Page 33 of Marrying Bluebeard

I turn with a grimace to find Louise framed in the doorway. She dips into a brief curtsy.

“I was just heading back to my room to read,” I explain, pointedly ignoring the ghost glaring daggers at the young maid and stooping to pick up the heavy tome. “Did you need me for something?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Louise’s gaze darts about, touching everything aside from my own. “Ricard asked me to pass along a message from the master.”

“Monsieur de Montragoux? Is he back from town already?” A bubble of surprised happiness spreads through my chest. He’d led me to believe he’d be gone all day.

Louise’s answering smile is tremulous, her eyes still avoiding mine. “Yes, Madame. He just arrived and asked me to fetch you. It would seem he’s prepared a bit of a surprise.”

“Lies,” the ghost hisses. “I would know if he were here, and he is not.”

“How lovely,” I reply, my tone not quite resonating with the words. I don’t want to believe the apparition, but I can’t deny Louise seems rather off. Her complexion is paler than usual, and she won’t meet my eyes. I don’t like it. “I didn’t expect him nearly this soon.”

“I imagine he didn’t want to ruin the surprise.” She turns her back to me as she steps into the hall. “If you’ll follow me?”

“Don’t do it,” the ghost persists, her icy fingers latching onto my arm. “She’ll take you into the tower—take you to her.”

I can’t ask what she means, not without alarming Louise who seems oblivious to the ghost’s presence. But the mention of the tower is enough to stall my feet, doubt warring with curiosity as I stare at the maid’s waiting figure. The ghost’s grip relaxes at my hesitation, and there’s a note of relief in her voice as she whispers, “Make an excuse to leave and meet me in your room. I’ll gather the others. Listen to their stories, that’s all I ask.”

The others—the ghosts of Bertrand’s past wives, if this woman is to be believed. I shudder at the thought.

Louise casts a glance over her shoulder, brows lowered in consternation. “Madame? Are you coming?”

I meet the ghost’s eyes, nodding once. “I am.”

A relieved smile lights the specter’s face, and she nods back before disappearing through the floor. I turn my attention to Louise, who’s taken my words as confirmation that I’ll follow and has begun walking briskly ahead. I conjure an excuse to leave as I trail behind, but curiosity prevents me from making it. A part of me needs to know if the ghost was right about Louise taking me to the North Tower—the one place Bertrand gave me strict orders never to enter. My gut tells me she is, so I’m unsurprised when Louise stops in front of the forbidden door.

What I wasn’t counting on was the fact that Ricard would be waiting there, his bulldog-like face set in grim determination as he pulls a ring of keys from his pocket and inserts one into the door’s lock.

I take a step back, gaze locked on the key as it turns. “What’s going on?”

“The master has requested your presence, Madame.” Ricard opens the door to the creak of rusty hinges. The sound of a woman singing drifts down from the winding staircase, and the wavering notes prick my skin as the high pitch worms its way inside my head. It’s the sweetest torture.

Whisper’s claws sink into my shoulder, and I startle to find I’ve taken a step toward the staircase without realizing. I swallow a lump of fear as I lift my chin, glaring down my nose at Ricard with an air of imperiousness.

“I think not. Monsieur de Montragoux gave me specific instructions not to enter the North Tower. I don’t know what kind of trickery the two of you are up to, but mark my words—your master will hear about it.”

Ricard’s eyes gleam as he takes a step forward, grabbing my wrist with bruising force. “My master is waiting in the tower. You can tell her yourself.”

“Tell her?” I struggle against his hold as he drags me toward the stairs. “What are you talking about?” Whisper disappears as I’m crowded inside the dark stairwell.

“You’ll see,” he grunts, herding me upward.

Louise’s nervous voice floats up behind him. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Ricky? Monsieur isn’t going to be happy that you went over his head.”

“I stopped caring what Monsieur thinks when he stopped caring for the master’s needs. He should have brought the girl here the moment he arrived. That’s how it's always been done. Yet he’s hidden her away for days, fornicating like animals. Tainting the master’s things.” He punctuates his growled words with a hard shove, and I stumble, falling to my hands and knees on the stone steps. “Up you go now, none of this stalling.”

Like hell I will.

I jerk backward, slamming my back against Ricard and pinning him to the wall. As he grunts in surprise, I lunge forward, scrambling toward the door.

Only to come face-to-face with the tip of a terribly sharp-looking knife. Louise looks to be on the verge of tears as she holds the knife out, but her jaw is set. “We mustn’t keep the master waiting,” she states, waving me back up the stairs.

I stare at the extended blade, a small, cowardly part of me wondering if perhaps it wouldn’t be better to throw myself on it right now and be done with it. Anything to escape this moment and the horror that surely awaits in the room above. Louise waves the knife again, and I turn, facing the unknown as dread overwhelms my senses.

We’re going up.

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