Page 9 of The Unseen Hour (The Unseen Hour Duology #1)

OCTOBER

W e were well into fall, and by some miracle of both gods I had managed to make it through another courting season, and another birthday, without an unwanted proposal of marriage.

When we arrived back in Fox Haven in mid-September, I finally felt safe to breathe.

We’d stayed in the capital longer than normal, for Ambrose’s wedding and associated festivities.

While I was happy for my brother and glad that Penny was an agreeable person, having a marriage so close felt almost contagious.

To my horror, Charlotte and Thomas had informed me that Bellamy had been very close to speaking to Mother about a request for my hand once he’d heard of Ambrose’s engagement—a sign that the Hipnosis were ready to wed .

It was Thomas who had come to my rescue.

He’d gone to one of the gentlemen’s clubs in the evening and sought Bellamy out, plying the dull Marquess with drinks and then pretending to let slip that he’d always admired me.

Thomas had gone so far as to lie and say he’d been in communication with my family regarding my hand.

It was a bold and total falsehood, but it bought me time.

Bellamy had, no doubt, figured out by now that Thomas and I were very much un-engaged.

As he’d pursued no other women, there was every likelihood the Marquess would renew his attempts the following season, but each time I thought of that and my breathing went shallow and quick, I reminded myself that it wouldn’t matter.

By that point, I’d have Father back and it would be a non-issue.

At least, that’s what I repeated to myself at night when my confidence in my plan threatened to crack.

Father would never let me be married to someone against my will, I was sure of it. And with him back home, Ambrose could relax and Mother could go back to her more vivacious self, rather than the nitpicking and traditional creature she’d morphed into in recent years.

I was thankful that her anxiety seemed to have been eased somewhat by Ambrose’s wedding. It was beautiful and took place at the Huberts’ estate, which they had kindly lent on the day.

While everyone else was focused on planning for the festivities, I’d used the months to solidify my plan. I read my father’s notes and Holmes’s diary until I could quote both by heart.

I had to admit that while it was all informative, R.’s writing proved distracting for an entirely different reason.

If we could see beyond the edge of the known realms, beyond even the lost country, what would we find? What horizons lie past our experience, ready for exploration?

A question that I myself had asked. I’d awoken more than once from dreams involving an entirely different sort of exploration. They always involved the mysterious Holmes, his features shaded, his words turning from poetry to seduction.

In a few instances I’d roused from sleep to find my own hand trailing over my sleeping gown between my legs, though I’d been imagining his touch just before waking.

A part of me longed to linger on the fantasy, but it was one I couldn’t afford. Holmes had been gone for nearly a hundred years, and no amount of infatuation was going to change that. I had one person I could rescue, and I needed to put all my focus toward that goal.

The diary also helped me tailor my plan. The Holmes brothers had taken Thipp’s in regular and increasing dosages leading up to their disappearance, with no way of knowing in their time how dangerous such a practice might be.

While I was far from a medical expert, I suspected that the amount he indicated could have brought him to the brink of death—which was exactly my father’s goal, during the hour.

There was only one place where I could both retrieve the Thipp’s and find notes as to how much to take.

It was also the most likely place to find the antidote, which I fully intended to bring along with me.

I was not an unintelligent woman. I knew the risks were high, the chance of success low.

It didn’t matter to me. The alternative was unacceptable, and if there was even a small chance of reuniting my family, I would take it.

Nothing had been right in my life since Father left.

Mother had lost her spark, and Ambrose had become even more severe.

Temple was rarely home and seemed to deal with his grief by engaging in near-constant travel.

Only Bram and Pellix had kept their sweet natures.

Pellix had been my companion more and more frequently as the need to expend my nervous energy increased.

Waiting for the hour proved tedious, and I felt jumpy and confined when I had to stay away from him for more than a couple of days.

Once we returned to Fox Haven, I took him back near the ruins more and more often.

I even began practicing some tricks. My family would have had a fit if they found out, but it kept my mind off everything else.

I could ride astride, and sidesaddle, and with no saddle.

Pellix would even let me ride without reins.

I’d taught myself to mount while he was moving and even how to jump from some of the stone ruins onto his back.

