The Daring Debutantes Series Boxed Set Read online

  “Did you know of my fiancée’s plan to hide with the gypsies?”

  “We only just learned of it. Of course, we had to put two-and-two together. The innkeeper told us Tom had left in quite a hurry with a woman dressed as—and I quote—‘a filthy gypsy whore.’”

  If Tisbury was surprised at her language, he didn’t say as much. He merely narrowed his eyes at her even further (they were practically closed now!) and then gave a loud huff.

  “It is our suspicion that they will be married before any of us has a chance to catch up to them.”

  Now Tisbury’s eyes opened wider than seemed humanly possibly. Apparently he hadn’t expected for there to be such an upstanding man willing to step in and marry Miss Manning for the sake of protecting her. Victoria was so very proud of her brother in that moment.

  Tisbury turned abruptly and stomped across the room. Victoria deflated as soon as he walked out the front door and Fin grabbed her hand.

  “Well done, my darling,” he said quietly.

  “Do you think he’ll head north? To Gretna Green?”

  Fin shrugged. “We can only hope, can’t we?”

  ~*~

  If God has any pity at all, he will let me die.

  This was the first thought that came into Emil’s head when he awoke. He didn’t know where he was or what day it was; all he knew was the searing pain in his shoulder, and the even more searing pain in his heart.

  She was gone, probably already wed to that damned Englishman.

  But what had happened to his people? Blurry images of the fires, of people running, Tisbury retreating, filled his mind and set his blood to racing. Oh, God. Had anyone survived?

  He tried to look at his shoulder. It was wrapped properly and, he assumed, had been cleaned before that. Maybe recently, which might explain the immense amount of pain he was experiencing.

  It was dark in the vardo, though it was obvious it was not the one he shared with his mother. Panic rushed through him and he sat up, only to be pushed back to the pillows by the wave of nausea that came over him.

  Dammit.

  “Dai!” he called for his mother. “Dai!”

  Had he not already been lying down, he would have collapsed to the bed in relief when his mother appeared in the doorway.

  “Thank God you’re alive,” he said weakly as she rushed to his side.

  “Me? What about you? We’ve been waiting for days for you to wake up.”

  Days. Suddenly the pain in his shoulder wasn’t so bad. Not compared to the pain in his heart. It felt as if someone had reached into his chest and ripped it out with their bare hands. If days had passed, she was surely gone, married to Tom. He’d probably never see her again.

  “Where am I?” he asked, trying to avoid talking about Bianca.

  Mother’s eyes shifted, as if there were news she didn’t want to tell him. Emil put his hand over hers to stop her fidgeting. It wasn’t like her to fidget.

  “What happened?” he demanded in as strong a voice as he could muster.

  “You should rest.”

  “Dai!”

  She turned to him, fire in her eyes. “You want to know what happened? Exactly what I told you would happen! That girl brought prikaza to our tribe.”

  “It’s not her fault, whatever happened.”

  “No,” his mother said quietly. “It’s not her fault.”

  Silence fell over the small space. Emil didn’t need to ask any more questions, at least not about where the blame was being cast. Clearly, she blamed him for all of this. If not for his infatuation with Bianca, none of this would have happened. Tisbury never would have come to them in search of her.

  And frankly, Emil’s heart wouldn’t feel as if it had been ripped into shreds.

  God, take pity on me. End this suffering. Please.

  “Just tell me what happened,” he finally said.

  “Most of the tents were burnt to the ground. The vardos suffered only a little less damage.”

  Emil didn’t want to ask the next question, but he had to. “Is everyone safe?”

  His mother’s face fell as tears welled in her eyes. He wished he didn’t have to hear the answer—whoever it was, it would be a painful loss for their people.

  “Guaril did not make it,” she said, choking on a sob. “But he died a hero. Mirella was trapped inside a vardo. If Guaril had not gone in to get her…”

  Emil closed his eyes, trying to keep the tears locked inside. Guaril was his friend, and he’d perished because of Emil’s horrible decision. But it was no surprise that he’d risked his life for the little girl, and Emil had to give thanks that his death was not in vain.

  “How is Lyuba?” he asked once he’d gained control of his voice again.

  “She is…learning to live without him.”

  Emil reached out and grabbed his mother’s hand. “She will need you during this time, Mother.”

  Adora nodded and then pulled her hand away. Her nerves were frayed—that much was obvious—it was in her nature to keep moving, keep doing, until her spirit could find comfort again.

  Emil wanted to ask her about Bianca, find out if there was any word from her—about her—but he was certain that would not help her current state of mind. So he held his tongue and chose to wonder and suffer in silence.

  ~*~

  It was perhaps the most surreal moment of Bianca’s life. One of those moments where she knew she was present, but that she felt as if she watched the entire scene from afar.

  She saw herself, on the deck of the ship, the sun setting behind her, Tom at her side and the captain standing before them. She wore a white muslin gown and her left hand rested on top of Tom’s right hand.

