Page 42 of Bride of the Fae Duke

‘No thank you, Lavinia.’ The words spilled over his lips by themselves. ‘Just because you jumped on everything with a cock when Albion was alive doesn’t mean everyone regards their marriage vows with such contempt, you see?’

She froze, blinking.

Her glass slid from her hands.

He had already turned by the time it shattered on the flagstones, the high-pitched tinkle a perfect match to the ringing in his ears; he barely registered the shocked and curious glances as he stormed off, his blood boiling in his veins. Divines help him, what in the world had come over him? His duty to protect his wife, yes, but it was hardly his duty to turn back around and stuff those ostrich feathers into Lavinia’s throat, like he very much felt like doing …

He could hear Eleanor’s laughter, echoing in the back of his mind.

What would she say if she were here? That he was being dramatic, probably. Wallowing. And fuck, hestillshouldn’t be thinking of Eleanor … but there was the Viscount Westmoor, entangled with his pretty blonde behind a rhododendron bush, and all he could think of were strong, roughened hands clawing into his back. Arragher and his wife, dancing … fuck, why had he never danced with—

Because hecouldn’t.He shouldn’twantto.

And yet …

It was as if she was standing by his side anyway, arm tucked into his, her warm brown eyes smiling up at him with that unshakable firmness. Arguing with him about Merland’s plays, perhaps. Taking every broken shard of his life in her hands and piecing them back together so gently, so …

Lovingly?

No.

Never love. It couldn’t be love, because he was fucking poison and she was a perfect, precious little gem, a beacon of life and beauty and everything comforting in the world, and—

Oh.

Ohfuck.

And then he was running after all, damn the watching eyes of the gathered Elidian nobility, because hell take him, there was no denying it any longer …

And he had to get her out of here.

Before he killed her, too.

Chapter 15

Bytheendofthe afternoon, the house was so quiet Nellie heard the turning of the key even from her own room.

Her heart jumped into her throat at the scratching sound, but she forced herself to stay where she stood, to wait and be silent the way Mrs. Radcliffe had trained her to be. No reason to collapse into hysterics – not yet. She needed evidence first.

And she’d talked with Anne. She had a plan.

It did not help the trembling of her knees in the slightest, though, as footsteps padded closer down the corridor and knuckles hit her door with undiminished vigour. Walford’s voice, sounding like it always had, yelled, ‘Lady Locke?’

Nellie squeezed her eyes shut, sending a last prayer to any divine spirit that might be listening. ‘Come in!’

The door swung open.

Walford hurried into the room, then came to a befuddled standstill three steps in – blinking somewhat owlishly at the books lying about, at her open, empty trunk by the foot of thebed. The genuine confusion of a man desperate to help … or so she might have thought.

‘Lady Locke?’ he said again, sounding more unsure now.

She managed a smile. ‘As you can see, I’ve changed my mind.’

‘Changed your— What?’ His eyes narrowed on her. Genuine concern … but for whom? ‘You don’t mean you do not wish to leave after all, do you, Lady Locke?’

‘That happens to be exactly what I mean,’ she said, nodding at the entrance. ‘Would you close the door, please?’

He did so mechanically, his eyes never straying from her. ‘But—’

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