Page 46 of Bride of the Fae Duke

‘… should haveseenit,’ Mrs. Hartnell muttered for the seventh time. ‘That Locke nose …’

And then, out of nowhere in the doorway – ‘Eleanor?’

She jolted, the chill gone from her bones between one moment and the next.

He was in his shirtsleeves, hair unbound, a thousand emotions warring for preference beneath the veneer of his stony expression. Even now, in the chaos of the night, there was a commanding air to him that he rarely wore so openly – dragging himself from hours of tense revelations with nothing but the safe haven of authority to hold him together.

The tired smile he sent her seemed genuine, though. ‘You’re still awake?’

‘As you see,’ she managed, which was not what she wanted to say but all Mrs. Hartnell’s presence allowed her to. ‘Are the guards—’

‘They’re looking into reports from their previous investigations.’ He gave the housekeeper a quick nod, then turned back to Nellie and added, ‘Coming along for a walk? I need to get out of the house.’

She blinked. ‘But Anne—’

‘Oh, I’ll take care of Anne,’ Mrs. Hartnell interrupted, fluttering her hands at the door. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

Any other day, Nellie would have worried all the same. Now, with her mind shrouded in exhaustion and the phantom feel of Walford’s fingers still pressing into her throat, she took her last sip of milk, shook off her blanket, and followed her husband into the hallway, feeling oddly naked in her oldest and most comfortable dress.

‘Your Grace?’ a nervous-looking guard stammered by the door. ‘The inspector has decreed no one is to leave the home, Your Grace, until—’

‘My wife was almoststrangledtonight,’ Othrys sharply cut in, every clipped word impeccably polite and somehow all the more threatening for it, ‘and I’ve barely had the time to bloody ask her how she’s doing. We’ll be back within the hour.’

The guard paled a fraction. ‘But—’

‘Good man,’ Othrys informed him, then yanked open the door, all but shoved Nellie out, and followed before the baffled watchman could get out another word of protest. The door slammed behind his broad back with a most decisive bang. ‘Alright. Let’s walk.’

Nellie wanted to grab his arm for support and just barely managed not to. They were not acouple, she reminded herself once again. Just collaborators, and unnecessary ones at that. ‘Won’t you get in trouble for—’

‘Doubt it,’ he muttered, making for the east end of the street with brisk steps. ‘Inspector Hane knows damn well he failed to recognise six murders in a row, and at the moment, I’m not above making a point of it if he annoys me. Which he knows, too. I told him the moment he threatened to take you in for questioning.’

She had to trot after him to keep up. ‘He was going toarrest—’

‘He was absolutely not,’ he growled, eyes narrowing. ‘You’re still my bloody wife.’

Her gut clenched. As if there was still any meaning to that title … but this was Othrys Locke, principled and dutiful, and ofcoursehe would continue to honour this meaningless marriage even if it was the last thing in the world he wanted.

Somehow that was even worse than the thought of losing him.

They walked in silence through the deserted streets, side by side but never touching – past the domed Senate hall, then across the Hay Canal, which separated the rich centre from the poorer neighbourhood at the east flank of the city. Flower garlands lay trampled on the cobblestones. The smell of beer and woodsmoke hung heavy in the air. In these early, exhausted hours, no one was around to see them – which was for the best, really. A duchess in a housemaid’s dress and a duke in shirtsleeves … the gossip would spread like marsh mud.

Although that would presumably happen anyway, the moment the world woke up and heard what had transpired in Locke Manor the previous day.

Walford’s fingers were still there, squeezing the air from her lungs.

‘So,’ Othrys finally broke the otherworldly silence – having noticed her moment of trepidation, perhaps. ‘Areyou alright?’

Spoken like the dutiful husband. She forced up the corners of her lips and managed, ‘Mostly.’

‘Hmm,’ he said, voice low, and then he was quiet again.

They had reached the easternmost parts of Elidian now. For a moment, Nellie thought he was headed towards the cemetery, but he changed course at the last minute, aiming instead for the small public park surrounding the towering flour mill by the city’s dykes. The smouldering ashes of a bonfire were all that remained of last night’s celebration; the citizens had all left, aline of linden trees separating their small, sagging houses from this stretch of grass.

It was as they climbed the outer dyke, hands unceremoniously grasping at clumps of grass, that Othrys cleared his throat and added, ‘I’m aware that murderous cousins are … not the sort of danger you agreed to when you married me. I’m sorry.’

A huffed laugh escaped her even as her heart constricted again. ‘That doesn’t seem somethingyouought to apologise for, does it?’

‘Perhaps.’ Predictably, he seemed unconvinced.

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