Page 23 of Bride of the Fae Duke

He stiffened. ‘Divines help me. Do you ever stop having thoughts?’

‘Not voluntarily, no,’ she admitted, grinning at him. ‘I wouldn’t have brought them up if you hadn’t made such a fuss, though. But I had a look around the household, and it struck me … Well, you like Walford, don’t you? You like Mrs. Hartnell? You presumably have friends whose company you enjoy, too?’

His silence was enough of a confirmation. Judging by the resigned expression on his face, he knew exactly what argument she was about to make.

‘And they aren’t dead,’ Nellie added, unfazed.

‘No,’ he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. ‘No, they aren’t.’

‘So clearly warm feelings are fine as long as they’re just that. As long as you don’t start feeling all fuzzy and protective aboutpeople, or whatever love is supposed to be. Which doesn’t appear to be the case.’

His laugh was strangely hollow, an echo of the times true amusement wasn’t such a stranger to his heart. ‘You don’t give the impression you need the protection.’

‘Exactly,’ Nellie said, crossing her arms and raising her chin. There. That should put an end to the wallowing. ‘So if we’ve cleared that up, don’t you think it’s time we get to work, Your Grace?’

He stared at her for a long heartbeat.

She defiantly glared back, jutting her chin even higher.

A strange expression flickered across his face. Not a smile – it was too cold, too desolate, to truly count as a smile. And yet it lent a ghost of life to his features, a whiff of emotion – like the watery sunrays that would pierce through the fog on misty Birch Month mornings, announcing the imminent arrival of spring.

If it wasn’t a smile, it certainly was a surrender.

‘As you wish,’ he said, canting his head as his fingers thoughtlessly found the buttons of his coat and began loosening the mother-of-pearl studs. His voice had lowered, the sound a fraction rough at the edges now. ‘You’re still going to bend over that desk for me, though.’

So she did.

Chapter 8

‘Mr.Walford?’

The steward jolted up from his work as if she’d caught him burying a corpse, his red hair ruffled, an ink stain on his cheek. ‘Oh, Lady Locke! Come in, come in – wait, let me make some space for you to sit down …’

It took relocating a cash book, two empty mugs, and a pile of letters, but eventually Nellie was seated in the same chair by the desk she’d occupied two days ago while Walford hurried around the cluttered study to tug files and documents back into place. Two days – an eternity. Hard to imagine she’d been so frightened so recently, when she was feeling almostgiddyon this stuffy morning, full of plans and something that, in other circumstances, might have been worthy of the name excitement.

‘Lady Locke,’ Walford repeated as he finally folded himself into his chair again, entwining his long fingers on the table surface. Behind his slender back, the sunlight came seeping in through the room’s single mullioned window, its radiance somehow absorbed by the dark purple walls without trulyilluminating anything. ‘Wonderful to see you again. Please tell me what I can do for you.’

‘I was wondering,’ Nellie said, smiling her brightest summer smile at him to soften the rather unladylike bluntness of the request, ‘if I could do something about this house.’

He blinked emphatically. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘The house.’ She gestured at the open door behind her back and the hallway beyond, where a single vase with dried flowers was fighting a losing battle against the dreary atmosphere. The cold tile floor and unused chandelier rendered the effort utterly moot. ‘It’s a rather gloomy business, you see. My sister doesn’t like it in the slightest. So I was wondering if I might have a budget – I’ll leave the numbers to you – to make some changes to the place.’

Walford stared at her as if she’d turned into a frog on the spot.

‘I already discussed the matter with Mrs. Hartnell,’ Nellie cheerfully added, in case that helped her cause. ‘She isveryexcited to get started and insists she has plenty of time to assist me. And of course, I don’t have anything else to do. So you or Lord Locke wouldn’t have to worry about the matter at all, aside from the money.’

Something about the fidgety way he chewed on his bottom lip suggested money was the least of his concerns. What worried him so much? Her safety? Did he think she would not flee the household in time if she poured too much of her heart and soul into this temporary home?

‘And I’m sure it won’t cause me any trouble with the curse,’ she suggested. ‘If anything, I figure Lord Locke islesslikely to fall in love with me once he realises how much money I’m spending on his behalf.’

The steward’s chuckle suggested he was chuckling only for her benefit. ‘If I may speak freely, Lady Locke?’

‘Of course!’ He might, after all, save her life one day. ‘Please tell me what worries you.’

‘You showed up here two days ago in a state of significant shock from seeing your predecessors’ dresses,’ he said, rubbing his temple in a gesture that oddly reminded her of Locke. ‘I wouldn’t dare question your resolve and fortitude, of course, but looking into all the furniture that’s been packed away in the attic … There are alotof the previous ladies’ things among it.’

She hadn’t yet considered that. Then again …

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