Page 30 of The Gods Time Forgot

Thirty

Finn stood watching in the window as a black carriage rolled out of the drive. Awfully early for visitors , he thought.

The fog was dense and the streetlamps were still on, casting a murky glow over the footpath.

He hadn’t slept after leaving Rua’s bedchamber. Leaving in the first place had been a mistake. He thought about returning, but on the chance she’d fallen asleep, he didn’t want to wake her. After what she’d endured publicly, she deserved a respite.

But his memories, returning to him piecemeal, would not let him rest.

He found himself smiling at the memory of what was likely the first day they’d met. The day she had driven a spear through his chest and changed everything. She had been clever and mysterious, much like she was now. But she was tied to her sisters, goddesses of sovereignty and war.

Rua was unlike anyone he’d ever met. A free spirit in the truest sense, torn between her desires and her instincts, he could never be sure which part of her was winning. Even with the uncertainty, he didn’t know how to let her go.

After all this time searching for validation in Manhattan, he’d found it in her. She was the missing piece, but she wanted to go home—to her home—because this wasn’t her life.

But what reason did Rua have to come to New York, centuries later, if not to find him? He would be a fool to think it a coincidence.

Finn checked his timepiece and noted that it was just after six in the morning, still wondering who was in that carriage.

He walked out of his bedchamber, down the long corridor, past the library and the grand staircase. Mustering up the nerve, he stood outside Rua’s room. The door had been left slightly ajar.

He was about to knock when he heard Mrs. Harrington speak.

“My lord, what are you doing?” she asked, looking alarmed.

It was highly inappropriate for him to be visiting Rua’s bedchamber, especially at this hour. He wasn’t sure what to say, knowing that whatever he came up with would reflect poorly on Rua.

“I thought I heard crying. I wanted to see if she was all right,” he said, grimacing at his poor excuse of a lie.

Mrs. Harrington stared at him with pursed lips. “I assure you, my lord, she’s fine.” Then she forced a smile. “I think it best we let my daughter rest.”

Finn nodded in agreement, wondering what Mrs. Harrington was doing up. She didn’t look tired; rather, she looked energized. Perhaps she hadn’t gone to bed after last night’s event.

She stood in the hallway, waiting for him to leave Rua’s doorway. Reluctantly, he moved, saying nothing as he walked past her and descended the stairs.

Feeling unsettled, Finn continued through the foyer and out the front doors. He crossed the street and walked north. The fog added to his general sense of unease, which increased tenfold as he traveled. He rarely traversed the area north of Seventy-Third Street. The last time he’d been past here was when he had followed Rua into the woods during the promenade.

There was no particular reason why he stayed away from the area; his aversion was innate. Even that day, when he’d stopped Rua, he’d felt all sorts of wrong, like something terrible would happen if they went any deeper into the woods.

In the distance, he could make out a carriage pulled to the side of the road. As he approached, he recognized it as the same one that had left the Harringtons’ driveway.

What were the Harringtons up to? He walked faster, feeling like he needed to find out.

As he approached, the carriage rolled away, seemingly unaware of his presence.

Finn stood on the footpath, wondering what about this carriage had him so curious. Fretful, even.

Or maybe it was the lingering feeling of his last conversation with Rua clouding the rest of his morning. He wouldn’t feel right until he talked to her and told her he’d been mistaken. This world had given them a second chance. It was the only one in which they could work, free and clear of her sisters.

So, if Rua was leaving, he wanted to go with her, if she would have him.

The hour was ungodly, but Finn didn’t care. His mind was made up, the engagement was off, and he was going to tell Richard now.

“Good morning, my lord.” A surprised butler greeted Finn at the Fitzgeralds’ door.

“I must speak with Richard at once,” Finn said, knowing that he’d be up. For all his faults, Richard was a hard worker and rose with the sun.

“Just a moment,” the butler said.

A minute later he returned, instructing Finn to follow him into the breakfast room.

Suddenly, Finn regretted his hasty decision to come and speak to Richard. What if Annette was up having breakfast with her father?

It was too late. It had to be done. Bracing himself, Finn entered the room.

His shoulders relaxed when he saw that Richard was alone.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Richard asked with a cocked brow. “Come, sit.” He gestured for Finn to sit down.

“I’m not staying,” Finn said.

“Is that so?”

“I’ve come to let you know I will not be proceeding with the engagement.”

