Chapter 16
Ceridwen spent the day scouring the manor for Drystan, yet he was nowhere to be found. His words and actions from the night before played over and over in her head. Who had he been? How much had his life changed? The man had more secrets than anyone she’d ever met. Considering them nearly drove her mad. And that didn’t even include whatever he knew about the monster that stalked the night.
Eager to distract herself, Ceridwen tried to read, but after a line or two, the words became a blur, and whatever scene she read twisted itself in her head until it became the balcony from the night before with Drystan standing just in front of her.
Your songs, your spirit. You enchant me.
She slammed the book closed and set it aside with a heavy thump. “What were you thinking, kissing him back?” she mumbled to herself.
Nothing good could come of it. Not from kissing a lord. But even so, she couldn’t entirely make herself regret it.
Ceridwen readied for dinner and strode to the dining room. She’d be early, but distracting herself proved ineffective, and Drystan was nowhere to be found. Probably stuck up in his tower, the one place she was forbidden to go. Tempting as it was to search for him there, she couldn’t risk angering him and being dismissed.
“Miss Ceridwen.” Jackoby gave a stiff bow as she approached. “I’m afraid the dining room is still being set.”
“Can I be seated anyway?” she asked.
Jackoby’s lips tugged downward, ever the one to enforce the proper way of things.
She’d tried to occupy her mind as long as she could. Even her songs did not come easily today. Drystan would come to dinner. He always did. Perhaps she’d play outside again for him that night. Maybe he’d… She bit her lip. Don’t go there, Ceridwen.
“Please?” Ceridwen asked, blinking innocently at the butler.
Jackoby’s lips thinned. She waited for the rejection sure to come, twisting her hands together behind her back.
The quick, heavy thump of boots on stone captured both of their attention as Kent turned a corner and rushed toward them. The maroon curtains and oil lamp flames ruffled in his wake.
“Kent, what—”
The younger man’s eyes flicked to Ceridwen as he came to a halt, back stiff, though his chest rose and fell with each deep breath. A tangle of hair had fallen free from his normally perfect slicked-back ponytail. “You’re needed immediately. There’s…” His attention jumped to her again as he swallowed before returning his attention to Jackoby. “Lord Winterbourne would want you to handle this situation.”
Ceridwen nearly groaned. Please don’t be Adair. If her brother stirred up more trouble, she’d never forgive him.
Jackoby sucked in a breath. “The decorum of this manor falls apart in a moment,” he mumbled to himself. “Be seated,” he ordered to her. “I’ll be back shortly. Kent.” He waved his hand in the other man’s direction.
If it was her brother, they might need her help. “Should I come—”
“No,” both men replied at once.
Ceridwen startled, standing a little straighter.
“Apologies, miss.” Kent gave a short nod as Jackoby hustled in his direction as fast as his manners permitted.
Odd. So odd.She watched them go, her brows wrinkling until they rounded a corner out of sight. A trickle of apprehension crawled under her skin. If not her brother, could this have to do with the beast? It never came during the day, not that anyone knew, but it had to go somewhere during that time.
The dining table had already been set for two. The serving dishes stood empty, the candles unlit. Heavenly smells—roasted meat, a whiff of potato, the barest hint of sweet pastry—wafted in through the closed door leading toward the servant’s entrance, which connected to the kitchens down a flight of stairs. The cook’s food never failed to please. In fact, whenever her services came to an end, Ceridwen would miss the food. Once, it might have been the thing she missed most, besides the money, but no longer.
She trailed one finger over her bottom lip, recalling the unexpected softness of Drystan’s lips, his soft groan when she’d melted for him, and the odd spiciness that invaded her nose.
A door creaked, giving her a heartbeat to pull her hand back into her lap before two maids entered carrying steaming dishes. The first raised her eyebrows when she caught sight of Ceridwen but said nothing about her early arrival. Nor did the second. They made a second trip a few minutes later, finishing off the arrangement of food in the center of the table.
Her stomach rumbled at the savory scents filling the room from the covered dishes. Where was Drystan? Or Jackoby and Kent, for that matter.