He was an excellent sport about all my attempts, in exchange for a supply of his favorite snacks.

And the worst I had done with all these tricks was to bruise my legs and arms.

There was a time, years before, when Pellix and I had run into a wolf on one of our rides.

In a panic, I steered us into the trees, and a branch slashed into my leg.

I tumbled off, and when the lone and probably desperately hungry wolf charged me, Pellix ran forward.

He stamped his hooves, nostrils flaring as he chased the predator away.

Then, he stood patiently while I got myself mounted once again.

I almost lost my riding privileges that day.

I still bore a scar on my leg, and it was to my benefit that no suitors could see it.

Scars were frowned upon. My parents had only relented on the riding when they heard how Pellix had protected me, but it was months before I was allowed to venture any farther than the gardens.

What a suitor might think of my legs had been far down my list of concerns at that time, but now the possibility of an engagement crept into my mind. My plan was both a distraction and my best chance to change things .

I pulled the journal, my father’s notes tucked inside, out of my pocket.

“I will follow you, and find you, and bring you home,” I swore, making my way through the garden and to a favorite bench.

Now that we were in Fox Haven, I could check one item off my list.

I’d find a ruse to go to the physician’s and cause a distraction.

Then, I’d take the Thipp’s, as well as the ingredients for an antidote.

Once the hour was here, I’d find Father and give us both the antidote.

I lacked my father’s investigative prowess, but it was the best solution I could come up with.

If the Thipp’s had kept him in a state unable to return, perhaps the antidote would remedy that.

I sat outside on the bench, leaning back and spinning a pink flower between my fingers. There was no Thipp’s root here. I propped Holmes’s diary on my knee, holding it open with my other hand.

R. had grown suspicious of those around him, wondering if his sleeplessness, and the cure that was causing him horrid side effects, were intentional.

He thought he was being poisoned by someone.

On the night of his disappearance, in his last entry, his jumbled writing described his symptoms. He’d grown worried for his life, and not without reason.

He’d mentioned going after the culprit. Had he found the individual?

Was that why he and his brothers had been out in the middle of the night?

Whether Holmes had made it to his destination or not before being Taken, I wasn’t sure. My father’s theory in his writings, however, was that he’d been just close enough to death to be Taken body and soul.

My father had intended to use the Thipp’s to get Taken, but surely he’d intended to return.

That part still troubled me. Had someone trapped him wherever he’d ended up?

Was he merely lost? Had he not considered bringing a Thipp’s antidote along with him?

Had he miscalculated the dose, or the timing?

Herbs and cures were tricky things, and I had no more experience than he had.

Information on exact dosage and measurements would be kept under lock and key at the physician’s apothecary in town.

Not that sneaking bothered me, but the physician’s office didn’t have hours where I could trust it to be empty.

There were a few physicians in Fox Haven, and at least one of them stayed at the apothecary at all hours, so they could be available to sick individuals around the clock.

My brothers had told me, after going to fetch medicine for one of my mother’s headaches, about the sleeping quarters in the back to ensure someone could always be on the premises.

The key to the antidote might be within our own garden, if I could find it.

To give my mind a break, I turned from my plans to the other portions of R.’s diary. He was beginning to feel like a treasured companion, just as close to me as Charlotte or Thomas.

The way he wrote, up until his last frenzied entries, was lyrical. I pictured R. as a poetic soul but adventurous as well. He’d written in earlier entries of his travels, and I lived vicariously through the descriptions of the rugged and icy terrain of Tang, the lush jungles of Sez’s islands.

In some of my daydreams, I thought of going with him. It was ridiculous, but I couldn’t always stop my mind from picturing a life next to someone both bold and eloquent.

“My Lady, your mother has requested you meet her inside.”

I jumped, looking up from the journal to see Tilly.

Flustered, I hastily tucked the diary between two other books I’d brought out with me.

“Thank you, Tilly. I’ll be up momentarily. ”

Tilly was fidgeting, twisting her hands.

“You’ll want to be prepared, Miss.”

She rushed off before I could ask anything further.

“By both gods, what could that have meant?”

I raked my fingers through my brown waves and followed her.