Page 97 of Once a Villain
Tom sighed. “We can try to get the ring back at least. As for Nick himself...” He gave Joan a sympathetic look. “I don’t think we should try to retrieve him. The guards will be on alert after his attack on Eleanor. It’d be too dangerous to invite more scrutiny.”
In the end, they didn’t have to worry aboutthe rush. Aaron called his valet, Geoffrey. Five minutes later, Geoffrey rang back to say that he’d arranged a private viewing early in the morning.
“Just me and Aaron,” Joan said. “The rest of you need to keep lying low.” She could see that Ruth wanted to argue. “This is the first time that Aaron’s going out in public with a known appointment,” Joan said to her. “If he’s going to get arrested and questioned, it will be there.”
“Then I should go on my own,” Aaron said.
“I need to see him,” Joan said. “Or at least where they’ve put him.”
Aaron searched her face at that. “All right,” he said softly.
It was almost morning now. The others crawled into their bunks, clearly exhausted. Joan couldn’t sleep, though. She sat by the window, watching the seventeenth-century view below. The link-boys, who guided people with torches in the evenings, were still working.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there. Long enough for everyone’s breathing to even out. For all the others to fall asleep.
No, not quite all of them. She heard the slide of someone leaving their bed, and then Aaron joined her at the window.
He hesitated. Joan could tell that he wanted to touch her. His face was soft and maskless again; he only ever seemed to look like that around her. She crawled into his arms, and he gasped softly, as if he’d been underwater until he’d had her close again.
Joan must have fallen asleep in his arms because when she opened her eyes again, she was in a bunk, alone, the privacy curtain closed. Aaron must have put her in there. The pillow smelled of his expensive soap.
She opened the curtain and found him up and making tea with proper tea leaves and a strainer. Outside, the view was a dawn sky. From the even breaths around them, the others were still asleep.
“Where did you get that tea?” she whispered.
“At the inn’s market. Got some toiletries and clothes too.” He gestured at Joan’s tracksuit and his. “We can’t wearthisto the Argent house.”
Joan padded across the cold floor to him, and he tugged her close.
“Are you okay?” he whispered.
Joan looked up at him. His beautiful face was watchful. The question had felt layered. He still wasn’t sure if he should have slept with her last night.
“Withthis,” she said, gesturing between them. “Yes.It’s the only thing that happened yesterday that made any kind of sense. Everything else...” She shook her head.
He kissed the top of her head. “I think today will be a trial too,” he murmured.
“Getting in before the crowds?” Cassius Argent said. Like last time, he reminded Joan of a frog with his overlarge goggling eyes. The boorish boom of his voice echoed as he accompanied them through the Argent house, his ill-fitting jacket flapping as he walked.
They were in Westminster. Outside, the not quite Victorian building had been bleak: charcoal-colored brick and tiny windows. Inside, the aesthetic was pure Gothic. The walls were black wood, covered in trophies: stags and bears. Joan was afraid to look too closely, in case any of the heads were human.
“You’re expecting crowds?” Aaron said.
“The trophy room’s a nice little earner,” Cassius said with a smirk. “Of course, most visitors don’t get personalized tours. And thehumans”—he said the word with rough contempt—“are asked to use the outsidestaircase. They don’t come into the main house at all.”
Aaron stared at him. Joan could almost feel him holding back the strength of his glare. He disliked Cassius so intensely that Joan was surprised Cassius hadn’t picked up on it. But then, Cassius did seem self-absorbed.
Cassius glanced at Joan, his gaze tracking down to the scarf around her neck—supposedly hiding her pendant. In truth, they hadn’t replaced the one that Aaron had broken last night. “That’s the girl you had at Execution Dock... ,” he said to Aaron. “She’s pretty. When you tire of her, send her my way. I’ll trade you a good worker for her.”
A muscle jumped in Aaron’s jaw. He’d lost his battle with his glare, and his expression was now more dangerous than Joan had ever seen it. He fought to maintain an even tone. “I will not.”
Cassius hadn’t registered Aaron’s tone. His attention was still on Joan. “You’ll be better off with me,” he said to her. “Lord Oliver likes humans, but he doesn’t keep them around for long. He’ll tire of you soon enough. And then...” He touched the back of his own neck almost mockingly.
Joan swallowed down her own contempt of Cassius. She wanted to insult him back, but she was aware that he was more dangerous than he seemed. Tom had said he was powerful enough to control monster minds as well as human ones.
“Ah,” Cassius said as he reached the top of the stairs. He strode to the end of the corridor and gestured extravagantly at the room beyond. “Here we are! The famous Argent trophy room!”
Joan followed him into a large room that must have once been a ballroom. As she crossed the threshold, she stumbled to a stop. She didn’t know what she’d expected—maybe a casket,maybe something far more horrifying, like Nick’s tarred head on a stake—but she’d never imagined this.
