Page 31 of Wynter's Bite

Chapter Thirteen

Bethany awoke with a burning cramp in her neck. Daylight streamed through the library windows, testifying the worst. The breath in her lungs froze as if full of January air. Last night hadn’t been a nightmare. Justus hadn’t come. She’d given the butler fervent instructions to notify her immediately of his arrival and had waited, facing the clock with a book on her lap that she’d never even attempted to read. Had he changed his mind? She didn’t think so. Father said that Lord Tench had spread the word far and wide that she’d said Lord de Wynter was a vampire. Either Justus was now angry with her for betraying him, or worse. He’d told her that revealing his secret to a human was forbidden. Had his Lord Vampire punished him?

She shook her head, refusing to entertain the worst. Surely Justus’s Lord would understand when Justus explained that he would Change Bethany. But the morning light cast a pall over her heart, refusing to abate her terror.

She must have fallen asleep after two in the morning. Rubbing her neck, she reached for her cane and rose to her feet, hissing as her swollen knee protested. If the pain continued with such severity, she may have to relent and take some laudanum.

Thumps and grating sounds along with rapid footsteps reached her ears then. It sounded like her house was occupied with an army.

Hobbling out of the library, Bethany saw a pair of footmen hauling a trunk down the hall. Then another passed her, carrying her mother’s traveling valise.

She stared in stunned disbelief. Her father had meant his words when he’d said they’d be leaving the county. Panic hammered her lungs, making her stays impossibly tight as her mother’s voice reached her ears.

“My lord husband, must we go through with this?” The rife pleading in Cecily’s tone made Bethany pause.

“We have no choice.” Her father responded coldly. “We are ruined here. If I am to have any hope in recovering my reputation and political position, we must leave and erase all traces of scandal immediately. I will not allow softness to destroy me, like it did my father.”

Bethany leaned against the door frame, feeling ill. Father truly thought her mad and was ready to uproot the whole family back to London today, with nary a chance for her to explain herself or send word to Justus.

Panic fluttered in her stomach. How would Justus be able to find her then? Or would he even want to find her after she’d blurted out his secret and endangered him and his people?

Tears prickled the back of her eyes and she blinked them away. He had to forgive her. He had to still love her.

Again, fear seized her heart in an icy grip. What if Lord Tench sent men to kill him? Or had the Lord Vampire of Rochester denied his request and ordered him to stay away from her? And how was she supposed to find out if they were leaving?

Her mother swept into the hall, taking Bethany’s elbow. Her face was pale and her eyes darted away from Bethany’s face. “Let us have breakfast before we depart.”

“Must we return to London so soon?” Bethany was unable to hide the desperation in her voice.

Lady Wickshire’s face flushed, and for a moment it looked as if she would say something, but then her gaze returned to the floor. “We must leave the area to save your father’s reputation. Out of sight, out of mind.” Her lips thinned grimly at the last.

Father was not in the dining room, and for that Bethany breathed a sigh of relief. She did not know how she would hold her temper and refrain from castigating him for ruining everything.

Her stomach revolted at the plate of scones and sausage set before her, but her mother would not stop harping until she managed a few bites. A maid set a cup of tea in front of her with a nervous look as if expecting Bethany to erupt into hysterics as she had last night.

Mother smiled tightly. “It’s extra honeyed, just how you like it.”

Bethany took a sip and grimaced. Beneath the almost cloying overpowering taste of honey was bitterness. She set the cup down. “I think this was steeped for far too long.”

Instead of apologizing and taking the cup away, the maid looked at her mother as if in mute inquiry.

Mother’s frown deepened. “The servants are overburdened with preparations for our journey. They do not have the time to make another cup. Now drink it.”

Guilt drowned her at the thought of inconveniencing the overworked servants further. They must be terribly burdened for Cecily to take notice of their plight. Bethany lifted the cup and forced the bittersweet liquid down as fast as she could, trying not to show her distaste.

---