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But I won’t go. It’s too important; caring for Maddie keeps me here. If someone is going to shelter her from these monsters, it has to be me.
And the Duke and Benedict, they need you to save them from themselves,a whisper of a thought floats up from the depths of my mind. A shiver races along my skin, a breeze picking up and brushing through the brushes and trees that shelter the edge of the courtyard.
I’m trapped, tied down and tied up by a prison of my own making, all because…
I think I’m starting to feel something for them, these stubborn, horrible, arrogant, entitled men.
I close my eyes, and turn, focusing on the next thing that needs doing: going inside, and preparing for Madeline’s return.
23
Eva
"Don't take your eyes off of her, not for a minute," Mr. Matthews tells me as I go up to get Madeline ready for the dinner party. It's being taken in the gardens as the sun starts to set. It'll be so late for her, but she's been humming excitedly about it ever since she got back from her ride. Matthews' words buzz in my ear as there's a flurry of maids and valets in the hallways, rushing by me as they make sure their masters and mistresses are ready for an evening of dining under the California stars.
I let myself into Maddie's rooms, only to find her surrounded by a circle of dresses. She turns to me, face still smudged from her ride but a lot less clothed, and smiles.
"Which one do you think will look nice?" She asks, and I sigh. She's already got her party shoes on, a pair of light blue slippers with bead embroidery all over them, picking out the constellation of Ursa Minor over the toes, her personal sigil.
"We can decide together," I say, "afteryour bath." I chase her into the bathroom as she giggles, and get her into the bubbles. Lots of soap, perfume, rollers in her long hair, a standing hair-dyer, and what seems like a million bobby pins later, I lead herfrom her rooms in a floating deep blue drop-waisted dress to match her earlier choice in shoes. It flutters around her knees, crepe-backed satin overlaid with three tiers of chiffon. There's streaming ribbons clutching her waist and bunched at her shoulders into straps. She looks like a tiny fairy, dipped in the colors of dusk, and my heart lifts. She knows how beautiful she looks, and the smile on her face is a relief after the hurt Dramelia caused her.
"Shall we—"I'm about to take her hand in mine to help her down the steps when a movement to my left makes me start.
"My lady," Benedict stops us at the top of the stairs, emerging from the shadows like he's been waiting. His appearance has my breath catching in my throat. He's dressed to the tens, white-tie and all, dress tails firm over his shoulders in a way that makes me drag my eyes from him.
I don't want to look at him, not likethat.
He's not talking to me, though. Not even looking at me.
Madeline squeaks in delight as Benedict bends down in a low bow, and he offers her his hand.
"Will you dine with me tonight?" He asks her, and her eyes light up.
"Yes, please, uncle," she says. He straightens and winks at me over her head as she glances down the stairs.
"What are you doing?" I hiss at him, a foot behind him as he starts to descend. "You know she has to eat at her father's side." He's going to get me in shit tonight, I can tell already.
Madeline, oblivious to my whispered rage, chatters to Benedict about her pony, and if he thinks there'll be clementine juice atdinner for her, the sparkling kind she likes.
The ceiling arches over us as we descend the stairs, lights sparkling in the giant chandeliers that throw off rainbows along the deep red rugs. I seethe, a few steps behind them, and Benedict ignores me the whole way.
"I'm sure Cook has mousse for your dessert," he assures Maddie as we reach the foyer, the grand sculpted pillars towering along it.
The gathered party is there, the ladies in dresses that wink with crystal beads, the men all in white tie like Benedict.
None of them can hold a single match to his inferno, though. And they all know it, every single one of them. He lights up the whole foyer, the crowd turning to him like flowers to the sun. Dramelia glides across the carpeted floor, her footsteps barely registering.
"Hollywood, who's your date?" She teases, her nose turned up. Maddie tenses, and I wait for Benedict to give Dramelia some kind of scathing look, or word, to send her scuttling back to her cave where she came from.
"I believe she'smydinner accompaniment," his voice cuts through the group like a scythe, and they part. I didn't even see him there, near the doors, his head held high, eyes like a forest on fire as he crosses the room.
The duke bows to his daughter, and she immediately drops Benedict's hand, curtseying in response. The party bows their heads to the duke. The power shifts, the room seems to expand around the two spinning axes of the duke and his brother. I hold my breath, as their eyes meet. For a moment I wonder if there'll be a fight, here, over who the five-year-old sits with at dinner forpity's sake, but—
Benedict's lips twist into a sarcastic smile and he gives his brother a two fingered salute.
"After you, brother," he drawls. The duke gently puts Madeline's hand over his forearm.
"You're beautiful, my love," he says to her. The group of people exhale silently, but the air quivers with it, and they fall behind the duke as he leads Madeline to the front doors. Footmen stand at each door, holding them open at attention, their eyes straight-forward as the head of the party, the duke and his daughter, pass below the peaked arch above them.
