The Wrong Girl(7)

"You seem quite certain I won't attack you and try to escape," I said instead.

"Why would you want to escape?" She seemed genuinely puzzled. "You'll be offered a great deal more freedom than you were given at Windamere Manor."

"'A great deal more freedom' doesn't have quite the same meaning as 'You're free to come and go as you please.'"

Miss Langley's jaw went rigid. "I know your father has kept you in the attic. I would consider anything other than a genuine prison cell 'more freedom,' wouldn't you?"

So she knew that much. Interesting. It was no secret that Lord Wade's eldest daughter lived in the attic of Windamere with her governess and companion, but most thought she was there of her own volition. Even our tutors had been under the impression. Miss Levine had told us it was generally thought Vi was simple-minded and wanted to be left alone. Her stuttered greetings to the butler certainly did nothing to dispel the rumors. What everyone thought of me being kept in the attic with her, I couldn't guess. Perhaps, being the orphan of servants, they thought my situation was a fortunate one. Sometimes I believed that too.

"I'm sorry if you think Lord Wade will pay your ransom," I said. "You're going to be quite shocked when you discover he doesn't care enough to capitulate to your demands."

She lifted one brow. "You don't think he would pay a ransom for your release?"

"Do you think a gentleman who keeps his child in the attic would want her back?" Whether he did or didn't, wasn't the point. The point was, Miss Langley and her friends had not kidnapped his daughter. They'd kidnapped Hannah Smith. A nobody. Vi might not consider me replaceable, but I wouldn't begin to know what Lord Wade thought.

"I see what you mean," she said. "Well then. It's fortunate that we don't want his money, or we'd be in a pickle."

No ransom? How curious. "Then what do you want with me?"

"I am sorry, but I cannot answer any more questions." The carriage slowed and she pulled the curtain back. "Ah, here we are. Home at last."

I lifted my side of the curtain just as the carriage passed through an iron gate. Tall, thick oaks lined the drive, their overhanging branches shielding what little light filtered through the gray clouds. I caught a glimpse of a lake where bare weeping willow branches cried into the still, flat surface. Beyond that, what looked to be a ruined building rose out of the ground liked jagged teeth. It was too far away for me to see what sort of structure it had once been, or if indeed it was a genuine ruin or a folly like the one in Windamere's park.

We rounded a gentle bend and the trees thinned out until all that was left was a neat lawn and some low shrubs clipped into the shape of inverted drips. Gravel crunched under tires, and the driver urged the horses to slow with a few commanding words.

Was he the one who'd captured me? Or had my kidnapper remained at Windamere after delivering me to the carriage?

I ceased wondering as the house rolled past the window. No, not house, mansion. Or more particularly, a castle. Where Windamere Manor was all formal regularity, this house was not. There were gabled roofs in abundance, their peaks topped with decorative pinnacles like insect antennae. The gables were broken up by castellated turrets and towers, and I couldn't even begin to count the chimney stacks, there were so many. The dark gray stone was also in contrast to Windamere's golden hues, and with the heavy clouds hanging low overhead, it looked rather medieval and altogether forbidding.

A shiver trickled down my spine. "What is this place?"

"Freak House," Miss Langley said.

"Pardon?"

The carriage door opened and, because I was leaning on it, I tumbled out without an ounce of grace. I managed to hang onto the reticule as strong hands caught me by the upper arms, saving me from a muddy puddle. It had stopped raining, but the ground was drenched.

"Thank you." I looked up, straight into the green eyes of the new Windamere gardener. "You!"

He let go, but not before I noticed how warm his hands were, even through my sleeves. "My apologies," he said. "I feel terrible about what happened, but it was necessary. Or so I was I told." This last he muttered under his breath, but it didn't disguise his voice, so deep and rumbling. I remembered how it had vibrated through me when he'd grabbed me outside the woodsman's cottage. It must have been he who'd captured me and held that God-awful cloth to my nose. "Are you all right?" he asked. "No lasting effects from the ether?"

"None at all." I held out the reticule full of vomit. "Would you mind carrying my luggage?"

A small frown creased his brow as he took the reticule and glanced at Miss Langley behind me.