The small confines of the carriage darkened as the day transpired, with that, Ginelle struggled to remain passive despite everything Pierino had revealed. Could she truly believe his accusations against her mother? Could she believe this man, Alfred Sterling, was her supposed father? Was it possible that the man who raised her had not sired her at all?
Her head began to throb with her whirlwind thoughts and she moaned inwardly as she leaned back against the seat, her eyes darting nervously to the brooding man across from her. Her thoughts immediately turned to Dorian. Surely they would know by now that something terrible had happened to her? Henry would have told them.
Her heart ached within her chest, fearing the unknown of the situation soon to unravel. What was to become of her and her unborn child? What were the baron’s intentions? She shivered, imaging brutality and cruelness.
Had her mother truly loved Ross that she would escape her privileged life, all for the sake of love? Had she fled for a reason entirely unbeknownst to anyone? Had the baron treated her mother so cruelly that she fled, fearing her life? She pondered all the scattered thoughts wracking her troubled mind, each making her heart pace all the more fearful.
The sun descended, evoking a gloomy stretch of blackness to extend wide over the flat, green land. The carriage rocked without difficulty, making it all the more complicated for Ginelle to remain awake. She had eaten very little that day and felt a slight weakness creeping into her limbs.
She was nearly asleep when the carriage suddenly jolted to a stop, jarring her alert. She stiffened as her head snapped upright, her eyes moving warily about, taking in her surroundings. She barely had time to access her situation before Pierino hurried forward, grabbing her wrist and dragging her along after him.
She nearly lost her footing as they stumbled from the carriage. Her heart pounding, her eyes strained against the looming darkness, searching for a means to escape but Pierino kept a firm grip on her wrist ensuring her that an easy escape was not possible.
Ginelle knew that if she struggled she would be endangering her child so she obediently followed at his heels. Her heart somersaulted in her chest as her eyes averted to the extravagant manor dominating the blackened sky.
“Pull yer hood up over yer head.” Pierino demanded and when she did not comply, he grumbled nervously and turned to fumble with her hood until it rest firmly atop her head.
She stood frozen, mindless as of what to expect as a young servant answered Pierino’s abrupt knock. The girl appeared startled by Pierino’s suddenness as she studied them curiously, her brows pulling together in slight puzzlement.
“I wish to speak with the baron, tis urgent.” Pierino commanded, his grip tightening around Ginelle’s wrist in warning.
The girl hesitated, shaking her dark head. “I am sorry, Sir. Monsieur is not accepting visitors at this hour, mayhap if you return on the morrow-“
Pierino shoved the girl aside and dragged Ginelle over the threshold. “Ye may tell yer lord that I will see him now.” Pierino exclaimed.
Frightened by his brusque manner, the girl merely nodded and fled the hall. Pierino turned and seized Ginelle roughly by the arms. “Ye will remain silent, understood?”
Ginelle lifted her head, her brown eyes glinting challengingly beneath the rim of her hood. “If I don’t?”
His fingers tightened and she resisted a whimper as he leaned in close, his black eyes penetrating her calm reserve. “If ye do not abide, I will see yer child dead before it sees the light, understood?”
She paled beneath his accosting stare, her body jolting in alarm at his jarring words.
He sneered, “Aye, I know ye carry a bastard in yer belly, so take note and remember my warning.”
He shoved her away and her hand lashed out to steady her sudden quaking frame. He stood a pace apart but she felt his nearness like a black cloud intending to suffocate the very life from her body and that of her babe. She kept her distance and remained silent, fearing if she angered him, he may retaliate. She had little choice but to submit.
Lord Alfred Sterling, baron of Cambridge, paced the lavished carpeted floor, his arms entwined at his back as he waited anxiously for the unexpected visitor to appear in his study. He was livid to have a visitor calling at this hour, more so that the man had demanded his presence.
A knock sounded at his door and he turned as the maid tentatively opened the door, their eyes connected and he nodded curtly, allowing her to bid the man entry.
When the man stepped into the light of the study, Alfred froze, his limbs stiffening with a maddening fury. “Basilotta.” He hissed the name with underlying malice.
Pierino smirked as he strolled casually into the room, the maid closing the door firmly behind him as he crossed the floor to the brandy sitting atop a glass table. “Ye are not pleased to see me?”
Alfred’s hands curled into fists at his sides until his knuckles turned white with pain. “You are a fool to come here, Basilotta.” The baron hissed, “You have misled me for the last time, diminishing my finances with your deceit. If you think I’m going to allow you to walk unscathed from my estate, you are mistaken.”
Pierino slowly turned, his fingers curling around the glass in his hand to still the concealed tremors declaring his unease. “If ye think to kill me, Sir, ye would be wise to reconsider yer threats.”
Alfred paused despite his frosted anger, “You best have a good reason for your presence, Basilotta, if I have to endure another one of your lies, I will end you here and now. I’ve wasted precious time and money relying on your incompetent methods.”
Pierino lifted the glass and downed the brandy, his hands trembling as he set the glass aside. “I would have yer word, baron.” He demanded nervously, a slight edge to his tone as he met Alfred’s hard stare. “I would have yer word that ye intend to see out our bargain, with my head attached?”
Alfred felt a small flutter in his chest, a sudden anxiousness sweeping throughout his limbs. “You found her?” the words were barely spoken, “If my child has been found, than I will ensure that our bargain is met.” He said firmly and than narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “But if you intend to beguile me, it will be for the last time.”
Pierino nodded grimly.
Alfred watched, waiting anxiously as Pierino crossed the room and jerked open the door, he stepped for a moment into the hall and than entered the room, his fingers wrapped around a small wrist, pulling an unwilling concealed body into the study.
