Once upon a Town...
Posy and Poppy Prewitt leaned closer to Belinda, the three of them huddled in the corridor outside their bedchambers in Madam Pearson's.
'We were thinking...maybe the Featherton girl would want to be friends with us,' Posy said.
Belinda frowned.
'We could make her do the things we want. As commoners should,' Poppy said.
'Commoners are not slaves,' Belinda pointed out.
'Then they are servants.'
'Not all of them, no.'
Posy rolled her eyes. 'Slaves, servants...what's the difference? My Papa says one cannot trust commoners. They are out to get our silvers. Just like Mr Featherton and his clubs.'
'She's rich, but not gentry. She would do anything to be friends with us. We can have anything we want! Maybe she would buy me those ribbons Mama refused to get for me,' Poppy said.
Her twin nodded. 'Befriend her, Belinda,' Posy urged.
Belinda scoffed. Why would she want to be friends with Mary Featherton? 'No, I will not. And I do not need her to buy me ribbons or anything of the sort.'
'You are no fun!' Posy whined.
'Then we shall do it ourselves,' Poppy said.
She knew the twins would fail, but she did not tell them. It would be fun to see.
*****
There were a few things McKenzie was quite thankful for when he went after Belinda Carrington: First, she had not been gone too long. Second, she had not been on a horse for at least five bloody years. Third, he was the better rider. Fourth, she was riding in a dress.
But as he rode atop his brother's horse, he thought of the few things he was not thankful for: First, she might have left long before her disappearance was discovered. Second, she might be a very skilled rider. Third, she might be in a dress, but she was riding his bloody horse, which was faster than the one he was on at the moment.
"Bloody tarnation!" he screamed as he tightened his thighs around the horse, urging it to go faster, bending low as the horse galloped. Had he taken Peyton's horse by mistake? Why was this one too bloody slow?
*****
Belinda had always enjoyed riding, but it had been so long since she had been on a horse. Her back was starting to ache, her thighs getting numb. And soon, she knew, her hands would start to loosen around the reins.
She may be desperate to leave Easton, but she was not yet ready to die. She may be vengeful, but she was not suicidal. And so she urged the gelding to the side of the road, avoiding the lamppost.
A large rock loomed over them. Not long after, she was behind the rock, sitting on the ground, looking at the darkness beyond. Anything could be there—a wall of rock, a forest of vertical pillars, or a village of dangerous bandits.
If this was five years ago, she would not have lasted a minute staring into the dark space. But her mind had been to the darkest voids before. This one could not even come close. She had hidden from many people, been afraid of more. Hiding from a Haverston was no different. Then she scoffed, shoulders shaking in silent laughter. She had not known a lady who had ever ran away from a Haverston.
The horse stomped its feet on the ground, drawing her from her thoughts. Belinda pressed closer against the boulder, her heart racing. The sound of another horse drew near, and McKenzie Haverston's gelding grew restless, as if it knew its master was on his way to rescue it.
Belinda gritted her teeth and pulled at the reins to calm the horse while keeping herself well-hidden behind the rock. She came to her feet and whispered soothing words. "Do be a good boy..."
But the horse rose on its hind legs, neighing loudly. The sound pierced through the quiet place, echoing beyond the dark void ahead. Belinda cursed under her breath, grabbed her rucksack, and ran away.
She hid behind the next big rock, swallowing hard, her heart rising to her throat. She looked over her shoulder and gritted her teeth as the gelding galloped away and back onto the road to meet the approaching horse and its rider.
Her eyes closed in frustration as a man's loud voice echoed back to her, followed by more sounds from the horses. She listened, scared to look over the rock and see who had come upon her stolen horse. Whatever the rider was doing, it was far from riding away. She could hear the horses being led closer to her hiding spot and she knew for certain that she was caught.
"Belinda, do not make me come out there and look for you," McKenzie's seething voice warned from behind her rock.
Should she come out? Of course she should. He had stopped and tethered the horses nearby. She could still go on her way.
Her mind made up, Belinda ran straight to where the horses were, past the surprised McKenzie, and straight to her stolen horse.
But he was driven by anger, and he had longer legs. Of course, he caught her. She tried to whirl around to land a blow on his face, but he was quick to dodge, and suddenly his arms wrapped around her from behind. He carried her away from the horses while she kicked her legs in a struggle, shouting, "Let me go!"
"Not until you bloody calm down!" he shouted back. "What were you thinking? Bandits are everywhere!"
"I'll take my chances with them!"
He threw her on the ground. She grunted, not because it hurt, but because he threw her on the ground. "You bloody bastard!" she growled up at him.
His eyes blazed with blue fury. "Do you even realize what your actions could cause? You are planning to lead my horse back to wherever you plan to go! My horse! What would people think? Would you tell them you stole it? From where? Easton? Why were you in Easton? Cressida and Calan live there! Were they keeping you there?" He had not paused as he threw the possible questions people would ask. "My brother and his wife offered their home to you, and all you could have done was be gracious about it! You do not have to steal my horse and bloody ruin the rest of us!"
