Chapter Sixteen
Lilith
Asher’s aunt was no longer in the recliner when they returned to the bed and breakfast, her knitting neatly tucked into a
wicker basket.
Lilith trailed after Asher into the kitchen where he dug in the freezer. Straightening, Asher handed her a freezer pack filled
with blue beads. “Put this on your head.”
Lilith accepted the ice pack, the frost melting against her fingertips. “Is this for animals?”
“And humans.”
Toby trundled into the kitchen, toenails clicking on the terracotta tile. He gazed up at her, eyeing the ice pack curiously.
The ice pack was most definitely for animals, but beggars couldn’t be choosers and she put it to the back of her head.
“It’s best you stay put until we know you don’t have a concussion.” Asher opened the fridge. “Do you like lasagna?”
“You don’t have to—”
He lifted his brows, clearly wanting an honest reply rather than an objection.
Lilith grinned. “I love lasagna.”
“It’s leftover.”
“Even better.”
He plated two squares from a white-and-blue casserole dish that looked like a ’50s housewife’s prized possession.
“If I promise not to faint again, can I go back to the manor tomorrow?” Lilith didn’t bother to keep the hope out of her voice.
The kitchen filled with the scent of warming herbs and tomato, and her mouth watered.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Asher said with obvious hesitation. “I’ll be at work.”
“I promise to be very careful.”
The microwave dinged and he pulled the plates out to cool on the counter. Melty cheese oozed from between the noodles.
“I’d prefer you didn’t,” he replied.
Ah, the polite British way of issuing an emphatic “no.”
She bit back her protest. The next day would be a great opportunity to go into the town of Bury St. Edmunds. There was a museum
there with an exhibit on witch trials that might offer some new insight.
Asher handed her the plate and a set of silverware wrapped in a cloth napkin. “There’s a table in your room. I’ll collect
your plate in the morning.”
Ah, they weren’t eating together then. To be fair, it probably would have been awkward.
Why then did the reminder of the table in her room carry the sting of rejection?
Once in her room, alone, she found several messages from Essie.
Did you land OK?
Is England amazing?
I’m literally sitting here eating oat bran for lunch thinking about the great food you’re enjoying for both of us.
If you don’t tell me you’re safe soon, I’m going to call Interpol to do a wellness check.
Lilith chuckled to herself, hearing Essie’s voice in her head, and typed back: Does Interpol even do that?
Three dots immediately appeared, followed by the message. They’d do it for me. You know I don’t take no for an answer.
Lilith replied: I’m at the bed and breakfast and already saw the manor. It was amazing.
Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard, considering whether to tell Essie she’d fainted.
But that would make Essie worry. Knowing her, she’d book the next flight to England and there already was way too much going
on in her life to worry about Lilith.
That and Lilith had been keeping her at arm’s length about the full truth of what was happening. She’d told her the fortune
teller suggested digging into her family’s past to understand the nightmare and how Mama had the hatbox full of old ancestry
research that led her to Bury St. Edmunds. But Lilith hadn’t explained the warning or the strange mystery she needed to somehow
solve.
Or what failure might mean.
Instead, she typed out: The guy who runs the bed and breakfast is younger than I thought.
Essie: Hot?
Lilith smirked. Classic Essie.
Essie: OMG he IS hot! You hesitated, which is quite clearly a yes.
Lilith: OK, he’s hot. But he’s not super friendly. Kind of cagey.
Essie: Oooooooh—a Mr. Darcy type?
Lilith: Just because I’m in England doesn’t mean there’s a Mr. Darcy waiting to sweep me off my feet.
Essie: But you’re SO Elizabeth Bennet!
Lilith: You read way too many romances.
Essie: You sell them to me.
Lilith: Fair enough, but I’m only appealing to your romantic sensibilities.
Essie: Which is why you’re totally going to end up together.
Lilith shook her head, smiling at Essie’s eternal romantic optimism for her future.
Essie: Gotta get Amara from daycare. Keep me posted on Mr. Darcy. ??
Still smiling, Lilith set aside her phone and shoveled a very unladylike forkful of lasagna into her mouth, grateful she wasn’t
eating in front of Asher after all. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was.
But even as she dug into the cheesy, savory goodness of homemade lasagna, she couldn’t help but think of Asher. Not how very Mr. Darcy–like he was, but how he’d followed her so closely when they were at the manor, how he’d avoided her questions.
How he didn’t want her going to the manor without him.
Like maybe there was something hidden.
Something he didn’t want her to discover.