Page 6 of The Lady in White
“Choose three cards,” Miss Mary instructed.
Louisa did as she was bid. Miss Mary spread those cards in a line and then turned over seven more cards, forming a cross with them. For the longest moment, she simply stared at the cards, studying them one by one, then drawing back to take in the full array.
“There is darkness ahead of you,” Miss Mary said, her voice laced with warning. “But not without hope. You have the strength to overcome it... but do you have the will?”
It was nonsense. Vague statements that could be interpreted in dozens of ways depending upon what she wanted to believe. Louisa tapped her finger on one of those cards. “What does this card mean?”
Miss Mary smiled much like the cat who’d gotten the cream. “That would be the lovers, Miss Jones.”
If she’d needed proof that Miss Mary’s reading was nonsense, that did it. Mr. Blackwell wanted nothing to do with her, at least not for very long.
“Do you know why Mr. Blackwell wishes to marry me?”
Miss Mary shrugged. “I know why he refused you at first. You are too pretty, Miss Jones, for a man like my nephew to resist.”
“A man like your nephew?”
“One who struggles with his inner nature, one who fights to find balance between passion and reason. You tempt him, and that is what he seeks to avoid at all costs. But time is running out, and now he has to play the hand that fate—and Mr. Hatton—have dealt him.”
“You are mistaken, madame!”
Miss Mary tapped one long, elegant finger against the card in question.The Lovers.“Not I, Miss Jones. I merely relay what the cards tell me. But even when fate sends us down one path, we must choose whether to stay on it or change course. You will find your own way. And perhaps he will too. I will see you at dinner, Miss Jones. And felicitations on your pending nuptials.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Good afternoon, Miss Jones—Louisa. I shall call you Louisa. Too much of this Miss Jones and Miss Mary and ma’am business. I will be Aunt Mary to you,” the woman declared. “After tomorrow, of course.”
And with that, she breezed from the drawing room, leaving Louisa shaken. Like one might be in the wake of a powerful storm.
Chapter Five
It was ashockingly brief and perfunctory service. There was no celebratory breakfast awaiting them when they returned to Rosehaven. In truth, hardly a word was spoken in the carriage on the way home.
Douglas spared a glance at Miss Jones—Mrs. Louisa Blackwell, he corrected—and noted the tension that had settled over her pretty features. He wanted to dispel it, to offer some assurance that they hadn’t just made a terrible mistake. But how could he? For him, it had been the right choice. The only choice. But for her, she’d given up any hope of having a family of her own. The twinge of guilt that thought created within him was decidedly uncomfortable.
Of course, stealing glances at her had other unfortunate effects. She was alluring. In a way that was completely effortless, she commanded his attention. How many times during the previous day had he halted what he was doing when thoughts of her and their situation intruded? Countless, he admitted. Proximity only made his growing obsession with her more evident. It also underscored his decision to keep their relationship as brief as his uncle’s will would allow. He could not afford to indulge his preoccupation with her.She could not afford for him to do so.One year, and he would watch her walk out of his life forever. If he’d endured the hell of various wars for nearly a decade, surely he could achieve that.
Douglas hadn’t told her the entire truth. Certainly, he did like an orderly life, and emotional upheaval was something he had worked very hard to avoid. But he hadn’t told her why. He hadn’t dared to disclose to her the terrible fate that so many women met when they had the misfortune to become entangled with a Blackwell man. Jealous. Possessive. Irrational. Whether it was love or something much darker, Blackwell men could not be trusted when it came to the safety of the women in their lives.
When the carriage finally drew to a stop, he breathed a sigh of relief. He needed distance between them—a reprieve from his own thoughts. But luck was not on his side. The moment he stepped down from the carriage, he heard the sound of hoofbeats. A lone rider was coming up the drive.
It was all Douglas could do not to curse bitterly. As if, he thought, there weren’t enough complications in his life already, his cousin had arrived.
“Ho, Douglas! Felicitations,” Terrence Blackwell called out as he halted his horse. With one graceful motion, he dismounted, his booted feet crunching on the gravel. “I’ve arrived just in time to celebrate your nuptials.”
The words rang hollowly, no doubt as they’d been intended to. His marriage to Louisa meant that Terrence was no longer the contingent heir. Had Douglas failed to meet his late uncle’s conditions in the time allotted, the family fortune would have been Terrence’s for the taking, so long as he managed to get himself married. It could not be coincidence that he had showed up now.
“Terrence,” Douglas acknowledged. “I wasn’t aware you’d planned to visit.”
His cousin’s answering smile did not reach his eyes. His gaze remained cold and sharp. “I wasn’t aware that I had to inform you, cousin. It is the family home, after all. You are merely itscaretaker for this generation. Isn’t that how Uncle James stated it in his will?”
It was, and now he was trapped by his uncle’s last wishes. “Of course, Terrence. We will have the servants ready your usual room.”
“And in the meantime, you may introduce me to your charming bride.”
Douglas gritted his teeth. “Of course.” Turning back to the carriage, he caught the worried gaze of his bride. She stared at him with concern.As if she knew something was amiss.Forcing himself to offer a reassuring smile, he offered her his hand and helped her alight from the vehicle. “Louisa, allow me to introduce my cousin, Mr. Terrence Blackwell. Terrence, my wife, Louisa.”
Terrence stepped forward, taking her hand and bowing low over it before pressing a kiss to it. “It is an honor to meet you, Cousin Louisa.”
