Flora cleared her throat. “Not as of yet. We expect to hear from him any day now.”
“Of course.”
Melbourne cocked his head. “You know, I don’t remember Emmett ever hunting ghouls.”
“He hated it,” Zachariah said. “Refused to participate, to his father’s disappointment.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Really? How interesting.”
Violetta leaned closer to me. “Emmett said ghouls were merely trying to survive, and never really hurt anyone. He referred to his father as ‘the true monster.’”
“Did he now?” That was hardly a surprise.
I gazed around at those assembled as Ambrose returned to take a seat beside the duke, who’d barely touched his food. The boy who hadn’t killed a ghoul wouldn’t be worth investigating, but the others … they’d proved their ability to hunt.
Among the sea of cheerful faces around me, I knew at least someone knew something about the hunters. I just had to be patient and exploit every opportunity to search their belongings. Someone was bound to have something incriminating on them. I returned my eyes to the fire, enjoying its warmth as it popped and settled, consuming the bodies of the ghouls hungrily.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The next day, I begged off going down to tea, claiming a headache. I needed some time alone to examine Cecelia’s room, and I wasn’t sure I would get it otherwise. It had been easy enough to discover which room was hers. I’d simply asked a servant the previous night under the guise of checking up on her.
I loitered in the hall, sitting at a windowsill with a book in hand as I waited for a maid to finish her work in Cecelia’s room. She didn’t even look my way as she finished and moved on to the next room. I skulked up to the bedchamber, and with a quick glance around, stepped inside, shutting the door soundlessly behind me. I let out a breath as I leaned back against it, taking in the room, bed freshly made by the maid. This search would prove less involved than the ones at Hemlock Manor, given that Cecelia had kept her packed belongings to a minimum. But any worthwhile vampire hunter would keep the essentials on them at all times. I quickly got to work rifling through her trunks, then the bureau. She had many books on her, quite the opposite of the piles of accessories Isabel had prized. Her wardrobe was rather drab. Mostly black with splashes of color. The dresses were at least cut nicely, with fine details, but they weren’t to my taste.
In the end, my efforts proved fruitless. Nothing indicated Cecelia was a hunter any more than Isabel or the boys I’d suspected previously. I was about to give up, when I noticed a paper on her nightstand.
I perched on the edge of the bed and held the paper up to the light streaming into the room. It was a list of questions. “Where is Emmett?” was at the top of the list, followed by “Who tried to kidnap Maxwell?” and “Who shot at me during the hunt, and why?”
So, she was trying to puzzle through some of the strange goings-on as well. She was clearly bothered if she’d set quill to paper last night. I suppose getting shot at would do that. But if she didn’t know who attempted to kidnap Maxwell, it was likely that she didn’t know the robed men. That might rule her out.
The final question she’d written gave me pause: “Why did Melbourne lie to Lucian?”
My eyebrows knit together as I attempted to recall any conversations with him where I’d posed a question, but came up empty. He seemed a fairly transparent chap, but even fools could hunt monsters, I supposed, so why not Melbourne?
I would have to figure out which room was his next.
As I stepped out of Cecelia’s chambers, closing the door quietly at my back, two figures rounded the corner, and I froze, startled by Maxwell and Ambrose.
“Oh,” I said, trying to cover my guilt with a shaky smile. “I was about to see if Cecelia had come up after tea.”
“It only just concluded,” Ambrose said, sending a curious glance at the door.
“We just came to see how you were faring,” Maxwell said, giving me a once-over. “You look a little pale yet.”
I waved away his concern. “I’m always pale. And my head feels much better, thank you.”
“Then you must join us in the parlor.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
“Did you enjoy the hunt?” Ambrose asked as we made our way up the hall.
“I did. Not as much as you, however.”
He grinned. “I get rather competitive, don’t I? It’s just thrilling.”
“Those poor beasts,” Maxwell sighed. “Does it ever bother you, killing those things?”
“Not particularly. Why? Does it bother you?”
