He slid over a stool in front of my cot and started to shuffle. “I must warn you, though, I am good.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” I played cards with the Harris brothers all the time, often walking away with the majority of little trinkets and coins we’d gamble with. “How did you find us?”
He shifted in his chair and placed the deck down. “I was tracking the men who were following you, and saw the three of you in the distance. So, my men and I pursued.”
“So you were the ones I heard screaming behind us?”
He shook his head. “No. Those were…the men trying to kill you.”
Trying to kill you.
I swallowed. “Kill me?”
He nodded.
“So, you saved us?”
“Yes.”
“And Sam and Ben? They are safe?”
He handed me the stack of cards. “Yes. No slipping cards in your blanket now.”
“I pride myself on my ability, sir,” I countered, looking up at him from the cards. “It takes a special skill to win fairly.”
His lips quirked up in a grin, and he crossed his arms. “And what shall we play for?”
Before I got to answer, the door slammed open, causing me to jump. Discomfort shot though my shoulder, and I looked over to see Sam staring at me, as if I were some risen ghost.
“Sam!” I bellowed in relief.
“You’re up,” he stated. Before I could tell him to relax, Ben entered.
“A!” he exclaimed, pushing Sam out of his way. He quickly walked over and examined me. “How do you feel?”
“I’m fine; a little sore,” I replied.
“I’m so happy you are awake,” Sam replied. “You were unconscious for four days. The doctor said—”
“Four days?” I interrupted, and Sam nodded. “Holy sh—”
“He was pacing outside the damn door for all four of them,” the stranger grumbled.
Sam glared at him. “Ah, yes. I see you’ve had the misfortune of meeting the King’s bastard, Lord Garrett Cranfield.”
I slowly looked back at the stranger.
George’s oldest brother.
I watched both men exchange haughty frowns, like children, as the idea sauntered through my head.
The man who saved my life was my fake fiancé’s brother.
Ava
Chapter 1
Bampshire, Telliva
“Papa!” I called. Seated at his massive oak desk, I looked over the inventory reports and bills I’d received this morning. I cringed inwardly at the amount of paper I had to review as I sipped my coffee. Papa’s trading business, Barlow’s Barters, had been booming so rapidly lately that I was certain we’d need more help.
Papa walked through the study door, carrying a sandwich in one hand and a glass of lemonade in the other. He was chewing and grinning at me as he took a seat in one of the empty chairs before me, making it squeak.
“I see you’ve been sweet talking Mrs. Reynolds...again,” I said, quirking a brow.
“That woman is a marvel in the kitchen,” Papa replied with a chuckle. “She will bring you lunch in a moment.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, frowning down at the paper I held. “Papa, a trader from Corteneza is charging us way too much on sugarcane; it’s preposterous. We can find someone in Burkmore, or at least someone else in Corteneza.”
“We’ve been dealing with them for nearly two years, Ava. I can’t break long-term relationships so suddenly.” He took another bite of his sandwich.
“Then we renegotiate. This is a competitive business.”
He nodded. “As you wish, my dear. Draw up new terms, and we’ll skim through them together.”
“I’ll also consider some other traders, just as a back-up,” I added.
He raised his glass. “You never go without a back-up, my dear, in anything.”
I nodded. Papa was right. After being sent to the orphanage without a say, I had a need to control what I could.
Our butler entered the room, carrying a large box. “Lady Ava, the item you requested from the attic.”
“Wonderful, thank you, Brooks,” I replied, moving papers aside for him to set it down.
“Would there be anything else, my Lady?” Brooks drawled in a monotone voice.
I shook my head. “No, that’ll be it, thank you.”
Wiping the box of dust, I sighed. It had been three years since I'd been detained in the orphanage, and despite spending four years there, everything from that time was right before me, wrapped in worn cardboard and years of dust. Mixed memories filled this box, happy and glum; the doleful ones were the reason I hid them away in the attic. I didn’t want to reminisce and needed closure.
“Why did you have the box brought down, my dear?” Papa asked.
“Henry and Sarah asked me to bring some of the stories I wrote for them today,” I replied.
I’d seen to it the twelve children from the orphanage came with me to Bampshire. They lived in a newly-furnished orphanage, thanks to Papa’s pocketbook, where I could appraise their well-being and schooling. The idea of deserting them had made me anxious when I was sent back home.
“Tell the little lads I’ll bring them fishing next week if they have a mind to go,” Papa commented.
I skimmed through stacks of miscellaneous papers and peered up at him. “Then you better be ready because you already know they’ll all have a mind to go.” I laughed, returning my focus to my belongings. Old stories, drawings of stick people with families. I smiled as every single one brought back a recollection of each child. Each one so unique, each one wanting something different.
Opening up another piece of paper, I stiffened. Waves of nostalgia filtered through my memory, and I reclined in the chair. I’d read and studied this letter so many times, I knew it by heart. The message sent me into despair and confusion. I reread it like it was the first time I’d seen it.
Lady Ava,
This letter is to inform you that the agreed terms of our engagement have been annulled. You may return home to live your life as you please. Best wishes.
Sincerely,
His Royal Highness, George Brandon
While the world saw our engagement, George and I had a confidence of our own. We’d arranged to break our betrothal when I turned eighteen, to save us both. Our agreement had protected me from a loveless and selfish marriage, and George from the opportunist, Lady Natalie Dawson, who was fourteen years his senior.
I glanced up and provided a weak smile. “I found George’s letter.”
Papa sat quietly for a moment, setting down his plate. “You kept it?” I nodded, folding the letter back up. “He didn’t do it to hurt your feelings,” Papa assured me. “It was to keep you from harm.”
I know why he created the note, but it didn’t make the soreness of my emotions go away. The foreign way George spoke to me in that letter had taken me aback. It was as though I’d imagined it all.
“I know now, Papa,” I replied.
Papa leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Yet you still look rattled from it, three years later.”
“No.”
“You are; it’s written all over your face,” Papa indicated.
I brought a hand to my cheek, as if it would wipe away any inkling that Papa was right. I had every right to be rattled by it. My best friend hadn’t contacted me for seven years, save for this letter.
“Papa, I’m fine,” I said firmly. “I promise. It’s not as though I haven’t any friends here.” I stood up, keeping a few stories on the desk and closing the box. “And speaking of friends, Eve is meeting me at the orphanage, so I must be off. Please tell Mrs. Reynolds there’s no need to bring me lunch.” I rounded the desk and placed a small kiss on Papa’s shiny head. “See you at dinner.”
I walked toward the door, then immediately turned around when I realized that I’d forgotten the stories. Reaching over Papa, I retrieved them and planted another kiss on his head.