Not Quite a Lady; Not Quite a Knight Read online

  “I never minded heights,” she said softly. “And the kitten cried so pathetically.”

  “You have a soft heart, Miss Waltham.”

  Addie shook her head. “It is hardly a name worth remembering, as there is no home to go with it. I am a girl in an inn who wipes down tables and serves ale. I am only Addie now.”

  “The scandal could have been suppressed but for a few pounds here and there.”

  “There was no money to do so,” Addie said, shaking her head. She did not want to remember these times, and was annoyed that he brought this to her attention now. She had left it all behind. She was a new woman.

  “Yet you could have likely still have married reasonably well. Even if the estate was entailed at your father’s death…”

  “No!” She shook her head. “You do not understand. There was nothing to entail. It was sold shortly before he died, and I…. Truly, Sir, I am without means, and even if you were to use this knowledge to hurt me here, you would benefit little from it.”

  “I am not interested in hurting you. I know the pain of one who grew up well, but without means. I am the youngest son of a youngest son, related close enough to a Marquis to be interesting but without any true purpose in life, if you would hear my father speak of it.”

  “Not a knight then?” she asked with a hint of a smile. “You are not truly Sir Ainsworth?”

  “I could be a sir, although the title would do me little good.”

  “Then you are not truly a knight,” she clarified. “You are a liar and a cad. Have you no shame?”

  “I am caught,” he said with an unrepentant grin. “I suppose I could have always pursued a life in the church, before I ‘sold my soul’ to the devil by taking up fortune telling.”

  She flushed. “We are a pair then.” She shook her head. “I fail to see how I can help you. I had scarce attended any balls, being too young when my father lost his fortune. I once snuck into one hosted by the local gentry, but I only made it as far as the kitchen.” She giggled. “The housekeeper put me to work serving drinks.”

  “Then you have experience in attaining the ballroom floor without detection. Perfect!”

  Addie pressed her hands over her eyes. “You make my head spin, Sir Ainsworth.”

  “Then you will assist me?”

  Addie looked around the room. Trudy had a dreamy smile on her face, matched by the one on the face of the farmer that loved her. The drunk still snored by the door. Was this the life she wished to lead for herself? She sensed that Sir Ainsworth or whatever his true name might be, was offering her something more, something that would take her outside the safe confines of this village she had grown to love, but it would also lead to adventure.

  Was this what she wished?

  “I will.” She agreed.

  8

  She should never have agreed in the first place.

  Addie…no…Adelaide hovered in an alcove, thankful for the mask that hid her face. She could not think of herself as Addie when dressed in such a way, the russet and gold of her ball gown a mirror of the autumn leaves that tumbled from the trees just past the window by which she stood. Lanterns lit the courtyard, a cheerful bonfire in the middle where lovers cast walnuts into the flames to determine their suitability for one another. For a moment she longed to be playing at these games. She had little enough opportunity for balls in her life. It was indeed a miracle that this dress would suit on such a night, it having been one she’d kept that had belonged to her mother. The colors had captivated her as a child. Now, here at a costume ball, no one minded the outdated style, especially with the veil that she’d fastened over her hair with a wreath of leaves. She’d called herself Autumn Itself and the hosts had been delighted by the mystery lady who so confounded everyone.

  If I am caught here, what happens to me? And to him?

  Not that she cared what happened to him. At all. She was here to prove to the whole assembly that he was a fraud. It should be a simple enough matter. To use the knowledge she gained by moving through the crowds to feed him false information, to make a fool of him.

  Fortune-tellers were evil things, after all.

  Sir Ainsworth had a place of honor in the corner of the ballroom. Someone had set up the corner with several swathes of bright fabric, creating a gypsy tent, lit by another of those carved gourds. Apparently, her bit of decoration had not gone unnoticed, for there were several such gourds used to decorate the grounds tonight. It was a wonder that anyone could have found so many, though she noticed they had started pressing into service all manner of squash for the festivities.

  As it turned out, listening was a simple matter. She drifted from one group to the next, listening to thoughts and dreams. Hearing about new loves and old hurts. Conversation ebbed and flowed around it, in fact it was a wonder how much people talked at these things, and how much a fascination there lay in matters of the heart. The girl in blue wondered which suitor might be the better match. The one in green ached for a lost love still, but held the beginning stirrings of hope that life might someday hold another for her.

  The problem was, there was no way to give this information to the fortune-teller, for he already was in his post, laughing and talking to their host, seeming calm and relaxed, even though she had not fed him the information that would guarantee his success for this evening.

  Adelaide drifted out onto the balcony and leaned over the balustrade to see which couples ranged below at the fire. It seemed that on this particular festive night, much of social convention was overlooked for the sake of the fire, and the fortune-telling game played there. Whichever nuts burned brightest would foretell a bright future. She remembered this game from when she was small, and older cousins had played at it one autumn evening. They had each labeled a handful of walnuts, each one representing a potential lover, and then take turns casting them into the fire.

  Had there been truth in it? She doubted it, though her cousins had laughed heartily at the game. Hope. Had that not been what Sir Ainsworth had said? That he traded in hope.

