He rolled onto his elbow, startled. “Did I hurt you?”
“No. No. I just… I just remembered.”
He frowned. “Remembered what?”
“I have to go.”
He opened his mouth, but said nothing as Mallory hauled herself to her feet.
“Mallory?”
She hurried for the door, straightening her skirts, combing fingers through her knotted hair.
“Mallory, wait—”
She slipped out the door and slammed it shut behind her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
She ducked into an unused guest room, the furnishings covered in ghostly white cloths, to compose herself.
Mallory sank against the door and buried her face in her hands, still scented with the shaving soap. The pleasure that had shivered at the end of her nerves now felt cold and traitorous.
She spent an entire minute trying to convince herself that she’d been mistaken. It wasn’t Julie’s ring. It was only something similar. Surely other girls had sapphire wedding rings. Surely Armand couldn’t have murdered her. Surely…
Nothing she told herself made any difference.
All the signs were there. The way Julie had talked about her beau, like a knight coming to rescue her, like he was too good to be true. The pressed flower in her prayer book. The ring hidden beneath Armand’s vanity.
She had to go to the police. Tell them everything. Have Armand imprisoned before he could harm anyone else.
She shuddered.
For the first time, she felt like she could truly begin to understand what had compelled Bastien’s wives to choose him, despite all the signs that he was a man to be avoided. What had Julie said?
The heart wants what the heart wants…
Right now, her heart wanted away from this place. Away from Armand, and his manipulations, his lies, the way his uncertain smiles seemed crafted entirely for her…
Crouching over her knees, she stuffed the hem of her skirt into her mouth and screamed. The fabric muffled her frustration and anger and betrayal, but didn’t lessen it.
Gods alive, she liked him. She liked himso much. His curiosity. The way he flustered so easily. His bravery in the face of monsters. His willingness to believeher, no matter how many times she lied to him. The way he’d kissed her, as though she was both fragile and dangerous at the same time.
Breathless, Mallory let the fabric fall from her mouth. She stared balefully at the floor as her pulse gradually slowed.
She had to be sure.
She had to be absolutely, without-a-doubt, cannot-possibly-be-wrong-about-thissure.
She stood, forcing strength into her legs. Smoothing her hair away from her face, she dared to step back into the hall.
She found Anaïs in their room, embroidering a border of fortune’s wheels onto a handkerchief, a full cup of tea on the table beside her. She startled when Mallory came in, pricking herself with the needle.
“I was beginning to worry about you. Have you learned anything?” She must have seen something in Mallory’s face, because she sat straighter as she popped her jabbed finger into her mouth.
“I need your help.”
Anaïs watched her a long moment. Swallowing, she set the embroidery aside and picked up the teacup instead. The china clattered in her shaking hands.
