Cast in Shadows Page 2

  . . .

  Gideon sat in the small park on the east side of the main building that housed the twenty or so residents of Shadowdown. It was very peaceful here, quiet and serene. But then, that, he knew, was the objective of an asylum. The last thing anyone wanted was an abundance of activity that disrupted the residents. Everyone tried to avoid anything that would cause the dwellers to become anxious, or that would unsettle them. All sorts of problems occurred when the residents became agitated.

  He leaned against the wrought iron bench where he sat and dropped his head back on his shoulders. Oh, what he wouldn’t give for some excitement. What he wouldn’t give to have day after day filled with one adventure after another. What he wouldn’t give to be…free.

  Some days Gideon felt as if he wasn’t alive. As if he’d never know what it meant to be alive.

  He pushed himself from the bench and walked down the path that led to the small pond on the grounds. There was a white wooden gazebo to the right of the path and Gideon headed for the latticed structure, then took the two steps up. He sat on one of the cushioned seats that allowed him to overlook the pond and watch the ducks and swans gracefully glide across the still water. That’s when he saw her.

  She followed the same path he’d just traveled, then turned on the footpath that would bring her to him. Gideon watched her with interest.

  He knew who she was, of course, although he’d never formally met her. She was Dr. Cornwell’s daughter. And she was beautiful.

  Her hair was honey-colored, with hints of gold and amber that brightened when the sun shone on it. She wore it pulled loosely back from her face, not wrapped in a tight bun at the nape of her neck as was the style. And she donned no hat or bonnet, but allowed her wheat-colored hair to hang in soft curls down the middle of her back.

  She didn’t hesitate when she noticed him sitting there, but approached him as if he’d been her goal from the outset.

  Gideon stood when she took the first step up, and she lifted her gaze and smiled. That’s when he noticed her eyes.

  They were blue, but not just any shade of blue. Her eyes were like clear-cut cobalt crystal. Except they didn’t contain a bit of the icy coldness of cobalt, but a warmth that wrapped around him like the soft heat from the white embers of a long-lit hearth.

  Her face wasn’t the perfect heart-shaped oval he’d always admired, but fuller, rounder. Healthy-looking. She had high cheekbones that gave her a regal quality, and her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They arched in perfection as if drawing attention to the intelligence in her smiling eyes.

  “May I join you, my lord?” she said. Her honey-rich voice settled pleasantly around him.

  “I’d be delighted.”

  Gideon pointed to an empty spot beside where he’d been sitting, and she sat. He sat next to her.

  “Allow me to introduce myself,” he said. “I am Gideon Wayland.”

  “Yes, I know,” she answered, then turned toward him. “Gideon Wayland, Marquess of Sheffield, heir to the Duke of Townsend. I’m very pleased to meet you, Lord Sheffield. I am Eve Cornwell. My father is Dr. Cornwell, and I’ve come to work with him.”

  She looked at him squarely, then graced him with one of the most welcoming smiles Gideon had ever seen. His heart beat a steady thrumming inside his chest.

  “Am I one of your patients, then?” Gideon couldn’t help but ask.

  She didn’t answer, but relaxed against the seat as if dismissing his question. “It’s beautiful here,” she said. “This is one of my favorite places on the grounds. I always made sure to come here when I visited my father.”

  Gideon looked at her, expecting her to be evaluating him. Heaven only knew Dr. Cornwell had brought in enough colleagues over the years to evaluate him. But to no avail. None of them could discover what caused his attacks. But she wasn’t studying him. If anything she seemed more interested in the ducks and geese on the pond than with him. That fact fascinated him and he wondered how she could appear so relaxed around him. “If I’m not one of your patients, what exactly am I?”

  She hesitated a moment. The tilt of her head and the frown that etched over her forehead made him want to smile.

  “I’m not sure,” she finally said. “Perhaps we can become friends. If not friends, at least acquaintances.”