  She studied the laughing faces around her. Was it truly such a bad thing, to give a person a dream for the future, a measure of hope? Were all these revelers here like her cousins, who knew these things to be the games they obviously were, but played for the sake of the delicious shiver of excitement that traveled down their spines when their potential lover proved true?

  Whose name would I put into the fire? She wondered, but in truth, she already knew. There had been none in this village for her until this strange visitor had appeared. For days now she had been unable to get him out of her head and after the fair, he would leave. The thought filled her with sadness.

  “Foolishness,” Addie muttered and turned away, bumping into a man who may or may not have been the Duke of Kilmerstan. He had come into the Coaching Inn just yesterday and she’d near tripped on him then too. She curtseyed hurriedly. “Your Grace.” She kept her head down.

  He reached out a hand to steady her now, his gaze quizzical behind his mask. “Do I know you?”

  “I think not, Your Grace,” she murmured and escaped quickly, before he could question her further.

  Heart racing, she thought to take what information she had to Ainsworth before he started telling fortunes, but already a queue had formed by his erstwhile tent. When she tried to push through to get to him, she was shoved back, young ladies complaining that she ought to wait her turn. In the end there was nothing to do but watch helplessly as the first visitor sat down across from him as he dealt out the cards.

  Over the next hour she discovered that Sir Ainsworth hadn’t needed her at all. In fact, he did quite well, if one judged from the pleased expressions of those who left, and the excited conversations that took place around the edges of the ballroom.

  Addie – for playing at being Adelaide was exhausting – finally withdrew to a quiet alcove to think. What she had seen was reasonable, intelligent people playing games, none taking the fortune-teller all that seriously, but en
joying what he said in the spirit of the game in which it was intended. That he was right more often than not could well be attributed to his observations in their village over the last few days. The fact that he hadn’t needed her assistance at all, though, was not lost on her, and she could not understand why it was that he’d insisted upon her coming.

  In fact, she was quite mystified, and had no idea what to think.

  From where she sat, she could easily watch the ladies dance. She’d been asked, but she had no desire to play at being a fine lady anymore. She was not Constance, nor Adelaide. She was just Addie. She was content enough to let that part of her life go, though it was enjoyable to be an observer of the titled elite at play. That she could have been here at one time, was only a passing thought now, and left little pain. The people of Upper Nettleford were good to her, and healed her heart. Her time in the little town had perhaps healed her of more wounds than she’d realized she was carrying.

  When Sir Ainsworth joined her, she took the glass of sherry that he offered her somewhat gratefully, though she wasn’t sure entirely what to say. Perhaps because she had not planned any long polite speeches; it was easier just to be herself, Addie. Honesty was a thing that was in short supply and she’d come to cherish it in the time since she had been on her own.

  “Why did you ask me here?” she asked quietly. “To make a fool of me, Sir? Or to reveal me for the imposter that I am to these good people.”

  “For neither,” he said, his voice pitched just as low as hers. Together they watched the dancers whirl and spin, performing a country dance with much laughter and enjoyment. “Perhaps I am being selfish.”

  “Selfish? How?”

  “By wanting you to see that not every fortune-teller is bad. By understanding that I was in earnest when I spoke of hope. Of fun. Is that not its own kind of magic?”

  She glanced up at him, trying to read his expression. “Are you claiming magic now then, Sir?” she asked with a certain scorn, though her heart sank within her breast for he was nothing but a charlatan.

  “Are you claiming there is no such thing?” he asked. “When it is obvious that there are those here tonight who have heard news that I could not possibly know. You held that information yourself, you know I had no way of finding things out. But what did you hear in the hour that I read the cards?”

  “That you were believed, but by those who wanted to believe first I suppose.”

  He chuckled. “You are still a skeptic then.”

  “And you are inviting scandal by standing here talking to me.”

  He laughed outright at this, and bent, offering her his hand. “I would suggest it is the hour that we should both be upon our way. The unmasking is at midnight, and unless you wish to create your own scandal…”

  She took his hand, allowing him to draw her to her feet, then waited as he fetched her wrap. Maybe they were both scandalous then, for they left together; he was to escort her home. Surprisingly his caravan waited outside. She paused, upon seeing it, never having been up close to such a conveyance. “You truly live as a vagabond,” she said, with a certain surprise.

  “I live in freedom,” he corrected her. “Can a youngest son, of a youngest son ever hope for so much?”

  “’Tis more than a rather penniless daughter of an baronet I should suppose,” she said softly, “Though to some, I suppose the title still has a certain value. I am not sure I could live that life again. I only regret that I shall not travel far from Nettlefold. There is so much of the world to see.” This last, she said wistfully, staring up at the moon through the trees, leaves skittering around her feet. She pulled off her mask and looked up at him. “Perhaps it is a strange thing to say when we are moments from midnight, and the spirits of the dead and dispossessed surely walk the earth.”

  “Not when we are already protected by your magic,” he said, and she smiled for she’d seen them, too, the grinning gourds in the courtyard, candles flickering inside still on this autumn night.