The double doors behind her groaned open. Finally. With them came a flood of conversation.
“—just wait,” Jackoby ordered, sounding more ruffled than she’d ever heard him.
“Does my dear cousin expect me to starve?”
The unfamiliar, rich male voice practically pulled her shoulders back, straightening her in the seat. She dug her fingers into the wood of the armrests as she grasped for purchase among the wave of surprise flowing over her. Cousin? Drystan never mentioned…
“Honestly, I’d expect more hospitality than—” His haughty words cut off abruptly along with the heavy tread of boots across the floor.
She ached to turn and look at the guest at her back, but wariness held her in place. The candlesticks on the table flickered and wavered more than she did.
“Now, what do we have here?”
The amusement in his voice twisted a knot within her stomach, one that tightened as the footsteps turned light and moved in her direction. At that, she did turn, catching sight of the man.
At first glance, he reminded her of Drystan, with the same dark hair and strong cheekbones. But this was not the lord of the manor. Green eyes twinkled in a smirking face, and his skin was a shade darker than Drystan’s. His piercing look pinned her to the chair like an insect in a collection.
He pulled a brooch off his coat before she got the full look of it. Iron? An animal, perhaps? He tucked it away into a tailored, fine-stitched coat that radiated wealth. Whatever it was, it paled in comparison to the rings on his hand that glittered with gemstones only someone of great importance could possibly own.
A noble. He had to be.
“A pretty bird, hidden away in this dingy manor. Such an unexpected surprise.”
Leather with a hint of spice tickled her nose as he stopped next to her chair and bent slightly in her direction, tilting his head this way and that as his gaze raked her body. Ceridwen studied her plate; heat flooded her cheeks as she fought the urge to squirm under his inspection. Oh, to be able to disappear through the floor.
“Have my charming looks stolen the words from your delicious lips?”
Ceridwen snapped her head in his direction. “Not even a bit.” His looks were charming, but his attitude, and the leer in his eyes that made her want to run, overrode his physical beauty.
He threw his head back and laughed, a deep rumble that rolled across her and filled the room. “Oh, that fiery look in your eyes,” he said, reining in his laughter and pinning her with his stare once again. “You are interesting. What are you to him, hmm?”
“Perhaps you’d take a seat and wait for—”
The visitor cut Jackoby off midsentence with a quick scowl and wave of his hand. Jackoby stepped out of view as the annoyance slipped from the visitor’s face to be replaced by mirth once again.
Her lips thinned as she held back the retorts rising to the tip of her tongue. Anyone who could silence Lord Winterbourne’s butler with one motion was not someone she cared to anger. The newcomer tapped his index finger on his smirking lips while she dug her hands into the chair to keep from smacking the lecherous look off his face.
“A hired courtesan, perhaps?” he mused.
Fury simmered under her skin, and she could no longer sit still. Ceridwen rose to her feet, sending the chair back with a clatter as she moved away from the male at her side. “Do not dare call me such a thing.”
His hand dropped as his grin widened. “I thought not.”
“What’s going on here?”
Drystan. Thank the Goddess. He hustled into the room, Kent quick on his heels and looking even more disheveled than before. Jackoby, too, appeared unnerved where he stood a few paces from the door, his shoulders even stiffer and more squared than normal, as if a cord from the ceiling pulled him upward.
“Ah, dear cousin,” the man said with a flourish of his hand. But Drystan’s scowl only deepened despite the familiarity of the man’s words. “I was just meeting this lovely lady that you failed to ever mention to me. Who is she?”
Drystan’s gaze flicked to her, cold and impassive, before returning to his cousin. “Just a local girl who plays music. Nothing to get excited over.”
The words hit like a blow to the stomach. It took everything she had not to hunch in phantom pain as they worked their way into her heart like small daggers. Nothing to get excited over. Memories of the night before flashed through her mind. His kind words. His kiss. All felt foul and dirty to her now.
Her gaze fell to the place setting in front of her chair, the only safe place to look as tears threatened to fill her eyes. What a fool I’ve been to think we could be anything more.