A Single Thread of Moonlight Read online

  Something of my resolve must have showed in my face.

  “You’ll do it,” Nicholas said quietly.

  I nodded. “Yes.” He didn’t need to know the reasons why. Let him think it was for the money.

  “Good.” If he felt any surprise, he didn’t show it. “Then we will have to get you ready for the house party.”

  My stomach dropped. It felt like I was falling from a great height at a great speed, as if the ground had been snatched from under me. The house party. Two weeks. I already knew what was coming.

  “At Holland Hall,” I croaked.

  “That’s right.”

  I closed my eyes.

  It seemed that I was going home.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Is something the matter?” Nicholas asked.

  I shook my head, recovering my voice. “Not at all.”

  What could I say? I could hardly tell him the truth. Could I really go back there? I wanted to, so desperately that the thought of it made my chest ache. But how could I possibly hope to avoid discovery if I spent two weeks at my home with Helena? Fear and excitement churned inside me. It was entirely possible that I was about to cast up the warm lemonade all over Nicholas Wynter’s highly polished shoes.

  Fortunately for me, he was oblivious to my inner turmoil.

  “The key thing is for you to capture Stefan’s attention tonight,” he said. He cast a critical eye over me. “You should have no trouble.” If it was meant to be a compliment it didn’t sound like one. “Your entrance went off better than even I could have planned.”

  “You’re welcome,” I muttered. “So, I capture his attention tonight. Do you have any idea of how?”

  He smiled then, something dangerous lighting his eyes. “Oh, yes. I’m going to flirt with you as outrageously as possible.”

  “That will work, will it?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “It will with Stefan.” There was a grim note in his voice.

  I sniffed. Men were such ridiculous creatures.

  “And then?” I asked.

  “We make sure everyone notices you. I will dance with you – that should do the trick.”

  Again, that arrogance.

  “And then?”

  “And then you will flirt with him. As outrageously as possible.”

  I thought this over for a moment. I wasn’t so sure that would work – not with a man like the prince, so sought after. Still, this was his plan, not mine. “Fine,” I said, not wanting to delay now that the decision had been made. “Let’s get on with it.” I shrugged his jacket from my shoulders and held it out to him.

  Without another word, Nicholas pulled his jacket on and we slipped back inside the ballroom.

  The heat hit me like a brick wall. There seemed to be even more people in here now, dancing giddily and talking loudly to one another so that they could be heard over the orchestra, who were still playing with great enthusiasm. I felt a wave of claustrophobia. So many bodies pressed into this space, and everyone looking about them with glittering, hungry eyes.

  “May I have this dance?” Nicholas asked, and he took my hand in his, bowing over it in an old-fashioned gesture.

  It was the first time he had touched me. His fingers wrapped around my own and I felt a tug of awareness in my belly.

  “Of course,” I replied. Eyes were sliding in our direction, just as he had said.

  He swept me on to the dance floor, and then – in the moment before the music began – he gave me a look so warm it bought a flush to my cheeks.

  It’s only pretend, I told myself sternly.

  I had a part to play as well. I dropped my eyelashes demurely before glancing back up at him, offering a smile of my own.

  There was a quiet buzz of conversation, and I forced myself to keep my eyes on Nicholas, not to acknowledge the fact that the air was once more thick with the sound of gossip – and that, yet again, I was the centre of attention. It seemed that Serena Fox had made quite a splash.

  The music began, and he took me into his arms.

  The fine cloth of his jacket was soft beneath my fingers, but his shoulder was taut. His arm was around my waist, my face close enough to his chest that I could see the individual stitches on his waistcoat. I knew he was tall, but suddenly he seemed even bigger, filling my vision. I had to crane my neck to look up at him.

  “You are very tall,” I said.

  Nicholas kept the smile pinned to his face. “What an astute observation. I might comment that you are very short, but it would be impolite.”

  Do not roll your eyes, Iris.

