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Annalisa 29
29SPENCERA manic grin stretched across my face as the rumble of the carriage grew fainter in the distance. My plan was unfolding beautifully. That rickety old bridge, weakened by my “subtle” tinkering, wouldn’t stand a chance under the weight of the Duke’s carriage. Annalisa and the old goat – poetic justice, wouldn’t you say? – would be taking an unexpected swim in the river below.Images of sprawling estates and overflowing coffers danced in my head. Freedom. Luxury. A life of leisure spent on the beaches of distant lands, far away from the dusty confines of Kano. Me, Spencer Cavendish, finally living the life I deserved.A twig snapped under my foot, shattering the blissful reverie. Anne emerged from the shadows, her eyes gleaming with a devilish amusement that mirrored my own.“Well, Spencer,” she drawled, her voice dripping with satisfaction, “did the bridge cooperate?”“Cooperate?” I scoffed. “It practically rolled out the welcome mat for them.” I couldn’t resist a theatrical
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30ANNALISEMy arms were crossed so tightly they were starting to resemble pretzels. Dad, on the other hand, looked like a kicked puppy – all droopy eyes and slumped shoulders. We were in a stalemate, the kind that usually involved a silent treatment lasting for days (a record was two weeks, fueled by a particularly disastrous attempt at a soufflé on my part). This time, however, the silence crackled with electricity.“But Dad,” I finally burst out, unable to contain myself any longer, “it’s a prince! A literal prince!”He sighed, a sound that seemed to deflate him further. “Annalise, honey, there’s more to life than tiaras and carriages.”“But isn’t that kind of the point?” I countered, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “It’s a chance to, you know, do something grand! Make a difference!”Dad snorted, a dry, humorless sound. “The only difference you’ll be making is the colour of your bank account, sweetheart. And trust me, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows on the other side of fa
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31SPENCERI saw Anne stumbling in, looking exhausted. We had been on a wild goose chase, searching for the duke and Annalise, and it seemed like we had finally called it quits for the night.“Spencer, I’m so glad to be back,” Anne said, flopping down on the bed next to me. “I don’t know if I can go on with this any longer.”I looked over at her, taking in her disheveled appearance and the exhaustion etched on her face. I knew how she felt; the past few days had been grueling, and we had yet to find any trace of the duke and Annalise.“Hey, it’s okay,” I said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair out of her face. “We’ll figure something out. But for now, why don’t we take a break and relax?”Anne nodded, her eyes heavy-lidded. “That sounds like a good idea.”I moved closer to her, our bodies pressing together as I began to kiss her neck. I could feel her relax into me, her breathing becoming slower and deeper. I trailed kisses down to her collarbone, nibbling gently on the skin ther
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32ANNALISAThe world swam around me, a kaleidoscope of throbbing pain and disorientation. My head pounded like a drum solo gone horribly wrong, and the metallic tang of blood filled my mouth. The carriage… the crash… it all came flooding back in a sickening wave.Disoriented, I blinked, trying to make sense of my surroundings. We were at the bottom of a steep embankment, the mangled wreckage of the carriage lying testament to our violent descent. Dad, thankfully, was stirring beside me, a groan escaping his lips.Relief flooded me, warm and sweet. He was alive! But judging by the way he winced as he tried to sit up, alive wasn’t exactly synonymous with spry.“Dad!” I cried, scrambling towards him, ignoring the searing protest from my own ankle.“Annalise?” he rasped, his voice weak. “What happened?”“The carriage,” I explained, my voice shaking. “It went out of control.” Thankfully, the darkness veiled the expression on my face, hiding the fear that threatened to consume me. Who was
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33ADRAINFEW HOURS AGOFrustration gnawed at me like a particularly persistent rat. I’d lost Annalise. One minute she was strolling down the flower-lined path, the next, she was a wisp of lavender chiffon disappearing into the night. Poof! Gone like a magician’s disappearing act, only without the applause (or the cute bunny in a top hat).Kicking at a pebble with unnecessary force, I retraced my steps, grumbling under my breath. My mission to win Annalise’s heart, it seemed, had hit a rather large snag. Not to mention, I now had a very disgruntled Duchess breathing down my neck.Speaking of disgruntled Duchesses, the imposing figure of Her Royal Highness Camilla, Duchess of Wales, materialized in front of me, her posture as rigid as a Buckingham Palace guard. This wasn’t exactly the meet-cute I had envisioned.“Mr. Adrain,” she began, her voice laced with an icy disdain that could curdle milk at fifty paces. “A word, if you please.”I swallowed, forcing down a sarcastic retort. It pr
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34ANNALISAThe world narrowed to the sliver of space between the floorboards and the bottom of the heavy oak door. My heart hammered a frantic tattoo against my ribs, each beat a frantic drumroll echoing my fear. Spencer’s voice, laced with a sickeningly sweet amusement, sent shivers down my spine.“Annalise, Annalise,” he cooed, the sound as grating as fingernails on a chalkboard. “Playing hide-and-seek, are we? Not very sporting, don’t you think?”Trapped. The word echoed in my mind, a cold, suffocating truth. The woman, bless her kind heart, wouldn’t be able to hold him off for long. I had to do something.But what?A memory, a flicker in the recesses of my mind, surfaced. Self-defense lessons. Dad, his voice booming with mock seriousness, teaching me how to block a punch, how to use my body weight to my advantage.A spark of defiance ignited within me. Maybe I wasn’t completely helpless after all.As the sound of the doorknob rattling intensified, I scrambled to my feet, adrenali
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35ADRIANThe scene of the accident, or rather, the staged scene, offered no clues. Where was Annalise? Where were the Duke and Duchess?Panic, a cold serpent coiling around my heart, tightened its grip. Every passing minute felt like an eternity. I couldn’t just stand there, helpless. I had to do something.Turning towards the nearest group of startled partygoers, I launched into a frantic search. “Has anyone?” I barked, my voice raw with urgency. “Has anyone seen a young woman, with lavender hair and… well, fire in her eyes?”The group exchanged bewildered glances. “Sorry, can’t say I have,” one man mumbled, fiddling with his cravat. “Haven’t seen anyone like that.”The others echoed his sentiment, their polite but clueless responses doing little to quell the rising tide of fear within me.Then, a glimmer of hope. A wizened old man, leaning heavily on a cane, shuffled forward. His rheumy eyes held a flicker of… recognition?“Young miss with purple hair?” he rasped, his voice barely
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36ANNALISEFEW HOURS AGOTears streamed down my face, blurring the path ahead. My lungs burned, a searing protest against the relentless pace I pushed myself to. Escape. That was the only thought hammering in my head. Escape Spencer’s cold grip, escape the suffocating confinement of the hidden room.The woods, once a familiar playground, now loomed like menacing giants, their gnarled branches reaching out like skeletal fingers. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, sent a fresh jolt of fear through me. Was he close? Could he hear my ragged breaths, the desperate pounding of my heart?Suddenly, a flicker of light pierced through the dense foliage. Hope, a tiny ember, ignited within me. Could it be a clear patch of sky? A way out?Scrambling through the undergrowth, I emerged into a small clearing. And there, bathed in the soft glow of an oil lamp, sat a woman. An old woman, with eyes that seemed to hold the wisdom of ages, and a head adorned with fiery red hair.A fortune tell
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