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I really should have been an actress. I was born for this. No one could doubt me now, not when I was so distressed at the mere thought of my husband being unwell that I would be seen in such a state of undress by all the servants.

“Acton!” I screamed. “Acton! Oh god! Where is he?” I raced into his rooms, past his valet - and the entire act almost fell apart.

He was not meant to be here.He was in Greece, or Italy, or god knows where, gambling away his father’s money and bedding whores. He was far, far away, I had been sure of it. He had not been here when I had gone to bed last night.

But no, I was staring into a pair of startling, ice-blue eyes, made even more brilliant by the tan left behind on his skin by the Mediterranean sun. His dark hair had grown long, falling over his forehead in unruly waves. Azriel Caine was standing right beside the man I had murdered the night before, regarding me with quiet sympathy.

What was he doing here?

“Stepmother,” he said softly, extending a hand. “I am so sorry.”

Stepmother.The title made my skin crawl, coming fromhis mouth at this moment. It had always felt like a cheap jibe. I was his stepmother of course, but for a man three years my senior to say it, and for him to use it now… Perhaps it was my guilty conscience. But I hated him all the more.

I struggled to swallow down the lump that had formed in my throat, remembering the act I had committed to. I clutched my hands to my chest, shaking my head, surprised at myself as tears began to run down my cheeks.

“No.” Even a sob escaped me. “No. Do not say it.”

“He is with the angels, madam.” George, Acton’s valet, moved to my side, and gently placed a blanket around my shoulders. “I found him this morning. He passed through the gates of heaven, peacefully, in his sleep.”

I coughed out a gasp, my gaze falling back on Azriel. His presence had certainly disrupted my plan, but I could adjust. I was good at that. I could make them all believe my pity for Azriel ran as deep as my mourning for my husband.

“It was God that brought you back,” I murmured, sniffling as more tears breached my lashes. “I am so glad that you are here, to say goodbye to him. I could have never forgiven myself if you’d not had the chance to-” I broke off, clutching a hand to my mouth, not wanting to go too far. But my words had the intended effect, sending renewed cries of sorrow down the hall and out amongst the gathered staff.

Only Azriel maintained a level of decorum that was almost unnerving. He watched me closely, then once again raised his hand, beckoning me to the bedside of my husband’s corpse.

“Come.” His voice was deep and gravelly, indeed I’d almost forgotten what it sounded like. It had been so long since I’d seen him. “Let us say goodbye to him together.”

As the servants set about covering the mirrors and the portraits with black cloth, I moved slowly to my husband’s side. I did not want to touch him, I did not want to beanywhere near him. But I sat down beside him on the bed, and took his hand.

My exclamation at just how cold and waxy his skin had become was genuine. I was not at all prepared for how awful he would feel, somehow inexplicably even more revolting than when he was alive. I clapped a hand over my mouth, feigning distress but in truth holding back bile, willing myself not to be ill all over my husband’s deathbed.

“He loved you so much,” Azriel said, a smile warming his face, but not reaching the arctic depths of his eyes. “He died a happy man, knowing he had such a wonderful wife at his side.”

His saccharine words did nothing to soothe my roiling stomach. Or perhaps that was the guilt.

“He loved you, too.” I smiled through my false tears, at my despicable step-son, and committed sin after sin, as I lied to him with an ease that should have alarmed me. “He was so proud of you. Of the man you’ve become. I only know that he would have loved to have seen you married, and a father yourself.”

“In that, I failed him.” Azriel’s head dropped. “We both did. I know how much he loved children.”

My face threatened to betray me for just a moment, as Azriel’s words hit me in the pit of my stomach, and the room around us went silent.

Yes, I had failed to produce any more children for my husband.

His first wife had delivered seven children, all of whom, save Azriel, had died before their first birthdays. She herself went on to die shortly before Azriel was sent away to school, typhoid, I’m told.

My predecessor, wife number two, had at least had the decency to deliver four dead babies, and then die attemptingto bring a fifth into the world. I had not even managed that, and not for my husband’s lack of trying.

But I was willing to be the disappointing, barren bride. No one need know the truth. It did not matter anymore.

At that moment, the priest arrived, saving me any more unnecessary conversation with Azriel. I rose from the bed, releasing the horrible icy hand of my husband’s corpse, and suddenly, the room felt incredibly hot. My head began to spin, and I stumbled.

“Madam?” George took a step towards me, but I could not clearly see his face, as black lines began to dance in my vision.

“I-I am alright,” I insisted, even though I felt most certainly not alright. I just wanted to get out of that room. I just had to get out of here. The walls were closing in on me, and my throat threatened to swell shut. I took two steps towards the door, and as though in the distance, the priest’s voice broke through the fog enveloping my brain, asking if I was well.

And then the floor tipped away from me. I was going to faint.

The relief, the faux sorrow, and amongst all of it, having to face Azriel - it was all too much. I was going to faint, right here in Acton’s bedchamber. I had a blurry thought of,This is going to hurt, before my bones turned to jelly, and I collapsed towards the floor.