“You cannot be here!” she spat, her brows creasing in bewilderment.
How on earth had he found her with all the zigzagging she’d done to muddle him?
“And why might that be?” he asked teasingly, stepping closer yet to where she now stood, against the lip of a tree. “As far as I can tell, this place does not belong to you. It belongs to the public. You would not deny a man a stroll through a public garden, would you madam?”
“I am no madam, sir.” Roslyn heatedly corrected him, deepening her voice further yet to emphasize her line of reasoning and endeavouring (un-succeedingly) to appear unfazed.
“Is that so?” he asked, gazing at her amusingly, “Then answer me this, would a man stop to admire the flowers as a woman would? Would he pick them and bundle them neatly in his basket as you have done?”
“I do beg your pardon… are you accusing me of being a woman by means of my partiality to flowers?” Roslyn muttered, more deeply bothered at his words than she’d have liked to admit, “You are greatly mistaken if you are to believe all men are the same as yourself Sir…”
He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, but smirked before retorting, “My name is Sir Johnathan Wolf. I believe it to be true yes, though I do apologize if I’ve offended you, Lady Roslyn.”
“Indeed…” she muttered gruffly, before coming to a halt, “How in God’s name do you know who I am?!”
He grinned widely, before chuckling heartily. Roslyn reckoned it to be positively frightening.
“I mean…” she stumbled, “not that I am who you’ve made mention to, this Lady Roslyn.”
“You deny it still?” he chuckled again. Roslyn was all to prepared too snap at him, ‘The nerve!’ she thought crossly.
“Though I will say,” he continued contently, “I did not quite expect your reaction to be so dull, you don’t seem at all tentative as I thought you’d be, nor the least bit frightened that an outlandish man has stalked you through the night. And into a secluded area nonetheless! Should anything happen to you, chances are your body would not be found until the next month following.”
She kept up the pretense, playing the fool, but at his words; Roslyn could feel the blood churn beneath her skin, roiling in genuine terror. Never the less, she was pleased he thought her so fearless. She in honesty, thought herself nothing of the like.
“I, Sir Wolf, have happened upon far more hazardous incidences in my lifetime. Do not believe me to be the foolish sort you’ve devised in your head.”
“Foolish? Whoever said anything about you’re being foolish?”
All was silent for a few moments, as Roslyn stood gazing across his shoulder, silently deliberating his underlying intentions. She turned away to re-immerse herself instead in the picking of flowers.
“Do not vex me, Wolf. I know the game your kind plays.”
He looked startled for a moment, “Game?” he repeated.
“Are you a parrot?” she responded mockingly, “Yes, game. That of which you play now by a feigning ignorance. Explain to me this, how have you been able to follow me through thick and thin, with smarts and wit, and yet in the understanding of words you seem to lack? If not it were a game, I’d fall dead, I swear it to you.”
Running would be of no use, she realized. Should she run, he would only follow; and his legs were far the longer, his hands scarcely bigger than that of her own head. No, running would do no good. Roslyn would have to merely falsify an unbothered pretense. It was easy enough, seeing as she’d worn that mask since birth.
His mouth jerked upward into a half grin. He shrugged before plopping himself down amongst a reverie of rosy orchids.
“You’ve caught me then it seems,” he exclaimed, sighing dramatically and lying back with his hands crossed behind his head. He had an irksome grin of amusement written across his face and Roslyn sneered at the sight of it. He was purposely trying to vex her she knew and it caused her to dislike him even more, if that were possible. Roslyn remained standing.
“Are you not here to…” she stumbled a little over her words, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment before hesitantly continuing, “..do unkind things to me?” Roslyn no longer saw any use in playing dense. ‘Straight to the point,’ she thought. He had known exactly who she was the moment she’d stepped in the bookstore and she’d been a fool to act as though it were otherwise. ‘Best I try to find the reason for his following than dally on acts of idiocy,’ she thought.
He laughed once more in that infuriating way of his.
“Heavens no! I’d not in a lifetime be that sort of unkind to a lady, unless of course she’d asked it of me.”
It was Roslyn’s turn be taken aback, and she blushed profusely before regarding the question as best she could.
“Then what business do you have with me?” Roslyn asked, silently sighing a breath of relief and finally allowing herself to rest amongst the flowers aside him. By now she was sure her maid was starting to get worried. Roslyn had promised her a quick visit to the bookstore. That said, the term quick was relative, was it not? Quick could mean a few minutes, or a few hours… why, a few days may even be deemed quick if in the right circumstances. But alas, Roslyn knew, these were not the right circumstances.
"Was it not obvious?" he replied, his tone indicating as though it were in fact obvious, "I've come to protect you of course. A lady should not be out at a time as this."
"You're mad!" she cried, as though she'd just come to the realization; as though she'd not seen what was staring at her in the face. "You believed that chasing me through the streets, frightening me all the while, was the best form at protection? All you achieved sir, is frightening me to the bone."
He look appalled, as though she had said something wrong. "You've made a mistake Roslyn, I-"
"Miss Dosset."
"-very well. Miss Dosset, I'm afraid you've made a terrible mistake. I was not following you. I left long afterward and took a shortcut here. Had I known you'd be here, I'd not have imposed as I did. I apologize for that however-"
"Wait. If you were not following me, then who...?"
Silence hung warily between them, both looking toward one another with widened eyes and pursed lips.
"Sir Wolf..." Roslyn started, shifting her gaze to the tree opposite her and staring at it intently, "What you said to me... in the shop. About monsters and that. What did you mean by it?"
He said nothing for a while, merely sat there as if she hadn't said anything, and Roslyn stared at him, willing him to speak. When he finally did, his words were not that which she'd hoped.
“You’ll come to know the answer to that soon enough,” he answered softly.
It so ominous that Roslyn thought she might laugh at it's absurdity.
She was all but about to ask as to what he meant by it, when the loud tolling of a bell sounded, indicating the beginning of a new day.
“Good gracious! It’s morning!” she cried, jumping back onto her feet. Whirling around, she glanced above the wall toward the town square wherein the Big Ben rung proudly, clear as day from where she stood; the sun rising steadily behind it.
How on Earth had she been out for that long?
“I must go!” She exclaimed, hurriedly snatching the basket from the ground where she’d lain it and taking off back over the garden wall.
She’d forgotten all about the dangerous Mr. Wolf, his strange countenance and the little red book she’d left behind. She thought only of what her parents might do if they’d by some chance come to find that beneath the blankets, the strategically placed pillows were not in fact the body of their daughter.
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