Page 26 of The Vampire Trap

I pull up to our manor expecting Sabrina or Father to greet me with a scolding. But it’s only the house steward who wordlessly opens the door.

“Is Father in his study?” I ask, seeing the dining room unusually empty at this hour.

“He left for Gloamfarrow early this morning on urgent business.” He pauses briefly. “And Lady Sabrina said she would be gone until evening.”

I murmur my thanks and stride down the hall. Their absence means I am free to get some much-needed sleep without interruption.

“Lord Browning is in the garden.” Before I can step foot on the stairs leading to the second floor, the house steward adds with more than a hint of irritation, “He’s been waiting for you since first thing this morning.”

Groaning inwardly, I change course. It looks like sleep will have to wait a little longer. I expected to talk to Benjamin soon after returning home, but I had hoped to nap for an hour or two first, so I could tell him everything I need to with a clearer head.

I pause to add my borrowed book to a few others on the entry table near the doors to the back property, not wanting the maids to mistakenly think it out of place and place it on one of the many bookshelves throughout the house.

I find Benjamin pacing by the oak tree, irritably swatting wildflowers and tall blades of grass, stray leaves sticking out from a bush—anything within reach—with a stick.

“How long have you been here?” I ask as I near.

He whirls to face me. Relief. Anger. Impatience. Worry. Each emotion vies for dominance in his features. He flings the stick off to the side and strides toward me.

“Demons and saints, Zadie! Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?” Strong hands clasp my shoulders, giving me a slight shake. His fingers press into my skin.

I wince. “Ben?—”

“What’s wrong Zadie? Did he hurt you? Where? Why didn’t you say?—”

“You’rehurting me,” I interrupt him before the barrage of questions can continue without giving me half a breath to answer any of them. I give his hands a pointed glance.

It takes a few seconds for him to comprehend. With a sheepish look, he releases me and steps back.

“I’m fine, Benjamin. He didn’t hurt me.” I say slowly. I manage to resist the urge to rub the ache from my arms. “As you can see, I’ve returned home safely.”

Benjamin’s worry over my well-being abates like fog under the sun’s harsh glare. He frowns, reminding me of a much younger version of him.

“He still lives?” Benjamin’s agitation is no more intense than when I overheard him talking to Oscar and Wallace. Only now, his upset feels needlessly excessive. “Tell me that you at least found the night-forged silver?”

I stare at him, careful to school my face into a blank mask despite the dull throb starting at my temples.

“Then the night was a failure.” The utter lack of confirmation or denial doesn’t stop him from coming to his own conclusions.

Lack of sleep has made me weary, and it’s all I can do to keep my patience in check. I cannot expect Benjamin to change what he believes to be true on my word alone and without proof. He will think I’ve been compelled—not that I would be able to blame him. If the situation were reversed, I would feel as much of him.

“We will have to take care of him in sleep—whenever that is—did you at least find out that much?” he continues, waving his hands about as he thinks aloud.

I cross my arms at his condescending tone. When I still don’t respond, Benjamin finally pauses in his pacing to meet my eye.

“You’re not the only one eager to stop these senseless murders. But do not to speak to me as if I’m incompetent.” I hold up my hand when he opens his mouth. “We knew adjustments to the plan would be needed as it progressed. While last night didn’t go as planned, rushing things at this point will only risk everything we have done thus far.”

I lift my chin and hold him in place with an unwavering gaze, despite the uncertainty and hope warring in my heart.

I’m surprised he doesn’t try to cajole me into acting on the impromptu plan brewing in his head.

“The viscount has invited me to dinner at the end of the week and has requested to meet me at the library every day until then.”

“Is there something more going on between you two than you’ve let on?” he blurts.

I continue as if he hadn’t spoken, “I agreed to join him, but I would be spending today to rest and recover from yesterday’s ordeal.” Then, somewhat harsher than I intend, I add, “I reallyamtired.”

Those four words easily burrow under his skin. A muscle in Benjamin’s jaw twitches from how tightly he grinds his teeth as I speak. Most people might think he’s being patient. Except, knowing him as I do, it’s obvious he’s struggling to rein in his boorish nature. When it comes to important matters, he only wants the facts—everything else can wait until after.

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