Page 29 of The Song of the Siren (The Venturesome Ladies of Little Valentine #2)

“Right you are. I’ll be two shakes of a lamb’s tail,” she told him cheerfully, before hurrying out.

Stonehaven waited, one hand against the wall.

There was something horribly disorientating about being in a part of a room where there was nothing to touch, and he always hurried to find a chair or a wall.

The thought of the massive rooms at Haven House made his insides shrivel, but he was damned if he would let fear keep him a prisoner.

There must be ways he could find to recapture some parts of his old life.

He’d find them or die trying, he thought grimly, anything rather than end up in that safely padded cell where he could do himself no harm.

He stood straighter as heavy footsteps echoed in the high-ceilinged hallway and he turned towards them.

“Ah, George, thank you for coming,” he said, feeling a little smug at knowing who was there and wondering if George was surprised. If he was, he said nothing.

“No trouble, my lord,” the gardener said mildly, awaiting his instruction.

“I wish to take a walk down to The Mermaid’s Tale. Would you have time to accompany me?”

“Reverend Honeywell said I was at your disposal should you need me, so I reckon so.”

“Excellent. I’ll need my hat and gloves.”

“I’ll fetch ’em.”

By the time George had run upstairs and returned with the necessary items, Stonehaven had almost convinced himself to change his mind.

The idea of people staring at him as he walked blindly about made him feel hot and cold at once, but he refused to allow his pride to keep him trapped indoors a moment longer.

With more confidence than he actually possessed, he moved towards the front door, feeling George’s hand touch his arm.

“I’ll get the door, my lord,” he said.

Stonehaven nodded, waiting before he stepped outside, then wincing at the light that assaulted his tender eyes.

Perhaps he ought to consider getting some glasses with dark lenses to soften the glare.

It might make people feel less awkward about looking at his damaged eyes too, he reflected somewhat bitterly.

He reached a handout, found George’s arm, and grasped it firmly by the elbow.

“The path is uneven, and the lavender had fallen over it, so don’t fret if you feel it brushing your legs,” George said calmly.

Stonehaven nodded, suddenly engulfed in the perfume of the plants as they made their slow progress along the path.

George halted his steps. “I’ll open the gate.”

There was a sharp creak and George sighed. “Keep meaning to oil that,” he said ruefully, before guiding Stonehaven through it and out onto the road.

“Through the woods,” Stonehaven instructed, feeling George turn to look at him.

“Sure? Harder going.”

“Fewer gawkers,” he replied firmly.

“Reckon so. Hold on, then.”

Stonehaven started as George tugged free of his grasp.

Suddenly unmoored, panic flooded him. He had no point of contact, no reference in which to place himself.

He knew he was on the road outside of the vicarage, remembered the road that led to the woods, but he did not know if there was a tree close by, how far he was from the garden gate, or the surrounding fence.

The wind blew, rustling leaves and undergrowth, and he tried to mentally follow George’s progress, but the sound of his footsteps on the dirt floor were muted and the rustling muffled them.

Utterly disorientated, Stonehaven swayed, staggering backwards.

“Hold there!”

George gripped him, steadying him before he landed on his arse. Stonehaven’s heart was hammering, horrified by the ease with which he was unbalanced.

“I’m that sorry. I didn’t think,” George said, sounding appalled. “I just went to cut this for you. Thought it might help.”

Stonehaven felt the man press something into his hand, which on inspection turned out to be a long stick.

“I’ll make you a proper one, seeing as you’re looking to get out and about.

Saw a blind fellow in town once with a stick, he sort of swung it back and forth and tapped it too, to figure out what the ground was like, I reckon, or if there was a step, or a wall.

” George’s voice was hesitant, likely expecting a rocket going on the way Stonehaven had been barking at him since he’d lost his sight.

Yet George didn’t know what Stonehaven was or wasn’t capable of any more than Stonehaven himself, so he could hardly blame the man.

“Thank you,” Stonehaven replied gruffly, still feeling overwhelmed by how the ground had seemed to disappear from beneath his feet.

The desire to change his mind, to go back inside and sit on the safety of the terrace, was nigh on overwhelming, and the only reason he determined to carry on.

He gave the stick a few experimental swings and tapped the ground in front of him, finding it helped him feel somewhat steadier too.

“An excellent notion, George, thank you. Only… don’t leave me standing by myself without a wall or… or something.”

“I won’t do that, my lord. You’ve my word now I know it’s a difficulty.”

“Good man,” Stonehaven replied, taking a deep breath. “Best foot forward, eh?”

“Just so, my lord. Off we go, then.”

By the time the path opened out and led them onto the cobbled streets of the town, Stonehaven’s entire body felt as taut as a bowstring, and his head was pounding.

Absolute concentration was necessary simply to remain upright in unfamiliar surroundings, with strange sounds assaulting his ears at odd moments and uneven footing making each step a perilous undertaking.

“We’re here. A few more paces, and then there’s three steps up to the front door. Nearly… one more. That’s it, my lord, use the stick. Right, up we go, then.”

Exhaustion swept over Stonehaven as his eyes were suddenly relieved by the darker light inside the building.

He breathed in, taking in the scent of lemon polish and a faint tang of vinegar.

Over that, he could detect Anne’s perfume and another floral scent that reminded him she always put fresh flowers in a vase in the entrance hall.

The sound of their footsteps echoed a little on the polished floor, the ceiling being higher in this part of the hotel.

“Ought I to call for someone?” George asked anxiously, making Stonehaven aware the man was likely uncomfortable at standing in the entrance to the elegant hotel in his work clothes.

