Part 4 (2/2)

”My lord, is that you?” the grating voice hollered.

Will actually rolled his eyes, then looked down at Erva playfully. ”Are you scared of the ladies approaching, is that why you act desperate?”

”No, I'm trying to help you with your appearance, as you said.” That was partly the reason. She didn't have time or the words to share with him that she'd been trained thoroughly to keep up appearances too. She'd been taught to smile through pain, smile through grief, for G.o.d's sake to smile through intense loss, because a girl is nothing without a smile. That was her mother's saying. And although Erva knew it was self-destructive, it was still drilled into her to follow. She panicked and balled her fists into Will's chest again. ”Aren't you supposed to turn around and-and bow and salute or something?”

”You wish me to behave? Is that right?”

His smile turned wicked, and through her anxiety something warm and wet zinged through her body, straight for the apex of her legs.

”Yes,” she said too breathily.

One of his dark brows arched. ”What will you give me in return?”

”I'll box you.”

He chuckled.

”My lord!” A pet.i.te hand familiarly wrapped itself around one of Will's biceps, and he turned in the direction he was pulled.

”That is you. Didn't you hear me calling you, my lord?” The woman was actually quite pretty, Erva realized, even if her voice resonated like someone grinding her nails against a chalkboard. Two other women cl.u.s.tered behind the one who still held Will. They giggled in unison, and Erva immediately thought of the movie, ”Mean Girls.” They were lovely-perfect skin, great hair, even if it was huge, and plastic smiles that didn't convey a true human emotion. Oh, Erva knew these kinds of girls. They were the young women who would whine in her office about getting a D on a test and why didn't she understand that they didn't have time to study. They had a life, and the implication was Erva didn't. In other words in the eighteenth century, these were the b.i.t.c.hes to avoid.

”Sorry, no,” Will said nonchalantly. ”My ears are shot. I've been around a very talented marksman all day.” He looked at Erva with a pointed smile.

”Oh, poor man,” Nasal girl flirted. ”Shall I kiss your ears and make them better?” The duo behind her giggled as one.

Oh G.o.d. So the rumors were right, Erva thought in a panic-stricken haze. Will was a rake of a man. He was a cad who seduced with his quiet charms. And she'd nearly fallen for it too.

Will took a step closer to Erva. ”Miss Whinny-”

”It's Winny, my lord. My name is Winny.”

”Miss Winny, have you met my guest, Lady Ferguson?”

Erva glanced at Will. He seemed collected and not at all interested in the gorgeous, albeit young, trio.

Winny held her hand out limply in the air. ”Pleasure,” she said as snottily as possible as she curtsied.

Erva couldn't help but snicker. She reined it in though as she tried to shake the other woman's hand, but ended up holding onto her fingers in an odd greeting. ”Yes, the pleasure's all mine.”

”Well, Miss Whinny, Lady Ferguson and I shall take our time walking. Why don't you run along? We'll meet up with you soon enough inside.”

Winny let a soft, staccato tone out of her agape lips, a shocked protest. But then pursed her lips, curtsied, and rushed away in a flurry of white skirts, too much rose water, with her two friends immediately chirping like gossiping birds in her wake.

When the big black door had slammed shut, Erva turned to Will. ”You did that on purpose.”

”Of course I did. I told you, these banquets are terrible.”

”You didn't even give the girl a chance.” Erva couldn't believe she was saying as much, especially because if he had, then it might have proven he was a rake.

Will coughed an affronted sound. ”Give that child a chance? Why?”

”Don't most men want a woman that age?” She'd meant to say something about men of his time, but it hadn't come out. The fact that she'd asked at all surprised her too, especially the way her voice had dropped and rasped.

G.o.d, she hated it, but she really had wondered if this was the norm of men in all eras, including her own. Her now ex-husband had run off with one of her students.

Will's brows furrowed. ”As it is, the woman I want-I'm talking to a woman who's already-what are you ten years younger than I?”

Erva bit her lip and shook her head.

Will looked to the murky sky, turning a dark blue already. ”I know I'm not to ask your age, but I'm just saying, already I'm talking to a young-”

”You're thirty-four, right?”

He blinked and nodded.

”I'm thirty-five.”

