Ellie would invariably bring the conversation around to love and marriage because she was a hopeless romantic. But Clio and Helena had stood firm together. Love was a dangerous game neither of them wished to play. Until, inexplicably, Clio did play. And lost. Or won. Depending on who you asked.
Clio would say she won as sparks scattered from her fingers and fire blazed in her amber eyes any time she mentioned her new husband, Lieutenant General Grey.
Helena would say she lost. But she was honest enough to admit her sour feelings had more to do with her own loss of a coven sister and close friend than Clio’s spirit match. If Helena were forced to be honest, Grey was a rather decent fellow who obviously loved her cousin beyond all measure. Which was unaccountably annoying.
It is a sorry state of affairs when someone’s happiness only highlights my own discontent.
Clio exhaled loudly, reminding Helena of where they were and what they were about.
Sir Robin rubbed his sleek head against Clio’s cheek. ‘I don’t think his spirit remains. I feel… nothing.’
Damnation! I was hoping he could clear Cynthia’s name.
Clio’s thoughts drifted to Helena like whispers on a silent wind.
Clio was a firewitch who could speak with ghosts and see their memories. A craft which she used to help Uncle Lachlan with tricky murder cases, but only when the ghost remained earthbound.
It would seem Lord Hubert Burrows had no desire to stay after his rather violent demise. Lucky for him, but not so wonderful for Lady Cynthia Burrows, Clio’s new sister-in-law.
‘I’m sorry, Clio. I know you hoped he might be able to help us identify the killer.’And definitively prove Lady Burrows’ innocence.
Clio had taken an immediate liking to her beautiful and charming sister-in-law. Ellie was just as bad with her propensity to love whoever was in her vicinity, regardless of their worthiness. Not that there was anything wrong with Lady Burrows. It was just, Helena’s close family coven was expanding, and she had never been comfortable with strangers. She didn’t trust outsiders. No matter how gooey Thomas got around Clio, or how many invitations Cynthia extended for afternoon teas and picnics in the park. Helena wasn’t interested in changing the dynamics of her inner circle, and she had no room in her heart for new people.
Still, that hardly means Lady Burrows is guilty of murder. Stealing away my family is one thing; killing her husband is quite another.
Helena locked her thoughts onto the task at hand. Emotions had no place in the black and white work of solving murders. Thankfully, she wasn’t a sentimental fool. She preferred to focus on facts, not feelings.
Hamlet yipped. She reached down to stroke between his ears, the tension between her shoulders immediately easing.
She might not like Cynthia, but she certainly didn’t wish to see her elegant neck in the hangman’s noose if the facts showed she was innocent.
Which is why she heeded her uncle’s request. If Clio couldn’t speak to the ghost and determine who killed him, then Helena would steal the thoughts from Cynthia’s head and learn if Lady Burrows was a murderess.
As a waterwitch, Helena’s powers were inherently tied to the conductive energy linking rivers to seas, clouds to the land, and thought to action. Reading minds was a heavy responsibility, but also a thrilling opportunity to discover the truth.
Yet for reasons unknown, the idea of probing inside Lady Burrows’ head filled Helena with fear.
What if she’s guilty?
Cynthia’s secrets could destroy their entire family.
Complicating matters further was the unavoidable truth that Cynthia was infuriatingly beautiful with her wild chestnut hair, hazel eyes, and dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose. Neither here nor there, and hardly pertinent to solving the case.
If Helena could keep her emotions separate from the investigation, she could certainly control her attraction to the suspect. But the temptation was highly inconvenient.
It had been an age since someone caught Helena’s fancy.
So whythiswoman? Why now?
The fates had a wicked sense of humour.
She had long ago come to terms with her sexual proclivities. Being a sapphic ranked just beneath being a witch in the list of reasons why she might be burned at the stake. Hardly a frightening fate when she could easily douse the flames with her witchwater, but the scandal of such accusations would ruin her reputation and, by extension, the business which provided her family’s living. So, Helena was cautious with her consorts. And nothing about Cynthia Burrows was safe.
First, she was married – or at least,hadbeen married until a few hours ago.
Second, she was related to Helena – by marriage, but nonetheless.
Third, she was a proper lady – Cynthia Burrows would never step outside the carefully drawn boundaries of propriety.