She had gone pale as she realized what he just said. She was too consumed by her own plans to even consider how her actions would affect him and his family. Slowly, she stood up. Her legs shook a little, but she tried to remain still as she squared her shoulders. "I have not thought of that. I'm sorry for the inconvenience." And then she turned, found her rucksack, and walked away.
"Where in the bloody hell are you going?"
"Willowfair!"
"On your feet?"
"Yes! Fret not, Mr Haverston, no one would ask where I got my shoes!" His hand was suddenly on her shoulder, and he forced her to face him. She shook him away. "What?" she demanded through her teeth. It was the ideal time to cry, really, because the frustration was too immense. But she could not summon a single tear.
"You are the most stubborn woman I have had the misfortune to deal with. And you are the most foolish of the lot! You do not think of the consequences of your actions, your past having proven that, and you have not learned from—"
"Then you ought to have thought of what you would have to deal with before you promised me money and protection!" she interjected hotly. Could she kick him? Maybe she should, but she needed her feet for her planned trek to Willowfair. "And since you cannot give me what I want, which is money, I free you of your responsibility. I hope you get the information you need from someone else."
"The Town Guards cannot give you money, but we can provide the things you intend to use it for."
"How about the League of Founders?"
"They hate paying for information. However, they have a different protection in mind: a cabin, probably far from Willowfair, with men to guard your every move."
She knew she lost; there was no denying it. How else could she get away from here, more so stay alive for another six months? If she let her pride rule, she would have to find employment to get money, all the while looking over her shoulder in fear. She could not believe she was giving this bastard another chance. She glowered at him. "I want gowns."
"Done."
"A carriage and a villa."
He scoffed, as if he could not believe he was hearing this from her. "Done."
"In Willowfair."
"Yes, of course."
"I want my own servants."
His lips curled into a smile that could have been condescending or amused. "As you deserve."
"And I want your protection and no one else's." He opened his mouth, probably to argue, but she raised her hand and added, "For the next six months until I save enough from my employment and hire my own guards."
He frowned. "Employment?"
"Yes. The one you will also find for me." He gaped at her. Belinda cocked her brow. "Or you can just give me fifty-thousand townsends."
"That is worth two bloody villas and at least ten horses."
"I'm glad to know you understand the value of money, unlike the other men in your station. Well?"
He scowled at her, hands on his hips. "Very well. I will arrange for these things within a fortnight."
"As soon as possible, Mr Haverston. I'm not going back to Easton."
His scowl returned. "You are in danger, woman. There are men looking for you. You had just made the best bargain. Do not be a fool now."
"Exactly why I cannot go back to your brother's place."
"Why are you not listening!" he shouted.
"Do not shout, for I may be a fool as you claim, but I have not lost my ears!"
"Then tell me why you cannot go back there," he said, pointing toward Easton.
"I told you and you were not listening! I do not feel safe there."
He paused and blinked at her, his face softening a little. "Easton is perhaps the safest place for you at the moment." He looked at the rucksack in her hand and the state of her clothing. She was back in her dress shirt, coat and trousers and her boots. "This is far more serious than getting new gowns and carriages, Belinda."
The corner of her mouth curled in contempt. "You are just like all of them. You think me a shallow fool who knows naught about anything but gowns and gossips and—"
"Because perhaps you are proving that to be true," he interrupted.
"Well, of course! For I am not like your brothers' wives who care for other things outside balls and parties! I am Belinda Kate Carrington, the vile vicious girl whom everyone hates!" She scoffed and stepped back. "Well, let me tell you, Mr Haverston... I am who you paint I am. I will be what you believe me to be. But I will never ever again allow myself to be placed in the same vicinity as the people who are after me."
His brows fused. "Whatever do you mean?"
Belinda incredulously shook her head. "There is a passage in Easton." It was quite astonishing to see his face clear with understanding. Having witnessed it more than once, Belinda was enjoying the sight. After all, it was not often that people would openly show that they were wrong. And in this case, McKenzie Haverston did not even attempt to hide the fact that he just realized he had been careless. "Please do not tell me you trust all passage guards," she added.
For a moment, only the stomping of the horses could be heard.
"Very well," he said, slowly nodding. "We will leave Easton."
She let out a sigh of relief. "Good."
"But only after you return what you stole from my sister-in-law." His eyes flickered to her hand.
Belinda rolled her eyes. "She left it in the drawing room."
Eyes on her, he reached for her hand, tightening his hold when she tried to pull away. Then he slipped the emerald ring off her finger. She looked away, chin sticking out. "It's an Everard," he wryly said, pocketing the jewelry. But he was not letting go of her hand. In fact, his hand squeezed, not too hard, but enough to draw her eyes back to his. "You are turning into a terrible thief, Belinda."
She displayed her most charming smile. "If you do not let go, Mr Haverston, I might also steal your hand."
He shook his head. He did not look furious anymore; his eyes merely curious. "You take the other horse," he said, finally releasing her hand with a sigh.
"I would also want my own butler," she added as they walked to the horses.
"Do not push it too far, woman."