I have a sickening feeling about this.
“After all this, I think I deserve a drink. Avrum, would you care to join me?”
Despite the unease worming up my spine, I nod. Hopefully, Lord Henri isn’t too bothered by Lysander’s disregard for the rules.
As I follow him across the yard, my mind turns to Haven and how I’d left her the night before. Had Henri scolded her for leaving the party and running away to the city alone? She’s another one that sits heavily on my thoughts. I could barely close my eyes without seeing her face, an exact reflection of when I’d found her under the stained-glass window. Wet hair clinging to her cheeks, lips and cheeks rosy, skin pale?like a fallen angel. That vision of her haunts me.
My only wish is that she soon understands that she has been given a second chance now. She can have a better life here with us. It’s an opportunity most only dream of.
The night the fire took everything from me, Lord Henri found me. He took me in and guided me throughthe hard parts of the change and loss, like a father might. He introduced me to a life of riches and wonder.
I’d gone from rags to tailored suits. I went to operas, tasted real food, and drank expensive wine. There’s nothing left for me at the Brenin farm. Nothing. Only memories and heartache.
“Did you ever find her?”
Lysander’s voice brings me back to the present. “Find… her?”
He gives me a deadpan look as he pushes open the door into the manor. “Haven. Did you ever find Haven?”
“Yes, I did.”
We both step inside. “Was she far off?”
“She went to the city. To see her father.”
“Her father is still alive?” Lysander asks as we make our way down the dimly lit corridor, our footsteps muted by the soft burgundy carpeting. Greystone is deathly quiet compared to the night before, with all the party guests gone and the festivities over.
Lysander ponders this for a moment and rubs his jaw. “How…interesting.”
“I didn’t understand it either,” I reply, “but I’m sure Lord Henri has a good reason for bringing her here. He had one for the rest of us.”
Lysander shrugs, stopping in front of the doors leading to the kitchens. “You know, you put a lot of faith in him.”
“Why shouldn’t I? He saved my life. He took me into his home and treated me like a son. He did the same for you, didn’t he?”
Lysander’s gaze drifts away, seeming uninterestednow, his way of saying he doesn’t want to comment. Instead, he runs his hands over the front of his shirt to smooth out any wrinkles.
I wish he would tell me about how he came to Greystone. How he met Henri. I don’t understand the secrecy.
The kitchen doors behind us open, and when a maid appears with an empty tray in her hands, he beckons her over. She is very young and very human—like most of the servants working under Henri—with wheat-colored hair braided like a halo around her head.
“Two scotches,” Lysander orders, “and bring them to the library. That is where we will be for the rest of tonight.”
“Please,” I make sure to add with a small smile, since Lysander had forgotten.
The maid nods and Lysander walks toward the library, expecting me to follow. But before I do, there’s one more thing I want to do.
“Please, miss,” I call back to the girl. “Can I ask something more of you?”
Blinking innocently, she waits for me to continue.
“Do you know of a young woman here named Haven? Her bedroom is the one beside Lord Henri’s, yes?”
She gives me another nod.
“Could you just see what she’s doing this evening? Make sure all is well?” My voice quivers, and I clear it before continuing, “She was left in the rain for some time last night and—”
The maid curtsies, understanding, and disappears again through the kitchen doors.
