Chapter 10
“I know why you were so eager to go to Netherfield.” Darcy’s voice was as velvety as the dusk as we got into the car.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” I blinked at the man waiting in the front seat. Did the Bingleys always have drivers take them around town?
“You seem determined to misunderstand me.” One side of Darcy’s mouth pulled up at the corner.
“Only because you’re determined to keep secrets from me.”
Darcy hesitated for a long moment. “I don’t make it a habit to open up to people.”
For the rest of the drive, silence nestled between us like a third passenger, demanding attention.
A quarter of an hour later, an iron gate opened for our vehicle, and the sleek Buick drove up a gravel drive to the estate from my Portent. Even with the darkness washing out the details, there was no mistaking the grandeur of its gabled roof and multi-paned windows.
I was at the scene of the murder, but the killer’s identity was murkier than ever before.
Darcy gestured for me to go out my door, then he climbed across the seats to follow me.
Once we were both standing, he reclaimed my hand without asking, but there was no point arguing about it because it was easier to move around that way.
We walked inside, our shoes clacking on the shiny marble floor that reflected the light of a brilliant chandelier dangling overhead.
A fire burned in a brick fireplace, exuding a heat and sense of welcome.
A man in dark pants and a white shirt hurried over as soon as we got inside, but Darcy waved him off with a, “We’re fine, Lloyd,” and led me down a hallway lined with dark wooden paneling.
Absently, I rubbed my itching nose and followed Darcy’s broad shoulders down endless hallways.
We saw no one else, and I couldn’t help but let out a breath of relief that we didn’t run into Caroline and Louisa again.
One awkward encounter was plenty for tonight.
After the next corner, Darcy reached for a silver doorknob on the right side of the hall.
It led to a room decorated with deep blues, greens, and dark gray.
A blue rug covered most of the wooden floor, and a brass lamp sat on a heavy desk next to a shiny laptop and charger.
Bookshelves covered an entire wall—something Dad would’ve loved—and large windows showed the dark sky outside and an expansive view of the gardens lit by elaborate lanterns.
An enormous bed with an ornate headboard sat against the far wall.
Chewing on my bottom lip, I tore my gaze from the bed and tugged my wrist to double-check that nothing had miraculously changed with our bond during the trip here.
Darcy stepped closer in response, and my stomach dropped.
We only had two feet of space, which meant that one of us wouldn’t even be able to sleep on the floor without both of our arms being pulled uncomfortably all night.
Maybe Darcy had come to the same conclusion, because he stared at the bed, brow furrowed and lips pressed into a tight line.
I blew out a shaky breath, and Darcy looked at me sharply.
“I’m not going to touch you, you know.”
“Despite my bewitching eyes?” It wasn’t fair to tease him about something he said under the influence of the veritas potion, but it helped cover my nerves.
A faint blush darkened Darcy’s cheeks above his scruff, and somehow his nerves made my own dissipate a little, at least until my thoughts flashed back to our kiss.
Although Darcy stood for everything I despised, somehow it hadn’t been terrible.
It had set me on fire, and even now a piece of me still burned.
I shoved the thought away. That was something I’d never tell, not even to Jane.
“Let’s get ready for bed.” Darcy’s tone made it sound like he was saying “Let’s get ready for the guillotine,” which, strangely enough, also made me feel a little better.
We walked to the bathroom in silence. The dark blue towels matched his bedroom and contrasted with the bathroom’s dove gray walls. A large shower took up a quarter of the room, and my face heated as I took it in.
Darcy handed me a T-shirt and pair of sweatpants he pulled from his closet—thankfully, our magical handcuff didn’t keep us from changing our shirts—and my face heated again as I slipped his soft cotton T-shirt over my head.
I tamed my chocolate brown hair into a braid for the night to keep it from being too wild in the morning, then followed Darcy back into his room.
Side by side, we stared at the four-poster for a moment, then Darcy sighed.
He turned the lamp off, pulled the covers down, and gestured for me to climb in first.
The sheets were silky and smooth, and I scooted as far into the bed as I could before extending my right hand as far as it could go to maximize the distance between us. Darcy climbed in after me, and after a few seconds of rustling as we both settled into place, silence descended.
The faint tick of a clock in the hall crept under the closed door and filled the space between us. I was pretty sure I’d never been stuck in a more ridiculous situation than this in my entire life.
I nestled deeper into Darcy’s sheets, breathing in his scent—a mixture of his cologne and nature, like the sharp scent of pine or the fresh scent of the ocean with that spicy scent of cardamom.
The smell brought back the memory of our kiss with force, and heat rushed to my cheeks. Thank goodness it was dark.
“How did you know I was with Easton when he died?” His voice, like the rest of him, was too near, especially once he turned on his side so he was facing me.
“So you prefer to be on the giving end of the inquiry?”
He chuckled, the sound nothing more than a low rumble. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll trade an answer for an answer.”
I weighed my options. “An honest answer?” Unlike some of the silly rumors in books, fae could lie, but what they couldn’t do was get out of their word. Once a fae agreed to something, it was as good as an iron-clad promise, which was fitting since iron was another of their weaknesses.
“Yes.”
“So it’s a deal?”
“It is.”
I smiled. In a world where people’s promises meant almost nothing, fae reliability was refreshing. Not that I would ever say that to one of them, especially since you still couldn’t let your guard down when dealing with them. They could tell you the truth and still leave you confused.
“About a week ago, I saw a Portent of you and Easton arguing, and the next thing I knew, you hit him with magic and he died.” I sucked in a breath at the memory.