  She heard the captain speak the words, and she repeated them when necessary. And she saw the smile—the joyful, captivating smile of her new husband as he leaned down to kiss her at the close of their vows.

  It should have been the most wonderful moment of her life. Yet all she could think about was Emil. How he should be the one standing before her, reciting vows to love and protect her, hearing her confession of undying love.

  And she hated herself for what she was doing to Tom. He was a good man—a man worthy of love and adoration. Maybe one day she would grow to feel the way about him that she felt about Emil. But was it fair that on their wedding day, she could only think of another man?

  There was nothing to be done about it, though. They were married now. Man and wife. And soon they would be on the other side of the world.

  Bianca woke from her dream—or was it a nightmare?—with a start and looked frantically around the cabin. The space felt small and suffocating all of a sudden, though Bianca knew it had more to do with what was to come when they reached the island than the actual size of the room.

  Tom was nowhere to be found—thank heaven—so she made her escape to the top deck. She gasped for air when she reached the top of the stairs and then made her way to the railing. She leaned over the edge, willing her heart to stop racing and her stomach to settle, but it wasn’t working. Her fate had been sealed, and whether or not she regretted it, there was nothing to be done about it.

  “Bianca.”

  She didn’t turn around. She couldn’t look at him, not now. Not with tears for Emil running down her cheeks.

  He came up beside her and pressed a warm hand to her back. It was so comforting, so reassuring, and she wondered why she couldn’t love him. It would make her life so much easier if she could.

  “You’re unhappy,” he said quietly, and the hurt in his tone was obvious.

  “I’m trying my best not to be,” Bianca replied, but her voice came out like a squeaky mouse.

  Tom pulled her from the railing and into his embrace. They stood there for a long time while she cried, and he ran his fingers tenderly through her hair.

  “I’m not asking you to love me, Bianca,” he finally said, his voice a gentle whisper against her ear. “I’m not asking you not to love Emil.”

  Bianca pu
lled back to look at him. “I know you’re not. But it isn’t fair. You’re such a good, kind man. And now you’ve practically leg-shackled yourself to a woman who…who…” She couldn’t finish the sentence. She couldn’t admit out loud that she was in love with another man. Not to Tom. Even if he already knew it.

  He pressed a finger to her lips. “This will take time. And it will hurt for a while, but one day you’ll see that it was for the best.”

  She gave him a smile. “I already know it was for the best, Tom. At least in my head I do. I’m just waiting for my heart to catch up.”

  Tom pulled her against him again in a loving, almost brotherly hug. “I’ll be here when it does.”

  Seventeen

  Victoria rode alongside her husband through the peaceful countryside, but her spirit was anything but peaceful. She knew Tom and Bianca had made it safely to the ship—their driver had returned to the inn to tell them as much. Still, she hated that they were gone. As much as she hated to admit to needing anyone, she did need her brother. And she’d only just begun to get to know Bianca. She was sure they would have been the best of friends had they had a chance to spend more time together. She was the sister Victoria had never had, and now she was halfway around the world and they might never see one another again.

  She must have sighed louder than she realized because Fin turned abruptly to look at her, his brow furrowed with concern.

  “Are you unwell?” he asked.

  Victoria rolled her eyes. “The conclusions you jump to! And over a sigh?”

  He turned forward again, his jaw set. “You ought not to be on a horse in the first place.”

  “I’m fine,” she insisted. “I just wish things could be different, that’s all.”

  “You miss him already?”

  She nodded. “I do.”

  Fin slowed his horse to a stop and Victoria followed suit.

  “This way,” he said, leading them onto a barely worn path in the trees.

  They had to go single file, the path was so narrow. But they were clearly headed the right way, if all the horse tracks were any indication. They were fairly fresh, certainly since the last rainfall, otherwise they wouldn’t have been there at all.

  The only accompaniment to their ride were the calls of the birds in the trees and the occasional rustle of leaves as the breeze blew through. But Victoria barely heard any of it over her prayers. She had a horrible sense of foreboding, and so she’d been praying fervently that all was well at the gypsy camp.

  Unfortunately, her fears were confirmed as they emerged into the clearing. On the far side of the field, near the river, stood several wagons, clearly affected by flames. Men and women seemed to be working tirelessly to clean up what was left of their camp, their belongings.

  “Dear God,” she whispered. “What happened?”

  Fin shook his head. He obviously had no more answers than she did. “Let’s find out.”

  He urged his horse forward and Victoria did the same. As they neared, everyone stopped their work to watch them approach, fear and caution obvious in their eyes.

  “Please,” Fin said, holding up a hand. “We mean no harm. We are here to help.”

  Victoria didn’t wait for his assistance to climb down from her horse. She jumped to the ground and moved to one of the women nearby. “What has happened?”

  “Gaje.” This came from a voice to her left—from a slightly older woman with wild hair and a murderous look in her eyes.

  Victoria didn’t speak their language, but she did understand the word gaje, and she knew that the gypsies did not look favorably on them. Especially not now, not after what Tisbury had done to their camp.

  “We aren’t all like that,” Victoria said.