”No.”

She nodded.

Now his mouth was ajar. He finally closed his lips and smiled sheepishly. ”You don't look it. At all.”

”Thanks.” Erva glanced down at his gold frog b.u.t.tons on his red coat. Then recalled what he had said. ”Did you just say something about the women you want-”

”Let's go inside. You've decided we're to attend the party, so let's just go inside.” The man, who if it weren't so dark Erva could have sworn was blus.h.i.+ng, scooped her up and rushed down the walkway to the black door.

She giggled again, as she wrapped her arms around his neck. It felt so...good. Oh G.o.d, why did he have to die? Then again, why was she so freaking crazy?

Chapter 6.

Will released Erva from his arms once inside. Walking slowly beside her, he was so attentive, always holding her hand on his arm. Erva couldn't help but adore this gesture. It felt old fas.h.i.+oned, sure, but it wasn't as though the man was guiding her around like she was a show pony. The way he held her felt protective, a.s.suring, and s.e.xy as h.e.l.l.

It was while Erva struggled with her desire for Will, long dead by the time she was born, she surmised that her insane hallucination was...well, whatever it was didn't matter, because here she could do whatever she wanted. She didn't have to smear on the smile her mother had forced her to wear at her father's funeral and ever after. She didn't have to put on her ”good girl” mask. She didn't have to be quiet or hide what she liked, how she thought, or even the fact that she did have a brain. She didn't need secrets here. She could be whoever she wanted to be. She could be herself.

It wasn't just the fact that inside this illusion she felt free, but it was who was standing beside her that made her long to let her hair down and give in to her instincts, give in to the long held craving to feel the dark and wild within her.

In high school she'd been drawn to the Goth kids, although her mother had forbidden it. Not pretty, Judith, Erva's mother, had told her, those freaks are not pretty. They'll never land a man.

Ironically enough, Erva had landed Ben Redding almost instantly. He'd sat behind her in trigonometry cla.s.s, had black streaks in his blond hair and wore black shredded clothes that she wished she'd been brave enough to wear herself. They'd partnered up multiple times for cla.s.s a.s.signments. Within minutes of working together, they'd started laughing as if they'd known each other all their lives. He was a military brat too. Being two loners for so long, they instantly attached to each other, hanging out every spare moment. Ben had shown her his paintings, where he openly dived into different worlds of color and style. He'd also confessed he was gay. She'd been so honored, she told him all her secrets too, but she could have suspected his secret. The whole school had, in fact, which meant regular bullying for Ben. To protect him, Erva had gone out on a date with one of his bullies. She'd thought if she could talk to Jared Johnston then he'd stop calling her beloved friend names and shoving him against the lockers. Instead, Jared had tried to feel her up. She'd broken his nose for it. When telling her mother of the incident, not of protecting Ben, but of the necessity of protecting herself, her mother had threatened to call the cops on Erva. She'd said that Erva had a.s.saulted an innocent young man, and boys will be boys, and the sooner she realized that the better. Also, Erva would never marry if she didn't go along with what a boy wanted.

Erva had been beyond startled at her mother's reaction. She was certain that had her father still been alive, he would have threatened to go to Jared's house with a hunting knife and cut the boy's b.a.l.l.s off. Then, she wondered how her father and mother had ever fallen in love. They were so different. Her mother wanted compliance, while her father had delighted in her, in who she was becoming. She'd been thirteen when her father had died, so similar to when Will's father had pa.s.sed away. Every year after her father's death her mother had whittled away more and more of the young woman Erva had started to become. As if she were a majestic mountain that the cold, harsh wind had carved into a mound of terrified cravings.

The fact that Erva had become an academic was wrong to her mother, especially becoming a military historian. What Erva wanted to wear was wrong. Erva had to keep her hair natural, otherwise that was wrong. Makeup had to be at a minimum. It was an odd mask of lies. For many others, natural hair and lack of makeup would be considered more authentic. But it wasn't for Judith. It was a weapon she used, to make others think she was younger, and so much more vulnerable than she really was. She tried to teach Erva the same tricks. Words were to be spoken quietly, wispily. Leave only evidence that she was a delicate female. No tattoos. No black toenails. No. No. Wrong. And no.

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