‘He loves me. That is all that matters.’
Cynthia’s warm hand on her face pulled Helena from the ugly memory. ‘Are you all right? You’ve gone quite pale.’
Helena leaned away from the comfort. ‘I’m fine. I just don’t like the idea of being used for my magic.’
Cynthia’s hazel eyes widened as her lips parted on an inhalation. ‘Used? I would never, that is, I thought youwantedto help me. You asked to come with me if I was going to continue the investigations, and I thought…’ She closed her eyes tight, shaking her head. ‘Oh. You weren’t serious. Of course.’ She blinked open her hazel eyes, her lips curling into a smile that contradicted the pain there.
Shame crept up Helena’s neck with prickling fingers. She was being stupid and cruel. Though she endeavoured to be nothing like her mother, she still emulated the woman.
Of course Cynthia wasn’t trying to use her. She was nothing like the man Willow chose. Nothing like her mother. Nothing like anyone Helena had ever known before, and she suspected would ever meet in the future. The thought spun like a vortex in the depths of her soul.
‘I was serious when I said that.’ Because she did want to go with Cynthia. Anywhere. Everywhere.
‘But you’ve changed your mind. Which is fine.’ Cynthia turned to the table and poured herself a fresh cup of coffee, adding cream and sugar to the dark mixture. ‘Let us speak of other things. How is your apothecary shop faring?’ She was slipping back into the proper host. Helena hated it. She wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until the façade cracked.
But she had created this mess because of deeply buried fear and a promise she made to herself long ago.
The Blair women came from a prestigious line of light witches devoted to the arts of healing and health. They swore to do no harm and lived by that promise. When Helena’s mother strayed so far from her vow, Helena made another oath. A private promise to never fall in love with another. To never give someone such control over her heart and her choices.
But I’m not falling in love with Cynthia. I admire her. I find her fascinating. I want to uncover the mysteries surrounding her and understand why I can’t read her thoughts. But that is all. That is not love.
She feared her coven might have something to say about her definition of ‘not love’.
Still, there was no reason to push Cynthia away when they were just friends.
‘Cyn, I’m the one who should be asking for your forgiveness.’ Helena put her hand on Cynthia’s knee and squeezed. ‘Of course you wouldn’t use me for my powers, and I wouldn’t let you in any case.’
Cynthia carefully placed her cup and saucer on the table. ‘I think your gifts are astounding. I would feel safer knowing you are by my side, and knowing when I ask George Lippert my questions, that you would be able to hear his thoughts. But I also know what it is to be used. I won’t do that to you. You are under no obligation to come with me. I can take my burliest footmen along for protection and use my skills as a fearsome lady of the beau monde to determine truths from lies. I shall be fine.’
She bloody well won’t be fine without me there to keep her safe.
A new fear blossomed in Helena. Not that she might lose herself in Cynthia, but that she might lose Cynthia altogether. The courageous woman had no idea how vulnerable she was amongst murderers and madmen.
‘You can’t go to Cheapside alone and accuse Lippert of murdering your husband as easily as you might claim some debutante copied your gown. Your brother would have a fit, and Uncle Lachlan will string me up by my toes for not telling him of your plans.’
‘You won’t go with me, but I can’t go alone? For an intelligent woman, you certainly spew your share of nonsense. I am a widow with no one to control my choices but me. I’d wager you do all manner of things alone without a single soul speaking ill of you. Why should I be any different?’ Cynthia stood and paced in a tight line from the overstuffed Rococo chair to the chaise where Helena sat and back again. ‘I am tired of my every action being dictated by others. You have no wish to be used, and I have no wish to be controlled. Surely that is not so difficult to understand.’
Helena rose, stepping in front of Cynthia’s path and forcing her to stop walking or crash into her. ‘No one is controlling you.’
‘Really?’ Cynthia’s face flushed. ‘Not a month since Hubert died, and already my brother, your uncle, and now you are dictating where I can go and what I can do.’ She put her hand up, staying Helena’s counterargument. ‘I know you mean well. But I am not some child whose every choice must be made for her.’ The sky outside darkened as a wind picked up, thrashing the hydrangea blooms most violently. ‘Society believes women of the peerage should behave as gentle, bright blossoms. We should bring colour and fragrance into a room but have no opinions, no personal drive, no purpose beyond decorative value. I have worked hard to exemplify this ideal, stupid as it is, because I was raised to follow the rules and never question my place.’ A crack of lightning in what was moments ago a warm summer day lit the now darkening skies with white-hot electricity. Helena glanced out the window and raised a brow. She’d seen weather like this. When Aunt Rowan was particularly vexed, there was no telling how her connection to the earth would manifest. This felt the same.
She’s an earthwitch, just like Aunt Rowan.
She returned her gaze to Cynthia, and a prickling sensation began at the top of her head, covering her skin like a web.
‘Cynthia, you must remain calm.’ Helena had no practice with new witches coming into their power, except for her own experiences as a child. But Aunt Rowan had been there to guide her through every step. Whatever rogue manifestations occurred, Aunt Rowan kept the disasters to a minimum. Cynthia had no one. Except Helena.
Aunt Rowan had warned Helena to tread carefully. Whatever spell had been used to contain Cynthia’s magic seemed to be slipping. A witch’s power manifested at seven, then grew more potent every seven years. Cynthia was approaching her twenty-eighth year. Helena worried her magic was like a rushing river that had been dammed for too long. One wrong move and that dam could break, unleashing a powerful and destructive force.
‘Imuststay calm?’ Cynthia put her hands on her hips, her hazel eyes glowing ominously.
Damnation.
Cynthia had just told Helena she was sick of being told what to do, and Helena, like a complete simpleton, had gone a step further by saying the one thing no woman wanted to hear when they were courting fury.
Cynthia’s eyes fairly glowed with rage. ‘Do. Not. Tell. Me. To. Remain. Calm!’ Thunder shook the windowpanes.
Switching tacks, Helena nodded her head. ‘You’re right. Of course. You can feel however you want to feel.’
