Read Online The Runaway Countess by Leigh LaValle - Free Book Online

Silently, they circled back toward the stables and stopped under an archway draped in ivy. He took his sister’s hand in his.
    “I am sorry to be short, but I really must be off.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “We will talk more later. Come to dinner. And send over a dress or two for Lady Margaret. Whatever you are done with.”
    “Of course, but where are you going, Trent? Not some dangerous part of the investigation, I hope.”
    “No, nothing to do with the highwayman. I must go help farmer Smith.”
    “Farmer Smith?” Her confusion was evident in her voice.
    “His leg was broken in a carriage accident and the villagers are gathering to assist him with his fields. ’Till tonight.” He nodded and walked out of the cool shade, picnic basket in hand.
    “Trent William Alistair Ballinger Carthwick,” Catherine called out behind him. “Are you going to farm?”
     
    Mazie paced the small confines of her maid’s quarters. Whirls of panic gnawed at the corners of her attention, and she tried valiantly to keep the demons at bay.
    “ Ciao . Grazie, ” she said aloud, practicing her Italian accent. One day, she promised herself, she would be a free woman again. She would secure passage on an elegant ship and visit Italy. “ Un bicchiere di vino . Grazie .”
    A heavy hand rapped on her door. “Who you speakin’ to, Miss Mazie?”
    “No one. Myself,” she called out to the guard stationed in the hallway. “Like our great king, I’ve finally lost my mind.”
    She turned and paced then turned and paced some more.
    She knew her past would catch up with her eventually, that her Chetwyn name would not quietly go away. But never in one hundred years, one thousand years, could she have imagined this disastrous scenario. The haughty Lady Catherine herself—the girl beloved by all, who had never before spared even a glance at Mazie—had recognized her today. Not only recognized her, but even remembered her name. Such irony.
    At least Catherine wouldn’t have much information to share with her brother. Even the less fashionable girls in London had stopped associating with Mazie after her parents died and she was forced to leave Town a pauper, so none could know about her recent activities.
    “ Dove può una scoperta la cattedrale? ”
    Yes, Mazie told herself, she would leave this place and visit the exalted cathedrals. She would travel to Venice and Rome, see the art of the great masters.
    When this was over she would take Roane and Mrs. Pearl to Florence, Bologna, Milan. She would travel until her sad memories had faded. She would fall in love with a kind man and be ecstatically happy.
    Trent wasn’t kind. Nor was he happy. What would His Lordship do now that he knew the truth of her heritage? A man as intelligent and cunning as he would twist it in his favor somehow. Use it to get what he wanted from her.
    And, if he looked into her father’s past, which he surely would, he would know why she had decided to help Roane.
    She pressed her hands over her face and groaned. Lady Margaret again. What a mess.
    The familiar weight bound her, choked her as if the walls of her prison chamber had closed in and become her own skin. Lady Margaret was a captive, held shackled by a life devoid of joy.
    Mazie. Mazie was a free woman, free to do as she pleased, unhampered by expectations and the weight of memory. She dropped her hands and threw her shoulders back. “ Vorrei visitare il centro termale sorgente minerale. ”
    Again, a loud knock sounded on her door.
    “I am only talking to myself,” she yelled. “Might you please leave me in peace.”
    The door opened anyway and in walked a white-faced maid. “Begging your pardon, miss, milady,” the maid curtseyed, “we have prepared another room for you.”
    Mazie planted her hands on her hips. They were already “miladying” her? My, news traveled fast. “Where is this other room?” The cellars? Gaol?
    “In the guest wing, milady.”
    Mazie frowned. She did