The Secrets of Shadows Read online

  Cosette grabbed her shabby boots and silently padded over to the door in her bare feet, in order to remain as silent as possible. She opened her bedchamber door to reveal a massive hallway that went in three different directions. Doors lined two sides of the mahogany corridors, while the one to her left ended just short of a carved banister, the newel post in the shape of a massive gargoyle. She couldn’t help but tremble at the sight. Even from this distance, it appeared to be looking directly at her.

  Cosette took a deep breath and walked forward, careful to keep her distance from the statue. The banister beneath her hand was smooth and gleamed with fresh polish, the scent of beeswax tickling her nose. But strangely enough, there wasn’t a single servant to be found. She had thought, that with a manor this size, there would be several milling about at this time of the day, already attending to their duties. But if there was one thing she knew about the duke, he was rather arbitrary, so the workings of his household would likely be just as bizarre.

  As Cosette made her way downstairs, she couldn’t help but admire the grandeur around her. She’d never stepped foot in a manor of this magnitude before, and she had to admit that Shadowlawn was truly impressive, if not a bit Gothic in nature.

  It was a perfect reflection of the man who resided here.

  She wasn’t sure if the British museum could claim such a collection of priceless paintings on their walls, or ancient artifacts spread throughout the interior. Most of the peculiar pieces she noticed depicted Greek mythology or ancient folklore that bordered on the gruesome. Her steps slowed in front of a portrait of a large wolfhound sinking its teeth into a red stag, the animal’s face twisted in fear and pain. She gave a shiver as she turned away from the scene, rubbing her arms to retain some of the warmth she’d lost.

  A clock chimed somewhere in the stately manor when she reached the foyer, but otherwise, the house was eerily still. Cosette glanced at the door. A few more steps and freedom was within her reach, but something told her she wouldn’t make it far. Every nerve ending was stretched with awareness, as if she was being watched. As if the manor breathed with a life all its own, a slave to its master—and what she would become if she didn’t escape.

  As she reached for the handle, a solitary light glowed from a nearby room. She bit her lip. She knew she shouldn’t allow the distraction to take hold, but something compelled her to look behind her. She watched in fascination as a door to her right opened slightly to reveal a massive library, if such a simple moniker could even be given to such a colossal space.

  Cosette walked to the doorway where books lined countless shelves around her. From floor to ceiling, it was a marvel to behold. She couldn’t help but breathe in the musty smell of leather and aged paper; the conflicting scents drifting pleasantly through her nostrils. As if pulled forward by some unseen force, Cosette glided forward and skimmed her fingertips over the various titles, lightly touching the spines of every single volume she could reach. Her mind was buzzing with the excitement of so many classic tomes, just waiting to be explored again. How her palms itched to hold every single title and fill her mind until it was overflowing with philosophy and economics.

  It wasn’t until her gaze fell on one book in particular did she actually pause, that earlier awareness reaching out and trailing along her spine like a lover’s caress. It was as if she’d been led through this vast library to stop at this one section.

  Incredible . . .

  Cosette reached out a shaking hand and slid the novel free. ‘Treatise on Apparitions of spirits and on Vampires and Revenants or The Phantom World’ by Dom Augustine Calmet, dated 1751. Cosette was familiar with the name. He was a Benedictine monk who had live in Lorraine, France at Senones Abbey. His belief in the supernatural was supported by Francois-Marie Arouet, a fellow philosopher and celebrated writer who was better known by his pseudonym, Voltaire. Together they concurred that the existence of something beyond our understanding of this earth did indeed subsist with the living.

  Cosette had always had a long-time fascination with the strange and unusual, as her locket had always been a sort of enchantment, but she had been careful to conceal her interest, for many believed that such works were considered pagan in nature. Dante Alighieri’s infamous work, ‘Divine Comedy,’ was one such example. The narrative poem had been notorious during its initial publication, and was even contentious to this day, and Calmet was eagerly following in his steps. Even with the support of Voltaire, he had felt the backlash of the Catholic church. The Holy Roman Empress Consort, Marie Theresa, considered his ideals to be nothing short of satanic; the premise that bodies were exhumed for the sole purpose of a devilish creature to feed upon was unethical.

  While Cosette had trouble believing in the idea that bloodthirsty creatures truly roamed the earth, she was confident that certain otherworldly presences, like ghosts, spirits, and even angels, did. For someone who suffered from headaches and strange blackouts, it was only natural that Cosette would be on an endless quest to learn the truth behind these sporadic episodes. Thus far, she had yet to come across any valid reason in any medical tome.

  She glanced down at the book in her hand. Perhaps the answer to her strange malady had another cause, one that might be found between these pages.

  “You’re welcome to read anything in my library.”

  Cosette started at the deep sound of the duke’s voice, the book falling to the floor with a dull thud.

  “But, alas, it cannot leave this house.”

  Before Cosette had time to recover, Blackburn appeared beside her. He was dressed more casually this morning, but he still appeared every bit a gentleman of his station in a pair of black trousers and shining boots. He had eschewed a jacket, his black cambric shirt covered by a dark burgundy vest.

