Page 37 of The Pureblood Princess
The nib of the quill scratches across the parchment as Nadia finishes the letter to her mother and signs her name with a flourish. She still at times catches herself thinking to sign her nameAdelina Gray, though it’s become less frequent. And here soon, she realizes, she’ll need to get used to another new name: Nadia Rosetti.
With a smile, she folds the three pieces of parchment and seals them, then lifts the teacup to her lips and casts her gaze out the window. Rain runs down the glass in rivulets, distorting the view of the pasture and the horses in it. She hopes Octavia is staying warm and dry, though the mare typically seems all too happy to stand in the rain.
As she lowers the cup, the ruby on her ring finger catches in the gray light, and she takes a moment to admire the stone. She and Theodore will be married before autumn’s end, and then she’ll be the viscountess—hisviscountess.
The thought sends a shiver through her, and she takes another sip of hot tea before reaching for the heavy tome sitting upon her writing desk.
She often finds herself poring over the book Lord Rosetti gave her, attempting to memorize her paternal lineage as a way of feeling closer to the family she never had the opportunity to meet. But then a lingering unease creeps up when she flips to her mother’s pages only to find them desolately bare.
Today she opens the book to her mother’s family tree and brushes her fingertips over the scarce bit of ink present on the page. Why isn’t there more information on her maternal lineage? This question has been running through her mind since the earl first gave her the book, and as she shifts forward to get a closer look, a light knock sounds on the door.
“Come in,” she says, closing the tome and setting the mystery aside for yet another day.
A housemaid opens the door and stands at the threshold. “Lord Rosetti has requested you in the library, miss.”
Curiosity piqued, Nadia finishes her last sip of tea, then stands and slips a shawl over her shoulders.
“Thank you,” she tells the maid, who curtsies and steps aside as Nadia moves past her. “Oh!” She turns back around with a start. “There’s a letter on my desk. Please see to it that it gets sent out with the others when the courier arrives.”
“Of course, miss.” The maid dips her head.
With that, Nadia turns and moves down the hall. Graystone is much larger than the Rosettis’ city home, and though they keep fires burning in the rooms, the hallways are still drafty. She pulls her shawl closer as she descends the stairs, and somewhere far off, she can hear a clock ticking. The house is oddly quiet today; perhaps the foul weather has everyone feeling gloomy.
The library doors are open, and low voices carry into the hallway. When Nadia steps into the room, her eyes can’t help being drawn to the bookshelf where she and Theodore made love, and she tries to keep a flush from rising to her cheeks asTheodore and Lord Rosetti stand from their seats by the fire to greet her.
“Miss Magdalena,” Lord Rosetti says, nodding to her.
Theodore holds out a hand, and Nadia draws nearer, placing her hand in his.
“My bride.” He lifts her hand and presses a kiss to it, then shifts aside and gestures to an armchair beside the fire. “Please join us.”
She does just that, relishing the warmth of the flames as she settles into the embrace of the well-worn chair. It cradles her softly as she loosens her hold on her shawl, and then she casts her eyes between Theodore and the earl.
“The maid said you requested me.”
“Indeed.” Lord Rosetti goes to the liquor cart and pours himself a brandy.
While his back is turned, Theodore reaches over to touch Nadia’s hand, and the gentle brush of his fingers across hers sends her heart pounding. Before his father turns around, he steals his hand back and settles more comfortably into his own chair.
“Though I expected some hesitation on the brotherhood’s part to look into the deaths of your parents, I must say, their complete disregard for the matter was rather... discomfiting.” Lord Rosetti takes a sip of the strong drink, then moves toward the fireplace, his brow furrowed.
“And not only that,” Nadia adds, “but there’s the attack by the hunter to be considered.” Every time she remembers it, anger festers inside her, and somehow, killing the would-be assassin has not settled the fury she still feels. “Must we truly leave it to the brotherhood to address such matters?”
Theodore sits back and nods. “Unfortunately. Even if we were to circumvent the brotherhood, taking matters into our own hands would be in violation of the treaty.”
Nadia remembers him mentioning the treaty, which was meant to ensure peace between vampires and hunters.
“But the hunters violated the treaty first,” she insists. She worries at her lower lip, then stops herself when she catches Theodore staring at her mouth. Though she does love to see him squirm with desire for her, this is neither the time nor the place.
“What do you make of this?” she asks, directing her question to Lord Rosetti’s back.
He has one arm braced against the mantel, and he stares deep into the flames. The firelight reflects in his green eyes and sets his crystal glass shimmering.
“I’ve spent years wondering if they know more than they let on. They promise to uphold peace, yet they turn a blind eye when two of our own are brutally murdered.”
Nadia’s stomach twists, and she sits taller in her chair.
“And this is why you should have accepted their proposal when it was offered,” Theodore says, a tinge of frustration in his tone.