Richard’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Well, I’d rather not start a marriage on threat of blackmail, and to be frank, I’m not interested in your daughter.”

Richard rose to his feet. “And what? You think you’re going to ride off into the sunset with the Harrington girl?” he jeered, shaking his head. “That ship has sailed, Donore. That ship has sailed.” He sat back down, unable to get a handle on his emotions.

“What I do is no longer your concern.”

“You can’t renege,” Richard said, holding his hands up as if to say it was final. “I’ve already sent the announcement. It’ll hit the papers later today.”

“I suggest you find a way to undo it,” Finn said as a distant thought crossed his mind. Why hadn’t Richard yet threatened to expose Rua as a means to make him agree, as he’d done so many times before?

“Do you know what it’ll look like if you walk out on my daughter?” Richard asked, the veins in his neck starting to show.

“I imagine it’ll look like your family has a problem.”

“You’re finished in this town, Donore! You hear me? Finished!” Richard roared.

Finn kept his face neutral as he imagined everything he’d worked so hard to build vanish into thin air.

“Goodbye, Richard,” Finn said, and walked out the door. The relief he’d expected did not come. He’d gambled his life away on a chance. He didn’t even know if the woman he’d done it for wanted him.

Finn gave the butler a nod as the man opened the front door for him.

He heard Richard’s heavy footsteps following after him.

“Donore?” he called. Finn turned around to face him.

“I’ll take pleasure in knowing that you’ll never see that worthless whore again.” He laughed, raising his arms in the air. “You’ve thrown it all away, and for what?”

Before he uttered the last syllable, Finn landed a punch on Richard’s jaw, sending him flying.

“Go to hell,” Finn said, and he left.

His heart was racing, not from the adrenaline but from the fear of what Richard meant. He’d said he’d never see Rua again. What could he possibly have meant by that? How could he possibly know something like that?

Something was happening to Rua. He could feel it in his bones. He cursed, knowing he should have checked in on her this morning. It had been too much of a coincidence to find Mrs. Harrington hovering in the hallway at that hour of the morning. She was in on it. They all were. He started to run.

Minutes later he barged into the Harrington household.

“Ned?” he shouted. “Ned?” He stomped toward Mr. Harrington’s study.

“For heaven’s sake, what is the meaning of all this shouting?” An annoyed Mrs. Harrington hurried toward him.

“Where is Ned?” he asked, thinking he might be able to put a stop to whatever it was they were doing to Rua.

“He’s indisposed,” she said coldly. He should have known better than to ask for Ned when Flossie had always been the one in charge.

Finn glared at her. “Where is she?”

“I don’t like your tone.” Mrs. Harrington tilted her chin upward, believing she had the upper hand. And for now, she did. If Finn wanted answers, he was going to have to acquiesce.

He swallowed back his distaste and said, “Surely there’s been some sort of mistake?”

“My lord, I assure you there has not. This has been in the works for quite some time.”

Flossie dared to look at him with a pitying expression. He took a deep breath, trying his best not to lash out at her. He would never allow Rua to be abandoned to this fate.

“Let us go sit down, hmm?” she asked, guiding him toward the gold room. A lavish room he had previously avoided at all costs. “My daughter is being sent somewhere to get well.”

He and Mrs. Harrington sat by the massive arched window, on two different dark-green embroidered settees. Separating them was a narrow table with a gilded edge.

He turned back to Mrs. Harrington. “Rua is well,” he insisted.

“There! You see? Rua.” She repeated the name with disgust. “I haven’t the slightest notion where she came up with that little pet name for herself. That should tell you how well she is,” she scoffed. “My daughter’s name is Emma. No one has ever called her Rua. She made it up!”

Finn let out a little laugh that Mrs. Harrington mistook for shock. Rua hadn’t made it up; he’d given her that name a thousand years ago. What would Mrs. Harrington think about that?

She nodded, thinking he was finally coming round to her side. “Perhaps you didn’t spend enough time with her to know that she had become positively unhinged. I shall tell you something that will put your mind at ease once and for all. I am sure you have heard the stories of her disappearance over the summer?”

He hesitated, and she noticed.

“Despite my efforts, they spread like wildfire, so there’s no point in denying it.”

“I heard them,” he conceded.

Mrs. Harrington nodded. “Well, all of them are true. I’ll deny this if you ever mention it to anyone, of course.”

