“Yes.”
Right. I shouldn’t encourage him.
He came closer. “I have to be quick. Your memories will be confused, muddled, and you might not remember me. It has been so long since I’ve created a new one. But I’ll find you. Do you consent?”
“Of course I do. It sounds wonderful. I’m looking forward to it, and trust me, I’ll do my best to forget about you.” I put a hand on the knob. “Now leave. This strange conversation has lasted too long.”
The last thing I saw before losing consciousness was the count growing fangs and biting my neck.
6
PAIN IN THE NECK
Irene
Papa fussed around me as I sat on a bench in the garden. I meant to push down my power, but his concern was so intense it reached me anyway.
“Do you want another shawl?” He adjusted the cushion behind my back.
“Papa, I’m fine.” I didn’t sound convincing to my own ears.
Last night during Lady Violet’s visit, another strong seizure had left me sore and tired. Papa had cancelled my piano lesson and told me to do everything I fancied. Or rather, to choose what I fancied among the activities I was allowed to do, which weren’t many. Between the outbreak spreading through the rookery and Papa’s terror of my seizures, I had to stay home, which would be fine if I could read in peace.
Besides, I was supposed to attend a tea party at Lady Violet’s house, but she’d sent me a message, politely asking me not to go because my condition would offend her guests’ sensibilities.
“Did you ask Jones to send a message to Lady Violet and inform her you wouldn’t go?” He added another shawl to my shoulders.
“Er… I did.” He didn’t need to know my seizures had cancelled the engagement for me. I lifted the book I wanted to read. “I’ll be happy here, reading in the sun. You go to meet your agent.”
He kissed my forehead. “Don’t strain yourself.”
“How could I strain myself by doing nothing?” I muttered under my breath.
When he entered the house, I slouched back on the bench. The garden was bursting with new flowers, and the air smelt of honeysuckle. Shafts of sunlight speared through the leaves in a glittering show. I shouldn’t complain. There were worse things in life than being shunned.
A groan sounded from behind the bushes. Pain hit my neck, but it didn’t belong to me.
I rose and walked around the bench, rubbing the aching spot.
Alex was bent over, a hand on his neck. His sharp pain made me gnash my teeth.
“Miss Harlowe.” He straightened, grimacing. A dark violet light dominated his aura—pain.
“What is it?”
“Some stupid wounds on my neck. They throb and itch.”
“Let me see.”
He reluctantly lowered the collar of his worn shirt to uncover six infected wounds on his neck. The skin around them was red and swollen.
“What happened?”
He fiddled with his suspenders. Confusion disturbed his halo with ash-grey tendrils. “I fell in the garden shed, and a spiky tool stabbed me. I think.”
“I’ll send for Dr. Fletcher.”
“Don’t, please.” He scrubbed the back of his neck. “His Lordship might send me home.”
