Chapter Twenty-Three
T WENTY - T HREE
By the time Julius arrives, I’m sitting in the corner. I’ve removed my corset and set it aside so I can slump comfortably against the wall. I’m staring into space, lost in a grief so overwhelming that I can’t even find release in tears.
Lenora is gone.
My aunt is gone.
Part of me wants to believe I’m wrong. That’s what’s gotten me through the last hour—pretending there’s a chance she lives. She doesn’t. Silas snapped her neck, and I saw her lifeless eyes, and that’s no trick.
My father killed my aunt. And he may have—no, he almost certainly did —kill my mother.
I’ve never questioned how my mother died. She went out to harvest seagrass, like she did under every full moon. When I woke to find her bed still made, I ran out and learned that her body had already been discovered by fishermen, washed up on shore.
A rogue wave, they said. She was pulled under and drowned.
Pulled under by a wave? Or held under by a very strong werewolf hand?
I’ve always felt as if I killed my mother by wishing I could live in London with Lenora. Did I indeed kill her in another way? Because my existence bound her to Silas Stockwell?
Why didn’t Lenora tell me what she suspected?
The answer comes easily. Who is going to tell a girl that her father had her mother killed? What Lenora did was a kindness.
Was it also kindness not to tell me about my father at all?
I thought it was prejudice, my aunt’s intense dislike of werewolves. Only now I realize that came from her hatred of my father. I wish she’d told me—or that my mother told me—what I am, but I understand a little more why they didn’t.
What matters now is my aunt’s death, and I’m not even sure how to cope with that—how to process it. My insides are empty. My heart is empty, carved out and aching and raw.
When Julius finds me like that, he hesitates outside the cell door.
“I could come back later,” he says, his voice low and gentle. “I can’t imagine Bishop has done anything that needs immediate attention.”
I rise and shake off my grief, blinking my desert-dry eyes. “Silas expects to see proof that Bishop dealt with me.”
“I can delay him.”
I force a weak smile. “Distract me, please. That’s what I really want. A few moments to forget what happened up there.”
I look past him. “Are we alone?”
“We are. The walls are thick. We can speak freely.”
I exhale. “Good. I could cast a privacy spell, but it takes effort to maintain.” I pause. “You brought food? I can smell it.”
He opens the door, starts to step in, and then hesitates, his nostrils flaring. Surprise races across his face.
“Er… Did something…?” He coughs, barely hiding a smile. “All right then. Bishop ought to have warned me about how he intended to handle this. You two…”
I have no idea what he means, but something in the air caught his attention. I don’t know what. I smell Bishop and…
Oh.
That’s not Bishop’s scent. Well, yes, it is, but it’s a smell that reminds me of my trips to brothels, a certain odor I’d never been able to place.
And now I can.
My cheeks heat. “If you’re suggesting Bishop took his wedding night early—”
“Not against your will. He wouldn’t. But if you two devised a plan together—to have him take your maidenhead—it’s an excellent one. I only hope he didn’t actually get you with child. He should have seen me first.”
“He didn’t take my maidenhead.”
Julius goes still and then makes a face. “That was rude of me. I didn’t mean to presume you were a virgin before that.”
“I am, and he didn’t.”
Julius pauses, sniffing again and giving me a sidelong look. “I know you seemed comfortable with bawdy talk, but maybe you don’t understand the exact mechanics—”
“Good gods. I know how a woman loses her virginity, Julius. I’m saying that’s not what happened. However, if you want to imply to Silas that it did, I may have some chafing to support that. Bishop’s trousers are not as soft as they seemed.”
“His…?”
I think I’m going to need to spell it out for him, when he bursts into laughter, so hard that he has to grab the wall to steady himself.
“I’m glad you’re amused,” I say, crossing my arms. “It wasn’t intentional. I was trying to goad Bishop into throttling me, and instead he kissed me and things took a turn.”
“I imagine they did,” Julius gasps between laughs. “Bishop got carried away with a woman. I thought I’d never see the day. Here I wondered why, when he came upstairs, he went straight to his bedchamber. He seemed to change his trousers, which made no sense. Now it does.”
I glare at him. “If you tease him about it—if you even let on that you know what happened—I won’t be pleased. That may sound like a mild threat. It isn’t.”
He grins. “Oh, I’m sure it isn’t. Don’t worry. I won’t embarrass you by mentioning it.”
I snort. “Embarrass me? I only care that if you embarrass him , he might not do it again, and that would make me very unhappy.”
He sputters a laugh, wheezing until he sobers enough to say, “As pleasant as that may have been, if you two wish to avoid, er, taking your maidenhood, there are other ways to find pleasure that may leave less… chafing.”
