“You would have to accept me despite my lack of title or fortune. Abandon all this luxury to live on a working man’s wages.”
“Is such a thing truly possible?”
“If you wish to be with me, then yes. I can protect you, provide for you.”
“No.” The word escaped before she could stop it. “It won’t succeed. Father will hunt us down.” Her father would find them, and they would both suffer his wrath.
“I’ll find a way to keep you safe.”
But she couldn’t focus on his promises. Another voice echoed in her memory. Mrs. Blythe’s words from weeks ago.
They never found her mask. We all thought it peculiar. Lizzie searched the lady’s quarters thoroughly, but it had vanished entirely.
The loose floorboard in her father’s study. He had noticed her staring at it and grown defensive. Had he hidden the mask there? Finding it would prove his guilt beyond question. Could there still be hope?
“They never found my mother’s mask.”
“What?” Sebastian asked, confusion clear in his voice.
“The mask she wore that night. The night he killed her.” Yes, shehad said it aloud. She knew it was true now. Had known it for weeks, buried beneath layers of desperate denial. “Sebastian, I believe I know where it is. Father concealed it in his study.”
“Why would he retain such evidence?” Sebastian asked. “Why not dispose of it with the candlestick?”
She didn’t answer immediately because suddenly, without warning, images began flooding her vision—memories long suppressed rushing back with devastating clarity. Her mother on the study floor, blood pooling beneath her golden hair. Lord Wentworth standing over her corpse.
Before that scene, she saw her father reaching for the heavy silver candlestick, moving with terrifying swiftness as her mother tried desperately to flee. The sickening crack as it connected with Lady Wentworth’s skull. Her mother crumpling like a broken doll.
Rose whimpered as another memory surfaced. Her father ripping the mask from the lifeless body, holding it aloft like a trophy as he whispered, “You have done this to yourself.”
“I remember,” Rose whispered, her voice barely audible.
Vertigo seized her, and she could no longer stand. Her knees buckled, sending her tumbling onto the damp grass at Sebastian’s feet.
He immediately knelt beside her, his voice urgent with concern. “Rose, what do you remember?”
She clutched desperately at her silk skirts, still trapped in that long-ago night. The study had reeked of candle wax and her father’s cigars. “He used the candlestick. She tried to escape, but he was too quick, too strong.”
“You witnessed it?”
“Yes. I saw everything.” The suppressed memories felt like shards of ice in her chest. Until this moment, she had forgotten. Her mind had protected her from the unbearable truth.
“Where were you hidden? Why weren’t you abed at such an hour?”
Excellent questions. How had she seen them? Why had she been awake? She closed her eyes, forcing herself to return fully to that terrible night.
She had awakened because of noise from the ball below, disoriented and frightened in the darkness. “I woke wanting my mother. I went searching for her and ended up in Father’s study. But I heard them approaching down the corridor, arguing violently. I didn’t want them to discover me there and face punishment, so I hid in the closet.”
Her eyes flew open as the full horror returned. She trembled so violently her teeth chattered together. “Oh, Sebastian, I watched it all happen.”
“Tell me,” Sebastian said gently. “I’m here with you. He cannot harm you now. I know it’s agonizing, but let the memories play out.”
She nodded, steeling herself to witness it all again. Through the wardrobe’s narrow slats, she had seen her parents before his desk, voices raised in furious argument.
“I know what you’ve done,” Lady Wentworth said, her usually gentle voice sharp as steel.
“What is it you believe you know?” Lord Wentworth replied with deceptive calm.
Lady Wentworth lifted her chin, delicate features drawn tight with righteous fury. “I overheard White tonight, boasting of how vast his wealth has grown and why. You’re his partner in this smuggling venture? French brandy? Oh, Richard, how could you? Lord Ashford told me everything he’s suspected of you this very night. You’ve deceived me all these years, used Papa’s money to fund criminal enterprises. He would be appalled.”
