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Hensley’s jaw tightened. I had never been able to read the expression on his face. Even when he had killed the Beast with his own hands, he had barely flinched. His hand slowly reached up to clutch the rat. God, how I wished I could read what that little boy was thinking.
“There is more than one rat?” Hensley asked slowly.
“Yes. It’s true. Now you have a secret and so do I. If you keep mine about the man hiding in the attic, just for a few more days, I’ll read you all the stories you want.” I swallowed, uneasy. “Do we have a deal?”
He didn’t answer. He stared at me blankly and then stomped off toward the house. I watched him go uneasily. At least Lucy was watching out for Edward—Hensley surely wouldn’t do anything drastic like try to pull his heart out again. I’d read him a story later, and with luck he’d forget all about it.
Montgomery grabbed my hand, pulling me from my thoughts, and led me into a spin with the other dancers. I leaned in to him, breathing in his smell, memorizing it, trying not to worry about Hensley. Just one day of happiness, that’s all I wanted.
I hugged Montgomery closer. We had a wedding party to celebrate, and then the wedding night.
THE STORM STRUCK AS soon as dusk fell. Everyone crowded into the glass-enclosed winter garden to stay out of the rain, and in the jumble Montgomery and I were able to sneak away to be alone. Laughing, we climbed through the portrait in the library and followed the wall passages to the upstairs closet, where we spilled out in the empty hallway next to my bedroom door.
The laughter faded on my lips as other feelings grew: nervousness, excitement, apprehension. The only man I’d been with was Edward, and that night hadn’t been about love. It had been about loneliness and desperation and trying to pretend I wasn’t slipping, when I’d already slipped too far.
Montgomery pulled me close. He was my tether to the real world, not the other, darker one that had called to me so many nights before. I closed my eyes and tried not to think about my unsettling meeting with Hensley.
“Juliet James,” he whispered against my cheek. “How do you feel, knowing you’ll never be a Moreau again?”
“I suppose I haven’t given it much thought.” A cold feeling ran up my spine like drips of ice water. No longer a Moreau? Was it really so simple as a name changed on paper, my father’s to my husband’s? Was Juliet James a different girl—a normal girl? I looked at my hands, scrubbed clean now, the gold ring glinting on my fourth finger. One nail was still jagged.
“Come with me,” Montgomery whispered, leading me to the bedroom door. He wrapped me in his arms and the kiss felt so natural and so right that I was hardly aware of who was shutting the door, who was dragging whom toward the bed. Cracks in the windows let in hints of cold winter wind. Montgomery reached for the row of buttons down the back of my dress.
“Wait,” I whispered, unable to shake the unsettled feeling. “There’s just one thing I must do first.”
He raised an eyebrow. “One moment, and not a second more.”
I pressed a kiss to his cheek, and then went to my own bedroom. I kicked my wedding shoes off and tiptoed to the doorway, then down the hall and up the stairs, fighting with my heavy dress, to the attic. No matter how I’d tried, I couldn’t forget Hensley’s words at the wedding. I wanted just to see Edward to make certain Hensley hadn’t done something rash. Night had fallen long ago, and the windows were black beyond, showing me my reflection. With all the rouge and fancy hairdressings, I scarcely recognized myself.
There was a photograph once of my mother when I was a baby. She wasn’t much older than I was now. It seemed to be my mother looking back at me, and at first the sight was startling, but then I felt comforted. Montgomery had been right. She’d been with me all along, a quieter memory than that of my father’s, but still there. Only now was I starting to realize it.
I hurried the rest of the way down the hall and rapped on Valentina’s door. There was no answer, so I twisted the knob and peeked within.
A single candle flickered on the bedside table. Lucy and Edward lay on the bed, fast asleep with exhaustion. They were fully clothed, though her dress strap had fallen from her shoulder, and his shirt was unbuttoned at the top. She had an arm wrapped across his chest and he, in turn, had buried his face against her shoulder.
It was a sweet, simple scene. Edward sighed in his sleep and pulled her closer, just like any couple in any bed in the world.
I glanced at the fireplace that held the trapdoor to the passageways. Tomorrow I’d board it up with nails so Hensley couldn’t get inside—just in case. And besides, I’d tell Montgomery about Edward soon enough, and then we’d all tell Elizabeth together. She wouldn’t be happy, but what choice did she have but to accept it? She had accepted Hensley. In time, she’d come to accept Edward.
Feeling deeply content, I eased the door closed so as not to wake them. Was there anything in the world better than a husband waiting for me downstairs, and my two best friends healthy and falling in love upstairs?
I tiptoed back to my room and sprayed some perfume over my shoulders to justify my absence, and then knocked on Montgomery’s door.
When he opened it, he pulled me inside. “That was two moments. Are you trying to torture me?”
“Perhaps,” I whispered. “Now, kiss me.”
He was all too happy to oblige. His hands found the row of buttons down my back and he undid them gracelessly, anxious to feel my skin beneath. Once his fingers brushed the scar that ran the length of my back, I moved his hands away and slid the straps off my shoulders, shedding the lace and pearl buttons, stripping down to my complete with the ivory ribbons, a thin chemise and corset and undergarments that stretched to just below my knees.
“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful,” he said. I turned around so he could unhook the corset, which he let fall to the floor. He tugged loose the tie around his neck, threw it on the pile along with his black jacket, and dragged the shirt over his head.
“Are you sure you’re ready?” he asked.
I silenced him with a finger over his lips. “You’re the one who wanted to wait. Not me.”
With something like a growl, he wrapped an arm around my back, pulling me into a soft kiss, and then it wasn’t so soft anymore, and my thoughts were lost amid the wind pushing at the window. Making love wasn’t like it had been with Edward. That had been rushed, hungry. Being with Montgomery was nothing but love. Victor Frankenstein’s wedding night might have ended with tragedy, but history wasn’t always doomed to repeat itself. Sometimes, things could go right.
