Page 11

Briar

A week had passed since the party. Amy had declared it “a resounding success” even though we hadn’t raised what we needed.

We were several thousand dollars short. The garden center received a lot of positive press in the local newspaper, and it seemed like whenever I turned around, more people were visiting or shopping.

A few had even stopped by with donations after reading about our plan.

The sunlight filtered through the office window, casting golden streaks across the cluttered desk, and the scent of aged paper mixed with the faint jasmine wafting through the open window.

My heart fluttered as I tried to stifle a smile.

A delivery was supposed to arrive—one I was eagerly anticipating because it gave me an excuse.

A vision of him floated unbidden into my mind—again.

Lorcan. Such a strange man, yet he had barely been out of my mind since the night of the party.

His quiet intensity lingered like the scent of earth after rain, impossible to forget and oddly comforting.

I pulled out my phone to check my agenda for the day, then flipped back to the text he had sent me. “It was lovely to meet such a beautiful soul. Here is the information I promised.” There had been no response yet to the text I sent about coffee. I bit my lip, trying not to read anything into it.

I flipped on the kettle, expecting Amy to stop by soon.

Her routine rarely varied—stop here for tea, run along the beach, then head to her yoga studio.

I reminded myself to check if any plants at the studio needed re-potting.

I would ask her when she arrived. A crisp breeze blew through the window, bringing more of the floral scent into my sanctuary.

I looked at the journal on my desk, wondering if I would have time to read more before she arrived.

As if my thoughts had summoned her, there was a swift knock on the door before it opened, and Amy’s head appeared.

“Hey, how are you this morning?” she asked, heading straight for the drinks area, where the kettle was already boiling.

“I’m doing well,” I replied, glancing at her as she poured herself a cup. “The old man saltbush should be in today.”

“Oh, the one for Lorcan?” She raised her eyebrows.

Heat crept up my neck and into my cheeks at her playful tone. “That one.”

“Have you heard from him about a date?”

I shook my head. “It’s like when I see him, he’s interested in us getting to know each other, but as soon as he walks out that door—nothing.”

“Maybe he’s part of the witness protection program,” she teased with a laugh.

“Yes, because every introvert who doesn’t express an interest in me must be mixed up with some dangerous criminal.” I chuckled, earning Amy’s grin. “I doubt that’s it.” I took a sip of tea, shaking my head.

She shrugged. “Maybe he’s got a girlfriend?”

My blood ran cold at the thought, but it made some sense.

Amy’s eyes opened wide. “I’m sure that isn’t it, Briar. He’s probably just busy.” She ran her thumb over the handle of her cup. “Okay, other than the delivery, what’s on the schedule for today?”

“I need to check the plants at the yoga studio and see if any new pots are needed.”

Amy sat down across from me. “Definitely one. Why don’t you just head over after your morning stuff? I’ll meet you there after my run.”

“Sure. I should be able to make it back here before the shop opens.”

Amy thrust her chin toward the book on the corner of my desk. “Reading that again?”

“I don’t know what else to do. I feel like I’m letting my mother down and forgetting my promise to her.”

“There’s no way you are. You have to live your life for yourself as well as your promise to her.” She drained her tea. “I’ll meet you later.”

“I’ll see you at the studio around eight thirty.”

As soon as Amy left, I returned my attention to the journal. The leather felt smooth and warm in my hand when I picked it up, as though inviting me into its depths.

I nestled into the armchair, tea on the table beside me, and pulled my feet under me into a cozy little ball. I opened the cover. What was I missing? I turned to a page I’d read a hundred times, feeling as if the key to everything was there but just outside my grasp.

The trial of Lady Isobel had just wrapped up, her peers convicting her of murder.

Her feelings poured out onto the page —part stunned, part resigned.

She expected to be sentenced to the gallows in the next few days.

After all, the man she had killed was an earl, and a very popular one at that.

No one had believed her story. If they had at least thought he had caused her husband’s death, maybe she would have been acquitted.

Of course, she hadn’t said on the stand that she thought he was a vampire, more afraid of an asylum than death.

No wonder my mother had wanted to find out about Lady Isobel’s story. The writing on these pages made little sense. There was no mention of the solicitors or judges, just the trial.

I turned the page, skimming over the writing. Suddenly, my mouth dropped open. This had to be a mistake.

My heart pounded as I leaned closer, my fingertips brushing the faded ink as if it might change under my touch. I read and reread the words written there.

The Most Honorable Marquess of Dún Na Farraige came to visit me today. He told me he was sure I wouldn’t be sentenced to the gallows. I don’t believe him. But something in his demeanor made me wonder what that man is up to.

I remember when Lord O’Cillian’s predecessor introduced him.

We had all wondered who would inherit the title upon his death, having never met his elusive relative.

It made sense when he brought his cousin, Sir Lorcan, to court.

He was introducing his heir to society. The two looked so similar; they could have been brothers instead of cousins.

