Chapter 9
“Whoever was riding Storm must’ve been the killer,” I whispered to Henry as we left the guest wing. “I don’t know if any of the guests are skilled horseback riders, though.”
Henry shook his head. “I hate to ask, but could it have been a staff member?”
I shrugged and frowned. “Anything is possible, and I think Mr. Arnold is right. I should question everyone.”
“I don’t know if the killer really was the one on the horse. But it might be good to see if we can figure out who that was,” he suggested.
An unsettled pit formed in my stomach. Thinking that someone on our staff was a killer wasn’t just frightening.
It broke my heart. I thought we were like a family here, but maybe I was wrong.
“We’ll keep asking. Also, we didn’t end up actually saying Zac’s name to everyone.
Maybe if we drop it at dinner someone will react. ”
“Maybe.” Henry paused. “And maybe the killer’s not even inside the house. Oh, would you look at that?”
I looked up and saw a sprig of mistletoe tied to the chandelier above us with a silky red ribbon. “Did you put that there?”
“How could I have done that? Plus, I thought we were still trying to figure this out?” He chuckled, gesturing between the two of us.
“Yes, we are. But it is Christmas, and there are rules.” I smiled and stood on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek, but he turned his head and kissed my lips. Those butterflies. I wasn’t going to be able to go back to just being friends. Ever.
Henry stepped back with his brows furrowed. “Sorry. I shouldn't have—I just couldn’t resist. I won’t do that again.”
“Don't make promises you can't keep. You sure you’re not fae? That was a pretty good trick.” I brushed his cheek with the back of my fingertips. Though I suspected Pemberley herself landed us in the spot.
“I’m part Irish, does that count?” he asked.
“It must. What are we going to do?” I gulped. "We keep kissing each other. I don't usually just do that."
He leaned his shoulder against the wall and waited a minute before speaking. "Neither do I, Georgiana."
There was no way I was going to be able to just let him walk away.
But how would it even work? "Henry, I don't even know what's going on in your life right now.
You said you're working in a lab nearby, but is it a permanent thing?
Are you heading off to grad school right away?
Do you realize I might be? This afternoon has filled me with a rush of emotion, but it's all so new.
I've only been aware of your feelings for a few hours now. "
"I suppose for me, I've wanted this forever. So it doesn't feel new at all." Henry nodded and gently touched my shoulder. "Maybe we both need some time to decompress so we can think through this logically."
"Agreed. I'll have a butler find a room for you."
Oscar settled Henry into a guest suite, and I made my way back to my room alone.
My “room” at Pemberley was more like a series of rooms. The entrance consisted of a formal sitting room, a reading nook, and my desk.
These led into my bedroom, bathroom, walk-in closet, and my private balcony.
The corner of my bedroom had a spiral staircase leading to my private library on the third floor.
Outside, the sun had set, but swirls of snow still cascaded from the sky.
Even in the short time we'd spent together, I'd already grown accustomed to Henry's presence.
But soon the snow would stop falling, and they would clear the roads.
Then what? Of course we could try dating; that wasn't a problem.
But he didn't want to just date. He wondered if we tried and if we fell in love if that I could be his, forever.
Though it didn't matter to me whether he was high fae, it might matter to a lot of other people, including Henry himself.
And that may make things difficult for both of us, but I couldn't see the future, and I didn't want to make this decision alone.
It was at times like these that I missed my mother the most. I needed a sister.
I stared at my selection of dinner dresses, tired of making decisions.
My green velvet was warm and comfortable, so I opted for it over some of my more elegant pieces.
After I put on the dress, I lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
Being flat on my back seemed to help with some of the pain.
But a little scratching sounded outside my door, so I went to let Waffles, my sweet little dachshund, in.
She wagged her tail and hopped up on her back legs.
“Come here, sweetie.” I sat on the floor and let her curl up in my lap while stroking her head, ears, and back.
A dull ache reminded me of my ankle injury, and repeatedly flexing then pointing my toes helped. The whole day had been one unexpected event after another, and my instincts told me I’d missed something. Something important.