I glanced at him in surprise, but he didn’t offer any explanation. Frank’s constant scent of citrus and sage reminded me that he was directly behind me as I progressed through the rear of the store. I inhaled fully, enjoying having him so close.
When we came to the stairs, my ghost cat disappeared into the front of the tea shop. I peeked in to see her exploring.A witch’s broom and hat sat with a miniature bale of hay in the corner. Small tables dotted the room topped with mini cauldrons filled with red and orange flowers. The shelves held Halloween-themed teacups, some shaped as pumpkins, others adorned with tiny bats and ghosts. A whimsical black feline figurine perched on the windowsill—no wait, that was my cat. She stretched, then gave me an imperious glance.
“Why are you trying to solve Isabella’s murder?” Frank asked.
Because I couldn’t stand the thought of Frank’s or Lydia’s lives being ruined over other people’s prejudice.
I started climbing the stairs. “The only way we can prove you—or Lydia—didn’t do it is if we find out who did.”
“What if I did do it?”
I froze and turned to face him. He stood in the stairwell, watching me with his shadowy gaze. A small shiver ran down my spine while my heart twisted. No. Not Frank.
He passed a hand through his dark hair. “I remember taking the potion, I do. And Isabella had never let me down before. But this time… I can’t recall what happened after I took it. It’s like I blacked out, and when I awoke, I was laying in bed wearing my plaid pajama pants and shirt that my mom gave me for my birthday.”
“Besides the potions, did you take anything else? Alcohol, sedatives?”
Huddled this close on the stairs, Frank’s broad shoulders filling the stairway, somehow felt even more intimate than outside in the bright daylight. He shook his head. “I know better than to consume anything with the wolfsbane potion, especially on the night of a full moon.”
“Maybe you took it and went to bed and you just forgot the getting ready part?”
“Maybe. But the thing is, I don’t normally sleep in pajamas.”
Instinctively, I leaned a little closer to him. “What do you sleep in?”
He lifted an eyebrow, and my cheeks blazed. I straightened, shoving my glasses up the bridge of my nose and clearing my throat.
“I see.” My voice had an odd, raspy sound to it. “Right, um, should we continue?”
I quickly ascended the steps, entering a lengthy hallway. I found the second right-hand door and pushed inside, willing my warm cheeks to cool.
The flowery decor and pictures on the wall told me that this was Isabella’s room.
She’d said she buried her journal in the false bottom of the last dresser drawer. I walked to the dresser and knelt, opening the bottom drawer. My spectral feline trailed me into the room and jumped onto the mattress.
An amused smile was on Frank’s face and he leaned against the doorjamb as he studied me. “I asked around about you.”
I combed through the pile of clothes, my heart taking a little leap. “And what did you discover?”
“I discovered you haven’t changed at all—still as private as ever. Always reading, avoiding making a spectacle, keeping to yourself.”
His description made us sound worlds apart.
Perhaps we were.
“Sounds about right.” I shoved the clothes to the side and scraped my fingers along the smooth wood, not meetinghis gaze. Here it came, the admission that he didn’t understand me.
“And you’re still willing to help a certain fae when he desperately needs it, like the time you helped me find Duchess.”
The ghost cat suddenly perked up and jumped from the bed and wrapped herself around Frank’s leg, purring.
I glanced up, wide-eyed, butterflies flitting about in my stomach. “You remember that?”
“How could I forget?” He stared at me, his intense gaze growing soft. “I admire that. Caring for others and yet not giving a crap about what others think of you.”
I paused. That wasn’t the response I was expecting.
Frank gave me a gentle smile. “Maybe that was why you chose to play the piano at the Netherfield party?”
