiteful and petty not to mention depraved.”

Sybil sauntered onto the stage, her gown the muted color of a deep emerald in this light, green sparks emanating from her scathing gaze.

“I got you sacked, which was my goal, I assure you,” Sybil shrugged. “I get what I want. Either I make it happen, or I take it.”

“Yes, you do. You are quite the thief, stealing from Lord Lawrence before butchering him, pretending I had committed your abhorrent crime, and leaving me to die for your sins.” Arabella stood center stage, her tone loud and clear, echoing through the theatre. “You are also sloppy, your arrogance betraying you. You confessed your every sin, you bragged about your crimes under the false assumption that I was unconscious.”

“It was the perfect plan, or at least it would have been until you survived,” Sybil took several steps forward. “You were never supposed to outlive that night. But you did, stubbornly finding that beast, that urchin. How sweet that you were both reunited. But not for long, because you and your anonymous
Tattler
took someone from me, and I intend to repay the debt in kind.”

Arabella crossed the stage. “It must have been impossible for you. Keeping all of your secrets, all of your misdeeds from the world. Always waiting in the wings, never the star, unable to take credit for your greatest performances. Instead, you hid behind your twin, behind anonymity.”

Sybil sighed. “I am going to kill you tonight. You know that, do you not?”

“You will make the attempt, yes. Whether or not you succeed is a different story. The only reason you bested me this long is because I lost my memory, albeit briefly. That allowed you some latitude. You have lost that advantage.” It was a deliberate attempt to provoke Sybil.

It worked.

“Oh, I will be victorious, Arabella,” Sybil’s voice boomed, louder than the most vivid firework. “You and your poor excuse for a husband could have disappeared and left me in peace. Instead, you ruined my life and for that you both must suffer. I will take your life, your brute, his fortune. I’ve done so before and I will do it again. Do you think Lord Lawrence was the first man I stole from?”

“To the contrary, I believe there were many more victims of your fraud. Though I doubt you were capable of such a scheme on your own. You are weak, Sybil. You are nothing more than a jealous, vindictive child. You use people to do your bidding. I doubt you’ve gotten your hands dirty more than once.” Narrowing her eyes, Bella studied Sybil’s features.

She knew what would inflict the most damage upon her sister. As Arabella predicted, underestimating Sybil, discrediting her, would heighten her fury.

Sybil’s cheeks turned crimson as rage washed over her smooth visage, contorting it into a mask of resentment and loathing. “You are wrong, sister. I was responsible for fifteen robberies, all from nobles. The list is long indeed. Lord Lawrence was the last. Before him came the Countess of Cornell and the Duchess of Hertfell – did you know that both poor, old women suffer from dementia? They believed I was their daughters. Silly fools, though they had excellent taste in jewels. As did the Marquis of Trebuchet who is guilty of performing scandalous acts with numerous women, none of whom are his wife. He actually surrendered her wedding jewels in a desperate attempt to silence me. They were quite beautiful, a matching set of rubies going back generations. Priceless. Like me. Unfortunately, the Marquis was a horrid man. So I exposed him anyway, for sport.”

“What of the others? Do you care to list them as well?” Arabella prompted. “For instance, who was that man lying on the grounds here tonight. There was no wolf attack, of that I am certain.”

“I think you know enough. Far too much in fact, and I am growing bored with this conversation. I believe it is time we bid adieu for good, dear sister.” Sybil laughed. “Upon further consideration, since I am being honest, I must admit that you have never been dear to me. You have been a nuisance. Forever judgmental and clearly our parents’ favorite. Add to that your romance with that peasant. One question, before we end this. How did Logan Ambrose of all people acquire such prosperity?”

Bella smiled, further inciting her sister, by stating quite simply. “My husband earned it. You will never sink your talons into him or his fortune, which is vast indeed. Who would have thought that I would live in opulence while you would lose everything you have schemed so hard to steal from others?”