  “Has your father told you about me?”

  “He told me that you suffer from violent episodes.”

  Gideon’s eyebrows lifted. “And you’re not afraid?”

  She looked at him. “Do I need to be?”

  “Yes,” he said firmly. His loud voice seemed to startle her a bit. “You definitely need to fear me.”

  “Well, I don’t,” she whispered, “but I think you may have frightened Thomas.”

  She cocked her head to the right and Gideon followed her nod.

  One of Shadowdown’s burly guards leaned against a nearby tree. “He’s here to keep an eye on us,” she said as if that wasn’t obvious.

  “You mean to protect you.”

  “I’m sure he’d do that if the need arose. But for now, his purpose is to act as chaperone.”

  “Per your father’s orders,” Gideon said, not as a question, but as a statement of fact.

  “Yes. And when Thomas isn’t available, Matthew will take his place.”

  “At least your father has the good sense to know that I am dangerous.”

  “My father is overprotective because I am his daughter. He always has been.”

  “Your father is concerned for your welfare, as he should be.”

  She rose and turned to him. “There’s a well-tended path that goes around the pond. Would you like to walk a bit?”

  Gideon studied her for several moments. He’d been locked away here at Shadowdown for nearly ten years, and in all that time, no one other than Dr. Cornwell had been brave enough, or foolish enough to risk being alone with him. His violent episodes had frightened not only the caretakers, but even the residents who were cognizant enough to realize what a danger he posed to their safety.

  Gideon stood, and extended his arm for her to take. He felt well enough this morning, and as he and Dr. Cornwell had noted, nearly all of his seizures occurred in late afternoon or evening. And, as she’d assured him, Thomas would be close at hand should things change and he became violent.

  He escorted Miss Cornwell from the small gazebo, and down the path that wound around the pond. He didn’t have to look behind him to know Thomas was following.

  “So tell me, Miss Cornwell. Why are you here?”

  “Do you mean at Shadowdown? Or here with you?”

  “Both,” Gideon answered. He didn’t have a great deal of experience with women, especially in private settings, but until he was eighteen, he was raised in a home where he’d been expected to adhere to all the gentlemanly aspects of polite society. Since then, however, his experience had been more relaxed and informal.

  She smiled. “In answer to your first question, I’m here because this is where I belong. I knew it the first time I came to visit my father after he accepted the post. I want to follow in my father’s footsteps. Not only do I consider his work special, but I can see the difference he makes to the people here. My goal is to learn all I can from him, and hopefully, make a difference in other people’s lives.” She paused. “Why am I interested in you?”

  “Yes.”

  She stopped in the middle of the path and turned to face him. “Is there a reason you don’t think I should be?”

  “Other than that I’m dangerous? That your father has spent countless hours visiting with me and he can’t come up with a reason for my seizures? Nor can the numerous colleagues he brings here to diagnose me. I simply wonder what makes you think you can?”

  She smiled and turned, indicating she wanted to continue their walk. “I’m not sure I can. I give you no guarantees that I’ll be able to discover what causes your seizures. But you’re still a young man. And an intelligent one. Or so my father tells me. Therefore, I�
�m sure you realize you have your future ahead of you. Aren’t you willing to do everything you can to discover the reason for your seizures?”

  “And if I am?”

  “Then I’d like to help you.”

  “Aren’t you concerned that spending so much time in my company might ruin your reputation?”

  She smiled. The warmth in her smile affected him in a multitude of ways.

  “I’m not concerned with my reputation,” she said, continuing their walk at a leisurely pace. “If I were, this would be the last occupation I would choose for myself. Secondly, I’ve already explained that Thomas hasn’t lost sight of us yet, so I am hardly in any danger of being compromised. What I am offering you,” she said, tilting her head upward, and facing him with a serious expression, “is the chance—although a slight chance—but nonetheless, a chance to discover what causes your seizures.”