  He wasn’t wearing a cravat.

  Instantly, her gaze dipped to the smooth skin on display at the base of his throat. If she closed her eyes, she might be able to smell his cologne water. She started to sway forward just as he bent down and picked up Calmet’s novel. She blinked several times to gain her bearings, as he lifted a casual brow at the title.

  “Do you have an interest in the paranormal, Miss du Bouir?” he said sardonically, as he handed the book to her. His dark eyes glimmered with an almost unholy light as he regarded her, before it was swiftly banked.

  Instead of answering, she posed a question of her own. “Don’t you believe that there is something out there beyond our understanding?”

  Again, his eyes swirled with an inner tempest, like a storm upon the sea. “If you’re asking if I believe in fairy tales, then no, I do not.” He moved past her, the air behind him charged with electricity.

  Cosette put the tome back in its place. Even though the duke wasn’t looking in her direction, she had the feeling that he was aware of her every movement. It was unnerving, and it caused her to blurt, “I’m leaving.”

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible.” He didn’t even turn around to acknowledge her.

  “You don’t understand,” she tried again. “It’s not your choice. I have a friend who will be concerned about me—”

  He clasped his hands behind him, his entire stance composed. “I sent a missive to Mrs. Kingsbury at The Lion’s Share last night regarding your new situation.”

  Cosette’s mouth fell open at his arrogance. She didn’t even want to know how he knew about Charlotte. “I must return.”

  She heard him snort. “Don’t claim that you will miss it there.”

  “It’s where I live,” she tried again.

  “Not any longer.”

  “You can’t keep me here!” Cosette heard the edge of panic to her voice, as her worst fears were being realized.

  He finally turned back to her, and she felt herself pale. While he appeared calm on the outside, his eyes glittered with determination, while his tone carried a dangero
us undertone. “I must insist that you remain here. With me.”

  Her heart began to pound. “Why?” she demanded.

  He tilted his dark head to the side, and evaded her query. “I assure you, every comfort shall be provided. You shall not want for anything.”

  She shook her head and tried again. “Why are you doing this?”

  He replied with a devilish curve of his lips, “Because you are mine. And I protect what is mine. You should consider yourself fortunate, my dear, Cosette.”

  Cosette felt like a fly trapped in a spider’s web. The man was clearly unhinged, for he was speaking as if he wanted to lay claim to her very existence.

  She slowly backed out of the library and fled, but with every step she took she could feel Blackburn’s presence all around her—surrounding her. He was the floor beneath her feet, the air she breathed, her essence—everything that she was.

  She stumbled toward the front door, tears blurring her vision. She reached for the handle, her breath coming in hard pants. She pulled on the knob, only to find that it held fast. Over and over she struggled, but to no avail. Once the fight had left her, she leaned her head against the hard oak and sobbed. She was effectively trapped—at the complete mercy of a mad duke.

  “I can not allow you to leave.” His deep voice sounded almost regretful, but when she turned her tear stained face to him, where he now stood at the foot of the stairs, his expression had not changed.

  She unleashed her wrath. “You have no right to do this! I am no man’s prisoner!” She slammed the palm of her hand against the door in frustration, while he just stood and observed her outburst. “You’re mad! I demand that you release me at once!”

  He didn’t move.

  She lifted her chin. If her pleas wouldn’t sway him, then perhaps a threat would. “If you don’t let me go, I promise that I will go straight to the authorities when I escape.”

  Cosette instantly tensed at the predatory look in his eyes. “It would not be in your best interests to challenge me. All it would take is a simple whisper of doubt in the right ear and you could be tried for treason. Do you truly prefer death to what I could offer you, dear Cosette?”

  She gave a sharp intake of breath. She knew that he could follow through on his threats, even if she failed. For years there had been antagonism between England and France, but it wasn’t until a few years ago that that tension had turned into an all out war for power, continental trade, and territory. So to be branded a spy, during such turbulent times, would be nothing short of a death sentence. “You would dare to send me to the executioner?”

  “Not if you abide by my wishes,” he countered softly.

  Cosette glared at him in seething hatred. If she managed to escape, she had no doubt that he would do as he claimed. Her mind raced for another option, but he had effectively backed her into a corner. Checkmate. “It appears you have given me little choice but to accept your gracious offer, Your Grace.”

  Cosette brushed by him and stomped angrily up the stairs to her chamber.

  Chapter 5

  Cosette slammed her bedroom door, hearing the clang of metal, prison bars in its wake. Restless, she paced the floor for a time, until she finally settled on the edge of the bed. With a sigh, she fingered the locket around her neck. If only there was a way out of this tenable situation. She knew Charlotte would do everything in her power to help her. Together they would figure out a way for her to disappear so Blackburn was unable to carry out his threats. But how to escape?

  On impulse, Cosette glanced at her window. She jumped up and tried to turn the latch. She expected to find the casement firmly bolted, but to her relief it opened with relative ease. A blustery wind blew into the room signaling an oncoming storm, but she was more interested in the rose trellis just below. Since it was January, the stems were devoid of any thorns. Her heart began to pound erratically as she reached out to test its durability. It appeared sturdy enough to take her weight and work as a ladder as she climbed two stories down to the ground.

