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“He told me. Enough to know how little he values human life.”
Morgan gave her a baffled stare.
Now that she’d begun, she couldn’t stop. All the angry confusion she’d held inside tumbled. Her hands fisted in the fabric, and her chest rose and fell with a deep, unsteady breath. “He killed those men. How does that make him any different than Asher?”
“Now wait a moment, he was forced to kill the soldier who opened the reliquary to try to stop the Triad’s escape. But Asher murdered the others.”
Had she been wrong? Disbelief tremored through her. “Conor’s not a man I’d ever want to cross, but a cold-blooded murderer he’s not,” Morgan added.
Ellery swallowed, dropping the wrinkled gown from trembling fingers back onto the bed. “Thank you for the clothing.”
The questions in Morgan’s gaze hammered against Ellery’s silence, but she couldn’t explain her reaction. Not to Morgan and not to herself. Her feelings were too jumbled. Too raw. If Conor wasn’t as black as he’d painted himself, that left her vulnerable to caring about him. Something she wouldn’t let herself do. Only disappointment lay in that direction. Men were men. Even the sword-wielding, spell-throwing Other kind.
She descended the stairs to dinner, still slightly at sea, still unsure of where she belonged within this household. Not that the Blighs hadn’t been welcoming. In fact, she’d been taken aback at how quickly they’d accepted her less-than-proper arrival. In her experience, true kindness was a rarity. Most people expected something in return. She hoped she’d be proven wrong here.
At the bottom of the staircase, she took a deep steadying breath, smoothing her hands down the skirts of her evening gown, one of Morgan’s cast-offs. Ellery had been afraid to put it on at first, the maid pouring her into it with much admiring oohs and ahhs and a few grunts as she yanked the stays with determined force. But the effect was worth it. Of smoky blue silk, it moved like water when she walked and its silverwork at the collar and cuff was delicate and intricate as spider webs.
Would Conor notice her? Did she want him to? She hated herself for this see-sawing of emotions. He’d killed her father. She pushed that thought to the fore. Killed him. Killed him. Yes, but he’d saved her. So did the one cancel the other?
“Do you always skulk in corners? Or have we chased you into hiding already?” Ruan stepped out of the shadows dressed elegantly for dinner, a rake’s smile giving an edge to his perfect features. “It usually takes a week before the houseguest realizes he’s fallen into complete chaos.”
She relaxed. This kind of man she knew how to handle. “It looks as if you’re the one skulking in corners.”
“Let me escort you.” He bent to whisper in her ear. “There’s safety in numbers.” And just like that, the worldly façade fell away and he was a teasing older brother. “Gram has warned me to be on my best behavior.”
“And do you usually follow your grandmother’s instructions?”
“Instructions? Threats is how I see them. But I’ll say no more. Part of my,” he smiled at her, “instructions was to not frighten you with lurid tales of Bligh perfidy. Though if you’ve spent any amount of time with Conor, you could probably relate a tale or two to me.”
He scanned her with a very approving eye. “It’s Morgan’s,” she announced, suddenly self-conscious at the way her body filled every inch of the gown. Seeing it through Ruan’s eyes, she realized it was meant for seductions, not supper. She kicked herself for agreeing to wear it.
His brows rose in surprise. “Morgan’s? I don’t see that at all. It’s like imagining a plow horse dressed for a ball.”
“That’s horrid.”
They walked arm in arm to the dining room. “You don’t know my sister. Morgan’s been barely tolerated among the women of the neighborhood since she was thirteen and announced men’s breeches better suited her.”
“Perhaps she found a reason to dress like this. Perhaps someone changed her mind.”
At the door, Ruan paused, seeming to consider this before shaking his head. “No, Morgan is ‘the club you over the head first, engage in niceties after’ sort of woman. No man likes to think his lady might challenge him to a duel as easily as she could embroider a seam.”
Ellery had never pictured herself dining in such gentrified company. Her life in Carnebwen had been simple, not even the fleeting riches of Vittoria enough to buy her way into higher Society. But she found the dynamics not far from the hurly-burly life of an army encampment. People coming in and out. Good-humored ribbing. Food devoured as if diners were unsure whether another meal would be offered. Whether this was normal for all households or held true only at the Blighs didn’t matter. It wasn’t likely she’d be invited to another such dinner.
Ruan sat opposite, offering a wink of encouragement as course followed course and conversation veered wildly from topic to topic. Only now and then did she find his gaze straying from her face to her cleavage. She’d have been offended if she hadn’t known a hundred just like him in the army. Men who treated every female with the same teasing gallantry. Be outrageous enough and they would never take you too seriously. Never get too close.
“There’s been another death. A soldier encamped near Portsmouth,” Morgan announced. “It’s the second one in as many months.” This was the first time she’d spoken all night.
“Keun Marow?” Conor asked.
He sat as far from Ellery as possible, but every now and then she caught his eyes on her. A questing look in them as if he sought to pierce her thoughts. She wished him luck. Her brain was such a knotted jumble right now, she doubted even a confessed mind-reader like himself could make heads or tails of it. She glanced down the table at him. At least she hoped that was the case. How embarrassing would that be?
Morgan shrugged. “Not that I’ve heard. Gram, have you heard anything?”
Conor’s grandmother looked up. “The Keun Marow have gone to ground for now. The true fey sense nothing of their presence. And for that, we can take solace. If Asher watches and waits, he does so from a distance. And these soldiers’ deaths lie at another’s door.”
Ruan broke in, turned to Morgan. “Ellery tells me I have you to thank for her stunning display tonight.”
The change in conversation was jarring, and Morgan frowned, obviously knowing her brother too well to believe a compliment could be so easy. “What are you getting at, Ruan?”
