Chapter Eight
Eight
???
Maisie brought another of the dowager’s old gowns for Sadie to change into before supper.
Pippa helped her into it, then they both stared.
This dress was aubergine silk that barely clung to Sadie’s shoulders.
The overskirt was gathered up into a handful of elegant swags, with silk roses pinning up the fabric at knee height.
Underneath, a skirt of slightly paler purple fell to the floor over wider hoops than Sadie had ever worn.
“It’s so beautiful,” Pippa sighed.
“It costs more than I make in a year.” Sadie rolled her shoulders, not used to having them exposed to the air.
Pippa giggled. “That’s one way to make the baron notice you.”
Her shoulders weren’t the only part more exposed than she was used to.
Sadie glanced over at the mirror on the vanity and realized that rolling her shoulders back had also resulted in pushing out her chest. She hunched her shoulders.
“The other women will all be dressed similarly, right? You don’t think Madeleine gave me this dress to make me look … ”
“Irresistible?” Pippa offered. “You said she wants you here to make the other women look better. This is not a dress she’d give you as some cruel joke if that is her aim.”
Sadie wasn’t sure that she didn’t look like she was trying too hard, but her insecurities aside, she didn’t actually think the dowager would do something like that to her. The dress she’d been given that morning had certainly fit in with what the other women wore.
Pippa pressed a hand between her shoulder blades, making Sadie straighten again. “Remember, you are Lady Sadie Pensy.”
“Miss Sadie Pentry,” she corrected, though Pippa paid her no mind.
“Now go make the baron fall in love with you.”
Sadie allowed herself to be pushed out of her room and didn’t let her shoulders slump. She might feel more intimidated about going to supper than breakfast, but she wouldn’t let anyone see. It was just as well that she entered the hall with her chin up, for it wasn’t empty.
The baron leaned against the wall across from her door, the light from the glow-glyphs in the sconce next to him bringing out gold highlights in his red hair.
He straightened as she stepped into the hall, then froze.
Sadie didn’t know what was going through his mind.
She had spent a solid quarter of an hour tracing the glyph on her amulet with water before getting dressed for supper, and his face betrayed nothing.
Maybe he recognized the dress as belonging to his mother.
Maybe he was shocked to see her so overdressed for a simple meal.
Maybe her bodice had slipped, the sleeves sliding down her arms.
Sadie glanced down, and though there was more skin on display than she was used to, it was the same amount as before.
The baron cleared his throat and looked at the closed door behind her. “Miss Pentry.”
“Is it a backhanded insult to refuse to call me Sadie?” Facing off against him, she felt suddenly more sure of herself. “Are you certain you want to risk your mother learning that you aren’t following her rules?”
“It hardly seems risky, given that you yourself are outside those rules. Tell me, Sadie,” he said her name deliberately, drawing out the syllables, “where did you find your lady’s maid?”
“Looking for one of your own? I suppose your valet’s skills with a curling iron don’t meet your needs?”
“I’m wondering how a lady from Algimon came to employ a tavern maid from Lamsdel.”
Sadie had known the instant he mentioned her lack of a carriage that it was only a matter of time until he figured out who she was.
Granted, she hadn’t expected him to recognize Pippa.
She hadn’t heard of the baron visiting the tavern in all the months she had lived in Lamsdel.
Still, he hadn’t identified Sadie herself.
Which meant she could continue to play the game.
“Is that where she is from? I didn’t ask.
Your mother arranged for her to help me this month, since my own maid took ill a day out from Marstede and had to return to Algimon. ”
She knew he didn’t want to believe her, but her lie was plausible.
It didn’t explain away her arrival, but sounded very much like a thing Madeleine would do.
Not wanting to let him ask any more questions, she hastily shifted the topic.
She gestured at the sconce that held three quartz tapers inscribed with runes.
“How much do you spend a year replacing all these glow-glyphs?”
The deliberately impolite question didn’t faze the baron. “The quartz costs less than what I’d spend on candles and is considerably safer besides.”
Sadie knew how expensive the beeswax candles favored by the nobility could be after working in Ferman’s, and candles would have to be replaced more often than the glow-glyphs, but that answer still didn’t make sense. “Plain quartz, maybe, but glow-glyphs would cost more than candles.”
The baron studied her, and she had the feeling whatever he was about to say was a test. That he would scrutinize her reaction.
He shrugged. “I don’t buy glow-glyphs. I engrave my own.”
So she was right that magic ran in his family. He didn’t have a grimoire in the brewing room not because he had no power, but because he was an earth-witch rather than having an affinity for water.
Upon learning that someone was a witch, most people naturally followed up by asking what form their power took.
No matter their elemental affinity, every witch also had a personal magic like Sadie’s telepathy.
Since Sadie would never ask that question after spending her entire life trying to avoid it, she had to find a different response.
She nodded. “It is kind of you to take the time to make glow-glyphs and heat-glyphs for the servant’s quarters as well as the public areas of the manor.”
