Four
B reakfast consists of over-easy eggs, wheat toast, fresh fruit, and a glass of orange juice I don’t touch. I love oranges, but nothing flavored like them. True to Madeline’s word, it shows up precisely at 8:00am on a silver tray. Elegant, I suppose. Also unnecessary.
After I finish eating, I wander downstairs with my dishes to find the kitchen. It’s massive with four ovens, two sinks, three refrigerators, more cupboards than I’ve ever seen, and an island in the center with a butcher’s block countertop. There isn’t a single microwave in sight.
The moment my presence is noticed, all movement stops. faces turn toward me like I’m a ghost, an unwelcome intruder. Maybe I am. “Oh, god. I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “No one told me what to do with my dishes when I was done with breakfast. I thought I should bring them down.”
A short woman with pale white skin and jet black hair moves toward me, regaining her composure first. “You must be Miss Harbough. I’m Temperance, I’m the head of housekeeping here. In the future you can leave your dishes in your room and either Lina or Eve will grab them.”
Here we go again with names. There’s only one other woman in the room with us, and she doesn’t look like a Lina or an Eve with her wavy, mousy-brown hair and giant eyes. “Are you—”
“Shay,” she says, and I have to admit that name fits her much better. “I’m not a housekeeper. I’m a server, and also a runner. I’ll be the one you come to if you need anything. Clothes, shower products, things like that.”
So she’s important then. Probably the one responsible for my sundress disaster of a closet. “It’s nice to meet you, Shay. Thank you for getting everything ready for me. Who do I thank for that amazing breakfast?”
The man lazily washing dishes rolls his eyes and nods toward an uppity-looking guy wearing an apron. “That would be Lord Leopold here. Leo, for short. Head of the kitchen, sole cook, and definitely better than all of us in every way.”
“That’ll do, Dane,” he mutters, then plasters on a smile as he wipes his hand and reaches out for mine. “Leo is fine. My full name isn’t even Leopold, it’s Leonard. Dane’s just angry he was demoted to dishwasher after he set his third oven on fire.”
Dane sticks his tongue out teasingly, and the tension in the room seems to dissipate.
My shoulders relax. “I can’t cook, either. I can bake like you wouldn’t believe, but the rest is lost on me. I’m glad to know I’m not alone.”
“Oh, you can bake? You’ll have to come down and—”
“Hush, Leo,” Temperance interrupts. “She’s Alexander’s fiancé. She won’t be baking anything.”
I share a look with Lord Leopold filled with something akin to regret. I love baking. It’s so precise, so consistent when you get it right. Jacob used to ask me to do it all the time. “That’s okay. I’ll get out of your hair, but it was really nice to meet you all. If there’s ever anything I can do to help any of you, please let me know. I really don’t mind cleaning up after myself.”
It’s hard to tell if that was the right thing to say or not. Once again, all movement ceases and I’m being stared at like a zoo animal. When no one responds, I take my leave and wander out onto the grounds.
I’ve never gotten a good look at the land around this mansion since I’ve only ever arrived at night, when the giant oak trees block out the moon and the lights from Saint City hide the stars. The few lamps lining the driveway aren’t enough to really illuminate the grounds beyond a few feet, so I’m curious. This mansion sits at the bottom of a cliff, with St. Andrew’s Academy at the top. For all my time there, it never once occurred to me to look over the side.
I’m not disappointed as I step out onto the porch and see it all lit up by the sun. Early morning rays cast shadows under the trees, but the gardens? They stretch as far as my eyes can see, full of flowers and shrubs, perfectly pruned. Pretty, pristine.
Off in the distance, I see people working. I’d introduce myself but I think I’ve overshot my capacity to retain names today, so I head back inside and take another tour of the house.
I live here now. It’s not mine, it’ll never be mine, but something tells me it’ll be permanent. Provost Creed wouldn’t take his son’s wife away. If I play my cards right and do as I’m bid, I could be happy here. Alex is distinguished and handsome, respectful and well-liked. I could be happy with him, if I can get him to let me in. Maybe even make friends with some of the staff.
Maybe.
But the hours drag on. Without friends now, without direction or a fiancé to attend do, I wander. Wander and sleep and wander some more, until it’s time to shower and put on one of the many ridiculous dresses in my closet. This one is a deep green with a neckline that hardly leaves anything to the imagination and a hemline that would’ve made my grandmother blush, but it’s one of least revealing dresses I could find. The simple heels I pick out fit me like a glove, and I have to take a moment to stare at the stunning silver jewelry I find in my vanity.
Earrings, necklaces, bracelets, rings, hair clips, broaches. All silver, all impeccable. I choose something simple and small, a necklace with a single round diamond no bigger than the bbs I used to shoot as a kid.
It’s quaint. Unassuming. Hopefully fitting for a family dinner that still requires formal dress.
