“Ihave a letter forMiss O’Malley.”
Falloninstantlyhalted her steps. She happened to be passing by the foyer whenthe butler answered the door.Before theservantcould even reply, she’d rushed forwardand announced rather breathlessly and quite eagerly,“I’m here!”
The butler slid a sideways glance at her, but he merely took his leave with a polite bow.
She looked at theman standing on the front step andher heartimmediately beganthudding with anticipation.“Stewart?” she breathed, immediately recognizing the young courier from Ireland.
He glanced around her and nodded his head. She grabbed her cloak, understanding his silent query andsheshut the front door as she walked him to hiswaiting mount. When theypaused, she prompted,“The missive?”
He handed it over and she wanted to weep with joy.After weeks of waitingto hear from Father O’Leary, he had finally written to her. The relief was so overwhelming that she put a handoverher heart and closed her eyes.However, when she opened theplainseal, it wasn’t the priest’s familiar hand that she read.
I’d like to set up a meeting. HytheHarbor at midnight.
Her eyes widened as she glanced back at the courier. “Is this from—?” She had switched to her nativegaeilge tongue, but even then, she found she couldn’t finish the statement. It was just too unfathomable that the Ravenhimselfshouldcontact her.
“Aye,” he concurred.
She nodded briefly, but then a suspicious thought slithered through her mind. “Did Father O’Leary ask him toset up this meeting?”
“That, I can’t say.”
Fallon narrowed her eyes, for the way he shifted on his feet and wouldn’t meet her gaze directly toldherthatthemessage toherdear priestmighthavebeen intercepted.
“I see.”Either way, it didn’t take her long to deduce the reasoning forthiscryptic message. She had been brought up in a house of conspiracy, after all. Since the bandit had requested a place that actually meant“haven,”a former cinque port that was now just a simple market town on the coast with little to no patrol when there were many who were clamoring to turn him in for a ransom, or else put a bullet through his head, he was covering all avenues in case her intentions were deceitful. “He wants to know if I’m trustworthy.”
Stewart didn’t directly reply, but something told her she’d guessed correctly. “What reply am I to give?” he asked instead, holding his hand out for the note.
Shecarefullyrefoldedit and placed it back in hispalm, likely to be destroyed later. Shelifted her chin with determinationand said,“Tell your captain that I will be there.”As he turned to go, sheasked curiously,“How will I knowwhere to find him?”
“Don’t worry,” he said with a wink. “He’ll find you.”
With that, he mounted his horse and rode away.
Fallonworriedher lower lip as she watched theriderslowly fadeinto the distance.Midnight.Sheset her hands on her hips, not sure how she might pull off such a daring escapade undetected, but she would figure it out, for if she wanted to be free of Locklyn and Francine, there was no other option.
The first thing she had to decide was her route of escape andre-entry.She supposed she could take the servant’s stairs, but she would rather find another way if possible, one that wouldn’t risk disturbing the entire household, or else running into someone thatsuffered from late-night restlessness.
Sheheadedtowardthe back of the housewhere her roomswerelocated. Shielding her eyes from the sun,she looked up atthebalcony on the second floorthat led into her chamber.Next to the house was awhite garden trellis, itsvines having gonedormant forthe upcomingwinter.Sheconsidered the height and distance and decided that she might be able to use it as a ladder. Walking over to it, she tested the strength of it by climbing a few feet. Thankfully, it seemed sturdy enough, but as she glanced down at her gown which had been snagged on some of the dead leaves, she realized that could be a problem.And disguising herself as a lad would bea bit more circumspect if she were to be out and about at that time of night. A woman traveling alone could attract attention and she certainly didn’t need that sort of trouble.
Shemade a quickglanceaboutthe stables, but sheknew the horses wouldn’t be a problem. Most of the animals inside were familiar with her scent, so she didn’t have to concern herself that a frightenedwhinny might give her away.
So that just leftone last thing.
Fallonheaded upstairs to thetrunkat the foot of her bed. Itheld the few, personalbelongings that she’d brought with her from Ireland.
She plucked the key from her dresser and knelt by the agedchest.As she shoved themetalinto the heavy lock, she lifted the lid with a resounding creak. She winced, thinking that it sounded rather loud, but perhaps it wassimplyher taut nerves making things seem even more pronounced.
She peered into the trunk for the first time since arriving atShawsea Hall and her eyes immediately misted over with emotion.On top were the images of her past, thethingsthat she had nearly forgotten about until now. She picked up theportraitsof her parentsnot long after they had wed and gazedat theirfamiliarfaces forever frozen in time.As her young memories had begun to fade, she was wont to ask her grandmother aboutMoiraand Eoin.
Abigail had been more than happy to comply, telling her many tales about Eoin, how he’d been growing upand the various antics that he’d gotten up toas anonlychild with an adventurous personality.While Fallon knewEoin’s loss had been devastating to her grandmother, she had never denied her request to speak of him.
However, she never said much about Fallon’smother, Moira. Thedark-hairedwoman in the portraitwas stillquitea mystery.Fallonhadnever known how she’d met her father, or even the reasons she’d chosen to leave England, although it likely had something to do with therift with her sister, Francine.
Fallonsearched her mind andrecalled along-agoconversation thather grandparentshad shared one night in Carraroewhen they had imagined she had gone to bed.Normally, that would be the case, but this night, for some reason, Fallon had crept downstairs and huddled on the staircase and peered through the rail to listen to their conversation. Whether she’d been lonely and needed some companionship, or had a nightmare that had woken her, the following conversation that had ensued had always stuck with her.
“Did you everhearanythingfromMoira’s estranged sister?”her grandfather had asked.
“No.”His wifehad denied the claim.“Moiraalways said that she had no one that would grieve her loss,and I fear she was right.”She’d sighed.“The poor gel. She must have had a tough time of it.I only wishEoinwouldn’t haverushed into marriage withher, even if she had been with child.”