The quartz might be cheaper than beeswax candles, but it had to cost more than tallow, even without factoring in the time it took to engrave the charms. Yet Sadie knew the luxury extended beyond the main halls and guest rooms. She had seen it in the kitchen, and Pippa had gushed about the amenities of the room she’d been assigned.
Sadie was fairly certain her response took Nicholas by surprise, but she wasn’t sure if that meant she had passed whatever test he’d set.
He shrugged again. “I enjoy engraving.”
The casual ease with which he said it sent a pang through Sadie. She wished she could announce her love of brewing with so little concern. Suddenly she regretted asking about the glow-glyphs.
She turned toward the staircase. “I don’t want to keep Madeleine waiting.”
???
Nicholas offered Sadie his arm out of instinct, and when she settled her hand on him, he allowed himself a bare moment to hate the shirt and jacket between them.
When she had stepped out of the room, he’d been struck speechless.
He’d waited for her, planning to confront her about Pippa, and then couldn’t even get a word out at first because of how strongly he reacted to her.
He hadn’t wanted to talk, he’d wanted to press her against the wall and kiss her, then kiss his way down her throat, over her collarbone, across her shoulders.
Nicholas couldn’t remember the last time he had reacted so strongly to a woman.
It wasn’t just how she was dressed; he’d seen plenty of women in evening gowns over the years and been unmoved.
It was Sadie in that dress that undid him.
Perhaps he had been spending a little too much time alone, holed up at his estate. Not that marriage was the solution. A few days in the nearest town—not one of the villages in Marstede lands—was all he needed. Though perhaps he should make it a point to visit Lamsdel more often as well.
It was entirely possible his mother had arranged for Pippa to come to the manor because Sadie was without a maid, but hiring someone from Valway would be more likely. And Sadie’s arrival without a carriage still made no sense.
A mystery she had very clearly tried to distract him from, and he’d allowed it, wanting to know how she’d react to learning he was a witch.
But as they descended the stairs, he forced himself to return to the matter that had initially sent him to seek her out.
“If your maid took sick only a day out from Marstede, wouldn’t it have made more sense to hurry here than to send her back to Algimon? ”
Sadie didn’t stumble for an answer, despite the abruptness of the question. “She didn’t want to be an extra burden, especially when she was already leaving me without any help.”
“Of course.” It was as logical an explanation as any, but Nicholas didn’t believe it for a moment. There was too much challenge in Sadie’s tone as she answered. “How kind of you to let her take your carriage and continue on to Marstede yourself alone. On foot.”
“I was only on foot for the last bit of the journey.”
Her admission that she walked at all took Nicholas by surprise. He had expected another denial or deflection. “And why did you walk the final distance?”
“An axle broke. Rather than waiting in the village overnight when I was so close to my destination, I decided to walk.”
“By yourself.”
“I haven’t needed anyone to help me walk for many years now.”
They’d reached the dining room, but Nicholas stopped and turned to face her rather than opening the door. “You’re telling me it didn’t worry you at all to walk alone through the woods at night?”
“First of all, the road is next to the forest, not in it. Second, it was evening, not night. And third, why should I be afraid of the woods? Everyone always says they are haunted, but I’ve never heard a single story that proves that theory.”
Nicholas was fairly certain he’d had the same argument multiple times, but he was the one spouting Sadie’s objections.
She said it with such exasperation he knew it wasn’t the first time she had made those points, either.
But why would she regularly talk about the road next to his forest?
“Do you hear about the Gloaming Forest often out in Algimon?”
She pressed her lips into a thin line, closing her eyes barely longer than a blink, then spoke as if she hadn’t just betrayed herself.
“There are traders in Baravant who refuse to travel south specifically because of the Gloaming Forest. They tell tales of its hauntedness. Well, what they claim is proof that malevolent spirits haunt the trees. I’m not convinced it is anything more than a few cases of bad luck. ”
“More like a self-fulfilling prophecy,” Nicholas muttered. “Everyone is so jumpy when they enter the forest that they shy away from squirrels. Of course more accidents than normal happen at that point.”
“Exactly.”
Nicholas studied her. “What’s your name?”
“You already know my name.”
“You are not from Algimon.” He was certain of that much at this point. If she were the viscount’s niece, she wouldn’t need to hide behind so many lies. “Therefore, you are not a Pentry.”
She stepped closer to him, her skirts brushing over his shoes, her chin raised in challenge. “This month, I am.”
Then she pivoted and entered the dining room, and he … well, he watched her go.
“My lo— Nicholas?” Jane’s voice reminded him that he still stood in the doorway.
He turned to face her. She had changed into an evening gown, too, but the sight of her shoulders, the expanse of décolletage, didn’t affect him at all.
He was both relieved and worried about that.
It meant his libido wasn’t simply choosing the worst possible moment to declare he’d been celibate for too long.
It also meant that his attraction to Sadie wasn’t merely circumstance, something he could shrug off and satisfy discreetly with an evening in town.
No, he wanted Sadie. Lying, challenging, invigorating Sadie.