You are perfectly sane and hardly deserving of anyone’s pity.
Thank you. Wait. No. I am not thanking a fox. But I do agree with you. I don’t need anyone’s pity.She shook her head, trying to clear it from lispy voices.This is nonsensical.
No. Just very rare. Few earthwitches can communicate with animals. Not even Rowan with her impressive powers. Your magic must be very strong indeed.
Hamlet closed his eyes and lifted his head, enjoying Helena’s attention and ending their conversation.
Earthwitch? Powers? What kind of nonsense are you on about?
But the fox remained infuriatingly silent.
Cynthia shook her head.
Of course he’s silent. Foxes can’t talk. This is nothing more than childhood fantasies.
Or magic only powerful earthwitches could accomplish. If the fox was to be believed.
The fox cannot be believed because he is a bloody fox!
Perhaps that is the best reason to believe me.
The sneaky animal flicked his tail.
‘Are you well?’ Helena’s copper brows drew down over her grey eyes.
‘I’m perfectly fine,’ Cynthia ground between clenched teeth.
‘Maybe that’s why I’ve never understood blue bloods. A marriage between strangers hardly seems right to me.’ Though he spoke gently, she felt Superintendent MacDougal’s words like a slap bringing her back to reality. Because her marriage hadn’t felt right to Cynthia either. But she was a debutante whose father had arranged a marriage with a powerful marquess. What choice did she have in the matter?
None.
I still should have refused.
Superintendent MacDougal saved her from needing to respond by continuing. ‘There is one blessing to your distant marriage. It kept you away from men like Damien Sinclair. It might be the only thing yer husband seemed to have done right. Yer brother will have a fit when he finds out abou’ this. If Lord Burrows’ weren’t already dead, Thomas would kill ’im for exposing you to such danger.’ Superintendent MacDougal’s heavy sigh communicated far more than his words ever could.
‘I would prefer he didn’t know all the details.’ Cynthia’s gaze flicked to Helena and a blush burned her cheeks.
She had just exposed the shameful truth of her marriage, and Helena Blair knew all of it. The prickling heat of embarrassment covered her, a blanket designed to stifle and itch.
Whatever strange moment they shared before the superintendent arrived was forever gone. Helena would only see a pitiful creature now, and Cynthia hated herself for caring.
She was used to being admired by the women in her set. Envied for her wealth, poise, sharp tongue, wicked wit, and advantageous connections. Yet she got the distinct impression none of that mattered to Helena Blair. And that mattered to Cynthia.
She wished the woman would leave. Exposing weakness in front of Helena was dangerous. She needed to pull the focus away from her broken marriage and bring it back to the case. ‘I only wish I could be of more help in finding Hubert’s killer. If he had nefarious dealings with this Devil of Seven Dials, it doesn’t bode well.’
‘No’ for the investigation, but it does help in clearin’ your name, Lady Burrows. One thing’s certain: if Hubert owed Sinclair money and did no’ repay his debt, tha’ bastard has risen to the top of our suspect list. We couldn’t find a more worthy candidate.’
MacDougal’s words should have created a ripple of relief to run through her, but her unease only grew.
‘I suppose knowing destitution awaits me upon his death removes any possible motivation I had for killing him to become a wealthy widow. But an argument could still be made that I did it out of spite or anger for his actions. The letter certainly leads us in a new direction, but we can’t jump to conclusions about this Devil without more evidence.’
Helena crossed her arms over her corseted chest. ‘Are you arguing against the guilt of a known criminal? A man who could clear you of a murder that, if you are found guilty, will end in your death?’
When she put it that way, it did seem prudent for Cynthia to shut her mouth and be quiet. But Cynthia was tired of shutting her mouth and being quiet.
‘Yes. I am.’
Helena’s grey eyes widened, and she shook her head. ‘I can’t decide if you are barmy or brave.’
