Chapter 4 #2
The last question was aimed at her new husband, who was seated across the table from her.
Sleek as a panther in his evening wear, Conrad Godwin was a dashing blond fellow who had a reputation for ruthlessness.
Indeed, a few months ago, he had attempted to destroy Chuddums as an act of revenge.
Gigi, a steadfast champion of the village and its quirky inhabitants, had locked horns with him, and the pair had ended up falling passionately in love.
It amused and reassured Evie to see the powerful Godwin gazing at his bride with undisguised adoration.
“I wasn’t aware that we had primroses, duchess.” Godwin looked amused. “I’m not the sort of fellow who stops to smell the flowers.”
“Maybe you ought to,” Gigi said lightly.
“I have no objection to exploring the outdoors with you, my sweet. In fact, it has become one of my favorite hobbies,” he drawled.
Evie sensed the flirtatious undertone. Gigi confirmed this by turning a telling shade of pink. Xenia smothered a giggle, and Mama’s lips were quivering.
Ethan, James’s handsome middle brother, sighed.
He had dark hair, indigo eyes, and the sort of brooding intensity one associated with artists.
Indeed, he’d once been a renowned piano maestro, whose career had been tragically ended by an injury to his hand.
Since his marriage to Xenia, he’d taken up composing music, and he’d never looked happier.
Ethan lifted his brows. “Must we be subjected to the two of you flirting like newlyweds?”
“We are newlyweds. What is your excuse for flirting with Xenia?” Gigi retorted.
Ethan shrugged. “It is not my fault. If you must blame anyone, blame Xenia.”
“Me? Why?” his wife squeaked.
“Well, it is your fault, pet. For being irresistible.”
He flashed a wicked grin, and Xenia’s cheeks turned as red as her hair.
“Really, Ethan,” she protested. “What will everyone think of us?”
“They will think that I learned the art of flirtation from the best.” Ethan paused, before adding innocently, “Didn’t I, Papa?”
“Do not drag me into this, son.”
At Papa’s grimace, Mama pealed with laughter.
“Come now, Marcus,” she teased. “You are charming with the ladies. Admit it.”
“Only with you,” he replied gravely. “My own lucky Penny.”
When she blew him a kiss, the marquess lost his stoicism, responding with a lazy smile that made Evie’s heart pitter-patter.
Once upon a time, James had smiled at her in that fashion.
But he hadn’t done so for months…not since the loss.
Not since she’d been forced to accept that she was cursed by the sin she’d unknowingly committed—and if she wasn’t careful, she might bring James down with her.
“Marrying for love is the Harrington way,” Gigi said brightly. “As family traditions go, we could do worse.”
“A lot worse.” Godwin’s tone was wry. “Trust me on this.”
Given what Evie knew about Godwin’s bloodthirsty lineage, she couldn’t disagree.
“We are your family now, darling,” Gigi said. “Therefore, our traditions are yours.”
The tender look Godwin bestowed upon his wife caused a collective sigh.
Evie made the mistake of glancing at James. He’d been silent during the banter, and his gaze was trained on his wine glass. Twin furrows dug between his brows, and Evie could read his thoughts.
If every Harrington marries for love, how did I get so unlucky?
Anguish trickled through her, chilling her heart. The chasm between them felt vast and insurmountable. Surrounded by couples blissfully in love, she had never felt more alone.
“What about you, dear boy?” Mama was also watching her eldest, her gaze astute despite her light tone. “As we are celebrating love, haven’t you anything to add?”
The playful and unsubtle nudge had Evie squirming in her seat.
“Some matters are meant to be private, Mama,” James said.
His curtness fell like ashes on a fire, snuffing out the merriment in the room.
After a taut pause, Mama murmured, “Forgive me, dearest—”
“There’s naught to forgive. Ah, here comes the pineapple gelée, another favorite of mine.” James changed the topic, his tone as pleasant and bloodless as if he were discussing the weather. “Evie grew the fruit herself. You must try it.”
After supper, the others withdrew to the drawing room. It was Evie’s duty to preside over the post-prandial entertainment, but she simply couldn’t bear it. Taking Mama aside, she made her excuses.
“A megrim?” Worry shone in Mama’s eyes. “It is not surprising, given the stress of what you and Gigi recently endured. Have you seen a physician—”
“There’s no need,” Evie said quickly. “I am merely tired.”
“My maid has a splendid remedy for headaches. Shall I have her mix up a batch?”
“That is unnecessary. A quick nap will, um, set me to rights.”
“Get some rest, then. Don’t worry about us; we are perfectly capable of entertaining ourselves.” Mama paused. “In truth, we should not have intruded, but we were concerned after your abrupt departure from Bottoms House.”
With a guilty pang, Evie said, “It was ever so rude of me. But my experiments—”
“You needn’t apologize.” Mama placed a gentle hand on her cheek. “I hate to interfere, but I must ask…is everything all right?”
She knows. She knows my marriage is a fiasco…that I make James unhappy.
Shame and self-loathing cinched Evie’s throat.
Swallowing, she said, “All is…all is as it should be.”
The compassion in Mama’s violet gaze was almost more than she could bear.
“Go rest,” Mama murmured. “If you ever wish to talk, I am here.”
Evie fled but not to her bedchamber. Instead, she headed to the greenhouse, where the lush, shadowed silence felt like a reprieve. She could lose herself here, perhaps make further progress on her experiments. During supper, an idea had come to her that she wanted to explore…
As she approached her desk, she saw that the lamp on its surface was flickering even though she could have sworn she’d doused it.
Not only that, but her leather-bound journal—the one where she recorded her observations—was lying open.
She would never treat her work so carelessly, and frowning, she rushed over…
When she saw the plant clipping that lay upon the open page, her heart jammed in her throat.
The purple, bell-shaped flower and trio of pointed leaves looked pretty and harmless, but she knew better.
Atropa belladonna, deadly nightshade, was the most lethal of poisons.
The words, inked boldly on the page beneath the cutting, were equally venomous:
Accidents happen when you least expect it—especially around you, dearest Evie. You know that better than anyone, don’t you?
The past rose and enveloped Evie like a cold, dense fog.
She tried to breathe, but she was suffocating, smothered by everything she remembered.
..and everything she did not. Blackness wavered at the edges of her vision, splintering into dots.
As her knees buckled, she caught herself against the desk.
Who wrote this? What do they know? What do they want?
Panic swamped her as she gazed wildly around the greenhouse. The flickering wall sconces and faint moonlight revealed that she was alone: the only movement came from the occasional sway of fronds.
“Evie?”
She spun around and saw James striding toward her. He halted inches away, close enough for her to see the lines slashing around his mouth and anger blazing in his eyes.
“What the devil is going on?” he bit out.