Page 22 of Dare to Risk it All

Oliver beamed at her, as pleased as if it were a foregone conclusion. “I should like to have you as a sister,” he said, his expression so warm and hopeful that Greer could not help but blush.

“As would I,” Sylvester admitted, much to her surprise. “And I should like to see Raphe happy and settled, for I fear how he will end up if he returns to his old habits.”

“Do you think that likely?” Greer asked, anxious now.

Sylvester shrugged. “I hope not. He seems determined to behave himself, for Rothborn’s sake if no one else’s.”

“Rothborn? You mean Solo, Baron Rothborn?”

Sylvester nodded. “He took Raphe under his wing when our father died. Raphe thinks the world of him, but Rothborn threatened to wash his hands of him if he didn’t sort himself out.”

“Do you know him then?” Ollie asked.

Greer nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, of course. He and my father are good friends.”

“Rothborn warned Raphe to keep his hands off you,” Sylvester said, watching her reaction with interest.

“What?” Greer turned to him in alarm. “But why?”

Sylvester shrugged. “I don’t know, but they had words about you, I think.”

Greer puzzled over that, wondering what reason they would have had to discuss her at all.

“Perhaps we ought not to have told her,” Ollie said, chewing at his lip anxiously.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing,” Greer said, though she wasn’t certain she believed it herself. “Rothborn is dreadfully protective, you know. Whenever we went out with his daughter, Grace, he was always on pins because I was such a hoyden. I’m sure he believed he’d have to carry my lifeless body back to my parents a dozen times over the years.”

Ollie laughed, delighted by this. “Because you’re a bruising rider?” he guessed.

“Among other things,” she agreed, seeing the glint in his eyes.

“Race you to the stone!” he called, before springing his mount and galloping away.

Never one to resist a challenge, Greer charged after him.

Chapter 7

Dear Georgie,

Is it true? Will you be at Beverwyck for Christmas? Oh, I was so excited when I heard. I cannot wait to see you again.

Oh, I am so looking forward to it!

―Excerpt of a letter from Miss Evie Knight (daughter of Lady Helena and Mr Gabriel Knight) to Lady Georgina Anderson (daughter of Gordon and Ruth Anderson, Earl and Countess of Morven).

12th December 1840, The Nine Ladies, Stanton Moor, Derbyshire.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Aisling observed as she took Greer’s arm.

They had been walking around the standing stones, which privately Greer had thought a bit disappointing. They were nothing like the great hulking stones of the henge in Devon, though she had to admit they did seem rather mystical. Aisling certainly seemed enchanted by them.

“Just thinking,” Greer said.

“Yes. It is a good place for thinking, isn’t it? You can feel the energy here.”

Greer shot her a puzzled glance. “Energy?”

Aisling laughed at her bemused expression. “Of course. That’s why the stones are here. It’s nothing to do with dancing ladies, I promise you. The ancients knew this was a power source for magic. They likely held their rituals here.”