Chapter 15
‘I hate to break up such a lovely dinner, but morning comes early. Tomorrow, we’ll track down this Lippert fellow and find out what he knows.’ Uncle Lachlan wiped his mouth with the napkin and stood.
Aunt Rowan scowled at him. ‘Of course morning comes early. It would hardly be morning if it came late.’
Cynthia stood as well, forcing Thomas to rise.
‘I should also take my leave. There is much left to pack if I’m to be out of the house before Hubert’s cousin arrives in a fortnight.
His lovely wife has already sent a letter expressing her condolences for my loss and asking for the measurements of the front parlour.
Apparently, she recalls the decorations from a previous visit and wishes to make over the space post-haste. Lovely woman.’
Clio pushed back her chair, Sir Robin hopping to her shoulder as she joined her husband. ‘She sounds dreadful. But at least when you move into your townhouse, you’ll be closer to Aunt Rowan’s. It will be even easier for us to meet together.’
Helena’s belly tightened at the thought of Cynthia living so close to her. Slipping through the streets in the dead of night, sneaking into Cynthia’s house, tiptoeing up to her room without the staff even knowing… What wicked mischief they could make.
‘Indeed. You are always welcome here.’ Aunt Rowan slowly pushed back her chair and walked to Cynthia, taking both her hands and pressing a kiss on each cheek.
‘Thank you for such a lovely dinner.’
‘You’re family now. We eat together every Sunday, and if you don’t attend, I shall take it as a grave insult. Trust me, the last thing you want to do is insult a witch.’ Aunt Rowan winked at Cynthia before leading them through the dining room, down the hall and to the front entry.
Thomas drew his sister in for a hug as they donned their coats. ‘I’m not telling you what to do, Cyn.’
Cynthia raised an eyebrow at her brother. ‘But?’
‘But please let us handle the investigation from this point forward. You’ve done admirably, but it is too dangerous.’
Helena closed the distance, drawing next to Cynthia and catching the hint of vanilla and honeysuckle.
‘By “us”, do you mean the men?’ She couldn’t help rolling her eyes.
‘Life is dangerous. Women have known this since the beginning of time, because men have always been a threat. Maybe that is why there are only female witches. The goddess believes in balance.’
‘Cynthia isn’t a witch, and this isn’t a game.’ Thomas stepped forward, and Helena mirrored his movements, water pooling in her palms and gathering on her skin like dew.
Clio gripped Thomas’ arm to pull him back as sparks danced along his dinner jacket.
Stepping between her brother and Helena, Cynthia held her hands out. ‘Stop.’ A wave of energy pulsed, and for a moment, they all froze.
Helena, Clio, and Ellie looked to their aunt. She shook her head.
That wasn’t me.
Uncle Lachlan’s dark brows knitted over his deep brown eyes, and Thomas glared at Aunt Rowan before returning his focus to Cynthia. He had felt their aunt’s powers before, and no doubt assumed she orchestrated the magical moment.
Cynthia didn’t seem to notice the energy shift. ‘I know that you love me, Thomas. And I love you. I promise that I won’t do anything rash.’
‘Thank you.’ Thomas exhaled.
‘Unless I have a witch with me to keep me safe.’
Thomas’ cheeks flushed with anger. ‘Cyn.’ It was a warning growl.
She pulled her brother into a quick hug, whispering something into his ear that ended the argument.
‘You are impossible. Do you know that?’
Cynthia smiled, brilliant and bright. ‘I’m beginning to discover quite a few things about myself.’
Thomas shook his head before turning to help Clio into her coat.
Helena stepped close, speaking low so only Cynthia could hear.
‘Will you promise that I am the witch who keeps you safe in this investigation?’ Helena trusted Clio and Ellie with her life.
She would go into battle with her aunt against the Devil himself.
But she didn’t want Cynthia going to them for help.
She is mine to protect.
‘Only if you let me repay you for your efforts.’
Helena’s mouth went dry as every thought evaporated in the heat of Cynthia’s gaze.
Thomas opened the door for her sister, and she winked at Helena before turning and stepping into the night.
Sneaky minx. You’ve stolen the words from my lips.
And she would steal more than that if Helena wasn’t very careful.
