Page 152 of False God

“Eh, one or two a summer. This is the worst one since …” Conrad’s voice fades as they walk farther away, swallowed up by the remnants of the storm.

I lean against the open doorway until I can’t see them anymore.

36

Entering Newcastle Hall is like traveling back in time. The interior is as palatial as the exterior. Carys Park was renovated and updated, but Charlie’s home has been perfectly preserved.

The soles of the riding boots I borrowed squelch against the tiled floor of the entryway. A sweeping staircase is straight ahead, the wall behind it covered with painted portraits. There’s a shiny Steinway standing in one corner, an impressive set of antlers mounted above it.

“Shall I show you upstairs to get changed?” Conrad asks, pulling my attention from one of the marble busts displayed around the room. “I had your luggage placed in the Crimson Room.”

“Oh.” I waver on what to tell Conrad’s expectant expression.

I brought suitcases here because I came straight from the airport, not because I was intending to spend the night. Because how our last conversation had ended wouldn’t stop bothering me and I had given in to the urge to see him.

Conrad lifts a thick eyebrow as the pause lingers.

“I’ll, um … I’m just going to wait for Charlie,” I tell him.

Conrad casts my wet clothes a disbelieving look, but he’s too polite to comment on my bedraggled appearance. “Follow me,” he says.

He leads me into an opulent sitting room. A massive stone fireplace takes up most of one wall, matching upholstered armchairs angled on each side of the hearth. Another wall overlooks the gardens I walked around earlier. It’s made from a mosaic of glass, framed by ornately carved wood—a dazzling design that reminds me of an ancient church.

Conrad picks up a striped blanket from the back of the overstuffed sofa and hands it to me. “I’ll be back with some tea.”

“You don’t have to?—”

He’s already hurried off.

The blanket is wool but surprisingly soft. I wrap it around my shoulders. I’m not that cold anymore, but it’s cool inside. An earthy dampness similar to being in a basement, like the thick brick walls are entirely insulated from the outside. I haven’t heard any thunder or lightning in the past ten minutes, which hopefully means the storm is dying down. The patter of rain isn’t audible on the roof or windows.

I wander over to one of the paintings on the wall. It’s a young boy on horseback. He’s unsmiling, expression so serious that it’s almost severe.

Footsteps sound.

I glance over, expecting Conrad. Charlie’s approaching instead.

My cheeks warm as soon as I see him, an immediate flush I wish I had more control over. Remnants of embarrassment and lust buzz in my blood, paired with a heavy dose of uncertainty. In the barn, it felt like we were the only two people in the world. We’re still isolated, but it’s no longer as easy to pretend we’re entirely alone.

“Is this you?” My eyes return to the painting I was looking at before.

“Yes.”

“You look”—unhappy—“serious.”

“My mom had just left. My father wanted new portraits to hang.”

Something in my chest splinters. Most people assume I had a happy childhood because I’m rich. That money buys happiness. Charlie’s proof that’s not always the case.

“Here’s the tea, Lili.” Conrad appears with a tray that he sets on one of the tables scattered throughout the room. “Can I get you anything, Your Grace?”

“I’m all set, Conrad. Thanks.”

Conrad nods, then disappears again.

I decide to pour myself a cup of tea. Not my typical drink of choice, but Conrad went through the effort of making it for me. And it also gives me an excuse to avoid looking at Charlie.

“How long can you stay for?” he asks.

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