Warwickshire, 1804
Lucasta Barnes crept down the side staircase at Whistleby Priory just before dawn on the first of May. Since her cousin Peony Whistleby insisted on rolling naked in the dew, Lucasta had no choice but to follow and ensure that she returned home safely.
Sheâs young and in good health, Lucasta reminded herself. This is May, not December. And although Peony was foolish, she wasnât a madwoman. Still, Peonyâs belief in fairy magic, combined with the chill darkness of the morning, reminded Lucasta horribly of a Sussex night well over three years ago, when her grieving mother had crept out alone. Sheâd refused to accept that her husband was dead, believing instead that the fairies had stolen him. Theyâd found her the next morning, weeping on the rainy Downs, and sheâd died of an inflammation of the lungs a few days later.
That wonât happen to Peony, Lucasta told herself firmly. She took the last stairs in a hurry and sneaked into the gunroom, where she retrieved her little muff pistol from one of the drawers in the big old cabinet. Mr. Whistleby had confiscated it when sheâd first come to stay at the Priory, saying he didnât hold with women handling guns. She found some powder and shot, and a few minutes later, the loaded gun in the pocket of her cloak, she hurried through the orchard toward the wood.
If only she hadnât mentioned the idiotic ritual to Peony in the first place! To Lucasta, rolling in the dew was merely another subject in her folklore research, but it was just the sort of thing to catch her cousinâs romantic fancy. It wouldnât magically call Peonyâs true love to her side, but if some wayward male should dare to accost her naked cousin, Lucasta wouldnât hesitate to shoot him.
She was out of breath by the time she rounded the eastern edge of the wood. Somewhere along there, a path led to the so-called Enchanted Meadow. The lightening of the sky, along with the morning clamor of birds, meant that dawn had arrived, so hopefully Peony was already getting the rolling over with.
Lucasta wished it were lighter, because paths into the wood were notoriously hard to find even in daylight. Peony, of course, attributed this to the magical character of the wood; according to her, people who werenât supposed to reach the meadow, didnât. However, Lucasta had made her way through the wood on numerous occasions by applying logic and perseverance, which were much more reliableâand saferâthan magic. She eyed the darkness between two massive old oaks, certain the path wasâ
Out of the twilight a horse and rider loomed.
Damn! Intent on finding the way to the meadow, she hadnât noticed their approach, and now they were almost upon her. Judging by his hat and greatcoat, the substantial male figure astride a dark horse wasnât one of Mr. Whistlebyâs keepers, looking out for poachers.
Whoever he was, he shouldnât be here. Lucasta gripped the pistol in her pocket and strode forward, intending to tell him so.
* * *
âMiss Barnes,â said David, the Earl of Elderwood. âBetter hurry, hadnât you? Dawn is upon us and the moment is nigh.â
She froze. He couldnât see her clearly in the gloaming, but sensed the distress and anger surging within her like a swarm of wasps. He had expected the anger, but the distress woke an answering unease within him. God knew he didnât want to upset her, but sheâd refused more customary methods of communication, such as civil conversation. Now there was no other way.
âWhat the devil are you doing here?â she snarled.
âSurely Alexis told you of our impending visit,â he said in his softest, most nonchalant voice. His close friend Sir Alexis Court was Lucastaâs betrothed. Theyâd been engaged now for close to three years. They were likely to tie the knot sometime soon.
Whenever David considered the possibility that Lucasta might actually marry Alexis, he found himself possessed of a murderous rage. David liked Alexis. He didnât want to harm him, much less kill him, and besides, Alexis deserved better. Or rather, different. Lucasta was a single-minded, unyielding shrew. She would destroy Alexis, a decent fellow if ever there was one.
David, on the other hand, was notoriously indecent. Not only that, he wanted Lucasta. No, more than thatâLucasta belonged to him, whether she liked it or not. She was his.