Mallory’s dilemma of how she’d get to the Yule ball at Keyvnor had been as easily remedied as her excuse for delaying their departure from Tetbery. The hours spent in Bocka Morrow yesterday had left Aunt Hettie with aching feet and the sniffles, as well as a groggy head, thus putting off their return home until the next morning.

It was all the reprieve Mallory would receive—and, hopefully, all she needed.

With Aunt Hettie under the weather in bed, and Felicity entertained elsewhere, Mallory had set about preparing herself for the ball. As she’d never attended a proper London soirée, especially one in celebration of a blessed union of two couples, she wasn’t entirely certain of her attire. Years prior, she’d gone to a small country festival in Launceston, yet it was in no way as grand as the ball to take place at the castle. And if she were being honest, she’d only stood on the fringes of that gathering, never daring to join in the revelry.

This night was to be different.

Perhaps she would even be so bold as to dance with Silas…before everyone.

Gowned in a pretty green taffeta dress with a wide gold sash about her waist, Mallory had hurried down the stairs and out to the stables in hopes of securing a horse to ride to the castle. The journey was not far, and though it was cold, her cloak would keep the worst of the dirt from her dress. If she kept her head bent low over the horse’s neck, the wind would not completely ruin her perfectly coiffured curls.

To her delight, the duke’s carriage stood waiting, and the driver offered her transport to Castle Keyvnor. If he thought it peculiar that she was attending the ball alone, he spoke not a word of it. He’d likely already delivered Wycliffe to the castle. When he dropped her at the back of a line of carriages waiting to dispose of their own passengers, he’d promised to return for her later in the evening.

And so, Mallory found herself creeping about the outside of Castle Keyvnor, her back pressed against the rough stone wall.

She’d first thought to exit the carriage and walk directly into the castle—she’d been invited by the countess, after all. But then she’d spotted the gardens…a very familiar plot. She’d been plagued with déjà vu when she noticed the area before her meeting with the countess a few days prior, but under the bright Christmastide moon, the winter landscape was unmistakably the scene from her vision.

Now, her satin slippers were damp with evening dew, and her nose was frozen to the point of numbness. Dirt clung to the hem of her cloak, and her hood hadn’t been enough to keep the wind from her hair. Her fingers were as stiff as the stone at her back.

But none of that mattered to Mallory.

This was where it would happen. This was where her vision would turn into reality, with the moon high and large overhead, and the deserted hedge maze in the near distance. Leafless branches hung low on an apple tree to the left, and a willow appeared frozen nearby.

Her heart stopped for a brief moment with fear that Silas had already met his fate and she was too late to warn him, but no. The music and merriment at her back drifting from the open veranda doors of the castle did not let on that a tragedy had yet taken place.

The ballroom was an utter crush, and locating Silas within would be nearly impossible.

There was no better place to wait than in the garden, to halt him before it happened.

It was the way things had to be. Silas needed to live, they must wed, and Mallory’s visions for her own future would be proven wrong. An eternity alone, devoid of her own home and family was a fate worse than death for her. Mallory’s years spent in solitude except for Aunt Hettie must come to an end. She could be content as Lord Lichfield’s wife. If their time together had proven anything, it was that the earl was a kind and compassionate man, and a lord who cared for his family. Once she was his family, he would care for her just as he did for his siblings.

And there was no use denying she’d more than enjoyed their kiss outside Tetbery.

Sure they were not a love match and hadn’t selected one another, but that did not prevent them from getting along amicably and having a family. Maybe even finding love someday. Many in England thrived in arranged marriages, coordinated by well-meaning and trusted family members who knew best when it came to determining the fate of future generations.

Fate had brought them together, and Mallory would be damned if she’d allow it to take him away before things came to fruition. She would tell him, in time, of her gift, and he could call it what he would: either a blessing or a curse.

As her indignation rose, so did it pump the blood through her veins and warm her.

No matter how much her family tried to convince her otherwise, it would weigh on her greatly if she did not speak to Silas and keep him from entering the garden.

As if her rambling mind had conjured him from thin air, Lord Lichfield hurried through the terrace doors and down the steps into the winter garden, glancing nervously over his shoulder the entire way as his boots sounded on the stone ground. He was running from something—or someone—but she hadn’t seen that in her vision. She’d never seen him in such a frenzy; gone were his composed demeanor and the aristocratic tilt of his chin.

Uncertainty kept her frozen, remaining in her hiding spot against the castle wall as Silas moved farther into the garden, nearly to the hedge maze entrance. The vision she saw would not come to pass if he entered the maze.

If she were wrong, and he halted outside its entrance, he would be struck down in a matter of moments.

* * *

Silas slipped out the study door with a heavy sigh of relief. Everything was moving at lightning speed and was like a crushing weight on his shoulders. He’d never expected his mother’s family to be so welcoming, inviting him and his brother into the castle with open arms and good cheer. Part of him wished he’d left Slade in town and brought Sybil. She would have greatly enjoyed meeting her cousins and attending the ball.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t brought his sister but his twin.

Another of the reasons he’d found himself in the castle study. Slade had joined the tables in the card room almost immediately after their arrival. It was a friendly game with small bets being placed on the tables, and Silas doubted his brother could get into too much trouble over the course of a couple of hours. Yet, after only an hour’s time, his brother had left the card room in a hurry with angry shouts in his wake.

Silas had extricated himself from the group he’d been speaking with but had lost his brother in the crush of people.

Pity the footman had taken his newly tailored coat upon his arrival, for the night had grown exceedingly cold since the sun set hours before.

Finally, the path led to the gardens bordering the castle, and the only place he’d yet to search for Slade. This was not how he’d thought to spend his evening, in pursuit of his rakehell twin. Certainly, he’d looked forward to making the acquaintance of more family, and in the deep recesses of his mind, he’d hoped Lady Mallory would attend. The countess had issued an invitation; however, Lady Hettie had spoken of her desire to return home. They were likely safely back at Blenheim Park as he stalked toward the winter landscape of the castle gardens.

The echo of footfalls drew Silas’s attention, but they came not from the garden but above. Stepping back from the castle wall, he looked upward, thankful the moon was high and bright, illuminating the battlements and parapet lining the top of the castle and going from one tower to another. A man rushed along the path overhead, carrying a large box of sorts. What could the man possibly be doing up there at this hour?

There wasn’t time to ponder that. Silas needed to find Slade and fix whatever trouble he’d caused. If he’d garnered a hefty debt, Silas would make good on it. Somehow.

It all happened too quickly. A burst of light green and gold darted out from the far side of the castle. Silas turned in that direction and spotted Slade standing close to the hedge maze. At the same time, a flash from above blinded him.

He rubbed at his eyes, attempting to bring everything back into focus and banish the colored spots blurring his sight as he pivoted back toward the garden.

Slade lay motionless on the ground.

And a woman—Lady Mallory?—ran toward him.

His heart stopped in his chest, and his lungs seized, preventing him from getting the air he needed to call out to them.