  “Do I have magic?” she asked, and wondered, when she looked at him, why it was he seemed to have stars in his eyes.

  “You must, for you have enchanted me.”

  She caught her breath. “Nonsense…all this talk has addled your brain. Truly I must return. Trudy can only cover for me for so long.” With that she turned to start down the long road, not trusting herself to accept a ride from him, when it was obvious that he was little more than a handsome charmer. He caught her hand, and pulled her close. Suddenly his lips were on hers, sweet and soft and she melted against him. A dizzying feeling filled her head and she felt light as an autumn leaf, ready to be blown away as he broke the kiss.

  He stepped back, still holding her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should not have been so forward with a lady.”

  The words caught on the edge of her tongue. I’m no lady. I’m Addie. Just Addie, but she could not speak. She could only look him. He would be gone on the morrow and she did not want to let him go.

  “May I read your fortune before you go?” he asked, cupping her hands in his, warming them.

  “You wish to read my palm?” she asked, one eyebrow rising sharply.

  “No…the spirits have whispered it to me,” he said, and lifted her onto the long seat at the front of the caravan, despite her resolve to walk.

  “I should not be riding thus with you. It’s most improper,” she murmured, clasping her hands in her lap primly.

  He barked a laugh. “You, Miss Walker, are the most delightful contradiction I have ever seen in my life.”

  It was a good thing it was dark, for she was blushing deeply at this point.

  “I will tell you this. Your past has held you prisoner for too long now. Tell me what your heart yearns to say.”

  “I went to a fortune-teller once, and I lost everything I held dear. I was told that I would have a life of adventure, but instead…” She faltered unable to continue, unable to recall the base defilement that had occurred, not just for her, but for so many girls before the culprits were found and made to pay for their crimes. But her life and so many lives were ruined on those dark nights.

  “I was ripped from my family, and when I found my way back, they were not the same,” she whispered. “I was not the same.”

  “Nothing stays the same in this world.”

  “You cannot know,” she said pulling away. “I am soiled. It is I who is the charlatan.”

  “You were not the only girl stolen away.” he said earnestly. “I do understand.”

  She turned and put her hand on his arm. “You have lost someone.”

  He nodded. “My sister.” He looked up, his own eyes shining with tears. “She did not return. I began my wanderings in search of her, but I was too late.”

  “I am so sorry.” They sat together for a long time. Addie completely forgot about Trudy taking her shift at the Inn. She needed to be here, holding this man’s hand.

  9

  “The past can hurt. We carry it with us, Addie, no matter how much we wish to leave it behind.”

  It was not what she’d expected him to say. Addie looked down at their hands so entwined and struggled to speak. “I thought a fortune-teller spoke only of the future, not the past.”

  “A wise one knows when to address the past.”

  They rode in silence then. She was grateful for the space to think. Was he perhaps right? Had she, in fact, been blaming this particular fortune-teller for the sins of another? The true charlatan, the one who had tricked her, and stole her from her family. This man next to her, quite clearly meant no harm.

  “Tell me,” she said after a time. “Is this how you always live? As a fortune-teller?”

  He laughed then, loud and long. “Truly? I am nothing but a humbug, and always have been. The truth I have given you is the truth indeed. I am a man without title, though with fortune enough to be happy, I suppose. This caravan is my own, my gifts…make of them what you will. I suppose I shall disillusion you entirely if I tell you I will enjoy th
e London season in the company of my elder brother and his family.”

  She stared at him. “The Season? You have been having fun at the expense of all of us then?” she asked, not sure if she should laugh or cry. “You are a liar.”

  “Not intentionally. I was on the road to London, thinking to provide amusement for All Hallows Eve. When the wagon broke down, I was forced to stay, to be sure. But I could have left the following day. It was a certain lovely maid though that caught my eye, and I could not resist taking up the charade in earnest just to see if I could make her smile.”

  “But you knew who I was.”

  “I was not sure. I had heard you might be here in this neighborhood. You have a relative who has been looking for you, your cousin I believe it is. I had promised to see if I could spy you out as I traveled.”

  Had the wagon not been moving, Addie might have jumped out and walked the rest of the way. “You truly have made a fool of me then.” She shuffled, as if to leap from the wagon.

  He reined in the horses and put a hand on hers. “No. I was in earnest. Pray, do not leave so quickly. I should have perhaps told you, but I only wanted to help him find his loved one lost.”

  The words unspoken hung between them, as he had not saved his sister.

  He continued speaking. “For a moment tonight, you believed in magic, I could see it. And for a moment I believed that I could perhaps be the one that would keep the stars in your eyes.”

  She glanced at him sharply. “The stars…”

  “Please allow me this moment, and I will take you back to the Inn and never speak to you again if you tell me nay. But if you would trust me, I would escort you, and a chaperone of your choice to London, that you might meet your cousin, at my expense, mind you.”

  She thought this over. “Why? Why would you do that for me?”

  “So that, although you have been mistreated, you might believe that there is still good in the world.”