  “No, but you bring prikaza just the same.”

  “I understand you’re afraid. After all you’ve been through, I don’t blame you.” Victoria took a cautious step forward. “But we would like to help, if you’ll let us.”

  The woman narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

  “I am Tom’s sister. We saw to their safety, but I’m very sorry that we did not see to yours. We would like to make things right. Please, tell us what we can do to help.”

  The woman still looked at her with wary eyes, but she softened slightly, as if she carried a great burden that might be relieved with Fin and Victoria’s arrival.

  “We can see to the mess that the gaje left behind. But my son…”

  That was it—the burden she was carrying. Her voice broke and tears came to her dark eyes.

  “Take us to him.”

  Victoria and Fin followed the woman to one of the few wagons that remained in the camp. She opened the door and they climbed the stairs into the small, dark space. A man lie on the bed at the far end of the wagon, obviously ill. Perhaps dying.

  “He was shot,” the woman explained. “We thought he was going to be all right, but the wound became infected and then the fever started. I’ve tried everything. I don’t know what else to do.”

  Victoria wasn’t a doctor, but she did run a hospital, and she knew enough to recognize that the man needed medical attention. But was it safe to transport him?

  “How long would it take to get to London in this wagon?” she asked of Fin.

  Before he could answer, the gypsy woman interrupted. “London?”

  “Your son needs help—from capable doctors,” Fin said. “We will make sure he is well taken care of.”

  “What is his name?” Victoria asked.

  “Emilian.”

  Emil. Oh, good heavens. No matter that Bianca was probably already married to her brother, she would never forgive herself if she discovered that Emil died because of her. It wasn’t her fault, but she would blame herself nonetheless.

  “And your name?” she asked the woman.

  “Adora.”

  She stood and took the woman’s hands in her own. “Adora, please. You must let us take him to London. We can save your son. It is my most solemn vow that we will save him.”

  Victoria wasn’t entirely sure that they could truly save him, but staying here was certain death.

  After a long moment, Adora finally nodded her head, and within the half hour the four of them were headed for London.

  ~*~

  Tom wasn’t really the praying kind, but he found he had no other choice. He was about to marry a woman he was in love with, but who didn’t love him back. He was sure now that there was no greater pain in the world than unrequited love. Especially when one was forced to sleep next to the person they were in love with, in a bed that could barely fit one human, let alone two.

  He lay awake nearly the entire night, with her warm body pressed against his, praying for his member to stand down and for his heart to listen to his head when he told it—repeatedly—that she didn’t really love him.

  What a horrible and awkward situation he found himself in!

  Bianca mewled quietly and turned—yet again—this time to face him and burrow into his chest. Tom pulled her closer against him and breathed in the sweet scent of her hair.

  Please, God. Let her love me.

  He groaned. Was he really begging for a woman’s love? It was so unlike him. But she was so unlike any woman he’d ever known.

  As the sun rose outside, shedding the tiniest bit of light into their cabin, Tom felt a distinct shift and tug of the vessel. He’d traveled enough to know that feeling and to know what it meant.

  “Bianca,” he whispered, shaking her gently. “Bianca, I have to go above decks.”

  “Mm-hm,” she moaned, but burrowed even closer to him.

  Damn. He would just have to disrupt her long enough to extract himself from the bed.

  It wasn’t easy, but he finally made it to the floor and tucked the covers back around her before putting on his boots and heading upstairs.

  The morning air was chilly and Tom found himself longing again for the warmer climes of the Caribbean. Soon enough. He made his way to the bow of the ship where the captai
n stood, barking orders at his men.

  “Captain,” Tom said, getting the man’s attention. “Why the change in course?”

  “We’ve sprung a leak in the hull,” the captain said gruffly. “No time to waste. If we don’t get back to land soon, we’ll all go to a watery grave.”

  Perfect. He nodded to the captain and left the man to do his job. He needed to walk. And think. This was not welcome news, no matter which way he looked at it. Going back to England—if that was indeed where they were headed—was not ideal. Drowning in a shipwreck was even less ideal.

  Surely God was playing a trick on him. All he wanted to do was go back home—to Jamaica. With Bianca.

  If they landed again in England, he had no doubt that both of those dreams would come to an abrupt end. Bianca would go back to the gypsies, and then Tom would no longer have an excuse to flee England back to the islands. He would be back where he started a couple weeks ago, only much worse for the wear.

  Tom rounded the back of the ship and nearly collided with his bride.

  “What are you doing up here?” he asked, but his tone came out harsher than intended.

  Bianca reared back. “I—I came to find you,” she defended. “Why did you leave?”

  “I’m not sure why you care.” He wasn’t intending to be an ass, really he wasn’t. But after a night of holding her, dreaming of her and praying for her affections, he knew all was lost. All hope was gone. She’d run right back to Emil as soon as they hit land.

  She didn’t reply, she only blinked her big, blue eyes at him, clearly perplexed at his behavior.

  “We…there’s a problem with the ship,” he said at last, feeling defeated and full of despair. “We’re going back.”