“There’s a bell on the reception desk,” Stonehaven said, using the stick as he moved forward to discover where it was.

“Yes, that’s the desk,” George said with approval. “The bell is to your right.”

Stonehaven moved closer to the desk, leaning into it and finding the top.

Transferring his stick to his left hand, he used his right to carefully sweep the surface, looking for the bell, and discovered it when he knocked it over.

It rolled with a dull clang and then clattered to the floor with a louder one.

“Curse it!” he muttered, furious that even the simple ringing of a bell had thwarted him after what felt like such an arduous journey.

“Easily done, my lord,” George said, stepping quickly to retrieve it and put it back.

“Whatever is all the racket? Oh, George, what—” Anne’s voice broke off, and she spoke again, her surprise audible. “Stonehaven!”

“The very same,” Stonehaven said, trying to appear unruffled when he felt sweaty and out of sorts. He prayed he did not look as discomposed as he felt.

“Gracious me! You walked here?”

“I did. Came through the woods. With George’s guidance, that is. He cut me a stick, seems to help a good deal,” he added, tapping it briskly against the shiny wood floor that seemed horribly slippery beneath him. The idea of having to walk back again was making his legs feel oddly weak.

“Well, that’s—that’s marvellous. Well done, but come and sit down now, you look worn to a thread.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” he snapped irritably, annoyed both by her congratulations, which put his back up for reasons he did not understand, and by her sudden sympathy. That she could see he was exhausted made him increasingly furious.

“Stop barking at me,” Anne said curtly. “There’s not the least point in pretending you’re not exhausted when it’s quite obvious. George, show Lord Stonehaven out to the terrace and I’ll bring tea.”

“Don’t bother, I’m not stopping,” Stonehaven replied, nettled by her insistence that he needed to sit and rest with a nice cup of tea like some feeble old woman. “I only came to let you know I shall be returning to Haven House for a few days.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, well, I must inform my staff and make preparations for—” He was about to say you , when he remembered George was present, and for all he knew other people were listening.

No one yet knew of their betrothal, and he did not know how Anne wanted to break the news to her friends and staff.

“Preparations for my permanent return,” he amended.

“Stonehaven, do you think that’s wise?” Anne asked, and he heard the impatience in her voice despite her attempt to hide it. “Why not let—why not wait until afterwards, when—”

“No. No, I will return to my home to give instructions. I believe I am still capable of doing that much,” he said stridently. “Just wanted you to know I’d be going in case you thought I’d changed my mind and run away,” he added with a tight smile.

She muttered something under her breath, which he did not catch but would have laid money was along the lines of I should be so lucky .

He didn’t blame her. His behaviour was appalling but if you couldn’t act appallingly when you had been blinded and get away with it, when the hell could you?

Besides, he did not know how to make himself behave.

“Right. Can’t stop. Busy man. Things to do. George?”

“Here, my lord.” George dutifully hurried over.

Stonehaven’s pride stung painfully as he was forced to reach for the man’s arm. If he didn’t, he’d likely fall face first out of the hotel and that would smart harder still. He’d not make such a prat of himself in front of Anne.

Thankfully, they made it out of the hotel and a distance along the road without incident.

“Is she still watching?” Stonehaven asked.

George looked back at the hotel. “No, my lord.”

Stonehaven let out a breath. “Good. Let’s go to The Ship. I don’t know about you, but I need a bloody drink.”

“Wouldn’t say no,” George said, an amused lilt to his voice.

Stonehaven snorted, remembering wistfully that his horse was still stabled at the inn.

His longing to ride again was a physical pain in his chest, the notion he might never do so a sorrow that made him want to weep.

“Do you reckon a blind man can ride?” he asked suddenly, wondering why he was asking George of all people.

Yet George had proven himself to be a calm and no-nonsense sort of fellow and Stonehaven found he trusted him.

“Aye. Providing he could when he had sight, I don’t see why not. Your legs and arms still work the same, and the horse has eyes. Your mount might need a bit of time to get used to things, and you’d need someone to guide you, of course.”

“Exactly,” Stonehaven said, a surge of excitement burgeoning inside him. “The horse can see where it’s going. It won’t steer me off a cliff.”

“No, but—”

“But?” Stonehaven’s tone was ominous, daring George to burst his soap bubble of hope.

“Well, I reckon it’s not as easy as all that. It’ll take practise and—is balancing an issue? When I left you earlier—”

“Oh, no.” Stonehaven realised he felt confident on this point at least. “I’ll be in the saddle, sitting and holding the reins, not unmoored in the middle of nowhere. It’s when I can’t touch anything. It’s the damnedest sensation. Feels like I don’t know which way is up.”

“Ah.” George pondered this as they walked.

Stonehaven said nothing, too busy concentrating on the cobbled ground underfoot. He’d never noticed how damned slippery they were, and how uneven.

“Why don’t we try it? You could ride home, and I could walk, leading the horse. Just to see how it goes. I’ll ride the horse back to the inn after.”

“You mean, because I look like I’m about to swoon from fatigue,” Stonehaven remarked dryly.

“Aye. Well. That too,” George admitted.

Stonehaven sighed. “Well, it’s a good idea, and I can’t deny the thought of walking back makes me want to take a pet.”

“Right, well, provided you don’t drink enough to fall off, we’re agreed, then.”

Stonehaven laughed. He’d decided he liked George and, more to the point, the idea of sitting and having a drink in a pub made him feel almost himself again.