Page 29

M orning came.

When she awoke, her neck hurt. At some point in the night, she moved to the small two-seat sofa unable to sit upright anymore. The decorative pillow under her face was scratchy and uncomfortable. Her back ached. Her head throbbed. Her stomach growled. She was still in her dress from the day before. Her fingers were still stained with ink.

Sunlight seeped around the edges of the boarded window. She sat upright, the book that was on her chest falling to the floor with a thump. The candles she had burned were down to nothing but nubs and snuffed out of their own accord.

But she had made progress. The book revealed one more line to her.

The final form shall take root.

The final form must refer to the beast form. Leopold would forever be a beast when the sky was blind, and the stars did not shine.

A swift knock on the library door sounded. She stiffened and waited as the door opened a moment later and Gerald stood there gaping at her.

“Miss?”

“Oh, is it morning already?”

She gave a yawn and a stretch, pretending as though she merely fell asleep reading. She reached down and picked up the fallen book, closing it with a snap. It was the book about celestial events. She tucked it in her arm, holding it.

“Did you sleep here?”

“Yes, I suppose I did. I was exhausted when I returned yesterday. I must have fallen asleep reading.”

It was, after all, the truth.

She forced a smile and cut a glance to the cursed book, now closed, still on the writing desk. Rising, she stepped casually toward the desk and picked it up along with the parchment with her notes. She held it in her arms along with the book on celestial events.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Half-past eight, miss.”

Oh, gods. She missed the carriage. “I’m late.”

She hurried past Gerald. He said something about breakfast, but she wasn’t interested. She needed to change her dress and get to town, hoping Leopold’s carriage was still there waiting for her. If he wasn’t…she didn’t know how she would find her way to the shadowy castle.

Emmaline was coming out of Bella’s room when she bound up the stairs.

“There you are, miss. I was looking for you.” Her gaze flickered up and down her. “You’re still wearing yesterday’s gown?”

“Yes, and I need you to help me change. Quickly.”

Emmaline followed her into her room. Bella tossed both books on her still made bed. She kicked off her shoes. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on her dressing table and halted. She hardly recognized herself. Deep shadows lay under her eyes. Her face was lined with fatigue. Sprigs of hair sprung from the side of her head. Her perfect chignon was untidy. In a frenzy, she tugged the hairpins from her hair, dropping them on the table.

Emmaline was at her wardrobe pulling out a pale blue dress.

“You’re leaving again today?” the girl asked.

“I have to. I must.” She pulled her fingers through her tangled hair.

When she looked at Emmaline, she saw the worry on the girl’s face. Then her gaze flickered to the book resting on the bed.

“It’s that book, isn’t it?”

“What about the book?” Bella tried to make it sound as though it was nothing special, nothing important.

“You’ve never let it out of your sight since the night of the fire.”

Bella gaped at her. What could she say to that? She was right, of course. She had carried it with her almost everywhere. Emmaline’s gaze met hers.

“What is it?”

“A translation. Nothing more.” The words rushed out of her. She tried her best to make it sound as though it was nothing more than an ordinary book. “Help me with the dress, Em.”

She turned, pulling her hair to the side and waited for the girl to unbutton the back of her gown. There was a long silence, then she put aside the dress she held and went to work. Bella blew out a breath between her lips, grateful for Emmaline’s help.

Minutes later, she was dressed in the pale blue day dress. Her hair was tidied once again. Rather than her normal chignon, she pulled it back at the nape and tied it with a matching blue ribbon. She didn’t want to take the time to fuss with the elaborate hair style. She grabbed her bonnet, her gloves, and then slipped her feet into her shoes.

“Thank you, Em. I hope you know how much I appreciate you.”

“I do.” The girl chewed on her lower lip. “But are you certain you have to leave again?”

“Yes,” she said with conviction. “Send a note to Lord Vincent. Tell him I finished his translation. You can find it and his book in the library. I left it there on the desk.”

“Yes, miss.”

“I’ll be home by nightfall.”

And then she picked up the books and left, her heart pounding a wicked beat as she hurried down the stairs and out the front door without stopping for breakfast. She hoped the carriage was still there, waiting for her to arrive. If it wasn’t, she decided, she’d start walking. Determination pounded through her. She had to get there. She had to see Leopold.

She hoped she didn’t have to start walking.

At the edge of town, with her legs burning from her hurried exertion, she thought she spied the carriage with the familiar Thornhurst emblem of knotted thorns, vines, and blooms. Pushing herself to go faster, a jolt of relief spiked through her. It was truly there. There, standing beside it, was Dickens with a pinched look on his face as his dark eyes scanned the crowd.

She started to lift her hand in a wave when a sudden movement to her left caught her attention. A familiar voice called her name. She halted where she was, startled to see Lord Vincent headed right for her.

Oh, gods, what was he doing here in Driftbell? She was dismayed to see him there and that he had not returned to his palatial home in Port Leclare.

“Good morning,” he called, a smile plastered on his face as he greeted her.

She did not want to see him. She did not want to delay getting to Leopold. She cast a glance toward Dickens who had stiffened next to the carriage. His dark, baleful eyes under bushy brows observed with keen interest as Lord Vincent halted next to her.

“I’m delighted to see you here this morning,” he said, reaching for her gloved hand.

She didn’t want to be rude, so she allowed him to take it. A breath of a kiss passed over the back of it. Then she tugged it away and clutched the books to her chest.

“Lord Vincent, what a surprise. You stayed in town?” Her voice was breathless from her near sprint to get to town.

“I thought it most prudent since it was late when I left last night. Are you well? You look a bit flushed.”

“I’m fine, thanks, but I’m running late for an appointment. I must go.”

His gaze landed on the book in her arms. He nodded toward it. “At the bookshop?”