  “I was only trying to make it look like we were having a conversation. Isn’t that what people who are flirting do?”

  He pulled me a bit closer to him, closer than was really decent, and lowered his head so that he could murmur softly in my ear.

  “This is what people who are flirting do.”

  I glanced up at him. “Not terribly comfortable for tall people, I’d imagine.”

  “Being tall has its advantages.”

  “Such as?”

  He gave me a long, burning look, and then – almost in a whisper – he said, “I’m very, very good” – he paused for a second – “at tennis. Long arms.”

  I choked on a laugh.

  “Please don’t laugh when it looks like I’m trying to seduce you. It will give people a poor opinion of me.”

  We danced in silence for a moment, Nicholas spinning me expertly around the enormous ballroom. He danced well, and I was sure that he knew it.

  “How will it work?” I asked quietly. “Going to Holland Hall, I mean.”

  “Nothing could be more simple,” he replied. “I am invited to go, along with my grandmother, who will thankfully be able to act as your chaperone. Yesterday I begged an invitation from Lady Scott-Holland for an old family friend who was visiting on short notice.”

  “Serena Fox,” I murmured.

  “Exactly so.” He nodded. “Our hostess graciously extended the invitation to include my guest.” He said it all with the arrogance of a man who was used to getting his way.

  “What about your grandmother?” I asked. “Surely she knows I am not a friend of the family.”

  “She believes that we are old friends who met as children. My grandmother didn’t accompany us on our family holidays so you have not met before. She would also not expect to be familiar with the daughter of a man of business.” He smiled thinly. “I’m afraid she may think you somewhat below her touch, though in this case it will work in our favour. It would be different if we were trying to pass you off as a titled lady, of course.”

  “Of course,” I agreed, thinking that was actually precisely what I was.

  His grandmother would know Iris Scott-Holland’s history. I knew from the investigators’ reports that Helena had not told anyone I had run away. Instead there had been some story about an accident – no body found, but as time passed it was thought likely that poor Iris Scott-Holland must have perished. A terrible tragedy, especially so soon after Lord Scott-Holland’s death.

  “Wonderful,” I said, forcing my mind back to the matter at hand. “So, your grandmother is a snob who is predisposed to dislike me.”

  Nicholas looked thoughtful. “I wouldn’t be so sure. She’s been trying to get me married off for some time – desperate to secure the family line. She may be happy that you’ve come along, even if you are a shopkeeper’s daughter.”

  “I thought that my imaginary father was a factory owner, on the brink of receiving a knighthood?”

  He smiled faintly. “To my grandmother I’m afraid that amounts to much the same thing. We need her to act as your chaperone in any case – we must observe all the proprieties if we’re to pass you off as an eligible young lady.”

  It really did seem like he had it all worked out.

  I would be going home. Home. As well as a chance to prevent Agatha’s advantageous match, to get my revenge on Helena, another, terrifying opportunity presented itself. Being back at
Holland Hall meant that I would finally be able to investigate my father’s death myself.

  My heart raced faster. My investigators had failed – but if I was actually there, at the scene of the crime… Surely Helena must have left evidence behind of what she did to my father. Even all these years later, some clue must remain.

  The orchestra rose to a crescendo, and Nicholas spun me one final time.

  The dance was over. Nicholas tucked my hand in his arm again and guided me from the floor. He rested his other hand on top of mine.

  “Do you think he noticed?” I whispered.

  “Why not ask Stefan yourself?” he said, glancing over my shoulder. “So predictable.”

  I turned to see the prince behind me, his easy smile and cheerful manner utterly at odds with the man still holding on to my hand.

  “Nick!” Stefan exclaimed in his deep, rich voice. “You devil! You’ve stolen a march on me with the most lovely lady in the room.” He turned to me with a shallow bow. “I have been hoping we would run into each other again.” His words to me were pitched lower, his tone more intimate.

