If Ophelia was scared, I would stay.
‘For how long? Days? Weeks? Months? Years, perhaps?’
As long as she needed.
‘Then I suppose a fox and a ferret make more sense than the two of us.’ She gestured wildly between herself and Helena.
I always make sense.
Hamlet turned his head to Helena, who sat up. She held the sheet against her chest and stared resolutely at the window. ‘I might not be able to read either of your thoughts, but there is nothing wrong with my hearing.’ She turned, catching Cynthia in her silver glare, colder than frozen rivers. ‘There is no amount of time that will change my oath.’
‘You heard her, Hamlet. I suppose that answers my question.’
‘Can’t you understand? I’m doing this as much to protect you as myself. You don’t want me, Cynthia. Not really.’
‘You have no idea what I want. Or what I could have given you, Helena. And don’t twist this into altruism. You are rejecting me because you’re scared. I never would have guessed such a powerful witch could be so cowardly.’ With jerky movements, she stepped into her petticoats, tying them tightly around her waist before attaching her bustle. She refused to be swayed by the fat tear running down Helena’s cheek.
Snatching her bodice and outer skirt from the chair where she had so carefully placed them the night before, she hastily donned the silky dinner gown, far too lush in the glaring morning light. She was so sick of wearing black, but today, the colour fit her mood. She finally felt like she was mourning something. The hope of what could have been.
Giving Hamlet a final pet, she turned and walked to the door, pausing, but refusing to look back. Because she knew the image would haunt her for the rest of her days.
‘Please thank Aunt Rowan for such a lovely evening. I wish Superintendent MacDougal all the best with his investigation. I’m sure Thomas will keep me apprised of the progress you make.’
‘We’ll still see each other. Your brother is married to my cousin, after all.’ Helena’s voice sounded suspiciously rusty. ‘There’s no reason why we can’t remain friends.’
‘There iseveryreason.’ In a moment of weakness, she glanced over her shoulder. The image of Helena, her riot of red curls frothing about like sea waves in the summer sun, her pale arms bare, holding the white sheet to her chest, her eyes swimming with pain and regret, almost broke Cynthia’s resolve. But she could not settle for friendship. Not when her arms would forever ache to embrace Helena but always remain empty. Not when her heart would change its rhythm to match the beat within Helena’s breast but echo in empty halls. Not when her soul would eternally seek its other half but never be granted communion. It was a cruel torture she couldn’t endure. ‘Goodbye, Helena.’
Pushing open the door, Cynthia stepped out of the room and into her future. One she would face alone.
‘You cannot scamper off to the country to lick your wounds, Cynthia. I forbid it!’ Clio stomped her heeled slipper.
‘Forbid it!’ Sir Robin reiterated in a throaty command that ended with an indignant squawk.
Cynthia continued to calmly wrap her puppy figurines and place them in a crate that was slowly filling with the items she planned to take with her to the dowager house waiting in the Cotswold district.
‘A marchioness does not scamper. Even a widowed one. And I can’t stay.’
‘Helena is just being stubborn. Give her a few weeks. She’ll come around.’ Ellie rustled over in a sugar-pink summer frock that would look frilly and ridiculous on anyone other than the buxom blonde. She gently gripped Cynthia’s arm and squeezed, a warm summer breeze ushering burnt sugar and sage into her room.
‘Then she can come and find me in the country. I have made up my mind.’
‘You two are equally matched in hard-headedness, that is certain.’ Clio huffed out an exasperated breath, her raven mimicking the expression with uncanny accuracy.
‘What about the investigation?’ Ellie’s soft voice hid a ripple of determination running beneath the sweetness.
Cynthia pulled free of Ellie and moved to the window, admiring the blue sky and how the bright sun filtered through the willow leaves. She would miss her view, if nothing else.
‘I’m sure your uncle and my brother need no help from me. I was only making a nuisance of myself, at any rate.’
‘That’s not true. And now that we know you have powers, we can’t just abandon you to the cows and chickens in the bloody Cotswolds. You are one of us. A coven is strongest together!’
‘I’m not part of the Blair coven.’
‘Only because you’re being a dunderhead about this entire thing,’ Ellie muttered. Ophelia poked her head from a pocket in Ellie’s skirt and chittered what was clearly a rebuke at Cynthia.
‘We would welcome you into our coven. You are my sister now. Maybe not by blood but bound by magic, which is just as powerful.’ Clio crossed the room, Sir Robin flapping to keep his perch on her shoulder. She took both Cynthia’s hands in her own. ‘Stay with us, sister.’
Tears stung her eyes as she forced the tremble from her lips. ‘I can’t stay, Clio. If Thomas refused you, could you stay in his presence?’
