Page 2 of Enthralled

Kitty’s fingers freeze. Her brow puckers again, this time in a frown. “You are joking, aren’t you?” Then she smiles again. “Yes, of course you are. Fix your hair, dearest, and come down to breakfast. If you hurry, you can give Danny a kiss before he leaves for Westbend. I tried to convince him to take the day off as he still hasn’t finished packing. But you know Danny—he has to make certain all his patients are seen to one last time before he sets off on the wedding trip.” She steps back, looking into my eyes once more. There’s something shadowed in her gaze, a hint of worry. But she gives my hand a squeeze and says only, “Don’t be long. And don’t worry about the mess; I’ll send a maid to clean it up.”

With that she whirls in a flurry of petticoats and vanishes from the room. I hear her calling out to the housemaid, “Stephens! Miss Darlington is unwell. Clean the basin and bring fresh water, will you please?”

My knees are suddenly weak. I just make it to the bed in time to keep from sinking to the floor. Clutching the headboard, I wait for the room to stop pitching and rolling, half-afraid I’ll need to duck to the basin again before the maid even gets here. The sour smell of my own sickness only adds to my nausea. To counteract it I scramble for the sachet at the foot of the bed and press it under my nose. Whereas before the sharp lavender scent had made me ill, now it steadies me, brings my thoughts into some sort of order.

Wedding.

My wedding is tomorrow.

My wedding to Danny.

But of course. It makes sense, doesn’t it? I’ve always known I would marry Danny. We’ve planned it since we were children. It’s only been a matter of time, of waiting for him to finish school and the initial residency at Westbend Charity Hospital. And I had to . . . I had to finish . . . I had to . . .

But there’s nothing in my mind. Just a wall of mist. Whatever the end of that thought was supposed to be, I cannot find it.

Shuddering, I wrap my arms around my stomach. My body is so cold, all memory of that warm, prickling heat gone. There’s nothing but the faint echoes of a voice—low, sensual. The kind of voice that could make a girl feel undressed with a few words. A voice that could slip into my secret places and make me come alive. I grind my teeth. What kind of thoughts are these for a bride-to-be? Surely this is inappropriate. Because that certainly isn’t Danny’s voice in my head.

When did we become engaged? I cannot remember a proposal—not unless the one Danny made when he was fourteen and I was twelve counts. And why am I already living in the Gales’s household? Surely I should be home with Oscar, shouldn’t I?

“Oscar,” I whisper.

The door opens. Stephens, the housemaid with the sleepy eyes and the disapproving nose, appears. She bobs a swift curtsy before silently attending to my mess. Guilt pricks my conscience, but an apology feels feeble under the circumstances. Instead I do as Kitty suggested and find a comb. I don’t bother glancing in the mirror as I straighten my hair; I already know I don’t look like a blushing bride this morning. But Danny has seen me at my worst. Besides, there’s always a chance he will have already left for the hospital by now.

No such luck.

When I finally step into the breakfast room doorway, Danny is seated at the table, a cup of tea in one hand, the daily paper in the other. A beam of sunlight pours through the lace-trimmed windows, highlighting the gold streaks in his brown hair. It creates an otherworldly glow about him, transforming him momentarily into another man entirely, a being of story, of myth, belonging to a faraway world of dawnlight . . .

He looks up. His blue eyes catch mine, and the spell is broken. He’s just Danny once more. My Danny, my friend. My husband-to-be. He smiles hugely at the sight of me. It’s such a spontaneous expression of pleasure, my heart hitches. My lips tilt in return, and a flush steals up my cheeks as his gaze takes me in, standing before him in my lacy dressing gown with my hair all unbound. His gaze lingers but is more concerned than admiring. He sets his teacup down in its saucer and rises, draping the newspaper over the back of the nearest chair. “Good gods, Clara, but you look pale. Kitty tells me you’re not feeling well?” He comes around the table and takes my hand even as he peers earnestly into my eyes, searching for . . . something. I’m not sure what. “Did you rest last night?”

For a wild moment I consider telling him about the fevered dream, the voice. About what it did to my body. But no. What would be the good in that? “Yes, of course, Danny. I’m fine.”

“Do come sit then.” He draws me into the room and pulls out the chair beside his. I sit slowly. When I look up to thank him, he bends down, his lips hovering just over mine. Hastily I turn away, and his kiss lands on my cheek instead. He lingers there a moment, but when he draws back, he says softly, “Clara?”

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, trembling fingers rising to my mouth. “I . . . I was sick, so . . .”

He is silent for a breath. Then, “I understand.” Backing away, he steps to the buffet by the wall and rings a silver bell. “Tea and a little breakfast will work wonders for you. Just what the doctor ordered, eh?”

I attempt to smile at the joke, but my eyes stray, drawn to the paper he’s draped over the back of the chair opposite me. The headline is only partially visible, calling attention to the hot topic of the day—some strike among the city ironworkers—but my gaze drifts to a small advertisement, right there on the front page.I can only catch part of it: “—ational new story—thrills and horror—Oscar Darlin—”

“Ah! There, you did make it downstairs after all.”

Startled, I rip my gaze away from the printed words just as Kitty bustles into the room with a platter of toast and tea. “Kitty, let the maid fetch and carry, why don’t you?” Danny says.

Kitty laughs. “I told Stephens to give it to me. Iamthe maid of honor, after all! It’s my duty to serve the bride.”

Their bickering is a dull clamor in my ears. I don’t try to follow it but instead turn back to the newspaper, trying to discern those words. Danny, seemingly unaware of my attention, picks up the paper, rolls it tight, and tucks it under his arm. “I’d best get to the hospital,” he says. “They’re splitting my patients among Hubert, Jordice, and Phaedan, confirmed idiots to the man. I want to make certain no one ends up poisoned or maimed before I return. Kitty”—he points a finger at his sister—“don’t overtax Miss Darlington with all your pre-wedding enthusiasm. It’s her day, not yours.”

“Oh, of course, brother mine!” Kitty rolls her eyes. “We have only to finish hemming mother’s gown, arranging the flowers as soon as they arrive, and there’s the last few doilies for her trousseau to be finished, not to mention the—”

Danny chuckles and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just don’t run her ragged. That’s all I ask.”

Kitty pops up on her toes and plants a kiss on her brother’s cheek. “Not to worry. I’ll see that your bride is fresh and perfect for her wedding day.”

At those words Danny shifts his gaze back to me again. I look down quickly at my hands. Even so I’m aware how he opens his mouth to speak but stops himself. Instead he turns, vanishing from the doorway. I listen to his footsteps progress down the hall.

“Pssst!”

I jerk my chin up and catch Kitty’s frown. She tosses her head, indicating the door. “Go on, silly. It’ll be your last chance for a private word before the wedding.”

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