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“You’ll speak to Mrs. Harris about this. Good day.” He’s gone, leaving me in the middle of the room feeling like the floor has been yanked from beneath my feet and I’m falling. Of course, I was stupid to even think he was anything but what he’d been since I arrived here. He’s the same as ever, and I’m not sure why I thought he was anything more than this. All nobility are that way. You think you’ve gotten through to them, somehow, that the gulf of difference between who you are and who they are has closed.
My eyes are stinging. I look to the floor, and two tears drip down my face, landing on the expensive, jewel-toned rug at my feet. Why is it bothering me so much?
I breathe in one shuddering, shaking breath when it comes to me, emerging from the darkness in the back of my mind.
No matter what kind of closed-off, superior-ass the duke is, he doesn’t deserve to die for it. And despite the sunlight streaming into this room, cheerful with its pinks and lavenders and twinkling star decorations, my whole body feels cold. I know what I need to do.
There’s something in this house, in this family that’s so dark that the light can’t even touch it.
I feel the whisper of it wrapping around me, threatening to tug me down, under the surface until I drown. Already it has each of them in its thrall, they’re on borrowed time. If Benedict kills the duke, Benedict will die too. And then what will happen to Lady Madeline? Will she go to the care of her other uncle, the lord I haven’t met? It’s always the children that get hurt. I know that, too well. Don’t I?
That’s the worst of it. She’s in the crosshairs, the one with the most to lose, innocent and undeserving of any of it. I have to protect her. It’s the only way to truly make up for… well. It doesn’t matter.
My whole body feels like it’s going to start shaking, and the tears are fully falling, pattering onto the silken rug below as I stand in the silence and promise the universe the only thing I can do to make this better.
I swear it. I won’t let anything happen to that little girl. Not while I still have breath in my body.
I will stop Benedict from his insane plan, to protect the King family from their own poison. Even if it costs me everything. Even if it kills me. It’s the only way.
19
Eva
"There isn't more to it than that, so absolutely no comment from anyone in the household," Mrs. Harris is saying when I walk into the servant's hall. Madeline spent too much time in the sun yesterday afternoon, and today it's all she can do to lay in bed and read. She's as pink as a rosebud and miserable with heat exhaustion. I'm furious with Jethro, who decided to take her on a trail ride without asking me if it was alright. He's lucky that the duke hasn't noticed his daughter is laid up in bed yet, but when I finally go tell his grace, Jethro willgetit.
"As if we could say anything, even if we wanted," mutters a maid to her friend, the both of them walking past me to get to their duties.
Mrs. Harris looks toward me as I enter. She's standing near the head of the servant's dining table with Mr. Matthews, and given the serious looks on both of their faces, I'm not sure they have a lot of time for what I'm about to tell them.
"What's wrong now?" Mrs. Harris asks me, the stress lines between her eyes deep and shadowed. "I don't think I could handle any more bad news today."
"You can, and you will," Mr. Matthews assures her with a smile that's more kind than stern.
"I'm sorry for interrupting," I say. Mr. Matthews shakes his head.
"We're done; there's just a small hiccup, that's all," he replies, and I glance around the room. The servants are leaving, their finished breakfast dishes being cleared away by one of the kitchen staff.
"Lady Madeline is overcome from her ride yesterday with Jethro," I say, trying to keep a lid on my anger even though it's simmering inside of me. "He took her out, without sunscreen, on a trail ride. He never asked my permission, and I think she has heat exhaustion now."
The two of them exchange looks.
"Call the doctor," Mr. Matthews says, and Mrs. Harris puts a hand on my shoulder.
"Thank you for telling me; Mr. Matthews will speak with Jethro," she tells me as Mr. Matthews's face looks like a storm cloud and he leaves the room. I don't feel remotely bad about it either. He should have known better than put Madeline in danger like that.
She moves to the house-phone on the wall and speed-dials the doctor, and is on the line with his nurse murmuring softly. Of course the duke would have a concierge medical service to come to his home. I go into the kitchen, hunting down the cook for some lemonade for Madeline, and ice.
I've packed it all into a basket to take upstairs when Mrs. Harris arrives at my elbow.
"I'm supposed to talk to you about your interaction with the duke the other day," she says, looking pained, and my stomach clenches tight. "But not right now. Can we just agree that you are not to ask about the duchess?" She takes the basket from me, and I let out the breath I've been holding.
"I, um, of course," I reply, trying not to ask why it's such a sensitive subject. It's become increasingly obvious she's not in the house. There's no assistant for her. She's never at any of the meals. Nobody ever talks about her. I don't even know her name.
The kitchen bustles around us, but we're in a quiet pocket, Mrs. Harris giving me a serious look.
"I know you must be curious—"
Who wouldn't be? I'd have to be dead not to wonder what's going on.
