Page 24 of Bound By The Christmastide Moon

From what the countess shared, Silas was in no way responsible for the separation between his mother and her family. Neither did that estrangement cast a cloud of scandal in Mallory’s eye. Silas hadn’t proven ungentlemanly in any way since their meeting. In fact, he’d shown himself to be the opposite.

Besides, hadn’t she been keeping her own secrets?

And what she kept hidden from him was in many ways far more scandalous than an estranged family.

Releasing the blossom and moving away from the foliage that disguised the door, Mallory sagged on the low stone wall facing the long drive that ended at the main road. Her aunt was in a hurry to depart Tetbery Estate and return to their home. Mallory was not so certain they should leave now, especially with the countess having invited her to celebrate the holiday at Keyvnor. No one awaited their return to Blenheim Park as her father rarely journeyed to the country, and her brother would likely spend his time with his latest mistress in town.

She hesitated to return to the main house, lingering ever longer in the lush, concealed garden. Solitude had been hard to come by since her arrival at Tetbery, and Mallory had refrained from claiming another headache.

Maybe she could remain hidden in the garden for a while longer.

Gazing out over the vast land surrounding the estate, Mallory wondered what it would be like to have her own home, land, and life. Free from her aunt’s watchful eye, and away from the whispered proclamations that she’d been cursed. It was likely that if her betrothal to Silas were called off, she’d never know such independence. A part of her sensed that Silas would not treat her as her father and brother did. He would not tread lightly in her presence, nor eschew physical contact with her.

Yet, another part of her—possibly a larger part—was well aware that she did not know the man well. He could be lying about other things—more important aspects of his life than had been discovered.

Truly, his deception had harmed no one, least of all her. There were many things she was embarrassed to admit about her life, why would Silas be any different? Because he was a man? An earl, no less?

Mallory raised her hand to shield her eyes as a lone man on horseback came into view, a large cloud of dust following him. The Duke of Wycliffe must be returning from town or the castle. As the rider drew closer, Mallory raised her hand and waved. Despite Felicity and Aunt Hettie’s feelings about the duke, Mallory thought him an agreeable man and a kind host.

His appearance brought to mind the vision Mallory had seen upon greeting Felicity. While her friend had yet to speak of it at any length, Mallory knew the two had kissed—in Felicity’s lab, no less.

The rider took note of her and angled his mount away from the front entrance and toward the small garden pressed close to the side of the manor.

Her stomach sank when the man pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted.

It was not the duke, but Silas.

And she could not deny his look of displeasure.

“My lord,” she called, swallowing past the lump that’d settled in her throat. “I did not expect to see you again.”

His brow rose, and she knew he’d misinterpreted her greeting.

“What I meant was that I hadn’t expected to see you again at Tetbery Estate.”

“Because you thought to visit me at Keyvnor again?” He did not pause to see her reaction but quickly tied his reins to a branch that hung low by the garden wall before flipping the latch on the gate and entering the garden. “I am sorry if I disappointed you.”

Disappoint? Mallory stared at him to see if his words were meant to be a jest, but he turned serious eyes on her. “Pardon, my lord?”

“I have come from the castle. My aunt, the countess, spoke of your visit.” He paced around the garden, avoiding her stare as he walked in a seemingly aimless pattern.

“I did not mean to cause any trouble—”

“It is not your fault.” He finally turned toward her and placed his arm to his chest. “It is I who lied, Lady Mallory, and for that, I am eternally remorseful.”

Mallory blinked several times. He was apologizing to her?

“May I ask why you deceived me?” The question was risky. He could refuse to answer and depart. “If it is not too forward of me.”

He watched her as if determining whether she was worth the added effort of an explanation. “My mother raised us in Paris, as you know, but something you may not know, is to do that, she fled England under cover of night and never spoke to my father again.” He ran his fingers through the curls atop his head, a gesture that was not so much born out of frustration as she’d first suspected, but unease.

He was preparing to share something with her he hadn’t told anyone—or at least not recently. The tension in his shoulders lent evidence to that, as well as the hard set of his jaw.

If he could share a bit of himself, then Mallory could share something more, as well.

Certainly not everything about her gift, but maybe enough to keep him vigilant, concerned for his safety.

His lips moved to speak, but a loud rumble shook the ground beneath them. Thrown off balance, Mallory stumbled toward Silas, her arms pin-wheeling when her boot became tangled in her skirts. She was going to fall, face first into the mossy garden ground, or worse, hit her head on the stone wall.