But no one asked questions. They should have asked questions.

Lorcan O’Cillian? You had to be kidding me.

When he said he’d researched the period extensively, was it because he was related to this Lorcan O’Cillian? He had to be, surely? My teacup shook as I lifted it and took a sip. The warm liquid did little to calm my nerves.

The former Lord O’Cillian’s passing shocked us all because of how young he was. But hunting accidents do happen. It was what they said when my dear Aldric died as well.

I appealed to the Marquess, Lord Lorcan, hoping he would put in a good word for me. He assured me that this would be the case. I hope he’s right. But whatever happens, I know I avenged my husband’s murder.

I closed the book, marking my page with my bookmark.

Of course his name had been so familiar the other night.

I’d read it before. My mind raced as I pieced together the fragments of the story, questions crashing over me like waves.

Could it be true? Could it be that his ancestor was involved in the sentencing of Lady Isobel?

And if it was, why hadn’t Lorcan, modern Lorcan, said anything?

I chewed the inside of my cheek, my eyes flickering to the window as if the answer might be written in the leaves outside.

Was it possible that Lorcan O’Cillian knew about Lady Isobel’s trial because it was his family history that he was recounting?

Had he researched his family history, much like I was researching mine?

Or had the stories been passed down along with the name?

I laughed as I sat back. Or was Lorcan O’Cillian just another of Lady Isobel’s vampires? I forced my thoughts back to reality.

I had more questions than answers. To find the truth, I would need to get Lorcan to talk to me. My fingers curled into fists, my nails digging into my palms. The man may not want to go on a date, but he couldn’t ignore his name in the journal. There had to be a reason.

Maybe if I took the journal to him, if he knew his family had an intimate connection with mine, he might be more willing to share information. I glanced at my phone and the text message he’d sent with the names of a few contacts who might know something.

A knock on my door pulled me out of my reverie.

I left the journal on my desk. When I opened the door, a stack of boxes greeted me.

On top, the silvery-green leaves of the old man saltbush shimmered in the sun.

At least I would have one more chance to speak with him.

My mind churned as I moved the delivery into my office so I could lock up and go to the yoga studio.

Amy’s jaw dropped open as we sat on yoga mats in the middle of the studio. “There’s a Lorcan O’Cillian in the journal? Are you sure they’re related?”

Sweat dripped down the side of my face from the surprise yoga session. “No, but it feels like they have to be. The name is too unusual not to have a connection. I should text him and ask.”

Amy looked thoughtful. “Stop trying to text the man and call him.”

“But…”

She picked up my phone and handed it to me. “Tell him his plant is in.”

“It’s early,” I protested, but Amy waved me off. Against my better judgment, I put the call on speaker.

“Hello?” His voice was crisp, like he’d been awake for hours.

My stomach fluttered. “Uh, Mr. O’Cillian…” Why had I started so formally, as though I didn’t know him? “Lorcan, I mean. This is Briar from the garden center. Your order is ready.”

“Oh, excellent,” he said. A silence dragged on. “Is there something more…?”

“May I ask you a question? On the personal side?” The words flew from my mouth as I gripped the phone hard. I shook my head, catching the look on Amy’s face. I sounded ridiculous.

“Is this about getting coffee? Because I want to, really I—”

“No. It’s about Regency England.” I hesitated before forcing the words out. “I hope this isn’t too personal, but is your family originally from England? I found your name in a journal from Lady Isobel as Lord Lorcan O’Cillian, Marquess of Dún Na Farraige.”

The line was silent. I glanced at the phone, which showed a connection. I waited, my heart pounding.

“Lorcan?” My words were hesitant. “Are you there?”

He cleared his throat. A subtle unease crept into his voice, his words clipped. “I’m here. I… I don’t know if my family would have known hers.”

I pressed my lips into a line. Was he lying to me?

I didn’t know him well enough to be sure.

“Alright. Thank you for allowing me the liberty.” I swallowed, waiting to see if he would say anything, but he remained silent.

“When do you think you can pick up the plant? I’d love to show you the journal entry. ”

Lorcan sighed. “Soon. I have a few things going on, which is also why I haven’t responded about coffee. I may have to head out of town.”

My heart sank. “Alright. Well, let me know if you can make it before you leave.”

“I will.”

I hung up and turned to Amy. “That was… awkward.” I replayed his words in my mind.

“No kidding,” she said, her brow furrowed. “He didn’t sound like someone planning to travel when he ordered the plant. Who is going to take care of it?”

“I’m starting to wonder if you’re right and his girlfriend would.” I attempted to force the corners of my mouth up, but they twitched in protest. “What should I do?”

Amy shrugged. “You’ve got something he wants, right? Take it to him.”

My teeth worried at my lip. No matter how much I wanted to see him or how many questions swirled in my head, how awkward would it be to turn up and his girlfriend open the door?