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L eopold did not return, much to Bella’s dismay. She remained in his private sitting room at his desk, staring through bleary eyes at the book. The vines and brambles and thorns decided not to give up any more secrets. Yet she remained there. Waiting. Hoping.

Nightfall approached and that meant her time was up at Thornhurst Castle. She would have to leave and return to the village, then walk home alone in the gloaming. She dreaded it yet staying was not an option. Emmaline already had suspicions about her disappearances. It was only a matter of time before she started asking more prying questions. There was no explanation Bella wanted to share with her.

Coming here to Thornhurst, being with Leopold, was a secret she held dear to her. She didn’t want to share him or his library with the rest of the world. Eventually, if—when—she broke the curse that would no doubt change. Something for which she was not prepared.

Dickens rapped softly on the door frame to get her attention. When she looked at him, she saw the disappointment, the desperation, the almost loss of hope deep within his gaze.

“It is time, miss.”

She closed the book with a snap, then folded the papers with her writing in half and tucked them into the Celestial Events book. She scooped up both, retrieved her bonnet and gloves but didn’t bother putting them on.

It was hard not to think about the way she touched Leopold’s hands, the way she grasped him, the way he did not pull away. It was hard not to think about the way he looked at her, the way his gaze scanned her face, the way desire shadowed his eyes.

Her heart thumped.

She mustn’t think of him this way. She must stop. She saw no future with him even when the curse was broken. She saw no way to explain him to her father. She saw no way to be with him in society.

“Miss? Are you well?” Dickens remained at his place in the doorway, his face shielded by the shadows, concealing his expression.

“Apologies, Dickens. I was lost in thought.” She did not tell him she was lost in thoughts about Leopold.

She said nothing more as she walked out of his private sitting room and followed Dickens down the hall, the stairs, and to the front door. She half expected Leopold waiting there to bid her farewell, but he wasn’t. Disappointment flooded her.

The carriage waited in its usual spot outside the door. Dickens escorted her out and pulled open the door like he did every night. Hesitation swept through her as she paused there, then cast a glance at the valet.

“Leopold…is he…?”

“Still recovering from his injuries, my lady.”

She nodded understanding. Then she stepped into the carriage. He closed the door behind her, sealing her inside deafening silence. Moments later, the carriage was away, bouncing over the gravel road in its haste to return her to the village.

A sigh escaped her as she peered out the window into the gloom. As the distance expanded between her and the castle, so did the loneliness.

Dickens returned inside the castle and immediately went up the grand staircase to Leopold’s bedchamber. He hid out there all afternoon, almost as though he was avoiding the young lady.

And he suspected he was.

He would have to be blind not to see the way they looked at each other. They way his prince gazed with longing need at the beautiful young scribe. How could he not? She was alluring and kind-hearted. When he entered the private sitting area to remove the breakfast dishes, he walked in on a moment between the two of them. She held his hands clutched in her delicate ones. Her head was tilted back, her lips slightly parted in anticipation.

Interrupting them was the right thing to do. The only thing to do. Not that he wanted to keep them apart, but he feared Leopold faced emotions he had not had for anyone in a very long time.

Certainly, the usual dalliances with ladies existed in the past. They had come and gone like the wind. But he had never looked at those women with such utter overt longing. And when the curse took hold of him, everything changed. He changed.

But as he escorted the lady to the carriage that evening, he understood a deep yearning existed.

She loved him, even if she refused to acknowledge it. Likewise, Leopold loved her, though he refused to acknowledge it.

This was Dickens’ chance to push them together. To make them see they were meant for each other. They belonged together.

At Leopold’s bedchamber door, he knocked as a courtesy before entering. When he pushed open the door, Leopold stood at the windows, his hands behind his back, as he peered through the opaque curtains into the night.

“She left, I take it,” the prince said without turning.

“She did.”

“Another day gone.” He inhaled a deep sigh, expelled it. “The sands of time are running out, Dickens.”

“Yes, I know, my prince.”

“She was able to translate more of the book, but the answer still eludes her.”

Leopold remained with his back to him as he spoke, his voice stripped bare—bereft, almost hollow. Dickens said nothing. Better that way. Better to let him hold on to the last shreds of his pride.

He imagined it was difficult watching the sands slip away. Slow, relentless, cruel. The enchanted hourglass never hurried, never faltered. It simply drained him, grain by grain, and made him watch. To know one’s fate was tied to that. To understand that when the last grain of iridescent sand fell to the bottom, life as he knew it was over.

Dickens tightened his jaw.

It would be the end of Leopold’s cursed life. It would also be the end of the man he had once been.

The end of this castle. The end of himself .

Even so, he held onto hope the girl would find a way.

“I have faith she will find the answer,” Dickens said.

At last, Leopold turned to face him. For the first time, he saw fear in the prince’s eyes. It didn’t sit well with him, for the prince always faced his fate with bravery and courage. He had never let the burden of the curse wear him down. Now, it appeared it was doing just that. Eroding away what was left of him.

“I hope you’re right, Dickens,” he said.

He swiftly moved into the room. “I am right.”

Leopold’s brows drew together in question. “You sound certain about that.”

“I am and you should be, too. After all, it’s clear the girl has feelings for you.”

He gaped at him for a long moment, his jaw clenched. The muscles ticking along the edge. Then, he scoffed, “That’s preposterous.”

“Think what you will. But I saw the look she gave you earlier and the way she held your hands. She looked for you when she left. Hoping to see you before she got into the carriage and it took her back to the village.”

He didn’t know why he said it. It wasn’t like him to push himself into Leopold’s business. But for this—for her—he had to make him see she wasn’t giving up. He shouldn’t either.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear the man blushed. When he got that under control, Leopold’s face registered regret for not seeing her off. Though he didn’t lie to the girl, the prince was still recovering from his injuries, it seemed kinder to tell her that than to tell her he was hiding in his room like a coward.

“The sun has almost set,” Leopold said, ignoring his last words. “We best get to the garden.”