Page 79 of Tangwystle
She blinked at me. Her amber eyes were darker thanks to the dim light. She expected an answer.
My muscles burned as I sat stiffly in my seat. My head hurt thanks to the late night, the busy day, and now this dramatic turn of events.
My eyes burned, but I barely blinked. I think I was afraid that if I closed my eyes, I might not be able to open them back up. I wanted to sink to the floor, to curl up in a ball.
I wanted to go home. To sit in the library with Gretel and Baz, where the fireplace always roared and they kept me warm.
An owlish look settled on Isabella’s face as she waited patiently for my response.
It took me a moment to get my dry mouth to work. “We. . . we,” I ended up saying and nodded to emphasize that it had been a mutual decision between Baz and me.
Isabella lifted her chin, reading something on my face. “Ah,” she uttered, lifting her teacup.
“She is beautiful, is she not?” Isabella’s teacup clinked as she set it down on the matching saucer. I couldn’t speak. It didn’t bother the wealthier woman. “She is,” she answered, assuredly.
She placed her teacup on the small table beside the sofa. “Your Baz”—my breath stilled at how she said the words—“is quite handsome. A very romantic sort, no?”
Again, she didn’t wait for a response. Probably understanding that speaking was a bit beyond me at the moment.
“I would not blame a woman for falling in love with him.” Isabella hummed under her breath again. A nauseating sensation swirled in my stomach. “Is he caring?”
He allowed Clinemell to take me, and I felt her judgment in regard to that. Yet, I nodded anyway.
Because when it came down to it, I would never have let Rufus take Gretel to jail. I’d told Baz plenty of times that all three of us would take care of each other. That meant protecting each other. I couldn’t deny the fear and confusion from being torn from Blackwell Manor, but I didn’t regret keeping Gretel away from this place.
It just meant I had to hope that Baz and Gretel were trying to come up with a solution.
“Tomorrow my husband will go to the Council,” Isabella murmured. “I think your Baz will have a plan by then. Though one should not underestimate my husband.”
She glanced at me.
“Y-you think. . .” How could we win against someone as awful as Rufus Clinemell?
“My husband does not like to be made into a fool,” Isabella said. “He is not like your lover. One who can take things on the chin.”
No. Rufus certainly lacked the ability to laugh things off.
“You love them both?” Isabella asked me. This time when she glanced at me, I swear her piercing gaze saw everything. Her gaze flickered down, and my chest swelled. For a moment, I believed it was like she could picture me without any clothes on.
The hair on the back of my neck stood to attention. An understanding passed between us.
Isabella could never love a man like Rufus.
She smiled lightly. “Yes, my husband and I are nothing but a mere business transaction.”
I swallowed a lump down my throat.
“Your Gretel is quite beautiful,” she said. “Her body. Her silly little laugh.”
My heartbeat ticked up, something squirming inside me.
“I did not mind my husband satisfying his needs where he saw fit. I thought it would be an enjoyable experience.” She picked imaginary lint off her dress. “I regret ever mentioning it to him.”
Much later, it would occur to me how rare this was. Isabella admitting, or at least alluding, to a mistake she made.
In another life, Gretel could have found herself with Rufus and Isabella. If Rufus had been capable of love. He was a jealous man, though. He could have Gretel all day, taking her as he wanted. But his wife, wishing for a slice of that fun. . . that was unacceptable.
Sadness and anger mixed into one, cutting into my fear. Rufus hurt Gretel badly, and now he meant to sharpen the blade again. And for what? Because a weak little man got jealous that someone else dared look at his plaything?
