“You’ve no reason to be concerned, Miss Jones. Varina comes to see me for tonics. Medications. That’s all. A lot of the local women do. Sometimes they come to me by night because it’s safer for them to do so. Especially if they’re in some sort of trouble.” He sighs, and stands, stretching languidly. “I have a great deal of sympathy for a woman in trouble. Don’t you think it’s time you told me the truth? I had the feeling you’ve been lying to me. Now I have proof of it.”
A high-pitched whine starts up in my ears. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you,Lillian?”
All the air goes out of the room.
He takes the newspaper from the table next to his chair, and hands it to me. Above the fold, my courtroom portrait glares in black and white—my dour expression, my severely parted hair. The headline beneath declares:Lillian Carmichael Suspected in String of Uncanny Murders. Reward Offered.
“That’s you, isn’t it? A terribly unjust likeness, but itisyou.”
“No. My ... my cousin,” I stammer. “Lillian is my cousin. We look alike.”
He advances on me, backing me toward the staircase, until I can retreat no farther and the newel post presses against my shoulder blades. The newspaper drops to the floor. My heart is a wild, panicked bird trapped in the cage of my ribs. He traces a finger up my cheek. Pauses on the mole next to my right eye.
“Cousins don’t usually have the same birthmark. Twins sometimes do, but even that is rare.” His eyes search mine. He’s so close I can feel the heat from his body. I draw in a shallow breath.
“You haven’t read the article yet,” he continues, “but it’s full of ridiculous conjecture. They’re saying you’re undead. That you’re some sort of craven creature, risen from the grave with a hunger for blood.But I can see your pulse, through your skin. Hear your breath. I also know you were here when the most recent murder happened.”
“There’s been another?”
“Yes. Three nights ago. Which makes meyouralibi, Lillian. I can help you, if you’ll let me. If you’ll trust me.”
“How?”
“Your ruse is lacking in confidence. You have far too many ... tells, my dear.” His finger traces my jawline. “Your eyes widen when caught off guard. You stumble over your words.” He smiles wickedly, and my belly swoops. He’s read me like an open book. “Yes. Every one of your cards is showing. And from the shadows beneath those pretty eyes, I gather you didn’t get a wink of sleep last night, because of our conversation on the piazza, or your assumptions about Varina. So now, I’m going to help you back to bed. When you wake, we’ll talk about the future, and the nature of our relationship.” He grips my chin, his thumb pressing against my lower lip, and I nearly swoon at the hunger in his eyes. “Do you trust me?”
“I don’t know. I ... I don’t trust anyone.”
“Given your situation, I don’t think you have much of a choice.” Without hesitation, he sweeps me off my feet and carries me up the stairs, like some helpless damsel in a fairy tale. But in this story, I don’t know whether I’ve met my charming prince, or the wolf.
Twelve
When I wake, the blond woman I saw from the window last night sits at my bedside. Varina. I startle, sitting up. She smiles at me, one hand idly stroking her long locks. Up close, she’s undeniably beautiful, with wide, blown-out pupils rimmed with blue. There’s something familiar about her face, though I can’t mark what it is. “There you are, love,” she says in a lilting voice. “Alex sent me to check on you. You’ve slept most of the day.”
“I ...” I glance around, trying to get my bearings. Warm sunlight streams through the windows. This feels like a dream. “What are you doing here? Where is Alex?”
“Alex is occupied with other matters.” She bites her lip and smiles at me coquettishly. “Aren’t you a dainty thing. Like a pretty doll.”
I blush and look away. I’ve always been self-conscious of my petite frame, and dislike when people comment on it.
“I didn’t intend to insult you,” she says.
“You haven’t,” I say defensively. I decide I don’t like this woman. At all. For more reasons than my jealousy. I want her to leave.
“You’ve no reason to be jealous of me. Alex is quite taken with you.”
My blush grows more furious. I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything.
Varina rises, the cheap, rose-colored satin of her skirts whispering softly. “Come along, I’ve something to show you.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll see. It’s a surprise.”
I stay in bed, eyeing her warily as she walks toward the door. She glances over her shoulder, gives me that same flirtatious look. And god help me, my curiosity gets the best of me. I stand, shoving my feet into my slippers. “You’re very convincing.”
She laughs and opens the door. “I know.”
