My heart sank when I heard my name.
Yes, that was Mother, her voice sharp, slicing through the silence like a blade. She was screaming my name. My breath hitched. How do I explain what I am doing in a tunnel with a man when I ought to be with our guest? Panic clawed at my chest as her voice grew closer. Mother can be violent, I mean very violent. I've seen the way she treats the servants, the cold cruelty in her eyes when they displease her. I have no desire to experience that myself.
And if she sees me with him…
He's as good as dead.
Before I could react, his hand clamped around my wrist, yanking me into a tight, suffocating corner of the tunnel. My back pressed against the cold, damp stone. His body shielded mine, our breaths the only sound between us. If I so much as moved, the faintest whisper of sound would give us away.
He knew better than to let Mother see his face.
"Grace, if I find that girl, she's going to be in so much trouble," Mother spat, her voice echoing through the tunnel. "How dare she vanish into thin air, today of all days?"
Aunt Grace's voice was lower, but I could still hear her. "Mary, have you told her? Does she know about this place? About your hideous crimes?" A pause. "Why did you really send that boy and his family away?"
My pulse roared in my ears. My nails dug into my palms as I listened, struggling to piece together the meaning behind her words.
"I never got to hear the full story," Aunt Grace continued, voice sharp with accusation. "Not that pretty little lie you conjured overnight, the real story. What did he do to deserve such a fate? I need you to understand that I only kept silent because it's your family, not mine."
Mother's voice wavered slightly. "What are you insinuating?"
"You kept the truth from her for ten years, Mary. Ten. Everything her father worked for, you hid it. Even Dynasty Hall, you kept it from your own daughter. Why?"
My breath turned shallow. My hands trembled.
"She will hate you for this," Aunt Grace pressed. "She will hate you for the rest of her life."
Silence. Then, after what felt like an eternity, Mother exhaled sharply. "Grace, help me. Just this once. Help me find her."
Aunt Grace stepped out of the tunnel, leaving Mother alone.
Then, without another word, Mother turned and left.
The gate to the tunnel slammed shut.
Trapping us both inside.
I stumbled out from the corner, gasping for air. My hands trembled as I clutched my chest, tears burning in my eyes. I am an imposter. A stranger in my own home.
They all knew.
The maids. The butlers. Nanny Chopper. Everyone knew. And I was the fool.
Everything suddenly made sense, the grudge Father held against me, the harsh words, the way he would stare at me with something that was not quite loathing, not quite hunger but something far worse. I thought he was my father. But he knew.
He knew we shared no relation.
My stomach twisted violently. I pressed a hand to my mouth, struggling to breathe. I fell to my knees, gasping as memories flooded back—his leering gaze, the times he'd asked me to visit his chambers when Mother was away.
I should have known.
A strong hand pressed against my back. "One breath at a time," he murmured. His voice was calm, soothing, but I could still hear the tension beneath it. "We need to leave this tunnel. If your mother doesn't find me in the next hour, it's going to be hell for the servants."
I blinked back my tears. "I can't go back like this." My voice shook. "My dress is covered in mud, my eyes are swollen—I look like a mess. She will know."
He studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Then come with me. I'll take you somewhere safe. You can return tomorrow."
I let out a bitter laugh. "You have a death wish. Mother has eyes everywhere. If I vanish, she'll find you."
He frowned but said nothing.
I clenched my jaw, then, in a single motion, I tore my dress at the hem. I need to look like I was attacked. If Mother pitied me instead of suspected me, I could make it through the night unscathed.
"When we leave here, do not take the woods," I warned. "Or you'll end up like Jeremy."
His expression darkened. "What do you mean?"
I shook my head. "Just trust me."
I turned toward the tunnel exit, ready to leave, but his hand suddenly found mine, and before I knew it, we were running. His grip was tight, firm—safe. The heat of his palm sent a shiver down my spine.
And for the first time, I looked at him. Really looked at him.
He was familiar.
But I had never seen him before.
My heart raced as I found myself wondering what would he look like shirtless?
I nearly slapped myself. Melody, this is not the time for such thoughts.
Then, suddenly—
Pain.
I gasped as my foot caught on a rock, and I went crashing to the ground. My palms scraped against the dirt, but the worst partthe part that made my stomach churn was the warm, sticky sensation of blood pooling beneath me.
His voice was sharp. "You're hurt."
"I'm fine," I choked out.
But I wasn't.
Without hesitation, he ripped his shirt off, tearing it into strips. My breath hitched. Oh my…
He pressed the cloth against my wound, his touch surprisingly gentle. "You need to be careful."
I swallowed hard, trying, failing, to ignore the way my cheeks burned.
We reached the exit. The guests had long since left.
He turned to me, eyes filled with something unreadable. "When do I see you again, Mel?" His voice was softer now, almost pleading. "I want to spend more time with you. Just us. Alone."
My heart thundered. I opened my mouth to respond.
But then I heard it.
Mr. Darcy's voice.
"Go," I whispered urgently. "Now."
His hand lingered on mine for just a second longer before he vanished into the shadows.
I turned to Mr. Darcy just as he approached. I need to sell this lie.
His gaze swept over me. "Miss, are you alright?"
I forced a weak smile. "It's just a scratch."
"Shall I inform your mother of your return?"
"No need." I straightened. "I will explain everything to her myself."
Mr. Darcy and his men turned back, escorting me toward my chambers. I was just steps away from safety when a sharp, chilling scream tore through the night.
A scream from the woods.
I felt my blood turn to ice.
Without thinking, I shouted—
"CHARLES!"