“Threatening you mean?”
“Warning, my love. I don’t want to take any… action. But it would be wise not to force my hand.” She smiled from the door, her hand upon the frame and a steely gaze in her eyes.
“Of course, mother.”
“We shall see.”
CHAPTER TWO
MEREDITH TOOK A DEEP breath as the carriage rolled into the circular drive of Wingham House. It had been erected in the late 1600s in the shape of an ‘E’ to honor the Tudors. As children, Meredith and her sisters had spent many a summer at the Wingham estate, much to their displeasure. Lord and Lady Bright and The Duke and Duchess of Ashbury were close friends and had determined, by sheer force of will, that their children would be friends as well.
It hadn’t worked.
Rather, it had created an uprising.
Of course, it hadn’t exactly started that way.
But one of the three Ashbury brothers would never fail to tease of the Bright sisters. And in return, Meredith and her sisters would feel the need for justice to be served.
And since their parents weren’t willing to address such matters, they took said justice into their own hands.
Which sometimes turned out beautifully, sometimes not so beautifully.
But what made it so difficult was that it never ended.
Neither side had won.
This truth was frustrating in the extreme to a little girl, and undoubtedly to a little boy as well, so each summer when the two families would again meet at Wingham House, the war continued.
And to this day, neither side could claim victory.
But that was all going to change. Meredith pulled herself from her inner musings and stepped from the carriage, her dainty boot crushing the gravel beneath it. The Wingham estate loomed before her, and boldly she stepped forward. Soon her sisters flanked her, each studying the large glass windows and stone face.
“Are you ready?” Meredith whispered softly.
“Yes,” Louisa answered.
“Oh yes… I can’t wait,” Sara replied. Meredith turned to her, watching as an evil grin teased her heart shaped face.
Meredith turned to the stairs leading to the entrance. ”Let it begin.”
“IT’S FAR TOO PEACEFUL,” Lucas mumbled to himself as he straightened his jacket. Scanning the crowd assembling in the ballroom, he kept his gaze sharp. Something was off.
He knew the hags had arrived.
He knew they were staying in the western wing.
He knew they were attending the ball.
But as of yet, neither he nor his brothers had seen them.
Not that this was a bad thing… rather it was unsettling.
Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
No. That wouldn’t do. He shook his head slightly. Keep your friends closer and spy on your enemies! That was much better.
One should never get too close to a hag.
Heaven only knew what would happen.
He shivered.
“Lucas,” Jack whispered as he stood beside him.
“Hmm?”
“We have a problem.”
Lucas turned to his brother, watching as Jack searched the crowd, glanced to the ceiling — anything but make eye contact.
“What is the problem?” Lucas turned to him more fully, daring him to continue to ignore him.
“It’s a long story—”
“Shorten it.”
Jack took a deep breath and met his gaze, finally. “Hugh and I wanted to get a head start…” He let his tone linger.
“What did you do?” Lucas grabbed his brother’s arm and led him to a quiet alcove.
“It was not going to be anything too horrendous, but as we were setting the mouse free in one of the rooms—”
“Bloody hell, Mother is going to kill you… Mother is going to kill me! I thought we agreed that nothing living would be employed, not after the frog escapade!”
“Who knew that rotting frogs could smell so bad?” Jack shrugged.”Regardless, while we were in their room… they arrived.”
“Did they see you?”
“No. We hid in the water closet and left after they quit the room, but…” Jack glanced away, his expression guilty.
“But what?” Lucas asked darkly.
“Uh… actually…” Jack’s gaze darted about then landed on something just outside of the alcove, his eyes widening slightly.
“See for yourself,” he whispered.
Irritated, Lucas followed his gaze.
As if to prove the point, his skin broke out in goose bumps as he studied the creature not twenty paces away.
Ash blonde hair was curled and swept away from a heart-shaped face, leaving a gentleman divided between gazing at the full, pink lips or fantasizing about the curve of her neck — and exactly how it would taste. Dark sooty lashes outlined almond-shaped eyes that were accented by the frosty color of her dress, which made a man drink in her profile, study it, memorize it. The dress offered only a slight hint of her curves beneath, but it was that hint that set fire to a burning imagination that could easily roar out of control.