Pierino stepped back as Alfred observed the small cloaked figure standing several feet from him. His heart beat like a persistent drum, his hope flaring to a colossal magnitude that he nearly rushed forward to reveal the concealed figure. How would he know for certain Pierino had not failed him?
“Take down yer hood.” Pierino commanded.
His heart jumped as there was a moment of hesitation, he sensed her fear, her reluctance before small hands reached up, trembling in their ascent, to push the hood away, revealing the mystery beneath.
Alfred felt as though the very room itself shifted beneath his weight, conjuring the image of a woman he had loved from the moment they were betrothed. It was as if he were staring at Anne Montgomery all over again, her dewy-brown eyes wide and fully-lashed, her skin pale like ivory and hair the color of moonbeams, only this small woman standing in front of him, had a firm yet small jaw, set in determination, her subtle eyes sharpening with a boldness that surprised him.
He stepped toward her and she tensed, her eyes darting warily like a frightened doe, but he sensed her eagerness to fight if she must and he wondered for a moment what kept her restrained. “You have no reason to fear me, my child.”
“I am not your child.” She stated adamantly, her chin thrusting upward to indicate her sudden anger.
He resisted a grin, stunned by her courageousness. “If you are not my child, than pray tell, who sired you?” he asked curiously.
Her chin remained firm, “Ross Hayes is my father.”
He winced inwardly, knowing the name painfully well. “You are so certain he is your father?” he inquired.
“You are so certain that I am your daughter?” she challenged.
He smiled, “You are a striking semblance of Anne. There is not a slightest bit of uncertainty that you are her daughter, and mine.” He took another step towards her and she retreated. “I did not search years for you my child to have you fear me.”
He noticed her eyes glance nervously at Pierino and this angered him immensely. “You have nothing to fear here, no harm will come to you.” He turned to address Pierino, “Your work is done here, Basilotta. I am no longer in need of your assistance. You may seek Reeves; he will see that you are greatly rewarded.”
Pierino’s dark eyes rested firmly on Ginelle and she met his stare boldly, determined not to cower beneath his obsidian stare, remembering all too well the cruelty and pain she had endured at his hands, the fears he had placed in her little heart as a child.
**********
Once Pierino left the room, Ginelle averted her eyes to the man standing across from her. He was tall and lean with an abundance of hair the color of mahogany, swept back from his face to reveal streaks of gray forming at his temples. His nose was sharp and his features aristocratic and angled in preciseness. He stood with an air of exactness and proclaimed a keen intellect.
Ginelle remained wary of this man, knowing very little of his manner and reputation. His cobalt eyes studied her silently, his thoughts working tediously behind his masked expression.
“You fear him?” he asked than, taking her by surprise.
She shifted uneasily beneath his acute, blue eyes.
“I believe I am at fault for the pain you have suffered.” He said suddenly, his tone taking on a sadness that startled her. “I was informed that he was exceptionally skilled in tracking a missing person’s whereabouts. Unfortunately, I was not informed of his deceitful and cruel tactics. How can I make amends for all that you have suffered?”
“There is nothing you can say that will make amends for what you have done. He murdered my father. If you had left well enough alone, none of that would have occurred.”
“Your ‘father’ betrayed my trust.” He said indignantly. “When I learned your mother carried a child, I had to know for certain if the babe was mine. When I learned of your mother’s death, I was devastated.” He fell silent and Ginelle sensed a deep sadness in him.
“You loved my mother?” she asked, surprised.
His blue eyes softened, “I loved your mother the moment I laid eyes on her. She was against our betrothal and unbeknownst to me, she loved another.”
“Did you treat her cruelly?” Ginelle knew the question to be absurd, but she had to know.
Alfred stiffened, “I never laid a hand to her. I pined for her affections, not once did violence occur. I could not abide the thought of harming your mother. She was a gentle soul. You are like her in many ways.”
Ginelle smiled despite the circumstances. “I never knew my mother. I was told she died giving birth to me.”
He nodded, “I was told the same but your name was never given.”
Ginelle hesitated, she knew he wanted to know her given name but could she truly trust this man who claimed to be her father? She had studied him for a time, searching his face for similar features but she could detect nothing that would confirm this man as the one who sired her. He had not been cruel to her mother. He had not intended harm on her part in any way. She sensed a kindness along with a lingering sadness that matched her own that elicited a response from her lips. “I am Ginelle.”
He smiled a light forming in his cobalt eyes. “I have a proposition for you, Ginelle.”
She frowned, sensing a slight unease. “A proposition?”
He nodded, “I would like for you to remain here, with me, at Cambridge.”
Her heart jolted, “I cannot, I am sorry but I wish to return to London.”
He frowned, taken aback as if expecting a different response entirely. “London?” and than as if suddenly taking note of her clean appearance and fine garments, he asked, “Do you not live in hardship?”
She shook her head, “Whether I live in poverty or not, milord, I wish to return home.”
He took a step toward her, his expression curious. “Where exactly is home?”
Ginelle bit down on her lower lip, “Home is where I wish to be.”
“You refuse to tell me?” he appeared almost agitated.
“I do, milord.”
He pondered this for a moment but did not press the matter. “My proposition stands.” He said assertively.
She shook her head, “I must decline.”
He was quiet and she noticed the muscle tensing along his jaw. He was angry and she grew wary. “I had hoped you would agree to live here willingly.” With that said, he started around her towards the door.
Her heart plummeting, Ginelle whirled to catch him. “You mean to keep me here against my will?”
He stopped before the door with his back to her and she caught the rigidness in his spine. He turned than to look at her, “I do.” He wrenched open the door and slammed it closed as she rushed forward, her hands circling the latch as the lock fell into place.
**********