  “You’ll have to forgive me, Stefan. The lady and I are old friends.” Nicholas’s voice was lazy, but I noticed that he kept hold of my arm.

  Stefan frowned. “Is that so?”

  Nicholas Wynter had sprung an invented history on me in front of Helena; now, I decided it was only fair that I get my own back. “Lord Wynter and I have quite the history,” I said. “After all, a girl never forgets the first boy she pushes into a pond.”

  I turned a bland gaze on Nicholas, waiting to see how he responded to being thrown into a lie with no warning.

  “Ah,” he murmured, not missing a beat, “and I hadn’t done a thing to deserve it. After all, you were the one who ate all my plum cake.”

  “And then you threw Miss Prudence in the pond,” I retorted.

  Stefan looked startled and Nicholas choked.

  “Yes, Miss Prudence … your … doll.” His voice quivered for a moment. “Was that her name?”

  “You know perfectly well it was,” I said. “But at least I had my revenge.”

  “You did,” Nicholas agreed serenely. “Until the incident with the hedgehog … but” – he lifted a finger as if to cut me off – “that is a story for another time.”

  Stefan’s eyes moved between us like we were playing tennis.

  “How fortunate that you should have such a colourful shared history,” Stefan said. “But then, perhaps, Wynter, you can tell me the identity of your friend. She is being very secretive, I must say.”

  Nicholas shrugged. “I think that is up to the lady herself. Perhaps she prefers to wait for the unmasking at midnight.”

  “She does,” I said. “And it is only a few minutes away anyway.”

  “Then may I steal you away for another dance in the meantime?” Stefan asked.

  “You may not,” I said smiling sweetly, “but you may take me in search of refreshment. It is really stifling in here.”

  Stefan’s eyes lit up. “Even better,” he said. “I can show off my gallantry, and you can tell me all the scandalous stories of my friend’s past.”

  I felt Lord Wynter’s arm tense briefly beneath my own, but his voice was light and steady as he said, “There are very few skeletons in my wardrobe, Stefan, you know that.”

  Stefan threw his head back and laughed, and then he held out his arm to me. I was beginning to feel as if I were being passed around like a parcel.

  “You and Lord Wynter are old friends?” I asked, as we made our way through the crowds to the dining room.

  “Very old friends.” Stefan nodded. “Several years ago, when I was sent here to study for a few months, Nick – how is it you have it? – took me under his wing.”

  Yet now he wanted me to help ruin this man’s life. What on earth had happened between them?

  “I’m sure the pair of you caused quite a stir when you were let loose on the town,” I said.

  “I could not possibly say,” he demurred. “Particularly not when I am trying to impress you with my steadiness of character.”

  “Oh.” I peeped up at him through my eyelashes. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a little bit of excitement every now and then.”

  “That is very good to know.” He grinned. “Now.” He steered me over to an empty sofa. It was small and I realized we would be forced to sit quite close to one another. I did not think that choice had been an accident. “You wait here while I fetch your drink. What would you like?”

  I thought queasily of the lemonade. “A glass of champagne, if they have one.”

  It took him moments to secure drinks for us both, and then we were sitting cosily, talking.

  Stefan asked me about my life, and I tried to use the story Nicholas had created to make myself sound as eligible as I could, as artfully as possible. I could hardly say, “Did I mention that I am exceedingly wealthy?” But I mentioned an overprotective, extremely indulgent father, and a large family home in Yorkshire. I made a mental note to share that detail with Lord Wynter.

  I watched closely to see if Stefan was picking up on these hints, but it was hard to say. He was certainly easy to talk to, charming and funny and happy to listen.

  “But, please, do tell me about yourself,” I said, sipping from my champagne glass. “I’m sure being a prince is much more interesting than my life – it has been sadly sheltered so far.”

