Chapter 20 #3
They found Silla waiting in the gallery, her hands white at the knuckles. “Oh, Your Grace. Master Nicholas. I heard what happened.”
“Silla—”
The duchess pulled from Nic to fall upon her maid, clinging to her as she had clung to Nic in the drawing room. Silla wrapped her arms around the shaking woman and patted her back. “Hush now, you’re safe with me. Let’s get you comfortable.”
Over the duchess’s shoulder, Silla mouthed “Thank you” before turning to take her the rest of the way to her rooms. Nic watched them go, Dashiell standing beside him.
Once the duchess and her maid had disappeared, Nic let go a long, heavy sigh. “You may now walk me to my door, Master sa Vare.”
“It would be an honour.”
Nic tried to laugh but the sound wouldn’t come, so together they left the gallery in silence, returning back along the hallway. “You’re a good son,” Dashiell said as they reached the stairs.
“I’m not sure that’s true, but perhaps I will be from now on.”
For a moment it seemed like Dashiell would argue, but he swallowed his words and instead turned to mount the stairs.
“I hope you don’t mind that I am walking you to your door,” he said as they neared the top.
“No.” Nic flicked him a smile as they walked the last distance to his rooms, their shoulders brushing close. “I was just very angry the last time you offered to.”
“I know.”
Upon reaching Nic’s door, they stopped, sharing an awkward smile.
“Thank you for making sure I didn’t get murdered,” Nic said.
“And thank you for letting me ensure you didn’t get murdered. It was the most enjoyable part of the evening. Especially since tedious forms now await me.”
“Will there be time? To finish the contract, I mean, before the king’s men arrive?”
“Assuming there are no great arguments, yes. Though I may get rather less sleep than I generally like.”
Nic nodded. He needed to say good night, needed to step inside and close his door so there would be something more between them than air, but he’d never wanted to escape Dashiell less, never wanted to protect himself less than in that moment.
He wanted to throw caution to the wind and pull Dashiell close, to say that although they couldn’t have forever, they could at least have now, but if they were caught, the risk was all Dashiell’s.
And so, from some deep core of self-control, Nic dredged up the words: “I should let you go. Before we both get murdered standing in the hallway.”
“Wouldn’t that be a thing,” Dashiell agreed with a forced laugh. “I suppose you’d better get inside then, while I run for the safety of my room.”
“Make sure you’re quick. Or I’ll have to risk my life to check on you.”
“After which I would have to risk mine to check on you.”
The answer that they could avoid all that by spending the night together was on the tip of Nic’s tongue, but he bit down hard and smiled instead. “Let’s not have that happen. Well. Good night.”
“Good night.”
Before he completely lost the ability to move, Nic pushed open the door and stepped inside. And having closed it, he leaned against it, every part of him feeling tight and fragile, his skin prickling.
Just as the world had gone resolutely on after Rowerre’s death and would again now, so it would when Dashiell once again walked out the doors of Monterris Court, breaking Nic’s heart.
He sighed and rubbed his eyes and, letting go a long, slow breath, pushed away from the door.
Despite a lamp left burning and the low glow of the fire, Nic’s rooms were full of shadows. They were familiar, comforting shadows, however, one even pooling around the base of a half-filled wine decanter.
Thank God.
As he made his way toward it, a gentle knock sounded on the door. Nic dashed back and yanked it open to find Leaf standing on the threshold, a candle trembling in one hand, the other clutching a fistful of her fine dressing gown. “May I come in?”
“Of course, but… Ambrose isn’t here to chaperone us. I could call for—”
“No. There is nothing I care about less than my honour right now.” She slipped in beneath his arm as she spoke, leaving him to close the door in her wake.
“Were you just… sitting around in the dark?” she asked, pausing in the middle of the floor.
“I just got in. I’ll light some more candles.”
Leaf reached out to stop him. “No, don’t. There’s something comforting about sitting by a glowing fire in the dark.”
“Well, I have a glowing fire, but other than wine I have nothing else to offer, I’m afraid.”
“Bring the wine down here,” she said, settling on the carpet before the fire, her dark hair tumbling loose. “I’m here for your company, but given the circumstances, wine is an excellent addition.”