I feel ridiculous as I make my way down to the dining hall fifteen minutes early as I was bid, but I’m not alone. Madeline and Shay are waiting for me.
“Good evening, dear. You look stunning,” Madeline says, her head bowing softly.
Shay repeats the gesture with her eyes locked on my outfit. “That dress suits you. The green looks perfect with your skin tone, I knew it would.” She steps in a little closer like we’re sharing a secret. “It’s also Alexander’s favorite color.”
“That would explain why there are so many,” I laugh quietly. “Thank you. Is there anything you can tell me about tonight? Any... pointers?”
They share a look before she speaks. “Smile and nod. Let Master Creed do most of the talking, and he’ll stay happy.”
So like every other man on the planet. What a shock.
“I think I can handle that. Are there drinks? I need a drink.”
Shay laughs. “Tell me what you need and I’ll make it look like an iced tea.”
“Just spike one of those.”
“You got it. Let’s get you in your seat before they arrive.”
Madeline opens the doors, leading me in toward the table. It’s already set with more plates and bowls and silverware than I’ve seen in a while, making me feel like I’m in the wrong place. The Royals were the ones who trained for things like this, not the Keepers.
“This’ll go well.”
“I think it will. If D—”
Madeline clears her throat to interrupt Shay just as Alexander walks in, his gray suit perfectly pressed and fitted to his form. I swear I feel the faintest hint of butterflies.
“Miss Harbough. Did you sleep well last night?”
Small talk.
“I did,” I lie with a soft smile. “Did you?”
“Of course,” he lies right back. I may not know him, but his lie is as clear as mine. “Father likes to make an entrance, so he’ll be here right on time. You’ll get to meet mother first, and —”
“Is this her?” a new voice cuts in, one that has my defenses rising so suddenly I’m taken aback. “Oh, she is a beauty. They weren’t exaggerating.”
“Mother,” Alex says. “Sullivan, this is Verna Creed, woman of the house and our hearts.”
Again, I have a strong inkling he’s lying again, but she eats it up all the same. She’s a few inches taller than me, her dark hair looking freshly dyed, and when we make eye contact I see where Alexander truly got that cold stare from. Her smile is as fake as her tits, but she takes both of my hands into hers and begins looking me over for flaws.
How is it that a murderer had warmer eyes than this woman?
Maybe she’s not as harmless as she looks. “I’ve heard almost nothing about you,” I say honestly. “But I’m really looking forward to getting to know you.”
“All the time in the world for that. Let’s sit. Ephram will be in shortly.”
She waves a hand at our chairs and takes hers first next to the head of the table, and Alexander sits across from where Ephraim will be. That leaves two empty seats to his left and one to his right next to Verna.
Respect has me choosing the seat to Alex’s left. When no one argues, I assume I made the right call even though we seem to be... lopsided.
The Provost enters at 6:00pm on the dot. His signature tailored suit is black tonight, his shoulders tense as he scans the room. “Where is your brother?”
Alex frowns. “I didn’t realize he was invited.”
“Of course he is,” he mutters through his teeth, snapping his fingers at Madeline who slips from the room without a word. “Miss Harbough, you’re not one of those vegetarians, are you?”
The expression he gives me says he’s teasing, but I have a feeling there’s only one right response to the question. I’d give it if I could think about anything but the fact that he just said brother . I didn’t even know there was one Creed heir, and here I am finding out there are two.
What else don’t I know?
“I— no, I’m not,” I say simply. “I never saw the moral difference between eating plants and animals if everything is alive and growing at one point. No one bats an eye when animals eat other animals, and what are humans, really, if not animals?”
He seems pleased with my response, but his smile falters when the door opens again and Madeleine walks in alone. She nods at him once before he turns his attention back to me and Alexander, but from the corner of my eye, I see Verna take a long sip of her champagne.
The tension only builds as staff flutters around us to fill our drinks, and Alex catches me by surprise when he tries to make conversation again. “Do you see your father often, Sullivan?”
Right, the whole reason I’m so important to them. My father. “We typically still spend holidays together and I visit when I can, but he’s been busy since the promotion. We talk almost every day though.”
“Family is very important,” Ephraim says. “We’ll have him over for dinner once you’re nice and settled.”
The main doors open once again, revealing the man who managed to disappear into thin air last night. Only this time, his wavy hair is ruffled like he just woke up and his jeans stand out against the rest of our formalwear. “Sorry I’m late, Father. I didn’t want to come.”
Father.
The word makes me jerk.
He’s not just any bastard, he’s Ephraim’s bastard.
My future brother-in-law.
The air in my lungs gets trapped, refusing to leave, too paralyzed to let anything new in. It all makes sense now, why he felt like he could get away with making me blow him, killing Jacob against orders. Why he just left me here last night.
I thought I had one up on him because he was some low-level errand boy who reached above his station. I was wrong.
He’s the one who has the upper hand, and for the first time in years, I don’t have a damn clue what to do about it.