To Walk in the Sun (Wiggons' School for Elegant Young Ladies - Book 1) (14 page)

Oh dear, what have I gotten myself into?

thus did he bewail over her grave at the
midnight hour,

what time the spirit that presides in the
troublous atmosphere,

sends his legions of monsters through
mid-air; so that their shadows,

as they flit beneath the moon and across the
earth, dart as wild,

agitating thoughts that chase each other o'er
the sinner's bosom:

-- thus did he lament under the tall linden
trees by her grave

Wake Not the Dead

Johann Ludwig Tieck

Chapter 12

Vincent followed Miss Crawford out of the
room at a sedate pace. He stood in the entryway and watched her fly
up the stairs as if the hounds of hell were on her heels. If she
were wise, she would pack and leave his house tonight. However, no
doubt Miss Crawford still believed him to be the same gullible
gentleman she had first met. A smile pulled at his lips. Oh, he
would show her gullible and her fiancé too. He wondered how Percer
would feel when he found the tables turned on him. The question
was, would he seduce her before he exposed her?

Once he heard her door close, Vincent strode
toward the foyer, lifted his greatcoat from the chair where it was
left each evening and exited out into the darkness. This would be
his last midnight visit to Veronica’s grave.

* * *

Tess grabbed the footboard of her bed the
moment she entered her chamber. It was all she could do to stop the
tremor of her hands. If she did not calm herself soon, her heart
would surely beat out of her chest. Goodness, what was she to do?
What had come over Atwood?

She sank onto the bed. She couldn’t be his
secretary. Maybe before, but surely not now.

She stood to pace. She could still smell his
scent. Brandy and soap. Not the tobacco she recalled from her
father and uncle, and it was intoxicating. His warm breath against
her ear and his hand gently cupping her face had almost been her
undoing. When she turned to find him so close, his lips a breath
away from hers, she almost leaned forward, to taste.

Stop that
! Atwood was not intoxicating
and she would do well to remember that. But what was he about
tonight? Was he trying to compliment her by insisting she should
have been courted or engaged? Or, was he questioning what she had
earlier told him?

No, that could not be it. Why would he
suspect she had lied about her past? Her friends would never
breathe a word of the truth. So, the only explanation was he found
her attractive.

That was just too hard to believe. Perhaps he
thought she wanted him. She had appeared in his library, long after
dark, in her night rail. What else was the man to think? Goodness,
she never dreamed he would conclude that she was interested in
something more than a professional, friendly relationship.

She straightened and strode to the bed. Well,
she would just have to make it known that she would
not
succumb to his charms and she was certainly not interested in an
illicit liaison. From now on, when she left her room, she would be
properly dressed.

* * *

Vincent stood at the foot of Veronica’s
grave. He sniffed the late roses and placed them on the ground. “I
took these from our own garden. I thought you might appreciate
that.” He knew she would not have cared for him stealing from
others’ yards, but it gave him so much pleasure to do so. Had one
of them even asked what he was about, he would have explained why
he didn’t visit during the day, or why he had no maintained garden
of his own at the moment. Instead, they let a fictional novel
influence their common sense, if they had any to begin with, and
simply watched him cut a small bouquet each night from the safety
of their home all the while probably praying that he monster didn’t
come for them that night.

He bent to brush the leaves away from her
headstone, as he did every night.

“I know I don’t speak when I come here.” It
always felt strange to Vincent to do so. “But, tonight I need to
explain.”

Vincent paused and looked around, to make
sure he was alone. It was one thing to visit his wife’s grave at
this odd hours, it was quite another to converse with her.

What was he thinking? The town already
thought him a mad man. Why should he care if their opinions lowered
because he conversed with his dead wife? Well, it wasn’t exactly a
conversation as there would certainly be no reply.

He settled on top of the granite
headstone.

“I want you to know I don’t blame you. I lay
everything at his feet.” Vincent took a flask from his pocket and
sipped.

“I have come here every night to remember, to
nurse my rage and anger. Now, I finally have the opportunity for
revenge.”

He looked up and studied the stars. “I’ve
never told you this, Veronica, but it is important that you
know.”

He stood and walked to the foot of the plot
so he could face her, so to speak. “Percer had been my best friend
since I was ten, as you know. I left instructions that if anything
were to happen to me while I was on the Continent, he was to be
here when the news was delivered. He was to lend you support.”
Not seduce you
.

“In addition to word of my death, I know he
was told I, in fact, did survive. I was afraid that after you got
word of my death a letter of my survival would be viewed as a cruel
joke so he was instructed to deliver that news as well.”

He tossed back another swallow. “I know he
did not relay that message to you and for that I will be eternally
sorry. I should have trusted someone else. But who is more
trustworthy than your boyhood best friend?” He let out dry
laughter.

Vincent closed his eyes as the horror of the
night returned to him.
He had been so happy to be home, away
from the war and still somewhat whole.

Once his ship made land in Dover, he could
not wait for the doctor to release him to return home. He simply
left. All he cared about was seeing Veronica again. He knew he
would arrive a week early, but he did not care. No doubt his wife
had planned a homecoming celebration, but that didn’t matter to
him. He just wanted her in his arms at the earliest
opportunity.

When he arrived at the house, no light shown
through the windows. He dismissed the idea that anything was wrong.
After all, it was close to midnight and his wife was probably
already asleep. He just hoped he wouldn’t frighten her when he
awakened her.

He let himself in and mounted the stairs. The
closer he came to his rooms, the louder their voices could be
heard.He tried to focus on what was said. He stopped and turned
around in the hall. Why was Percer up here with his wife?

He shook his head to clear the fogginess
brought on by the laudanum. Perhaps he should have waited to take
the swig until he was home, but he was not sure he could climb the
stairs without the pain being lessened in his thigh.