  She stopped and squarely faced him. “My question to you is, are you courageous enough to take that chance. Are you desperate enough to find a cure to your seizures that you are willing to give me the opportunity to help you?”

  Gideon halted in the middle of the path. He lowered his arm from hers and took several steps from her, his mind a roiling mass of confusion. One part of him wanted nothing more than to know what caused his seizures. That part of him was desperate to understand why he was the way he was, and to know if maybe—just maybe—there was a cure for what happened to him.

  Another part of him was terrified that there was no help for him. That his violent behavior defined who he was. That Miss Cornwell’s conclusion would be the same as every other doctor who’d evaluated him: that there was nothing that could be done for him; that his seizures would always be a part of him. And that like his mother, he’d never be well enough to leave Shadowdown.

  He raked his fingers through his hair and struggled with an answer to give her. Finally, he knew there wasn’t a decision to make. The thought of living here for the rest of his life was intolerable. Gideon swallowed hard, then turned. “How do you intend to help me?”

  “By asking you a few questions,” she answered. “By finding out everything you can remember from your past. By discovering how your mind works when you are not suffering from one of your attacks. By comparing your seizures to those from which your mother suffered.”

  Gideon pointed to a small bench placed off to the side of the path. When she sat, he sat with her. “What’s your first question, then?”

  She looked at him, her intelligent gaze focused on him as if she could read his thoughts. “Do you doubt your sanity?”

  CHAPTER 2

  Eve watched Lord Sheffield’s reaction closely. Everything about the man indicated a sharp intelligence, an innate pride, and an inherent dignity. Even though he’d been confined at Shadowdown for nearly ten years, his bearing was that of the nobility. That of the son of a duke.

  He stiffened, then clenched into fists the hands he rested on his knees. When he breathed in his next breath, he held it a short while, then released it on a heavy sigh.

  “I’m not sure how to answer that, Miss Cornwell.” He pushed himself to his feet and took a step away from her. He kept his back to her and stood with his hands locked behind him. “There isn’t a single inhabitant of Shadowdown who doesn’t claim to be wrongly detained here.”

  “Do you considered yourself to be held captive?” she asked.

  He looked over his shoulder and lifted one corner of his lips. “I’m not able to come and go from Shadowdown as I please. I don’t know what else to call that except a form of imprisonment.” He turned away from her again. “To answer your original question, to claim that I don’t belong here only proves that this is where I need to be. And yet…”

  “Yes?” she asked when he paused.

  He returned to sit beside her. “Do you see those ducks gliding so gracefully on the pond?”

  She looked ahead of her. There were at least a half dozen ducks moving lithely over the water.

  “What do you think propels them forward? The water’s current?”

  Eve wanted to laugh. “I’ve never thought about that, but no, it can’t be the current. This is a pond. There is no current.”

  “That’s correct. There is no current. Even though those small, graceful ducks appear to move so effortlessly over the water, the truth is that beneath the surface their feet are paddling frantically as each duck struggles to keep up with the others.” He relaxed on the bench. “That is how I feel, Miss Cornwell. That it’s essential that I appear as if I’m gliding effortlessly through each day, while inside I’m paddling for all I’m worth to keep my head above water. To prove that I’m the sanest person here. Because if I lose control once too often, it won’t be Shadowdown that is my prison. But Bedlam.”

  Gnarled fingers clenched painfully around her heart. She realized at that moment how essential it was for her to help Gideon Wayland, Marquess of Sheffield, to discover the reason for his violent attacks. And what, if anything, could be done to prevent them from happening. But what she feared most was that neither she nor her father would find an answer. That there was nothing anyone could do to prevent the attacks from continuing. Or from getting worse.

  When she didn’t respond for a long moment, he looked at her with a sad smile on his face, then pushed himself to his feet and stood in front of her. This time he did not turn his back to her, but faced her.

