Page 80 of The Dravenhearst Brides
“Merrick.” She sighed heavily, thinking of her dreams, the pull of this family’s ghosts. “What if there really is a curse? What if she didn’t have a choice?”
“There’s no curse, Margot. Wealwayshave a choice. She made the wrong one—a very weak and cowardly and selfish choice.”
“Huh.” She leaned back, eyebrows raised.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“It’s only…she has an awful lot of power over you. For someone you say was weak.”
His jaw ticked, but he didn’t reply.
“I’ve met your mother.” Margot knew she was treading in dangerous territory now. “She wasn’t weak, and she sure as hell wasn’t a victim. Your memories don’t square with mine. I think there’s more to her story.”
He gripped her face between two hands. “I don’t want you sticking your nose into my family’s past. No good can come from kicking that hornet’s nest, and there’s nothing to be gained from digging up ghosts.”
“You’ll never be free of her otherwise.”
“I can be. I am.”
“You’re not.”
He breathed heavily, her face still between his palms. Warm and steady.
“Besides,” she continued, “there’s no curse, right? So there’s no harm in digging.” She raised an eyebrow, challenging him with his own words.
“Right,” he replied weakly.
“It’s settled then. I’ll give her your regards, shall I? When I see her tonight?”
He laughed mirthlessly, dropping a hand to cover his eyes. “Tell her to fuck off for me, will ya?”
“Ever uncouth, Mr. Dravenhearst.”
“I think you’ll find I can be all sorts of uncouth where you’re concerned.” He dragged her closer, close enough to press his lips to hers. To slide his tongue into her mouth. To slip his strong, broad thigh between her legs, applying pressure, encouraging her to grind down and ride. “Stay with me,” he whispered into her lips. “Choose me, not her.”
“Always.”
26
April 5, 1873
Dear Diary,
I planted another magnolia today. That’s two pairs now, guarding the house. My babies take root in the earth instead of my womb. Where they grow, even flourish.
I stand at the windows and wonder, “Why out there? Why not within me?” What is wrong with me?
—Excerpt, the diary of Eleanor Dravenhearst
“Sit,sit.”Eleanorflutteredaround the tea table, pulling out chairs and fluffing napkins. Her ever-present white veil dragged behind her, ghosting along the mahogany floor with a sinister whisper. “Please, sit. It’s so nice to have all of us together, isn’t it?”
Babette rolled her eyes. She leaned in the parlor doorway, wearing a dress of deep green. “I’ll sit, but only if you remove that ghastly veil.” She shuddered. “I’m not taking tea with Dracula’s bride.”
Eleanor froze. “I never take off my veil,” she whispered. “Youknow that, Babette.”
