So why hadn’t he begun the proceedings?
He tried not to send another glance toward Noelle, but the temptation was impossible to resist. If he had yearned for her before, his addiction had only increased. It was as if his eyes wished to drink her up, to commit every eyelash, every wrinkle of her nose, every curve of her lips to memory.
But he was too close to having done with his grandfather’s final manipulation. He could let nothing stand in its way. Especially not his own emotions.
“Welcome to the Castle Aviary Grand Opening Celebration,” he called out, feeling absolutely ridiculous using such terminology to describe a single brown game bird nestled in a wicker basket.
The crowd let out a thundering cheer, as if he had announced the war with France was finally over and that he had personally defeated Napoleon Bonaparte armed with nothing more than a partridge.
They could not possibly be serious. He slid an incredulous glance toward Noelle.
“We like parties,” she said with a grin. “And Mr. Marlowe. And Cressmouth. There’s really no way this could go wrong.”
Benjamin hoped not. Nonetheless, he lifted a corner of the blanket covering the basket to ensure he carried a partridge, not porridge, and that nothing else could go awry. The bird lay in the center, one wing covering its head as if to block out the roar from the crowd.
“My sincere apologies,” Benjamin whispered. “Soon you can hide in a tree where you belong.”
With a flourish, he opened the door to the aviary and whipped the blanket from the basket to allow the bird to fly inside.
The partridge did not move.
He gave the basket a little jiggle. Had the bird expired in the hundred yards from outbuilding to aviary? God help him.
The partridge opened one baleful eye and glared sullenly at Benjamin.
His shoulders relaxed. The creature hadn’t died. It just hated him.
“Behold the partridge!” Benjamin shouted and shoved the uncovered basket over the threshold and into the aviary.
Nothing happened. No chirps. Not so much as a flutter.
Benjamin ignored the bird. It was inside the aviary. That was all that mattered. The terms were complete. A thousand people could file indoors to gather around a basket if they so wished. He had fulfilled his part of the bargain.
“Champagne,” murmured Noelle and gestured toward a footman.
Almostfulfilled. One last step, and his mother’s locket would finally return home. Benjamin’s heart was racing so fast it had become difficult to think. He accepted the bottle of champagne from the footman and motioned everyone to back up a safe distance from the entrance.
He held the bottle of wine aloft. “I dedicate this building to—”
“Mr. Marlowe!” the crowd screamed in unison.
Their deafening roar drowned out Benjamin’s words as he met Noelle’s eyes. “To the indomitable Miss Pratchett.”
There was no hull of a ship to break the bottle against, so he aimed at the patch of ground just before the entrance.
The bottle cracked in two. Foamy champagne sprayed upon the wooden doorframe and Benjamin’s black boots.
His heart leaped. He’d done it!
Two footmen rushed forward with brooms to clear away the glass before the stampeding crowd pulverized the shards into dust.
Benjamin glanced inside the aviary at the bird in the basket.
It was empty.
“Where’s the partridge?” he whispered to Noelle.
“I didn’t see it move,” she whispered back, frowning into the interior. “It cannot have disappeared.”
