It was as if Lord Hargreaves was able to read Leena’s thoughts, for he turned and looked directly at her with a pleasant smile, and inclined his head a fraction.
She didn’t know how to respond. It had been years since she hadworked for him, and she was not even sure if he still recognized her as his former employee. So she merely nodded back and turned to Rami.
A portly lord who sat near the window spoke next. “Eh, what say you, Martin, if we were to take a tour of the crypts? They are the oldest in the country, I hear, housing all the dead Avon Lords.”
Lord Kilworth, looking irritated, responded, “Impossible! The crypts are the most dangerous part of Weavingshaw. No one has set foot there since—” Leena knew he cut himself off just as he was about to say,Percival Avon’s death.
Mr. Martin interjected, shaking his head sadly. “I would be more than happy to oblige you, my lord. However, we are in the process of renovating much of the architecture there, as some of the walls are not sound.”
Leena heard St. Silas scoff beside her. She turned to him.
If she were to step out of the roles they were playing and observe him objectively, she would have had no doubt about saying St. Silasbelongedhere. The part of the bored gentleman he was playing was done so well she nearly believed it herself. His long frame was draped across his chair in decadent ease, his nonchalant expression flickering between the window and their host in tedium.
And yet she knew, from watching St. Silas so long, that he was not bored. That he was indeed charged with energy. That tic in his jaw, so subtle, was making its appearance.
As breakfast concluded and the guests readied themselves for the tour, Leena knew that she could not excuse herself from this activity. She still had to play her part as a guest—however unwanted—and could not find a legitimate reason to leave and go in search of her own pursuits.
With great reluctance, she prepared herself for the inevitable, and was then dismayed when St. Silas informed her that he would not be joining them for the rest of the day. So now she’d have to tackle the gentry with only her brother on her side.
“Stay sharp,” was all St. Silas said to her before he was gone.
—
Oddly enough, the more isolated Leena felt from the other members of the party, the closer she became to Mrs. Van.
The initial fear and repulsion she had felt for the demon had turned into fascination. That afternoon, after the awkward tour of the house—on which Leena saw all the portraits of the Avons from the first Marquess to the last—all Leena wanted to do was isolate herself in her room. But that was not to be; she would have to make an appearance at dinner. Mrs. Van was already present to help Leena change into her evening dress and to re-pin her curls. The housekeeper proved an extremely talented lady’s maid as well, and she’d made Leena look every inch the noble, even if she did not feel like one. Everything Leena wore felt like a costume meant for someone else, and she missed her old cambric dresses.
“The master has told you about me?” Mrs. Van asked as she twisted a gold-filigree band through Leena’s hair. She said it matter-of-factly, but her unusual elongated fingers had tightened their hold on the hairpiece.
“Yes,” Leena replied steadily.
Mrs. Van’s cool eyes met Leena’s own in the mirror. “My mother was human, but my father was a demon.” She paused. “Are you afraid?”
Leena sucked in her cheeks. She thought of the blood that ran through her own veins, viewed disdainfully ascommonby the nobles, asforeignby the Mors—and how, in the end, blood was just blood when it was hemorrhaging.
“No, I don’t fear you,” Leena said, and was astonished to find that it was true. “In fact, I owe you a debt for curing Rami. You’re very talented—at everything you do.”
Mrs. Van gave her a small, weary smile, and Leena suddenly felt less lonely in this house filled with ghosts.
Over the nextfew days, they searched for the red diary relentlessly.
To Leena, the challenge felt insurmountable.
The most difficult part was that they had to participate in every scheduled activity organized to entertain the gathered party while still finding time for their hunt. Meaning that she, Rami, Mrs. Van, and St. Silas could meet only very early in the morning or very late into the evening. They only had a week, and it felt to Leena like too little time to search the massive house, not to mention the lands that belonged to Weavingshaw.
It also didn’t take long for Leena to notice that Mr. Martin was having them followed. She sensed watchful eyes on her with every step she took, from the footmen down to the gardeners and maids, who seemed to be forever moving from one place to another with their pots and pruning shears, mops and brooms. Even the butler made a few unexpected appearances in places he would usually not frequent. It was an odd feeling for Leena, to be trailed by beings other than ghosts.
Theodore Daye had also made his reappearance, although helooked more faded here. He took his habitual stance beside her bed—at least Leena had been able to renew her supply of salt, with the aid of Mrs. Van—but he could not answer her questions about the whereabouts of the diary nor lead them toit.
The search began with the obvious places.
On that first day—both after the tour and in the dead of night—they searched the vast library. It was difficult, the wooden shelves weighed down by hundred-year-old manuscripts and leather-bound books. It was also the size of a small marketplace in Golborne. After several hours of dust-infused exploration, all four of them left frustrated and filthy.
It was not there.
Neither was it in the study they were first shown into when they arrived at Weavingshaw.
As Leena and Mrs. Van made their way back from their fruitless search there on the second day, they met Lord Kilworth in the hall. Leena had been avoiding him, but all throughout the tour of the house and gallery the day before he’d found excuses to linger beside her, to brush her shoulderaccidentally,despite Leena’s irritated insistence that His Lordship pay better attention to his surroundings—until Rami had “accidentally” stomped on his foot. That had caused quite a stir.