He mistakenly assumed her appointment was there. How was she going to get away from him? She kept her focus on him, watching as the morning sun played upon his features. She didn’t want to glance at Dickens and give away her next move.

Before she answered, he extended his arm to her. “I’ll escort you.”

He was determined to keep her close. A sense of urgency to get to Leopold pounded through her. She opened her mouth to reply, when Dickens was abruptly at her side.

“My lady, your carriage awaits.” When he spoke, he gave a low bow.

“Who’s this?” There was no mistaking the suspicion lacing Lord Vincent’s words.

“This is…” But her words trailed off, an explanation escaping her.

“Her servant, sir,” Dickens replied and gave Lord Vincent a bow. Then he turned to her and extended his hand to the carriage. “Shall we, my lady?”

Confusion etched on Lord Vincent’s face. She didn’t want to explain her situation. It was too much. She dipped a curtsy.

“Good day, Lord Vincent.”

Then she hurried toward the carriage waiting for her. Dickens fell in step behind her. As they approached, he moved around her to open the door. She climbed inside quickly, sitting back into the cushioned seat and expelling a breath, placing the books in her lap. Dickens followed, closing the door behind him and moments later they were off.

“Thank you, Dickens.”

As the carriage turned toward the road, she glanced out the window and saw, with much dismay, Lord Vincent watching them hurry away. A sense of foreboding flooded her. She hoped he would not follow, that he would forget he saw her. It was almost too much to hope.

Dickens settled into the seat across from her. “It appeared you needed assistance, my lady. I was glad to oblige.”

“I appreciate it. Apologies for being late. I overslept.” A feeble excuse, but it was the truth.

“Who was that man?” he asked, sounding more curious the accusatory.

“A business associate. I translated some text for him. Nothing more. Yesterday, he called on my maid.”

A bushy brow lifted. “Your maid?”

“He has an interested in her.” She waved it away as though it were nothing.

“I daresay that interested is not in her but you.”

Her eyes snapped up to him. “Why do you say that?”

“My lady, I do still have keen senses despite my advanced age. It’s not so difficult to see how he looked at you.”

Oh, blast it all. She didn’t need that kind of attention. But it was hard to ignore the way he gazed after the carriage as they rode by.

“I hope he doesn’t follow us,” she said with fervent conviction.

“Fear not, my lady. There are few who have the courage to approach Thornhurst Castle.”

He sounded so sure of himself, it was hard not to believe him. “I do hope you’re right, Dickens.”

As soon as they arrived at the castle, she leapt out of the carriage the moment it halted. There, standing in front of the open door waiting for her, was Leopold. Pale shadowy light framed him, as if he’d been waiting there for hours. Perhaps he had. Her arrival was normally after sunrise. He was dressed, composed, not entirely whole, surely, but unyielding the same.

A dark high-collared coat hung open down the front, tailored but looser than usual which, she assumed, was meant to conceal the bandages wrapped around his torso. Beneath it, a soft black shirt, unbuttoned at the collar to hint at the expanse of smooth skin below, and untucked at the waist. Black trousers and his polished boots completed the look.

His dark hair was tousled as it usually was with one lock falling over his forehead, fluttering in the faint breeze.

There was no cravat. No waistcoat. Merely the quiet strength of the man who showed up to greet her.

The moment she was out of the carriage and their gazes met, the question glinting in his eyes faded away to be replaced by the light of elation. He didn’t bother to hide his delight. A sweeping sensation coiled low and hot in her gut at his unabashed adoration. She was completely caught off guard with the sudden surge of feelings. Heat flamed in her cheeks. And though she met him on many occasions, today was different. Today, she sensed a deeper emotion emanating from him.

Saints preserve her. Her breath caught in her throat as he reached a hand to her in invitation. Gods, he was handsome in every way.

“You came,” he said, his voice low and soft in the quiet morning. As though he worried she may not arrive at all.

“I overslept,” she said.

He reached out for her hand as Lord Vincent did. But for Leopold, she jostled the books in her arms to willingly place her hand in his. He covered it with his free one. He held it there, the warmth of his skin pressing through the cotton gloves. A fervent wish to touch his hand without the barrier of the glove clanged through her.

He studied her for a long moment, the only sound the breeze swishing through the trees of the nearby forest. That and the wicked pounding of her heart against her chest. He tilted his head to one aside.

“Your hair is different.”

She flushed again. “Yes, I didn’t have time to—”

“I like it. It suits you,” he said. “Much better than the other way.”

Behind her, Dickens cleared his throat. “Shall we go inside, then?”

“Ah, yes.” Leopold released her hand and stepped aside, motioning for her to enter first. “Would you like tea?”

She stepped into the grand foyer and spun to face him. “No. Leopold, I have news.”

He blinked surprise at her sudden announcement. For a moment, they stood staring at each other and the words she practiced fled her mind. Did he remember last night? Did he recall, as the beast, that she sensed him outside the manor while Lord Vincent made his departure? Did she tell him she worked in the library into the wee hours of the night while listening to his distant howls?

“What news?” Hope tinged his words.

“I had a breakthrough.” She reached inside the cover of the cursed book and slipped out the parchment with her messy script. She hated her handwriting was almost indecipherable, but she wanted to get down the words before they disappeared. “I was able to translate this line. When the sky is blind and the stars dare not shine. ”

He leaned closer to her to get a better look at the paper, the scent of him washing over her. That familiar smell of winter and wildfire she came to associate uniquely him. That and the heat radiating off him that warmed her.

“What does it mean?” he asked.

“I think it has something to do with the new moon.” She lifted her gaze from the parchment. Close. He was standing so close. “The new moon is coming.”

Elation ignited deep in his eyes with a hint of relief. “Dickens, bring tea and breakfast to my sitting room. We will work in there today.”

“As you wish, my prince.”