Page 136 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

“Do you have any clue how rich princes of Faerieland are?” he asks, his lips pulling to one side in a smirk. His finger curls to a knuckle under my jaw, and he brings it slowly across my skin to just below my chin. “I mean no insult on your fortune, but truly I couldn’t possibly come up with a use for it.”

A flush scorches my cheeks. I wasn’t trying to disparage his means or imply he needed anything from me. I only meant—

His voice is a soft caress against my forehead. It is warm, with a smile in the timbres. “Take your money, wife. Nothing you do will convince me to touch it.”

Then he kisses me. It is just a whisper of his lips against my hairline, but I could fall over from the shock of it.

Not knowing what else to do, I swipe the promissory note from the desk. “Alright. Thank you. Goodbye.”

I scramble out of that study as quickly as I can, pretending I don’t hear his warm chuckles following me.

I run straight to Mary, who hangs the laundry outside. She looks up as I skitter to a stop and wave the money in front of her face. I hope she assumes the tomato red of my face comes from the running, andnotbecause I am replaying how it felt to have Rahk caressing my face.

“I can give them more than a single stagecoach ticket and a loaf of bread!” I burst. “And I can get Bartholomew back! We must go at once! I need to talk to Charles and find out who bought her!”

Chapter 42

Rahk

Kat’scousinlivesinthe city, so he sends a manservant with a copy of the will at once. I spend several hours poring over it. Then, when I inquire after Kat’s whereabouts and find out she’s trying to track down her horse, I take one of my own horses from my stables and ride out to Vandermore Manor.

“Is Lady Duxbury Vandermore home?” I ask the maid who answers the door.

The maid curtsies at once. “She is. Please come in, sir.”

The citrus scent of wood oil is the first thing I notice as the maid leads me to the parlor. Perfume floats on the air, not strong enough to induce a headache, but unpleasant still. A fresh wave of perfume—definitely strong enough to induce a headache—announces Lady Duxbury Vandermore’s arrival, as does the swish of her red gown. A curious second face, framed in curls, pokes around the corner before Lady Bridget steps fully into the room and curtsies with her mother.

I rise and offer a bow.

“Lord Rahk,” says Agatha, smiling as though we are friends. “What brings you here?”

“Have you decided to return Katherine?” Bridget asks, suppressing a giggle. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with her now.”

I don’t bother giving her or her comment the honor of acknowledgement. Instead, I slap the will on the table and take a seat, fixing my full attention on Agatha. “I’m here on matters of the late Lord Vandermore’s estate.”

“Oh, I don’t manage that,” says Agatha. A different maid brings tea, serving the three of us. I don’t touch my tea, though Agatha stirs a sugar cube into hers. While her spoon clinks against the china, a new scent makes me look up. The second daughter—whatever her name is—peers into the room until she catches me watching her. Her eyes widen, and she ducks back out. Her light footsteps scurry away. “The late Lord Vandermore’s cousin manages everything. Speaking of which, I must say that I am quite put out by your hiring of Mary. We relied on that girl—”

I cut in. “I understand you sold my wife’s horse without her permission.”

Agatha looks at Bridget, who is in the middle of sipping her tea. The daughter hesitates, glancing at me. Then she takes her cup and saucer and removes her odious presence from the room, much to my satisfaction. The delicate wrinkles on Agatha’s throat constrict as she swallows. “Oh, Lord Rahk, you must understand. It was an old horse—”

“You did sell it then.”

She places her teacup down with a rattle. “I had to! There was nothing else to be done. It was by Katherine’s own testimony that the horse kept throwing its shoes and having all sorts of issues.”

“Did you sell it without her permission?”

“Lord Rahk, as I stated, Katherine often complained of the horse’s many issues—”

I narrow my gaze at her and lean forward, dropping my voice. “Answer the question, Agatha. Did you sell it without her permission?”

The blood drains from her face, enough that I almost wonder if I’ve let the glamour on my wings slip. But apparently, I don’t need to reveal my wings to reveal that I am a prince of Nothril. When she does not answer, I ask in quiet calm, “Do you need me to repeat the question?”

“I did sell it without her permission,” Agatha finally admits, turning her pale face away from me. “I sold the horse to make Katherine cooperate. She is a foolish and headstrong girl. She has declined every offer of marriage that has come her way and obviously intended to stay single until her twenty-first birthday to avoid giving over her fortune. You should thank me for my work, because now you are the owner of her fortune.”

Something inside my chest turns liquid hot. I keep my voice controlled, however. “Who, exactly, sold the horse? Fetch them for me at once.”

A manservant named Charles is summoned. I question him until I have all the information I need. Once he leaves, I take the will and shift it closer to Agatha. She looks at it only long enough for her eyelids to shutter.

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