Page 36 of Bride of the Fae Duke

And in a dazzle of gold and purple, Lady Arragher – or at least the woman informally going by that title – swept down into the hall.

She was wearing a decadent dressing gown and very little else, elegantly holding a flaky pastry in one hand and a glass of some fizzy, amber-coloured drink in the other. Her white hair – not blonde, not grey, but a pure, snowywhite– had been pinned up in messy curls, framing a face like a winter’s rose, soft andethereal in equal amounts. Her eyes were almost too blue to look at, her movements too swift for the human eye to follow. And her voice …

Like the alluring song of violins, a tempting melody that even now made Nellie’s feet itch to follow her and keep following her for the rest of her days.

Sweet divines.

The only fae she’d ever seen up close were the ones chained for the gallows, gaunt and dishevelled, looking about as magical as the cobblestones on which they stood.Thiscreature, on the other hand …

There was no way to look at her and not believe in magic.

‘Howutterlylovely of you to come pay me a visit!’ Lady Arragher proclaimed, hurrying down the final stairs without bothering to give even the most half-hearted curtsy. Somehow she managed to look perfectly refined even as she stuck the entire pastry into her mouth and quickly licked the remaining honey off her fingers. ‘What about a stroll in the gardens, darling? The weather is absolutely lovely, and— Oh, before I forget, would you like a glass?’

‘No, thank you,’ Nellie managed, because the drink the other woman was holding looked suspiciously alcoholic, and she hadn’t even had breakfast yet. ‘Thank you for receiving me on such short notice. I hope it’s not an inconvenience to—’

‘Oh, I was getting sick of Kieran’s snoring anyway,’ the almost-duchess dryly said. ‘Your arrival was simply the last straw to get me out of bed. So. Othrys Locke’s newest wife, aren’t you? What is your name?’

Nellie, Nellie almost said.

Instead, changing course at the last moment – ‘Eleanor.’

‘Delighted to meet you, Eleanor. Call me Doretha.’ She sallied outside the way she’d descended the stairs – as if every step she took was the spectacular climax to some highly anticipatedplay. Nellie felt more like a housemaid than she had in weeks, hurrying after her as the duchess continued, ‘To what do I owe this rather unexpected visit? Are you urgently in need of a festival dress? Are we starting a club of counterfeit duchesses, perhaps?’

She seemed genuinely gleeful about the last suggestion. Nellie swallowed something bitter – she couldn’t help it.

Counterfeit. And if that was all she’d ever be to her husband …

Then what?

Then the bloody curse still had to go.

It helped, that thought. It felt like finding firm footing in marshland again.

‘I was wondering if I could ask for your advice,’ she said, following the other woman into the golden sunlight, the perfect flower beds and pathways surrounding the house. Shewasa duchess, damn it all; she was not going to let herself be dazzled into stammers. ‘About matters of magic. Curses, specifically.’

Doretha froze.

Then spun around, her dressing robe swirling scandalously about her pale bare legs, and flicked her gaze over Nellie once again. Her blue eyes had gone impossibly bluer. She was no longer smiling, suddenly – was no longer even pretending to.

‘Ah,’ she said, and a world of meaning lay beneath the surface of that single world. ‘Of course.’

‘I hope that does not offend you?’ Nellie cautiously added, unsure where the sudden change of tone had come from. Was this some bit of fae etiquette she should have known about? ‘I would have looked elsewhere, but the trouble is there are so few fae in the city, and …’

‘Oh, there are plenty of them,’ Doretha interrupted, resuming her walk with swift, elegant steps. Her smile was joyless. ‘You just won’t find them, for obvious reasons. I’m happy to answeryour questions, Eleanor, but you may not like the answers in the slightest. Please be aware before you continue.’

Which couldn’t be a lie.

Then again … was she supposed to justnotask what she needed to know?

She wasn’t fleeing, and therefore she had to fight – the only fact she dared to be sure of on this day of bewildering insight. So she swallowed something sour, followed her hostess down the winding path surrounded by white chrysanthemums, and said, ‘Do you know whether curses can be broken?’

Doretha sighed. ‘Most can be, yes.’

‘Theycan?’ Nellie’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Are you able to do it? Would you be able to break the curse on Othrys, then?’

The duchess took a small, elegant sip from her glass. A small tick of silence went by.

Then, flatly, she said, ‘No.’

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