Having paused only to kick off his shoes, Nic joined her sitting cross-legged on the carpet with the wine tray set before them. For a time, they sat in silence, each staring into the flames, deep in thoughts that had a sticky quality.
“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Leaf said eventually.
“Millie has just… always been there. The older cousin I looked up to. She even played with me when I was little, though I must have been very annoying. How many better things could she have been doing than entertaining a childish cousin? We grew apart once she married, but after Lord Radlay died last year, we saw a lot more of her and it was nice. Not nice that he died, of course, just…”
“I know. I’m sorry. I wish none of this had happened, especially under my roof and in the process of negotiating our marriage.”
“It does feel very inauspicious, doesn’t it? Although perhaps people will say it’s lucky in a perverse way, like how they say it’s actually lucky when a bird does its business on you.”
“I can confirm that there is nothing lucky about getting covered in bird droppings, and I should know, given how many birds we have. I’ve never understood why people say that.”
Leaf took a large mouthful of wine and turned from contemplation of the fire. “I think people say it because they’re uncomfortable dealing with another’s distress, so would rather pretend the cause doesn’t exist and tell everyone they should actually be grateful for suffering.”
“That feels disturbingly accurate.”
“Doesn’t it, though.”
“On that note, perhaps this would be a good time to ask your father to break the contract again,” Nic said. “He might even sasine you if you ask for the twenty-fourth time.”
She rolled a wry smile his way. “I just tried. He has very stubbornly refused, but I think I will soon have another five thousand pounds for my school fund.”
Nic couldn’t think of anything to say that didn’t sound awful, so instead he stared into the fire and let long minutes pass in companionable silence.
“I just don’t know what to do,” Leaf said eventually, putting her glass down.
“First, we were sure it was Uncle Ricard, then a murderous automaton, and now I cannot but wonder if it is someone else, and that automaton is merely an oddity. Or worse, perhaps it is all three at once. Gosh, I wish she’d never come with us.
I wish I could do something, could turn back time just long enough to take that cup out of her hand. ”
She sniffed and set her head on Nic’s shoulder. He slid an arm around her, and there, side by side before the dying fire, they sat for a long time. Leaf let tears trickle down her cheeks, and Nic didn’t let her go until she pulled away, wiping her eyes.
“Do you want to talk through it?” he said when she managed a tremulous smile and a thank-you. “See if there’s anything we might have missed?”
Leaf shrugged. “Where’s the point? We’ve failed to figure anything out so far and I don’t imagine that will change.”
“Excuse me, what have you done with Lady Leaf Serral?”
“What do you mean?” She gave a watery laugh. “I’m right here.”
“No, you can’t be. You’re suggesting we give up.”
“I’m being realistic.”
“Would Mary Mallowan give up?” Nic asked.
“Mary Mallowan is the author, Nic, not the detective.”
“All right, fine, would Mary Mallowan’s fictional detective character whose name I don’t know give up?”
That earned him a faint smile. “No, she wouldn’t. I suppose you’re right. We may as well keep trying to find the answer even just as something to do until we get murdered.”
Nic blinked and reached for his wine. “Morbid. Where do we start?”
“I don’t know. I think I’m too empty for ideas right now.” She shifted some cushions as she spoke and lay down, curling up like a cat.
“You are more than welcome to stay as long as you like,” he said. “But I feel required to ask whether your maid at least knows where you are.”
“Yes, I told her. She was scandalised and insisted on coming with me, but I managed to talk her out of it. And yes, I know it’s not the done thing, but since they’re making us marry anyway, what more can they expect?”
It was an indisputable argument, and satisfied that no one would set up a screech because Lady Leaf had gone missing, Nic rested his back against the chair and downed the last of his wine.
He wanted more, but for now the warmth of the dying fire alone would have to provide all the much-needed comfort.
Although in truth, even a blazing fire and an endless supply of wine could not have quelled the new fear Millie’s death had seeded.
An hour ago, they had thought themselves safe so long as they were never alone.
And then Millie had died in a room full of people.
Nowhere was safe anymore.