“Oh, yes. From Carmilla. You do remember her, I suppose?”
I groaned. “You can’t be serious.”
“She hinted that she would like an invitation to sup with us.” Blanche grinned at me. “You, dear Emile, have an admirer.”
“I already have admirers. And I actually return their affections.” I also wasn’t so sure that Carmilla’s interest was in me, given my observations on the evening of the ball. She had been flirtatious and pleasant, but also distracted. If anything, she was likely more interested in cultivating a friendship with Blanche than with me as a suitor.
Blanche sipped her tea, then spit it out with a yelp, holding a hand to her mouth.
“Did you burn yourself?” I asked, concerned.
Blanche’s eyes watered and she nodded. “Terribly sorry,” she said, getting up. She still held a hand to her face.
“What can I do?” I asked, standing with her.
She shook her head and looked at Grimes. “Get rid of that batch of tea immediately. All of it.”
Grimes’s eyes were wide as he watched her rush from the room. I met his gaze for a moment before he set out to carry out her wishes.
I lowered myself down into my seat slowly, then gazed at my untouched teacup. With a frown, I picked it up and sniffed at the tea. It smelled strong, but nothing noteworthy stuck out to me. I took a tentative sip and winced. It did have an odd aftertaste. Slightly bitter and metallic. I set the cup aside.
“Ah, here you are,” Henri strode into the room with a smile as he peeled off his riding gloves. “Was that Grimes I saw racing out of here?” His smile turned wicked. “Did you scare him off?”
I pretended to look offended. “Hardly. Your sister burned herself on her tea. I hope she’s alright.”
“Burned herself?” Henri glanced back as the bell rang for the front door.
“Yes. And then she told Grimes to throw the batch out.”
“Oh, is the tea terrible as well?”
I shrugged. “It isn’t the best.”
Henri sat across from me. “How has your day been otherwise?”
“More of the usual. And your errand?”
Henri leaned forward and looked around as if we might be overheard. “There’s an odd bit of news going around. The apothecary shop owner’s brother has gone missing. Some think the whole family was caught up in something altogether unsavory.”
“Like what?”
Henri shrugged. “Gambling, smuggling. Who knows? It’s just gossip. I honestly don’t know how some of these rumors get started.”
So, the dead boy from the hedge mazehadbeen related to the apothecary shop owner. It made me wonder what was so terrible a crime that he’d been murdered for it.
“Now see here,” Grimes followed a man in a suit into the room. “You have no right to be in here. I’ve told you once, and I’ll tell you again: You have the wrong house.”
The man smiled thinly at Grimes. “And I tell you, sir, that I do not.” He stood before a side table and wrote something on a piece of paper, before setting it down. Then he wrote on another piece of paper and attached that one to the lamp sitting upon the table.
I exchanged looks with Henri. “Is everything alright, Grimes?”
Grimes looked flustered. “Just don’t let him wander the house unsupervised. I’m going to fetch the count.” He dashed out of the room, leaving Henri and me gaping.
We watched the man move on to a painting, where he took a moment to study it before scribbling something down and putting a paper on that as well.
“What is he doing?” Henri asked me.
I shrugged, bewildered, and stood as Henri went to inspect the papers the man had written and discarded. When I approached, Henri pulled the paper from the lamp and showed it to me. It was a tag boasting the number thirty-five.
