“What are you doing with that man?” Sable asked.
“Packing. Are you going to help?” I took an armful of clothing and dropped it in. I didn’t have a large wardrobe, but without the painstaking care manual packing required—or the right spellwork to make everything easier—dresses took up a lot of space.
Sable ran a finger along the edge of the case, deliberately not using the packing spells she excelled at—spells she knew I was terrible with even at my rested best. “What’s his name?”
“His name is none of your business.” I grabbed another handful of undergarments from the linen press—an extra chemise and shift, two pairs of stockings. Penny wandered over, still looking dazed, but began helping me fold and place with her own limited magic. Sable continued to watch. I was getting tired of people watching me.
“If you aren’t going to help, get out.”
Sable smirked and sashayed from the room.
“Don’t mind her, Lady Marietta,” Penny said after Sable’s skirt disappeared around the door frame. “Always trying to reach upward.”
Weren’t we all. “I appreciate your help, Penny.” She had always been sweet. Daft, but sweet.
“Of course, Lady Marietta. I can pack your essentials, if you’d like.”
“Yes, that would be wonderful.”
Penny went into the connected room where I kept my perfume and pins, my toilette and jewelry.
A guttural female laugh made me peek around the door frame, expecting to see Sable and Noble. The two male servants Ferris had recently hired stood in the hall instead, angled toward me.
“Why are you up here?”
They gave me varying stares. One smirking, one intense—both uncomfortable.
I carefully dropped my hand and wrapped my fingers around the pistol in my pocket. “Go fetch an extra lamp and my parasol.”
The moment stretched. Finally, they turned and walked down the steps, gazes promising. I inhaled a shaky breath. Any life I’d once envisioned had been dashed with my parents’ deaths and debt. Now I was on par with the servants—and more vulnerable in some ways.
I placed a hand against my chest—heart beating as if it would never slow. I reached for the house spells, weak and frayed like me. It was like trying to lift a wet eel.
Another delighted laugh echoed. I crept down the hall until I stood just outside Kennen’s room.
“It’s as I said, my lord, I’m here to serve you. I can help withanythingyou need.” The emphasis was hard to ignore. Sable lowered her voice, but I could still hear, as close as I was. “I know where all the good stuff is. People paying prime money for that. I won’t charge you a coin.”
The implication of everything the maid would give for free wasn’t lost on me, but the fact that the servants had been selling Kennen’s belongings overrode all else. The itch brimming under my skin, anger and despair, became agonizing. I knew,knew,they were profiting from the scandal, but I’d assumed through gossip, not thievery.
“How many things have you sold? And what were they?” Noble asked. His voice turned entrancing, like a siren’s song coaxing for more.
“Small things—a watch, a handkerchief, some knotted ties—nothing as good as I can get for someone like you. There’s a journal listing all the deepest schoolboy desires of the Vein Ripper.”
Wetness dripped down my cheeks in impotent rage. I wanted to barge in, to grab the maid, shake her,squeezeuntil her thieving hands popped off. I wanted to demand what right she had to do this.
A last bit of sense held me in place. I didn’t know where Kennen’s journal was. But as soon as the slovenly bitch produced it, I could shake her until there was nothing left to shake.
“I want it, and anything else he’s hidden.” His voice was melodious and deep. Spellbinding. The words curled around the door and wrapped me in silken straps. “I know a resourceful girl like you can find it all.”
She giggled. I couldfeelher excitement—the way the air stirred as she pressed toward him, enraptured, hungry for his approval. Her sensations echoed along the snares wrapping around me. I clawed at the spun silk, shredding too hard, too wild—fraying and unraveling the enchantment in a messy tangle as I thrashed. I couldn’t command light, but make me feel trapped? I’d try to tear down a wall with a fish.
“The journal is just over here, my lord.”
Something scraped across the floor. The night table?
“He hides everything here that he doesn’t want his wretched, useless sister to find.”
Pain. I stared at the pendulum in the hallway clock, willing its steady swing to keep me from sobbing.