“And that’s why you thought I killed him?” Darcy must have already been familiar with Portents since he didn’t ask.
I tsked at him. “It’s my turn now.”
“Fair enough.” His teeth glinted in the moonlight as he flashed a smile.
There were so many questions about the murder I’d been dying to ask, but now that I knew he wasn’t the killer, I shifted focus to another question that had been bugging me. “If you didn’t kill Easton, why did you use your magic on him?”
“I could tell he was unwell.”
I bit my lip, thinking back to the Portent. Easton had been pale and sweaty, but I’d thought he was nervous. Had he already been sick with something?
“Why didn’t you go straight to the police about what you saw in your Portent?” Darcy asked.
I bit my lip and turned away from his probing green gaze. That was one question I didn’t want to answer, but I still needed info from Darcy. Maybe I’d keep it short like he had. “The Marked in town don’t trust my family’s fae powers.”
“I see,” he murmured.
And I worried he did. He already knew we were half-witch. It wouldn’t take a huge leap for him to realize why everyone thought our fae powers were tainted.
“Why did you think my mother was involved?” I said in a rush, hoping not to give him too much time to think about my last answer.
“There was evidence of a love potion among his things.”
Did that explain why Easton had looked sick?
Maybe someone had given him something. I guess the police questioning Mom made sense.
We were the most prominent business in town that sold love potions.
And now that I knew that, his reaction when Jane introduced us as Bennets made sense too.
He probably already suspected Mom’s involvement.
“You realize that anyone could have bought a potion from the bakery and then tampered with it, right?” I said. Mom was a desperate social climber, but a killer? That was a bit of a stretch.
“Is that another question?”
I blew out a puff of air. “No.”
He laughed softly. “When I checked the toxicology report, there weren’t any signs of poison, just residual traces of the potion.”
“So no one tampered with it after it was bought.” I mulled over the info. “I think you’re on the wrong track with the potion. We should look into other leads, like who Easton was close to in your group.” I chewed my lip in thought, but Darcy’s next question brought me up short.
“Did you do something to me earlier to make me tell you the truth in the Ferris wheel?”
My face heated. I shouldn’t have used the veritas potion on Darcy.
It hadn’t felt like such an invasion when I’d believed him guilty of murder, but now that I knew he was innocent, it was hard not to think of the things he hadn’t meant to share with me.
Despite our deal, I could still lie. Not being bound to our word, as well as not worrying about glamouring pointed ears, was one of the few advantages of being half-fae. Even still, I owed him the truth.
“I thought you were the killer, so I gave you a truth potion to force a confession from you. And I’m sorry. About that and for accusing you of murder.” Before he could contemplate my answer, I rushed to ask, “Why did you agree to come to the fair?” It wasn’t because he wanted to spend time with me.
He was silent for a moment, but when I opened my mouth to remind him of the deal, he said, “Charles and I were following a lead.”
“About the murder?”
He shrugged.
“That was extremely unhelpful.”
“But it’s the truth.” His smirk coated his voice, and my hands twitched to cover his face with a pillow.
He fell silent, and I couldn’t tell if I was disappointed or relieved for the questions to be at an end. I needed to find out more about Easton if I wanted to figure out other motives people might have for killing him, but I didn’t want to answer any more questions.
I sighed. “I’ll admit that I still can’t even begin to understand you, but I suspect you prefer it that way.”
“I think you understand more than you know,” he said almost too softly to hear. His fingers extended and brushed mine, then pulled back.
I chewed on my lip, unsure if the gesture had been accidental or intentional.
Darcy’s attention dropped to my mouth for the briefest of moments before he rolled onto his back again. “Why don’t you get some sleep? We can deal with this in the morning.” He pulled his phone out with his free hand, effectively ending the conversation.
He was serious about having things to take care of tonight. He was also careful to keep his phone turned so I couldn’t see anything other than the glow the screen cast on his face, reflecting off his dark eyes and making the line of his jaw sharper.
It was hard to admit I’d been so wrong about him—at least about the killing part—but there was more he wasn’t telling me, more that might be related to Easton’s murder. I was going to get to the bottom of it.
“Do you need something?” he said without looking over.
“No.” I flushed and turned my head away. “Good night.” The words escaped out of habit, and I stiffened at how strangely intimate they felt. The surrealism of the moment hung between us like a half-finished spell waiting to be remembered.
“Night.” Another faint tug on my wrist accompanied the word, then a soft sigh from Darcy, and all was quiet except for the tapping of his phone.
The bed creaked under me as I shifted, searching for a comfortable position.
But who was I kidding? There was no getting comfortable with Darcy two feet away.
Tension thrummed between us. Despite his nonchalant attitude, I could tell he felt it too by the way he deliberately avoided facing me again, even as his body heat inched closer through the thin, silky sheets.
I tossed and turned for hours, unable to fall asleep while Darcy worked next to me, texting incessantly. If I weren’t there, he probably would’ve been talking on the phone instead, but he was so determined to hold his secrets close to his chest.
The lucky secrets.
No, that wasn’t what I meant. My cheeks heated again.
Just because he was sort of attractive and not a killer didn’t mean I was into him.
He still embodied so many things I disliked about the Marked society.
He was too full of himself, too determined to push me away because I was a witch, and too bossy.
Eventually, Darcy put his cell away, and the room went completely dark. The distant toll of the church as it pealed midnight mixed with the slow, steady cadence of Darcy’s breathing.
I glared at him for a second. How could he have fallen asleep so quickly?
I forced my eyes closed, then matched my breathing to his, trying to get his comment about my bewitching eyes out of my head long enough for me to fall asleep.