  Two long stories down to the ground.

  Cosette swallowed as lightning flashed in the distance. The early morning sun had given way to dark, rolling clouds, while the stale, heavy scent of rain seemed to swirl about the room, but she refused to be deterred from her purpose. It was now or never, so she swung a leg over the edge of the sill.

  She carefully found her footing on the trellis, before she sent up a silent prayer and brought her other leg out. With a white-knuckled grip, she took a deep breath before she began the agonizing descent to the ground. It seemed an eternity passed before she finally touched solid earth, but once she did, she dusted herself off. She couldn’t resist glancing up at her open window, sure that she would see Blackburn’s face in the slight movement of her curtain, but when he didn’t appear, she turned and broke into a dead run.

  It didn’t take long before her bare feet were scratched and bleeding as they hit a stray pebble now and then. She was sure her boots were still in the library where she’d dropped them. How she might be able to gain another pair, she had no idea. She could only hope that Charlotte could assist her with that as well.

  Cosette ran past the stitch in her side, until spots started to pass before her eyes, knowing that the duke could appear at any time. But as the countless smokestacks and the heavy smog rising up out of the heart of the city came into view, she knew she was as close to freedom as she would ever get.

  Out of nowhere, a large, black crow flew directly overhead, its shrill cry causing her to duck her head in alarm. It kept a discreet distance, but Cosette hastened her steps, for there was something about the raven-colored bird that didn’t set well with her.

  By the time Cosette made it to Bishopsgate, she nearly collapsed on the steps of the workhouse. Just before she went inside, she heard a familiar caw and turned to see the crow hopping along in the middle of the street. Its head was cocked to the side and those dark, beady eyes were regarding her so steadily that it caused an uneasy tremor to crawl down her spine.

  She slammed the door.

  Cosette immediately went in search of Charlotte, but she was nowhere to be found. Fear turned into desperation as she spied Mrs. Woodard. “Marianne!” She ran into the widow’s arms and hugged her tightly. She had been the only mother figure she’d had in this horrible place.

  The woman pulled back, her frown of confusion turning to relief, her tired, blue-gray eyes lighting on the younger girl. “Cosette? Where have you been?”

  Cosette was afraid to reveal too much, so instead, she asked, “I need to speak with Charlotte. Do you know where she is?”

  Marianne sighed, and slowly shook her head. “I haven’t seen her all day. I’m not even sure if she came home last night.”

  Cosette felt the blood drain from her face. “Oh, God.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “You . . . don’t think something’s happened to her, do you?” She could barely voice the horrible thought aloud. She recalled the duke claiming that he’d sent her a message regarding her whereabouts the night before, but maybe it was all a lie?

  Marianne patted her hand, as if believing her distress was caused entirely by her friend’s disappearance. “Charlotte can hold her own. Don’t you fret.”

  Cosette felt her eyes fill with frustrated tears. “What am I going to do?” she whispered.

  “I wish I had the answers,” Marianne said sadly, “but I’m afraid I don’t even have them for myself.”

  As she walked away, Cosette turned to the window with a sizable lump in her throat. The worst of the rain was still holding off, although a light mist had begun to fall, turning the streets into a shiny gloss of cobblestones, while an eerie, yellow glow from the flickering lamplights barely permeated the growing fog. But through it all, she could clearly see the dark-clothed figure patiently standing by a black lacquered carriage and four midni
ght stallions. It was as if Blackburn had known her plans all along and was now just biding his time until she returned to him.

  A tear slipped down Cosette’s cheek. Was she just being unreasonable by not accepting the duke’s torrid offer? After all, what made her virtue any more special than another woman who had fallen on hard times? No doubt the majority would think she ought to be thanking her lucky stars that a man as wealthy, handsome, and powerful as the Duke of Blackburn had taken an interest in her. Instead of being doomed to a life of tedium at the workhouse, he was offering her a chance at a better life with only a single string attached—that she fulfill the role of his mistress.

  She hated the fact that she would have to compromise her principles, but truly, where had they gotten her? All her life she thought she had been destined for something more, something greater, but maybe she had found it. Maybe this was it.

  Maybe the duke was the answer.

  She had nothing left, so why not finally surrender to the call of temptation?

  Cosette turned from the window with a new resolve.

  Outside, she walked calmly toward Blackburn, almost without conscious thought. It was as if he pulled her to his side with that magnetic gaze. When she reached him, Davien held out his gloved hand to her. She accepted it.

  “Welcome back, Miss du Bouir.” He lifted her hand and placed a reverent kiss on the back of her knuckles. “I had a feeling you might return to me.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Davien had taken the form of the crow and followed Cosette’s progress into town. He’d known of her plans all along, had even made it easy for her to escape by lifting the spell on the window in her room. He wanted her to realize that she had no other choice but to accept his offer. Until he found out what it was about Miss du Bouir that called to the beast inside of him, he couldn’t let her go.