“The problem wasn’t that we couldn’t think of anything else to do. It just happened and—Stop laughing, damn you.”
“I can’t help it.” Julius puts his hands on my shoulders. “You’re a delight, Cordelia. Truly a delight. My poor, poor cousin.”
My eyes narrow.
He squeezes my shoulders. “I’m not teasing you. I mean it. You’re a breath of fresh air that my cousin didn’t know he was starved for.”
“I have no idea what that means. However, on the subject of ‘activities that won’t take my maidenhead,’ if you can suggest what he likes…”
Julius grins. “I suspect he’ll like anything you offer. Sadly, I don’t know specifics. But I can tell you…” He stops and pulls back.
“Go on,” I say.
“I don’t wish to be indiscreet. Women don’t usually like to hear of men’s… experiences. With other women.”
“Didn’t I just ask what he likes?”
“All right then. I’ll tell you this much. If Bishop seems reticent, it’s his nature, and it shouldn’t be mistaken for prudishness, much less a lack of interest in matters of a carnal nature.”
I lift one brow. “The man just put me against a wall and—” I shake my head. “No, oddly, if I had any such concerns, I no longer do.”
He starts laughing again, and I need to wait it out. When he finishes, he says, “Yes, lack of interest isn’t a problem with Bishop. He’s just very particular where most of us…” He shrugs.
“Pleasure is pleasure.”
His eyes sparkle, as if he’s pleased that I understand and don’t faint in vapors. I do understand. I’ve been trying to find pleasure with a man for years. Except I could have found it, if I really wanted to. It seems I’m somewhat particular myself.
Julius says, “Bishop is exceedingly discreet and finicky, especially for a werewolf, but I happen to know that his greatest problem with women isn’t finding them. It’s losing them.”
“Ah. They overstay their welcome.”
“It’s his own fault. My cousin can’t resist the urge to master every skill he deems useful.”
“Oh?” I pause, until Julius’s meaning hits me, and then I grin so widely my bruised lips ache. “Oh!”
“Yes. There’s a reason why I’m happy that my cousin doesn’t accompany us on our forays seeking female companionship. He would have them all to himself.”
“At once?” I say, waggling my brows.
Julius shakes a finger at me. “You’re wicked. My poor, poor cousin.”
I shake my head. “As wonderfully distracting—and fascinating—as this conversation is, you need to examine me. I’m not sure I’m in bad enough shape to be shown to Silas. For Bishop’s sake, it needs to look as if he beat me. I tried to get him to do that, but he refused.”
“Bishop has no stomach for that.”
“He can’t bring himself to harm the fairer sex?”
“No, Bishop would certainly hurt a woman if she were a threat. He can’t bring himself to hurt anyone without cause. Our grandfather…”
I lower my voice, going more serious. “Silas said he was brutal.”
Shadows dim Julius’s gray eyes. “That’s a polite way of putting it. Silas can be cruel, but at least he doesn’t seem to enjoy it the way our grandfather…” He trails off and settles back. “Your father called me weak.”
“I put no stock in that,” I say quickly.
Julius shrugs. “Among werewolves, an aversion to unnecessary violence can be seen as weakness. I can fight. At the risk of boasting, I’m actually very good at it. But I don’t enjoy it the way others do. Even Bishop loves a good tussle.”
“A fair fight.”
“Yes. Fighting for fun or sport, or fighting to protect himself or others. He enjoys that. I don’t. Neither of us, though, can stomach cruelty. So I understand how his refusal to hurt you—when it was necessary—would have been frustrating, but he really couldn’t.”
“I’m sorry I pushed him, then. That does leave a problem, though, because I’m not sure how to injure myself enough to satisfy Silas.”
“I’ll help.” He lifts his hands. “Not beating you, obviously. But I can examine your existing wounds and devise ways to make them seem worse.”
“There are bruises, I suspect. On my thighs and my, um, posterior.”
Julius’s grin returns. “Excellent. Then I believe we have a way to satisfy your father’s requirements. We’ll say that Bishop began undertaking his duty to punish you, only to get carried away into something altogether different. Consensual, though. Silas wouldn’t believe otherwise.”
“Actually, on that note, Bishop and I discussed something that might be useful. For his cause. His and yours.”
Julius’s face shutters so quickly, I can’t help smiling.
“You don’t need to confirm or deny,” I say. “I guessed that Bishop plans to overthrow Silas, and I want to help. Anything to avenge my aunt and my mother. As long as we’re down here, where no one can hear us, I should tell you what Bishop and I discussed.”
And I do.