“
I don’t know what I will do without
him.”

“
Shush, Veronica. I will take care of
you.”

He could hear her gently crying. It seemed
surreal at the time. Why was she wasting tears over him? He was
alive.

With slow, steady steps he walked toward his
wife’s chamber. His uneven and painful gait grated on him as he was
hampered from moving quickly down the hall.

“
No, I can’t,” his wife protested.

“
But I love you, Veronica. I always
have.”

Vincent’s blood boiled. His best friend
didn’t even wait for his body to turn cold in the grave before he
set out to seduce his wife. Besides, Percer knew he wasn’t in a
grave.

“
It is wrong. I love my husband.”

“
Your husband is dead,” Percer insisted
gently. “And, I know you are lonely. I will stay with you tonight
and if you wish me to leave in the morning, I will.”

He swayed when he attempted to increase his
pace and had to stop to hold the wall for support. Their rooms were
too far away and he could not get there.

“
I think you should go now,” Veronica
insisted.

“
Hush, you don’t mean that.”

Vincent dearly wished he was hard of hearing
for the next moments would not have been so painful. He thought of
calling out, to let them know he was home, but he determined his
foggy mind was fabricating his worst fears of losing his wife, and
he would see he was mistaken once he reached them.

“
I am lonely, afraid, at a loss and I long
to be held, just one more time,” Veronica sniffed after a few
moments.

“
Let me,” Percer replied.

Vincent’s pace quickened as he continued down
the hall. He would have run to her

if the wound didn’t threaten to collapse his
leg. Instead he was forced to painfully limp toward her room.

Veronica’s door was wide open. No wonder he
had been able to hear them so well. No further conversation
followed. He stepped into the room, convinced he had misunderstood
their words and all would be well. Veronica would run and wrap her
arms around him and kiss him with the love he remembered.

There they both were, lying on his wife’s
bed. Percer practically on top of her, kissing her. Veronica’s gown
pushed down to her waist. His gut tightened and Vincent thought he
would vomit.

He swallowed the bile and cleared his throat.
“Did you not get my message?”

Veronica’s head came up and a look of true
elation lit her face before it was replaced with the horror of
being found in such a compromising position. “I thought you were
dead,” she cried.

How could he blame her? She was in mourning
and he had seen Percer work his seduction so often in the past. She
succumbed, like so many others before her.

Percer sat up and simply smiled. “You’re a
week early.”

“
You bloody bastard.” Vincent stormed into
the room.

“
My timing was a bit off. I hoped to have
what I wanted before your return.”

Veronica’s eyes went wide and she pushed
Percer away from her and jumped off the bed. “You knew he was
alive!” she accused.

Percer shrugged his shoulders and stood.

“
Why?” she screamed.

“
He has something I want. I hoped to get
it from you.”

“
You could have asked,” Veronica
screamed.

“
Oh, but I did. You said you didn’t know
where it was.” Percer stood and straightened his coat.

“
You lied and seduced me over a piece of
paper?” Tears streamed down her face.

“
Ah, it is so much more than
paper.”

“
It is a myth. A story my grandfather made
up to entertain young boys,” Vincent ground out.

Percer turned to him. “Ah, there you are
wrong. There are six pieces. I have already obtained two.”

Vincent’s blood boiled. His former best
friend had set out to ruin, if not destroy, his heartbroken wife
over a non-existent treasure. “I will meet you in the west field at
dawn.”

Percer threw back his head and laughed. “You
are calling me out?”

“
No, Vincent, don’t.” Veronica rushed to
him. “He is not worth it.” She fell to her knees and hugged his
legs. “I am so sorry. I was so lonely, weak. I didn’t know what I
was going to do without you.”

Vincent glanced at her tear streaked face.
His wife had nothing to be sorry for. The anguish in her voice was
too real. She would have never betrayed him had she known he was
alive and Percer was an expert at attacking a woman’s weakness to
get her into bed. All of this was Percer’s fault. The man had known
for five days that he was not dead. No doubt he used every single
second to strip away any resolve Veronica still had. The filthy
bastard.

“
Dawn!” he insisted. “You name the
weapon.”

Percer grinned back at him. “What of
seconds?”

“
I have Wesley and I don’t care who you
have. I won’t be surprised if you can’t find one man in the country
who would stand by you.”

Percer rolled his eyes and strode past
Vincent and out the door. “I will not waste my time with this.
Besides, I would likely kill you and since your first death did not
bring me what I need, your second one surely will not.”

Vincent stalked after him. His legs moving
faster than he thought possible. “Come back here and discuss this
like a man, you sniveling coward.”

Percer turned on him and had the audacity to
laugh again. “You insult my manhood? What of yours? I heard about
your injuries. How you can no longer read, or write, or be in the
light of day.”

“
Greatly exaggerated,” Vincent bit
out.

“
Regardless, unless all the doctors
consulted are wrong, it will not be possible for you to meet me as
the sun rises for that would surely cause enough pain to bring you
to your knees and I would rather kill a man who can face me on his
own two feet.”

Percer reached the stairs and turned one last
time. “It was a pleasure, Lady Atwood. And, if your husband dies on
you again, please send word around so that we can renew our
acquaintance.”

At least Percer had sense enough to run.
Vincent raged after him, taking the steps two at a time. Pain
knifed through his thigh, but it didn’t slow him.

Veronica followed, crying for him to stop. He
turned to ask her to wait. She did not need to witness him kill his
former best friend.

Her foot caught on the rug at the top of the
stairs. Her scream rent the air. He reached for her. His fingers
brushed the soft fabric of her gown as she tumbled over the
railing. The crash of the entry hall table and vase shattered the
silence.