“Of course,” he said, sensing that Mrs. Harrington was in the mood to talk, excited to be ridding herself of her problem. And Finn was too involved not to want every last detail.

“I’m not certain if you’re familiar with the town of Conleth Falls? It’s a good bit north and quite the picturesque little place despite being home to Boa Island.”

He shook his head.

“Well, what they don’t advertise is that it is a haven for the lowest kinds of people—devil worshippers, heathens, and the like. They lie in wait, hiding in the fringes of polite society, waiting to capture your unsuspecting daughters. Of course, I was warned of the legends detailing the history of the woods, but as a God-fearing woman, I wouldn’t dare entertain them. Alas, it is those very woods where our daughter disappeared to, and that is where she died.”

“Died?” A pit formed in his stomach.

“So to speak. We searched all night and day until finally we found her. She just walked out of the woods and up the stairs to the house like nothing had happened. Well”—she dropped her voice lower, brows raised—“we found someone. Certainly not the daughter I knew. It has been quite a struggle for some time. Nothing about her behavior is normal, but we pretended it was, and she pretended to try.”

Finn wondered if she was going to mention the man who had lost his life in the process of trying to find Rua. He could only imagine what Mrs. Harrington would do if she knew there were two murdered men attached to Rua’s name.

Despite the deceit of it all, he felt more assured that he had done the right thing in covering up the murder on Greene Street. If only he knew a way to help Rua now.

Mrs. Harrington paused and put her teacup down. “I should have known she was gone the moment she refused to answer to Emma, but the doctor assured us it was a temporary setback.”

“So, then what changed in a few days?” he asked.

“Try as you might, you cannot reduce my decision to a single event, my lord. From the moment we returned to the city, she has been tormenting me with her poor behavior. I lie awake dreaming of whom she might offend next. Everyone was turning on her. Can you imagine if Ned were to lose out on such an investment because of a nonsensical young woman? And heaven knows how it would have affected your good name as well. I should hate to think on it.”

“Mrs. Harrington, let me assure you, there is no world in which you could have the slightest effect on my reputation.” Though that was a lie, apparently.

Her eyes widened, her voice feverish. “Well, did you know that she told Mara she murdered that man on purpose?”

Finn’s stomach tightened. “What man?”

“The one that I hired to find her in Conleth Halls and bring her home. Mara finally felt comfortable sharing with me the truth. God only knows what happened in those woods. I couldn’t risk any of it being true. She belongs behind bars, but I’ll settle for Boa Island.”

“Mara told you this?” he asked.

“A few weeks ago.” Mrs. Harrington nodded, a satisfied smile returning. “Don’t tell me that wasn’t enough to send everything toppling to the ground. I did this to save the hotel. The Fitzgeralds insisted upon it—the contracts required it.”

It was all beginning to make sense, the way the Fitzgeralds appeared to overlook scandal after scandal. Ned Harrington must have made assurances, and, at the expense of Rua’s life, Richard had used Finn’s affections for her against him.

“Mrs. Harrington, I implore you reconsider.”

“This has been in the works for quite some time. Weren’t you there when the contracts were amended?”

Had he been, he never would have allowed it to happen. His silence was answer enough.

“My lord, you are quite out of the loop, it seems. I understand that my daughter’s brash manner has a certain allure for those unfamiliar with American social customs, but she was a liability through and through. A dangerous one at that.”

“Where is she now?”

“On her way upstate to Boa Island. She left early this morning with Mara and Mrs. Smith.”

The black carriage. His heart sank, and his hands balled into a fist. He was so close; he could have intercepted her.

Finn rose to his feet.

“Where are you going, my lord?”

He was going to find Rua. He would burn the world to the ground before he let her spend a minute inside an asylum. How quickly he’d succumbed to a life that was morally gray.

“Naturally, that’s none of your concern,” he said with a smile, thinking of all the times he’d asked Rua the same thing. “Though I thought you might like to know that I called off my engagement this morning.”

Mrs. Harrington’s face fell.

“I was going to speak to Ned today about it. I wanted to marry your daughter, but alas, she’s gone now.”

All color drained from Mrs. Harrington’s face. None of this meant anything, of course. Rua’s murder on Greene Street had truly ruined all hope for a redemption arc, assuming that Richard would release that news if he got a whiff of a happily-ever-after for Finn, but it was worth it to see the look on Mrs. Harrington’s face. For her to think she might’ve sent her daughter away all for naught.