  “You are all the more charming for it, like a flower in spring,” he said gallantly. “Although I’m afraid the life of a prince is much less glamorous than you might think. My duties are largely ceremonial now, and my grandmother – the queen – can be a little … old-fashioned. She doesn’t really like for me to be away. I too have had a sheltered life in many ways, one without very much freedom, I suppose.”

  His voice was wistful, and I felt a twinge of sympathy. Despite myself I found that I liked him. I forced that feeling down. There was no room for sentiment: I had a job to do.

  “I’m sorry,” I said gently. “That sounds difficult.” Hesitantly, I placed my hand on his, just a brief, light touch. Stefan squeezed my fingers gratefully and then released them. It was not the done thing, and I felt a flush rise to my cheeks, but I thought there was a heat in Stefan’s gaze that had not been there before.

  And, just like that, I knew what to do next.

  “It’s almost midnight,” I said. “Perhaps before we unmask ourselves you could get me another drink?”

  “Certainly.” Stefan rose instantly to his feet.

  As soon as his back was turned, I stood and walked away, losing myself in the crowd.

  Somewhere I heard a clock begin to strike midnight. The noise from the crowd increased, as everyone prepared for the unmasking.

  Ding.

  Ding.

  Ding.

  I pushed my way through to the corridor and ran lightly down the crystal staircase. There was no one around – everyone was crammed into the ballroom, giddy on the drama of the big reveal.

  As I sailed out of the door and into the cold night air, I heard the final chimes of the clock.

  It was midnight, and I had disappeared into the shadows.

  Part Two

  Kent

  October, 1899

  CHAPTER TEN

  “I still don’t understand why you would do anything so ridiculous,” Nicholas muttered as he helped me with the small case I had packed.

  The ball had been two days ago. The following morning, he had sent me a note expressing his displeasure over my behaviour.

  You’re not Cinderella and I am definitely no fairy godmother – what were you thinking disappearing like that? At least that little fool had the good sense to leave a glass slipper behind.

  Today, we were travelling to Holland Hall. I was glad that he had not stopped berating me since he picked me up from my front door; it was a distraction, at least. If I thought too much about where we were headed then I started to feel sick.

>   “I have already told you,” I said patiently. “It was the right thing to do. I could tell he’d be caught up in the mystery. By vanishing I will have piqued his interest.”

  Nicholas murmured something under his breath that was certainly not appropriate for the ears of a delicate young lady.

  Fortunately, I was not one of those.

  “Did he propose to Agatha that night?” I asked sweetly.

  “Well, no,” he said. “But you couldn’t have predicted…”

  “Why don’t you just let me do the job that you’re paying me to do?” I replied.

  Lord Wynter had turned up with great fanfare this morning, along with two enormous carriages – one to carry all our luggage and the staff, and a second to transport me and his grandmother, who we would be collecting from her home in Surrey. I was not especially looking forward to that part.

  The carriages were beautiful, gleaming things, bearing the Wynter family crest on the side – a horse rearing up on two legs, and a fox in the same position, either side of a shield.

  Nicholas had brought along his groom, his valet and a maid called Matilda who I assumed was there to look after me. Matilda was young – a year or two younger than me, perhaps, with wide grey eyes, red hair and a snub nose. She had not batted an eyelid upon meeting me at the door to my boarding house, only bobbed a curtsey and murmured a polite greeting.

  There was also an enormous and quite fierce-looking black stallion who Lord Wynter would ride while I reclined, demure and ladylike, in the carriage. The horse’s name was Felix, and I had run back into the kitchen so that I could feed him half an apple. His owner had snapped at me not to spoil him.

  “He’s quite a gentleman,” I said, patting Felix’s neck.

  “He’s a brute,” Nicholas replied.

  Felix nuzzled softly at my hair and I laughed.

  “Well, usually, anyway,” Nicholas grumbled.

  It was far from a subtle travelling party, and despite the early hour, a crowd was gathering out in the road, peering at the extravagant coaches – and at Lord Wynter, who was as out of place as a panther roaming the streets.