Davien placed Cosette on his lap in the carriage. She didn’t fight him. He could feel her sadness as acutely as if it were his own. She stared out the window, watching the first drops of rain hit the glass. He imagined they were her tears. He wanted to kiss them all away.
Finally, she turned to him. “Charlotte’s missing.”
He regarded her steadily. He knew what she was asking. “I swear that I did not harm her.”
“I’m . . .” Cosette paused, as if emotion was clogging her throat, halting her words. “I worry that something may have happened.”
“I shall investigate the matter if that is what you wish.”
“You would do that?” she asked hopefully. A drop of moisture glinted on her lashes, her brown eyes poignant and expectant, and Davien knew that he would have granted her anything at that moment—except her freedom.
“I will.”
Cosette visibly swallowed before giving a slight nod of her head. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
He reached out and lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. “My name is Davien. I want to hear you say it.”
Her lips trembled, her eyes deep pools of amber as she repeated softly, “Davien.”
He closed his eyes. The seductive sound of his name crossing her lips was like a potent elixir that had the beast roaring with the urge to claim her. His fangs dared to protrude at the idea of marking her. But he fought it all and forced his gaze back to hers.
She must have noticed the savage battle for control, for she remained silent the rest of the way back to Shadowlawn.
Once they had returned to the manor, he assisted her from the carriage. As Quinn directed the carriage and four out of sight, he opened the front door for her.
“Where are all of your servants?” she asked.
He replied noncommittally. “I have little needs beyond my coachman.”
“But who prepares the meals and cleans the manor?”
“What does it matter as long as it is done?” He brushed past her, and then melted back into the shadows from whence he appeared.
~ ~ ~
Cosette was grateful that she had been given a reprieve from the duke’s overwhelming presence. Now that she had resigned herself to being the temporary mistress of this manor, she knew she would have to learn to accept his rather eccentric ways. But just not all at once.
She couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before the duke summoned her to ‘service’ him, but she decided that it didn’t matter, so long as he found out what had happened to Charlotte. For some unfathomable reason, she believed him when he claimed that he hadn’t hurt her, and that he would find out if something had happened.
Cosette returned to her chamber to find a tray of tantalizing food had been left in her room by a seemingly, invisible hand. The scent of ham, eggs, and freshly baked bread drifted to her, and made her stomach growl. As she walked over to where it sat on the bed, she noticed a folded note beside the elegant, silver teapot.
You will find everything you need in the wardrobe. I will collect you at dinnertime.
— D
Cosette looked toward the massive wardrobe in her room, as if something might jump out of it at any moment. But since curiosity won out over trepidation, she walked over and pulled open the heavy, oak doors. She couldn’t help but gasp at the array of dresses inside, or how they had all appeared so quickly. There were a variety of colors and fashions, ranging from simple, close-fitting gowns to sack-backs, a two-piece Brunswick, and even a brightly colored ball gown regal enough for a court setting. She touched a light blue taffeta, sure that she had never even felt anything quite so lovely before, even in Madame Louvre’s shop. It was certainly a far cry from the patched dress that she normally wore.
And that wasn’t all. Cosette pulled open drawers to find layers of undergarments and enough accessories to make her head spin. From stays, to chemises, and silk stockings, and even panniers and hoop skirts, it was more than she had ever hoped to obtain in her lifetime. Slippers, elegant buckled shoes, and gleaming riding boots, butter-soft kid gloves and fashionably trimmed bonnets, she was overwhelmed by the splendor of it all. If nothing else could be said, the duke had indeed been true to his word to see that she wanted for nothing.
But that didn’t change the fact that she’d sold her virtue—and possibly her soul—to the devil for a nice dress. She was nothing more than a highly paid courtesan. And it turned her stomach.
She closed the doors of the wardrobe. Her enthusiasm effectively diminished.
Cosette turned her attention to the fare before her. After consuming every bite, she felt too anxious to sit still, so she decided it was time to do a bit of investigating. If this was, indeed, going to be her new home, it would be nice to learn more about it.
Since she had already been to the library, an area that she intended to explore further, Cosette decided to brave the other areas of the manor first. Her bare feet barely made any sound on the plush carpet as she opened doors and peered inside. She came across a music room, a ballroom, and a portrait gallery. But the more she wandered through the cavernous halls, she couldn’t help but wonder how everything managed to stay so well preserved when there wasn’t a servant in sight. Even the guest rooms were perfectly neat and tidy with not a speck of dust to speak of, their fireplaces gleaming and free of ash. She wasn’t sure she would ever get used to living in such grandeur, or such odd conditions, day in and day out, although the duke seemed impervious to his surroundings.
Everything, that was, except her.
