White Swans A Regency World

Chapter 2

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The sun’s warm rays kissed her cheeks. Tilting her face heavenward, she strode to the lake to see the swans. She needed to make the people around her believe she was going for a morning stroll—especially the old bat, Cordova—while she scoped the grounds, preparing a plan of escape. In the distance, she spied a man holding a hoe on his shoulder walking a parallel path and glancing her way. The whole world seemed to watch her.

The clear sky appeared translucent. She filled her lungs with the morning air, closed her eyes, and, opening them, looked again.

A foreboding sensation of being watched assaulted her. Kendíka froze. Floating just above the horizon, a pair of hazy eyes observed her. Unable to make them out, she blinked, staring up again, but only a few scattered clouds pranced upon the blue sky. With her head tilted back, she twirled, searching for the eerie eyes. Nothing. Wow, I’m losing it. The place was becoming weirder by the minute.

She shook the idea from her head. Everything had an explanation. Her particular situation could be no different. She dismissed it, thinking her strange getup together with the pain of her loss had caught up with her, and decided to continue to scope out the surroundings for a better perspective. A better perspective?

Huffing, she caught sight of a person peeking from behind a bush. She squinted. The gardener! Seems the duke had demanded everyone keep tabs on her. How am I supposed get a better insight when I feel like a fish in a bowl?

Shifting her attention, she sat on the grass, her heart thumping, and looked at the lake before her as she waited to see what the spy would do. The three white swans swam together. Farther behind, the black one seemed to comfort a newcomer—a Black-necked swan. They intertwined their long necks and, on occasion, rubbed cheeks. The two birds turned sad eyes toward her.

She glanced up at the sky. Filled with dread, she jumped to her feet and rushed to the mansion, scurrying past the gardener shadowing her.

“Milady.”

She stopped. “What do you want? Why are you following me?”

“I just wanted to see the new person in the collection.” He rushed off toward the stables.

Shaking her head, she went in search of the duke. Bursting into the foyer, she bumped intoWordsworth.

“Is everything alright, milady?”

Out of breath, she asked, “Where can I find Duke Deverow?”

He bowed. “His Grace is in his study, third door on the right.”

Wordsworth shuffled away. Surprised, she stared at his back. His hump seemed bigger. Holycrap! She looked again—yes, it was bigger.

Completely freaked, she raced down the hall, her heels clacking against the marble floor. Sheskidded to a stop in front of the study’s door, grabbed the handle, and froze. She looked back the way she’d come. What did the gardener mean by ‘the new person of the collection’? She squeezed her fingers around the knob, determination stiffening her resolve. Going crazy was not an option—she wanted out of this nutty place. Her guardian had to have answers, and he needed to come clean with them. Swinging the door open, she barged inside.

He looked up. “What’s the meaning of this? Your behavior is not proper for a young lady.” His tone was harsh as he rose and came around the desk.

She marched up to him, holding his gaze. “You owe me some explanations.”

He scrutinized her then turned, fussing with a few scattered papers. When he faced her again, his eyes softened. “Come, let’s walk.”

She tried to argue, but he placed his finger to his lips. She grimaced, deciding she could wait another minute or two for him to answer her questions.

Once outside, away from the mansion, Duke Deverow turned to Kendíka. “Too many ears in the house. Now what is troubling you?”

“I don’t understand. Do you have spies in your home?”

“We need to whisper,” he said in a lowered voice.

Again, he pressed a finger to his lips and motioned upward with his index. She glanced up andjolted. A set of eyes stared down—misty outlines with no discernible facial features. They’re real? Stunned, her heart skipped, fluttered, and it took seconds for the outlandish reality to sink into her brain.

“Who are they?” She continued squinting at the sky, but couldn’t see anything except theeyes. The irises looked green, but with all the haze hiding them, she wasn’t quite sure. It was hard to distinguish their outline. Maybe if they wore eyeliner, I’d be able to see them better. She giggled to release tension.

He sighed. “You have much to learn, but since I have no intentions of frightening you, we’ll take things one step at a time.”

“One step at a time?” she said through gritted teeth. She grabbed his arm and squeezed. “Tell me what those eyes are, what they mean. Then you can tell me why we must wear these crappy clothes.”

He swallowed, smoothing his thumb and index fingers around the contour of his mouth. “Excuse me?”

“I miss my jeans and T-shirt. What’s the deal with these ridiculous ancient clothes? Is this a LARP reenactment or something?”

“Larp?”

“Yeah, a live action roll playing thing like Renaissance festivals and stuff.”

“I assure you this is no play.” He swept the surroundings with his gaze. “It’s a curse.”

She snorted. “Seriously, what the hell are you talking about?”

He frowned. “Manners, please.”

He stiffened, so she complied. “Can you please explain to me what’s going on?”

An unusual shadow appeared on the grass, and the duke’s jovial laugh rang in her ears. “I’mglad you enjoy the swans. I’ve added a new one to the collection.”


Kendíka gazed up at the sky and, seeing the eyes looking down, flinched. She still had no ideahow to address him. “Should I be calling you Duke Deverow?”


He smiled, but she could tell it was forced. “You may call me Charles when we’re alone, butin the presence of others, you must call me Duke Deverow or Your Grace.”

“Fair enough. Would you like to show me the swans?”

The new Black-necked swam alongside the black one behind the white trio. The black swangazed their way, tilted its head, and, swimming over, came out of the water. Crouching, Charles waited then caressed the bird’s head. Tearful, sad eyes stared at her. Holy crap, did swans cry?

She stood and dashed into the house, heading toward the stairs to her bedroom, the chilly fingers of the unknown running up and down her spine. The similar emotion in both Charles and the swan’s grieving expression haunted her.

“Kendíka.” The duke’s voice resounded throughout the foyer. “Please come back down.”

Halfway up the stairs, she stopped. Reluctantly, she turned. “Why should I?”


“I want to make sure you’re alright.”


“I’m fine.” She scurried to her prison.