Page 46 of The Duke’s Bloody Bargain

Myrtha shifted on the chair. “Because they never listen to me.”

He waved dismissively. “That’s not bad manners but survival.”

“You’re so…” She pressed her lips hard. “You’re always… I can’t really…”

“Finish a sentence.” Darius grinned.

I shook my head at him. “Can we please focus?”

“It’s Knight’s territory, after all.” Irene sat down as well. “As long as his men don’t bother Lucy too much.”

“Has Graves shown up?” I asked.

Lucy focused on the shirt. “No, he hasn’t.”

Irene patted her hand. “You can tell us the truth. We mean well. I sensed a lie.”

She released a breath. “Fine. I saw him briefly.” She was flustered. “He brought me more money and a bunch of flowers.” She pointed at a bunch of fresh white daisies on the table. “That’s all.”

I glanced at Irene. She nodded. Lucy was telling the truth. But where did Graves find the money?

I kept my distance from Lucy just in case. “Have you remembered any more details about the vampire who bit you?”

“I haven’t.” She stiffened. “I told you everything I knew. Obviously, I’m not going to turn into a vampire. I’m very grateful for your help, for sending the physician and your footmen with supplies, but I don’t understand why you insist on pestering me, Ravenhill.”

My patience was already thin, and her sharp tone made me clench my jaw. “Miss Graves⁠—”

“We’d better leave. Thank you, Miss Graves.” Darius held the door open and paused on the doorstep. “Are you all right, Myrtha? No headaches or nausea? The first weeks after are always the worst.”

Lucy gasped and angled towards Myrtha. “You’re with child! Is Mr. Strange the father?”

The light coming out of Myrtha caused the table to shake. “I certainly am not with child, and if I were, Mr. Strange would have nothing to do with it.”

He scowled. “I was talking about my book on magic. Myrtha tried to read it, and unless you’re a mage, the book will give you a fierce headache and nausea for a few weeks.”

“Oh.” Lucy put a hand on her mouth. “My apologies. It’s just that you and Mr. Strange seem⁠—”

“What?” Myrtha flushed a deep red. “Mr. Strange and I are…” Her blush intensified. “We simply live in the same mansion.”

Darius leant against the door. “But you do have a secret passion for me.”

“So secret that I myself am not aware of it.” She shot him an incendiary glare.

Irene mouthed, “We should leave.”

Darius held up a hand. “I thought we were at least good friends, not just fellow tenants.”

“Let it go.” I waved him out. “We’ve done enough damage.”

When we closed the door, white light limned it, a sign Myrtha was upset.

“She took it personally,” Irene said.

“As usual.” Hands in his pockets, Darius walked down the street. “I’d almost prefer the company of Alex’s sire now.”

We entered the central area of Whitechapel where the streets became crowded with carousing people.

The recent deaths hadn’t dispirited revellers of every class from attending brothels, gambling and opium dens. The strong heartbeats and blood scents distracted me, but at least brushing against people didn’t bother me. The problem was the thirst. It scratched my throat and triggered a headache in my temples. Darius’s blood had sustained me for merely two days.