  Eve let her gaze study him. She couldn’t remember ever having been in the presence of a more handsome man. He was at least an inch or two above six feet tall, and had broad shoulders that enhanced his size. His overly long hair was dark, and random strands of it curled in rakish high fashion. The one lone curl that lay errantly on his forehead gave him a roguishly attractive look and she fought to keep her fingers from reaching out to brush it back. His high cheekbones and the strong cut of his jaw gave him a formidable appearance. His overall bearing caused a small whirlpool of emotion to swirl deep inside her stomach.

  “Are you ready to continue?” he asked, extending his hand to her. “We haven’t made it around the pond, and the flower beds on the opposite side are too lovely to miss.”

  She lifted her hand to his, then it pulled back.

  He smiled.

  This was the first time she’d seen him smile, and the change to his features was breathtaking. His lips were firm, and lifted with ease to expose brilliant white teeth. Two deep ridges creased either side of his mouth, and just beyond them were a pair of matching dimples. Her heart shifted in her breast. No human should possess such perfection. No man had ever affected her as he did.

  She locked her gaze with his. There was an open honesty in his eyes. A look that allowed her to see deep inside him as if to his very soul.

  It was at that exact moment she realized that Gideon Wayland may suffer from violent attacks that were the reason he was here, but other than those unfortunate incidents, he was as sane and rational as anyone in the outside world. More rational than most. And if it took her the rest of her life, she vowed to discover what caused his attacks, and determine if she could find a cure.

  She took his hand and rose to her feet. They walked along the path in silence, then Eve asked her first question. “How old were you when you suffered your first attack?”

  “Eight.”

  “Had you been ill before that? Had a fever?”

  He shook his head. “Lettie—that’s my nurse—said I’d been perfectly healthy before that.”

  They continued their walk and she mulled over his answer before asking her next question. “How often did you suffer attacks when they first began?”

  “I don’t remember, but I can ask Lettie when she comes to visit next. Lettie was my mother’s nurse when Mother and Father married, and came with Mother. She cared for me, the same as she’d cared for Mother, and remained with me until I came here. She lives not far and visits often.”

  “Yes, please talk to her when she next comes. Ask her to provide you as much as she can reme
mber about when the attacks first started.”

  They walked a few steps farther and she asked her next question. “Do you remember how long it’s been since you suffered your last attack?”

  “Eleven days.”

  His answer came so quickly that it took her by surprise.

  “I have been keeping a record of the frequency of my attacks since I came here nearly ten years ago.”

  “Is there a pattern? A certain span of time between attacks, or a certain occurrence that might trigger them?”

  “No. Nothing unusual happens on any of the days when they occur. Nor is there anything to alert me.”

  “How do you feel just before you have one of these attacks?”

  He took a deep breath. “They come on suddenly. I don’t usually have warning, but suddenly I have difficulty thinking, and my heart races in my chest. My body burns as if it’s on fire. Then the blood pounds in my head and there is pain. A pain so severe I can’t stand it. I want to lash out at anything within reach.” He stopped and swiped his hand over his face as if just thinking about one of his attacks was painful. “I don’t remember anything after that.”

  Eve hastened her pace to match his. His footsteps had quickened as if he were trying to escape what he didn’t want to remember. The muscles beneath her hand bunched and a sheen of perspiration covered his forehead. Reliving the terror caused by the attacks took its toll on him.

  They finally made it back to the place where they’d started. Eve stopped. “I’ve put you through enough for one day,” she said, dropping her hand from his arm, “and I must get back.” She took one step away from him then stopped. “Thomas will bring you a notebook and pen later this afternoon, Lord Sheffield. Starting tomorrow morning, I want you to keep a record of every minute of your day: where you go, what you do, who you see, what you eat, what you drink, when you retire for the evening, as well as how you slept. Don’t leave one minute of your day unaccounted for, or omit one person with whom you come into contact.”

  He lifted his brows and cocked his head to the side. “What do you hope to discover with that information?”