AllFreeNovel
Share Us
If she only knew what her brother, her brothers, have done to me. How they've put their hands on me. And as she surveys me, the churning in my gut builds, a fiery ball of acid, and starts to creep up the back of my throat.
"You don't put up with a lot of nonsense do you?" She asks. There's a crisp knock at the door, saving me from speaking because I don't think I can. Not with the hot-cold sensation rolling across my skin, or the scratchiness in my throat.
"Come in," Ruby says, relaxing back into her seat with a sigh. The door swings open, and a maid pushing a cart, laden with items for tea, arrives.
I can't help it. My eyes widen. This is a proper tea, meant for an afternoon chat between old friends. Not for a mid-evening discussion directed from master to servant.
I go still, my body feeling like it's weighed down, sticking me to my chair.
The maid glances at me, her eyes wide to see me sitting like I am, in front of one of the family. This'll be all over the servant's hall the second she gets downstairs.
"Thank you," Lady Ruby demure as the maid retreats with one last glance at me. I'm going to have so much explaining to do. My regret for coming continues to grow, and I wish that I'd said Maddie needed me, or something.
The door clicks shut and Lady Ruby gets up. My mouth opens in shock as she pours me a cup of tea.
"Sugar?" She asks, but I shake my head, not even able o make a noise. She sits, with her own tea in hand, and gestures to a plate heaped with sandwiches and another with scones and delicately frosted pastries. "Please, help yourself. And try not to look so horrified. I offer hospitality to anyone who sits in these chairs." Her mouth quirks. "I'm not my brother."
I want to ask her what she means but instead the words pop out-
"Which one?" I can't help it, but she smiles, biting into her lower lip, like she's trying not to laugh.
"They're all a bit ridiculous," she offers, which well, okay. True. Ridiculously brooding, handsome, complicated, and terrifying. But I can't say that to her.
"Thank you for the tea." I sip mine, and the milk in it swirls, clouding the liquid.
"It's a bit of a bribe," she pauses, "I always feel that people will agree with you more easily if you tempt them with food first." She gazes at me over her cup, the steam lifting off of it in a curl. "Oh don't look so horrified, I'm not going to ask you to do anything awful or horrid. I'm asking you to attend an event I will be hosting, here, in a few weeks. I'd sent out invites when I knew we'd be coming back, and absolutely everyone will be coming."
"I…" The words are stuck in my throat, half-formed and confused. Me, attend an event, for her? What kind of event would that even be?
"I'm hosting a ball," she says, eyes sparkling with amusement, crunched up like she can tell I'm confused and don't know how to answer. "A masquerade, obviously, everything else is so vulgar. How are you supposed to be chased, or chase, if everyone can see your face and know that you're behaving like an absolute slut?"
My teacup clinks heavily against the saucer, and my throat goes dry.
She can't possibly mean…
"I can't," the words scratch across my tongue, my throat hoarse. "I couldn't. Not if you intend for me to- "
"Dress up, in one of my own gowns, of course, yes, I do. Exactly that." She narrows her eyes, this time in determination, and stares at me from across the low coffee table between us. She leans forward, and in that moment the angles of her face transform. She looks exactly like Benedict when he's about to take something he wants. When he knows that 'no' will do nothing to stop him.
"You will be there," she says softly, "at my side, to accompany me at all times, and you will appreciate every moment of it."
I am frozen, stiff, shocked at her invitation, even more struck by how she framed it.
At her side.
At all times…
Her fingers tremble on the handle of her tea-cup, and she looks away, for a brief second, the harsh and demanding expression slipping.
There is something she's not telling me. I'm sure there's so many things she's not telling me.
Something, a feeling, unfurls inside of me, protective, like the spreading wings of a bird. She looks smaller in this instant, tiny, as if her shadow is shrinking in on itself.
I want to ask, but I don't know her well enough to do it. But I've seen that look before. When someone's being hunted, or haunted, by a bad memory.
"I'm honored that you would think to invite me," I say, putting as much warmth into the words as I can. I want to breathe the color back into her cheeks. She's gone pale, and drawn.
She looks at me, smiling tremulous.
