“Quite the opposite, but I know that your curiosity will eat away at you until your mind is satisfied.”
I changed the subject. “You cheated.”
“Pardon?”
“Our wager last time we spoke. You said you would give me a head start as a sign of good faith.”
“What if I decided to pursue you inbadfaith?” He cocked his head to the side. “I can’t help it. Don’t get mad at a Windhound for chasing something that runs.”
“Again with the zoomorphism.” I rolled my eyes, shoving the card into a miscellaneous drawer before slapping it shut. “If you were an animal, you would be a pest.”
“I hope you will wear something nicer next time. I like it when my meals come with those pretty little garnishes.” He ignored my previous chide.
I bit my tongue and glared, turning away and forcing myself to focus on another task other than him. He had proved to be quite an irritant already. Maybe if I ignored him, he would disappear—like a boogeyman.
His footsteps receded, followed by the ring of the front door. His presence was pervasive, bringing a stifling air to any room he was in. It even lingered after he left, like a strong cologne.
While his interactions made me uneasy, they made me look forward to the next. I would be lying if I said his departure did not disappoint me.
I wanted to strip that smug look from his face when I eventually found a way to remove his stain from this earth. For once, I had a competent subject, but there was an inconvenient learningcurve. Most of my work did not involve a chase, offense,ordefense. Poison was straightforward like that. I would prove every thought that crossed his mind wrong in the coming days, weeks, months—however long it took for him to succumb to me.
Men, they were all the same. This one just happened to have an appetite for these things. It shall be no different from the rest. They all gave in and withered at my will, one way or another.
Brrrrrrring.
I looked up from my book to peer at the door. I heard a rustling and then a clang of the metal letter slot as it slapped shut. The mail had dropped.
Placing my book carefully on the tea table, I set my pen down in the middle to mark my place.
A copy of theYoung Ladies’ Journalwas in the basket when I glanced at the letter bin, but nothing worth ringing the bell for.
Unlocking the door, I peered out to see a small rectangular box on the front step.
Gingerly, I collected the box and placed it on the table. I awkwardly seated myself across from it, the box confusing me as I was not expecting a parcel.
It was wrapped in expensive paper and felt light, like a gift. Phoebe would have told me if she was sending something for me, so that was one sender out of the question. The only other acquaintance I knew who might go through the trouble would be Mr. Forbes.
Do I want to open this? What if I pretend I never saw it and throw it in the bin? It is not too late to turn back now.
After several thoughtful moments and eventually decidingagainst my better judgment, I unwrapped the paper from the box, revealing a velvet casing.
Christ, I am beginning to think he’s less interested in killing me and more interested in courting me.
When I opened it, I saw one of the most beautiful pearl pieces I had ever seen.
The demi-parure necklace was a choker made entirely of strings of seed pearls. The strands were bent and fashioned into rosettes with a gold clasp in the back. It was quite thick, as it had several strings stacked horizontally. As I inspected it closer, I noticed something different about the jewelry.
Usually, a piece like this would have been made of horsehair, something fine but strong enough to hold the most delicate pearls. But the hair seemed finer, and black was an odd color to use when stringing white pearls.
There was a note within the box.
I would have strung them with hair from my last grand gesture, but I thought using yours would do perfectly well, a more personal touch.
—Silas
The realization hit me, and I could feel the bile rise in my throat.
I dropped the necklace and forced my body out of the room, releasing whatever my stomach was holding on to over the tile.
