Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Alexandru
Gregor brings the post from the castle. I take the packet and settle into the chair by the fire.
Most of it is routine. Correspondence from Bruges. A letter from a book dealer in Munich regarding a manuscript I’d inquired about years ago.
I open a letter bearing the seal of the family that has managed my legal affairs through the centuries. The language is careful, as it always is with them. Accounts, property matters, the usual.
Until I get to the last paragraph, set apart from the rest.
It may interest you to know that a mutual friend has made inquiries regarding your new arrangements in America.
I read it again.
Algernon.
Algernon, Duke of Densmere, though everyone calls him Nero. My oldest friend. My most dangerous enemy.
One never sees Nero coming. You see the damage, and then you see him, standing in it, smiling.
His heraldic emblem is the fox. He chose it himself.
There is only one reason Nero would reach out to my solicitors: he wants me to know he is watching. He is aware of my situation. Most of all, he is aware of Ms. Renfield.
“Overlord?” Gregor stands in the doorway. “Is something wrong?”
“Probably nothing.” I fold the letter carefully and place it in my breast pocket rather than setting it aside.
Gregor watches me. He knows me too well.
“From the solicitors. Nero is making inquiries regarding my arrangements here in America.”
Gregor stiffens. “What does he mean by arrangements? He is asking about the household? About Ms. Renfield?”
“I do not know.”
“If I may ask, overlord, what exactly did Nero say? How did he put the inquiry? And did he write it in a letter to the solicitors, or did he see one of the family somewhere?”
“As I said, a line of text,” I snap. “A mutual friend has made inquiries regarding your new arrangements in America. That is the extent of it. It is hardly surprising that he would reach out. He has been too quiet.”
Neither of us moves. The fire crackles. Somewhere in the house, Ms. Renfield’s footsteps sound out, steady and oblivious.