‘Can I? How magnanimous of you. To allow me to feel my feelings.’
Hecate help me, I’m making things worse.
‘I only meant that we should proceed with caution.’
‘We?’
Hamlet hopped nimbly from the couch and wound his way to Cynthia, bumping his head against her leg. Cynthia looked down distractedly at the fox. ‘I’m fine.’ Her elegant fingers disappeared in the copper fur between his ears. It was a gesture Helena had made a million times with her familiar, but watching Cynthia seeking comfort from Hamlet as Helena always had, shifted something at her centre.
We are creatures shaped from the same stardust.
She blinked, not sure if the thought came from her own mind or the cosmos.
‘Are you saying you’ll come with me?’
Helena could still back away. But every tiny piece of her wanted to join Cynthia on this adventure.
On every adventure.
‘Yes, we. I was being stupid before. I want to help you, Cynthia. I want to find the bastard who murdered your husband so you can start your life anew. And I don’t want you to do this alone.’
I’m also quite certain when your power breaks free, you’re going to need all the help I can give.
The idea of supporting Cynthia as she learned to access her magic, watching her step into her abilities, stirred Helena’s calm soul. It was a raw and visceral thing for a witch to connect to her element. When Cynthia was ready to accept the fullness of who she truly was, she would need support and guidance. Imagining anyone else stepping into such an intimate role filled Helena with violent jealousy.
‘Will you let me help you?’ Helena held her breath, feeling like her world rested on the precipice of Cynthia’s answer. Because she wasn’t just asking about this investigation.
Cynthia exhaled, a smile breaking over her as the sun tentatively peeked through the storm clouds. ‘Of course I will let you help me. I never wanted to do this alone.’
‘Then we shall do it together.’ The last word resonated through Helena like the crash of waves over rocks. A fractured piece of her heart clicked into place.
Hamlet yipped, his golden eyes uncannily perceptive.
Helena shrugged away the feeling, instead focusing on the task at hand. She didn’t have time to worry about falling in love with a witch when they were confronting a potential killer.
17
Cynthia summoned a footman and asked him to ready the carriage. Before he returned, Mrs Higgins knocked on the door, carrying a folded piece of parchment holding George Lippert’s address and a letter.
‘This just arrived, my lady. Wild weather we’re having. Best take your coat with you if you’re going out. There’s no telling if it’s summer, winter, or something in between.’
Cynthia pocketed the address and picked up the letter to inspect the seal. ‘Very true, Mrs Higgins. Ah. My dear friend, the Duchess of Devon has no doubt written to extend her condolences. Can you put this in my room? I shall read it later. Helena and I have several pressing errands to run. We’ll be gone most of the afternoon. But never fear. We shall both bring our coats.’
‘Of course.’ Mrs Higgins retrieved the letter, bobbed a curtsey, and left as quietly as she arrived.
Fifteen minutes later, Cynthia was sitting next to Helena in her landau as they bumped along an increasingly rutted street on their way to Cheapside. The day had turned uncommonly hot, making their coats comically unnecessary. London summers could become rather stuffy in the heart of the city, and the air in the carriage felt heavy.
She could have sat on the bench opposite Helena. Or shifted further to the edge of the squabs. But she did not. She pressed the length of her leg against Helena’s. Helena’s pinkie brushed against her black silk skirt. A secret thrill ran through her.
‘We should devise some kind of strategy when we arrive.’ Helena’s low voice soothed nerves that were beginning to stretch and fray the closer they came to George Lippert’s house.
Cynthia tapped her chin. ‘Yes, excellent idea.’ Creating a plan would help her feel less anxious. ‘I have wanted to apologise to Lily for Hubert’s abrupt and unwarranted dismissal. Perhaps that could be our reason for visiting?’
Helena nodded. She lifted her pinkie up and down over the silk. The smallest whisper of friction tickled Cynthia’s thigh, creating a wave of sensation. Her thoughts scattered. It took her a moment to gather them back.
‘I also hope to provide poor Lily with letters of recommendation if she needs them, regardless.’ Her voice had become decidedly husky. And why was her corset so damnably tight? ‘Regardless of what her father might have done, she deserves every chance of a bright future. That is another reason for us to visit.’
Helena raised a copper brow, her finger pausing. ‘You would still offer to help her, knowing her father murdered your husband?’
