Page 39 of Bride of the Fae Duke

He swallowed audibly. His eyes were darting from the doorway to Nellie and back to the door, the indecision tangible in every twitchy movement. A lifetime of family loyalty, she realised, and what else than the very darkest of suspicions could convince him to set all of it aside?

‘I’ve never wanted to take the thought seriously,’ Walford finally whispered, his voice clogged with dread. ‘His grief always seemed so genuine to me, you see? And of course, I owe him and his uncleeverything. I wouldn’t want …’

To be ungrateful. To bite the hand that fed him. And so he’d squashed away every spark of discomfort – she understood it now. All he’d dared to do was quietly offer her his help, the only possible compromise between his loyalty and fear.

‘But there were things that made you … wonder?’ she managed.

‘Just glimpses. Moments where suddenly he no longer looked like the grieving husband I knew but strangely … calculating.’ He shivered. ‘He seemed to expect Blanche to die long before she did. We were all sick after the fish stew had gone bad, and yet he only talked aboutheras if he thought she wouldn’t make it— Oh good gods, and when Rosamund was nowhere to be found,hewas the one who suggested we look in the attic, even though no sensible soul ever went there …’

No.No. She didn’t want to believe it –stilldidn’t want to believe it, notOthrys, who laughed with her and promised her he’d keep her safe, who grieved his mother and taught her sister to draw … She had come here to be proven wrong, she realised. She’d come here to be reassured and find another explanation for the chilling facts.

And instead …

Instead, even Walford believed it.

Instead, he made itworse.

She wanted to fold herself into the darkest corner and bawl like a lost child. Wanted to give in and give up, a helpless victim for the world to save. But Anne was still here, blissfully ignorant and perhaps in danger as much as Nellie was herself … so she willed her hands to still. Willed her voice to lower. Sucked in a deep breath and managed to sound calm, almost detached, as she said, ‘Then I should leave as soon as possible, shouldn’t I?’

That last lifeline. That little key to freedom she’d begun to believe she’d never need … and look at her now.

‘Yes,’ Walford said shakily. ‘Yes, you should – you and Anne both. I suppose we’re lucky it’s midsummer day, in a way. No servants around to witness anything while we smuggle you out of the house.’

Out of the house.

Out ofherhouse.

Why that feeling of heartbreak, if she’d always known this was temporary, a dream that would end the moment she bore him a son? How dare her heart care in the slightest when she’d believed her husband a murderer for years and only a few weeks’ folly stood between her and those wiser days?

‘Yes,’ she said, voice hollow.

‘Alright.’ He rose again, long limbs fidgety and restless. ‘Give me a few hours to arrange matters for you. We’ll wait until we’re sure no one will come back unexpectedly, and I’ll make sure I have a place for you and Anne to stay for a few days. After that … you should leave the city, probably. Perhaps you could join Uncle Ambrose in Jelen, or whatever Dragon’s Bay city he’s staying in at the moment?’

‘Yes,’ Nellie managed again, barely hearing herself. ‘Yes, perhaps.’

‘Go pack your bags, Lady Locke.’ His forced smile was more painful than the lack of it, panic and bewilderment tangible behind that flimsy façade. ‘And stay in your rooms in themeantime. The last thing we want is for anyone to find you in this state and ask questions, do you understand?’

‘Yes.’ It seemed she could no longer say anything else. ‘Yes, I’ll do that.’

‘Good,’ he said, voice soothing as he sank back into his chair. ‘Be careful, then. I’ll come see you within a few hours.’

She didn’t dare go see Anne – not yet.

So she floundered into her own room instead, shut the door behind her, and collapsed onto the bed, burying her face in the pillow and making desperate attempts not to think. Not to remember.

I’m poison, Eleanor…

Had it been some twisted warning? The six-time murderer, telling her well in advance what he was truly up to?

And she’d ignored it. Had allowed herself to get sucked into the lie by strong hands and a pair of grey cat eyes, by this silly, silly notion of having fun rather than surviving … and so she’d forgotten the facts, the first rules of her existence. That she should always protect herself. That there was no sense in relying on anyone else in this world – not if they could just as easily abandon you from one day to the next.

No magic. No safety. No fairytales.

No love.

Especiallyno love.

And now …

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