Page 8 of The Secrets of Roan Island

I remain where I am, expecting the woman to leave, but instead she takes hold of the covers and yanks them down the bed. “Come on, girl. There’s no lady’s maid. I’m all you’ve got, and you’ll need help with the buttons. I’ve let you sleep long enough.”

“Forgive me.” I straighten my nightwear and swing my feet down to the plush black and gold rug. “I never oversleep like this. I guess the wine was stronger than I’m used to.”

The woman caws a laugh, one piercing syllable as she crosses the room. “I’m no fool, Miss Rose. Why are you really here?”

Taken aback by the bite in Mrs. Darning’s tone, I tilt my head, studying her with a new consideration. “Mr. Roan invited me.”

Mrs. Darning’s thin eyebrows lift.

“And to secure a donation for my research.”

It’s clear this woman is loyal to the family and influential in the household. Perhaps she can champion my case and appeal to Hammish Roan on my behalf. This grant will not only save my position and my work, it will help countless women. But I’ll need to win her over first. “Have you ever been to Essik College, Mrs. Darning?”

I slip into the bloomers laid out on the chaise at the end of the bed, then don the chemise.

Mrs. Darning unties the bustle. “Can’t say I have.” Then with a tight grip, she turns me and fastens the bustle around my waist. “Put on the petticoat.”

I do as directed, chattering about my job at the college as Mrs. Darning opens the buttons that trail from the high neck tothe bustle. When she’s finished, she helps me into the dress, the soft fabric sliding deliciously over my skin. It’s nicer than the dresses I typically wear, made of a smooth, glossy satin.

While Mrs. Darning fastens the covered buttons up my back, I continue talking casually of the classes I teach and my friends. By the time I’m ready—my hair even piled and pinned into a style that has left beautiful tendrils draped around my neck—I’m hopeful that Mrs. Darning will prove to be an ally to my cause. I can only test it by digging a little.

“Has Hammish Roan ever given a donation to Essik College before? I know he’s been generous with The Essik Sanitorium, but it might be helpful to know what sort of projects appeal to him.”

“He gives to those he deems fit.” Mrs. Darning straightens my bustle.

“Do many people come here to appeal to him as I have? The man who brought me out to the island made it seem like he never brought people this way. And the grounds”–I let out a little laugh– “I thought the place was deserted.”

“How long do you plan to stay, Professor?” Her words are precise, practiced. The hairs on my neck stand on end, an intuitive warning.

“I’m not sure yet,” I reply carefully. It’s clear she doesn’t want my visit to last long, but I’m not sure why. “Mr. Roan invited me to stay through the Solstice holiday.” I step forward and turn to look at her, recognizing she avoided my original question. “How often do you have guests on the island?”

The woman’s expression stays pointedly neutral. “Mr. Roan likes to entertain occasionally.”

“I’m sure those are quite the events.” I force a little levity into my voice. “The dinner I had last night was exquisite. Do they ever host guests for longer periods of time? They certainly have room for it.”

“Occasionally,” Mrs. Darning says with tight lips. She turns away, clutching her skirts a little too tightly in one hand while opening the door with the other. “Mr. Roan is waiting.”

My stomach drops, uncertain of which Mr. Roan she’s referring to. Each of the Roans elicits a different reaction in me, but all of them make me feel a little on edge. Especially Hammish Roan. I do need to talk with him about the grant, but I’m not sure I’m ready to face him while still feeling off kilter from the wine last night. All his cordial charm and subtle barbs remind me of David. But there’s something about Hammish Roan that feels even more dangerous than my ex-husband. David wounded me severely, small cuts that added up to gaping wounds over time, but Hammish seems like the kind of man who could rip flesh with a smile.

A sense of foreboding settles over me as I follow Mrs. Darning into the too-dark corridor and down the opulent staircase.

6

Noah

Igrasp my hands behind my back as I stare out the window in the drawing room. The landscape hardens at this time of year. Most of the leaves have fallen, branches like gnarled hands with sharp nails stealing life from the evergreens. There’s no snow on the ground yet, but the thick fog softens the harsh lines of winter like an invitation to a dream. It’s always been my favorite time of year, but it’s impossible to appreciate it when I can’t stop thinking about that infuriating woman. The way she felt in my arms, the way my pulse jumped when she swooned.

I’d mentally cursed my father the whole way back to her room, damning him for his recklessness. I had a mind to find the old man and tell him to his face, but it would have taken all night with Hammish’s sleeping habits. A different room every night, never telling anyone which one he’d choose, all to ensure his sons don’t kill him in his sleep. The distrustful bastard.

He’s right to worry. We’ve been trying to find a way to kill him for years. Professor Rose is just the most recent in a stringof attempts to keep us in check. A symbol. A way to toy with his sons while also trying to stop her research.

I grind my teeth together like the millstones I wish I could hang around my father’s neck. Inviting Professor Rose here was rash and reckless. Drugging her was damn foolish. There’s only one reason I can think of that he would do such a thing, and it makes my blood boil. I stayed outside her room until well into the morning, just to ensure he didn’t act on such ideas. With the new moon party only two weeks away, it’s more than reasonable to expect him to wait for a more willing partner. Has he no patience?

Miss Rose isn’t like the guests who come to the new moon parties. She’s not one of the upper-crust men and women who come seeking a thrill by answering the call of a vice they’d never admit to in the light of day. They’re willing to hide their participation under the guise of forgetfulness and to protect their own reputations. Miss Rose won’t be so easy to manipulate.

She’ll talk if she discovers our secrets. If she even suspects she was drugged, she won’t be easily silenced. Her ethics and morals would forbid it. Even if I hadn’t read her papers, I’d know she’s the kind of woman to stand her ground and shout about injustice to the world. She worries about abducted women, for fuck’s sake. If she didn’t talk, she’d write about it for certain. She’s a hound with a scent.

If I could give her the grant she wants on my own, I would. But Hammish Roan keeps a tight leash on his estate and his purse strings, and my research has kept me from establishing my own assets. Besides, I don’t think the confounding woman would leave just because she got her grant. She’s too curious for that. From the way her last paper was criticized, I’m guessing she won’t leave until she’s found something in the library that will make her next paper stand out and win her the respect of her peers.

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