Cynthia’s front parlour was an echo of a past life to which she no longer belonged.
Standing in the centre of the room, a place where she had hosted a million afternoon teas with ladies who giggled and simpered and never once spoke of anything real, it was painfully apparent Hubert’s death had changed the very foundations of her life.
Or perhaps just cracked the false shell she had constructed and revealed the real woman hiding beneath.
She looked at the couches all chosen with an eye for Hubert’s taste.
The furniture was heavy and covered in jewel-toned upholstery.
While Cynthia longed for bright spaces and light colours, her husband’s affinity for the baroque style was evident in every piece of furniture, every heavy curtain, every ornately carved sconce.
And soon, she would be free of it. What a terrifying and exhilarating thought.
Helena sat across from her on a dark walnut settee.
It had been a week since the dinner party, and they had seen little of each other in the flurry of activity required to pack up one’s life and start anew.
Helena had come by to update Cynthia on the investigation.
Cynthia believed Helena conjured the excuse so they could be together, and she was thrilled.
The recounting of the investigation took all of five seconds.
There wasn’t much to share. Superintendent MacDougal and her brother had found no leads into the location of George Lippert.
Sinclair might be an evil man bent on destruction, but he ran a tight ship with no holes in it. No one in Seven Dials was talking.
Helena could have left, but Cynthia invited her to stay for afternoon tea, and they had spent a delightful hour speaking about all manner of topics.
‘Do you think it’s possible to remake yourself into a completely different person?’
Helena opened her mouth to answer Cynthia, but closed it again and frowned.
To be fair, it was a difficult question for anyone to answer and not something one normally discussed over tea – coffee for Cynthia – on a sunny Wednesday afternoon.
The windows had been thrown open, letting in the birdsong and muffled sounds of life bustling along on the street beyond her hedged yard.
‘That is a rather complex question. Why do you wish to be someone different? Are you not happy with yourself?’
Cynthia sipped her drink, letting the blend of bitter beans and sweet cream converge on her tongue while she thought about the question.
‘I’m not certain the woman I’ve become is the woman I truly am.
I know there are parts of me that are mine.
But there are other pieces I’ve formed to please society, my parents, my husband – who could never be pleased.
Even Thomas expects me to behave in a certain way, though I know he loves me.
I’m just not sure he understands who I truly am.
Maybe I don’t understand myself, but I’m desperate to find out.
And I’m worried that once I do, none of the people I love will be comfortable with the person beneath all of these layers. ’
Helena stood and walked around the low table to sit next to Cynthia.
She took both her hands, and Cynthia felt the odd vibration of energy passing between them.
‘I think seeing oneself and accepting who you truly are, the beautiful and beastly parts, all together, is something few people have the courage to do.’
A swell of emotion rose in Cynthia. Fear, hope, and unexplainable sadness.
As though something had been taken away from her that was precious and vital.
‘I’ve been thinking about the dinner at your aunt’s house last week.
Our conversation about my childhood. Thomas described me as a wild thing, but I can’t remember.
I can’t remember that little girl who ran through the fields and could call the hummingbirds from the flowers to hold them in her hand.
Isn’t that strange? Thomas will go on about adventures we’ve had, and I feel like he’s talking about a stranger.
A girl I wish I could be. It’s as though my past was stolen away from me.
But I yearn to find that girl and let her free.
’ A hot tear spilled, making a trail down her cheek.
She dashed it away with her shoulder, unwilling to take her hands back from Helena.
‘You must think me nothing but a silly watering pot.’
‘I think you are a wonder. And a mystery. And very, very beautiful.’
Cynthia had been complimented before. There was always a young buck or an old lord sniffing around in hopes she might be willing to follow in her husband’s example of infidelity.
But their compliments, whether obsequious or obscene, never felt real.
They were bargaining cards for favours Cynthia had no wish to barter.
But when Helena called her beautiful, something broke loose in Cynthia’s soul and flew.
Because when Helena spoke those simple words, Cynthia was tempted to believe her.
‘You are so certain of yourself. I find that endlessly… appealing.’ Cynthia was not a wilting wallflower, but she never acknowledged her desires, because she wasn’t free to indulge in them. Until now, with Helena. She felt safe enough to try.