Flirtations? Fine.
Explorations? Marvellous.
Commitment? Never.
It was better for them both. Helena wouldn’t risk losing herself, and Cynthia wouldn’t risk losing her place in society.
‘We can’t possibly let a marchioness wait.’ Helena winked at her cousin and followed her down the stairs.
Aunt Rowan sat at the head of their table. For a woman about to enter her fifth decade, she was striking with chestnut hair piled in braids, curls, and twists. Her trim waist and smooth skin were the envy of every blue-blooded lady she served at All Things Bright and Beautiful. Indeed, her defiance of time’s ravages was one reason why the apothecary was so popular amongst the wealthiest ladies in society. Surely the proprietress must know the secrets of eternal youth and glowing beauty to have maintained such a constant bloom.
‘Lady Burrows, it is a pleasant surprise to have you dining with us this evening. Helena never invites… friends… to dinner.’
If Helena could have struck her aunt mute with a hasty hex, she would have done so and damned the consequences. Instead, she sent her a withering glare, resulting in Aunt Rowan’s smile widening.
Meddling witch!
Cynthia’s cheeks flushed pink. She wore black again this evening, though her gown was far less revealing than the costume she poured herself into the night before. Still, Helena was distracted by the contrast of her pale skin against ebony bombazine, a fabric far too heavy for the summer warmth. She hated to see Cynthia swathed in colours of mourning for a man as undeserving as Hubert Burrows.
‘I’m honoured to join you.’ She flicked her gaze to Helena before demurely sampling the soup. Helena had never before been so fascinated to watch someone blow on hot chicken consommé.
‘You said you needed to update us, lass. Is it somethin’ to do with the case?’ Uncle Lachlan sat at the opposite end of the table to Aunt Rowan. Every so often, his gaze would wander to her, and his thoughts, usually clear and easy for Helena to read, would become muddled and fuzzy.
She knew her aunt had cast a spell long ago to keep whatever secrets Rowan had with Uncle Lachlan hidden safely away from meddling little witches. Helena, Clio, and Ellie had spent many late nights spinning out possible stories that would explain the strange enmity between Aunt Rowan and Uncle Lachlan. But their tricksy aunt used her impressive magic to block the girls from seeing anything. Clio couldn’t delve into their pasts. Helena couldn’t read their thoughts about each other. Ellie couldn’t see any possible future for them. It was a point of shared frustration between the cousins.
Helena took a deep breath before she quickly summarised her adventure with Cynthia at The Devil’s Bargain the previous evening.
‘You didwhat?’ Uncle Lachlan’s growl was nearly drowned out by Cynthia’s brother.
‘What the bloody hell were you thinking, Cyn?’ Thomas slammed his hand down so hard, the cutlery jumped.
‘Bastard!’ Sir Robin added cheerfully from his perch on Clio’s chair.
Cynthia smiled one of her debutante smiles at her brother. Helena had to give her credit for brash courage. ‘Calm yourself, Thomas. No harm came of it.’ Her gaze once more found Helena. ‘Thanks to Helena, that is. I must say, Superintendent MacDougal, you were right about Damien Sinclair being a devil. He is an incredibly unpleasant man.’
‘How dare he try to blackmail you!’ Ellie rarely showed anger. She was far more prone to soft emotions. But her loyalty to those she loved was more powerful than a gale-force wind and just as destructive.
Clio put a hand over her husband’s. ‘Thomas is right to be concerned, Cynthia. That was terribly reckless.’
‘Terribly reckless!’ Sir Robin nodded, winking at Cynthia.
Cynthia tipped up her chin and squared her shoulders in defiance. Her hazel eyes were more brown than green tonight as she held Clio’s gaze. ‘I appreciate your concern, Clio. But I am a grown woman capable of making my own choices. This was simply a business meeting with Mr Sinclair to determine the extent of my husband’s debts, and whether or not Sinclair was the bastard who murdered Hubert.’
Uncle Lachlan’s face flushed. His thoughts left no doubt that he was furious with them for going to a very dangerous part of London to speak with an even more dangerous man without asking him for help.
‘The very reason why you should never have gone alone! You underestimate your vulnerability, Cyn.’ Thomas was of one mind with Uncle Lachlan on this point. ‘As your brother, it’s my duty to protect you. I can’t allow you to engage in such dangerous activities.’
Cynthia’s voice was frighteningly soft. ‘You can’tallowme?’
Oh dear goddess. Cynthia is going to kill her brother in our dining room. And I shall have to help her hide his body. Clio will never forgive us, but really. The man brought this fate onto himself.
Thomas seemed to recognise his mistake, but like most men, he blundered forward regardless. ‘Exactly.’
Cynthia rose from her chair and leaned over the table. ‘I am sick to death of men telling me what I can and cannot do. I have spent my entire life following other people’s orders. My husband is dead. I am finally free. I won’t be dictated to by anyone.’ Thunder rumbled over the house, shaking the windows. ‘Ever.’ Lightning cracked through the sky. ‘Again. Not even by you, Thomas.’ Rain pelted on the roof. ‘Do not test me.’ Another boom of thunder had Ophelia burrowing into Ellie’s arms.
‘Dick! Dick! Dictated!’ Sir Robin fluffed his feathers, his obsidian eye trained on the ceiling.
Aunt Rowan looked out the window as another flash of summer lightning lit the dark sky. Her sharp gaze cut back to Cynthia before finding Helena.
