His expressive eyes begged for more. He wasn’t going to make a move – he wanted me to be overt with my consent and control. This was his apology, his way of making things right for being in my room. He wanted to hand me back my power.
I took it, fisting my hands into his shirt and dragging him the final inch, until our lips met in a searing kiss.
He tasted fresh and tart from the apple. Beneath it, his distinct scent – the myrrh and musk, the roses dappled with early morning dew – swept me into the sheer force of his being. If Ivan was a dark elf, then Titus was some kind of ancient forest god – dark and chaotic and fiercely protective.
I pulled away, struggling for breath. “I don’t want this to stop, but if I don’t get this baking done—”
Titus nodded, but he didn’t release me from his arms.
“Have you ever heard violin music late at night?” I tried to reach around behind him to free myself. “I hear it in my room, but nowhere else in the house. It seems to come from the storage room, except that it’s not loud enough to be someone playing in there, and when I go out onto the landing, I can’t hear it through the door. Oh, once I heard it in Madame’s chambers, too.”
Titus’ eyes darkened. “I’ve never heard this music. I have an explanation, but you’re not going to like it. Consider who used to occupy your room.”
“Who used to—” I folded my arms and glared up at him. “I’m too tired and stressed for riddles. Explain.”
“Didn’t Dorien tell you? Clare played the violin.”
“Clare? You mean, the dead maid?”
Titus nodded. “She was talented. She worked for Madame for peanuts in exchange for free lessons. The only time she could practice was late at night, when we’d all gone to sleep. I know you don’t believe in ghosts, but…”
…but why would I hear mysterious music in the dead of the night, music that could only be heard in my room?
It’s impossible. It can’t be.
Ghosts aren’t real.
Are they?
Chapter Fifty-Five
Dorien
I hummed a few bars of ‘Confessions of an Opium Eater’ under my breath as I buttoned one of my baroque dress shirts, debating whether to go the full Monty with my tailored frock coat. I never felt this cheery about seeing my parents, but for the first time in decades, my heart was light. I had a plan. I could fix it. I could make life better for all of us.
Faye was mine.
Yours and Titus’ and Ivan’s,I reminded myself. But I didn’t mind sharing her for now. If anyone could handle the three of us, it was Faye de Winter. Besides, she would choose me in the end. Faye and I – we were written in the stars.
She’d walked back into my life by complete chance, and I wasn’t going to let her go again.
There was a knock at the door. “Come in.” I finished tying the knot in my cravat. “I’ve got—Heather?”
I’d expected to see Faye’s gorgeous curves sashaying through the door. Instead, Heather stormed inside, her prissy nose high in the air. She shut the door behind her, threading the bolt into the lock.
“Dorien, we need to talk.”
“I’ve said all I have to say to you.” I turned back to the mirror and flicked my hand like I was flicking away an annoying bug, which Heather definitely was. A cockroach. Or a dung beetle.
Heather didn’t like that one bit. The false smile dropped from her lips, replaced by a scowl that did nothing for her looks.
“I know your secret,” she hissed. “I know all about what’s going on at Valencourt Manor. Or should I call it, The Temple of Earthly Truths.”
My blood froze in my veins. That was the first time I’d heard that name uttered outside the walls of my home.
There was no use pretending I didn’t know what she was talking about. I whirled around, fixing her with what I hoped was a terrifying look, even as my heart pounded against my chest. “How?”
Heather came up behind me, placing her hands on my shoulders. “It doesn’t matter how. What matters is that I have the information. I’m still deciding what to do with it.”
