Chapter Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Seven
Marcellus spent only a few moments making certain his father had returned to normal, and then only a few moments more informing Prince Albert’s attendants that the duke was in the storeroom.
The duke’s two flunkies, Hall and Smith, rushed to the back as soon as they heard the news, and I held my breath, wondering if they would return just as quickly to accuse me of the murder.
Thankfully, that didn’t happen.
We were able to leave the Crystal Palace within a half hour, Marcellus hailing a hansom cab outside.
“Clarence House,” he said. “Please,” he added when he looked at me.
We clambered inside, me holding on to my cane with a white-knuckled grip, still feeling the terror from the duke’s attack and the reality that I had actually killed someone.
He immediately began to unwrap my death hold one finger at a time, until he held my hand in his.
“You did what you had to do, you know that.”
I took a deep breath. “I suppose. But—” I turned to regard him, feeling my heart still pounding in my chest. “Does this mean I am now a killer? What happens the next time I find someone disagreeable? Am I going to take out my dagger and stab them to death because they prepared my tea improperly?”
I could see him struggle not to laugh, and then he wrapped his arm around me and drew me into his side. “No, Cora. You are still you. I am still me, even though I didn’t kill anyone this afternoon. What we do can affect us, of course, but unless we let it, our actions don’t change us irrevocably.”
I absorbed that, letting his words settle into me.
It was true; I may have murdered someone, but that person was about to murder me and, what’s more, was going to use my death to cause even more deaths throughout the country and eventually the world.
All for what? Because he didn’t like how the world was changing?
“Idiot,” I muttered.
“You’re not an idiot,” he said, pressing a kiss to my hair, which was probably a rat’s nest, thanks to its time under the rough cloth and being manhandled and then thrown to the ground.
“No, not me,” I replied. “The duke.”
“Oh!” he said, surprised. “Yes, he was. Sanctimonious chauvinist.” His tone was offhandedly dismissive. It didn’t matter to him at all that said sanctimonious chauvinist was currently lying dead because the woman next to him had stabbed him in the heart.
It mattered to me, though. Even though the duke needed to die at that moment, it didn’t mean I didn’t regret it; I wished we could have figured out a different way, but that wasn’t what happened.
So I had to understand that while I was deeply sorry about having to kill the duke, I also knew it was necessary and would do it again if circumstances demanded it.
That was the reality of the new world.
“Can we talk about it now?” Marcellus said in a hopeful tone.
I gave him a blank stare. “Talk about—?”
For the first time since I’d met him, he looked hesitant. “About what you let slip when I was inside your head?”
“Oh, that.” My face flushed, as usual, and his expression returned to its usual confident mien. “Uh, how about you start? Since you already know some of how I feel.”
He made a grumbling noise but began. “I think I started to fall in love with you when you slapped my face,” he said, and I couldn’t help but blurt out a startled laugh.
“And then you were so determined to do the right thing, and you are intelligent and fierce, and I’d like to be with you.
” He paused. “If you would like that as well.”
“Even though we live in different domains?” I said. “Even though I would require that you not cavort with anybody else?”
He gave me a narrow look. “What type of shenanigans do you think I get up to, Cora? I do not cavort,” he said in a lofty tone.
“And the domain thing?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I prefer it here. We can visit Hell every so often, but I think I told you, I don’t get a lot of privacy there.”
“But what about you inheriting your father’s position?”
Another shrug. “He’s got several children—he can appoint one of the others. I was only the most likely candidate because I’ve been the best at keeping him calm through the years. But I can take those skills and do something else with them. As you have.”
The idea of him joining the team as a species ombudsman was ludicrous, but I did see how he could be useful here.
“And—wait, you said I was determined to do the right thing? But you don’t care about doing the right thing, so why does that matter?”
“Because it does to you,” he replied simply. “You believe what you believe so strongly, and I have to respect that.”
That he valued that in me, even though that wasn’t his own belief, made me feel all warm and soft, and I snuggled in closer to him.
“So…” he said at last, “does this mean we are official?”
I drew my head back to look at him. “Yes.” I frowned. “But isn’t this supposed to be more difficult? We’re two different types of beings; we live in entirely different realms; we’re stubbornly attached to our own ways of life. For goodness’ sake, I don’t even know how you take your tea!”
He grinned, a smile so wide it felt as big as the whole inside of the carriage. “Cora. We’re also adults, and we can discuss things. I don’t drink tea—you can have all of it. As long as we are together, that is all I want. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
And then he kissed me, a kiss that managed to be passionate and loving and sensual and comforting all at the same time.
When we finally came up for air, I spoke again. “As long as you are willing to leave London for the countryside. Just for a little while. We might have to milk a few cows or pull a few weeds while we’re out there, though,” I warned.
His eyes lit up. “Does this mean I will be able to cook for you?”
I nodded, and then he kissed me again.
Shepherd’s pie, all the tea I ever wanted, and this devilishly handsome man beside me.
I could definitely be happy with that.