He pushed his mug away and held his head in his hands.He groaned her name.“What do you want me to say?
“I want you to agree to lunch with Ezekiel.”
His gaze narrowed.“Ezekiel?”
“Yes, Ezekiel.He earned that right this week when he stood by my side and supported me through the worst day of my life.”Her throat clogged, and those dratted tears were back.“I’m no longer allowed to visit Mum.She’s gotten worse and is claiming to be Katherine Yates.They blame me for it.”The sobs erupted without her leave, and they were impossible to stop.
Father came around and cradled her like he had when she was a child.She might be an adult, but oh, how she still needed the comfortonly her father could provide.Her tears depleted quickly, and soon they were both back to cupping their cooled mugs.
“Who is she, Father?Who is Katherine Yates?”
“A woman from your mother’s past who needs to stay there.Now tell the truth.This young man—do you really want to court him?”
Was that a tactical redirection to avoid telling her more about Katherine Yates?Should she push for an answer and possibly miss her one chance to convince Father to allow her to choose her own suitor?If necessary, she could go her whole life without knowing who Katherine was, but she couldn’t go the rest of her life without Ezekiel in it.
“I do, but part of me is afraid I’ll turn into Mum, and—” She stopped herself from sayinghe’ll abandon me like you did Mum.“I don’t want him to go through what we have.”
“I don’t think that will happen, but if he’s a man worthy of you, he’ll stand by your side regardless.”His eyes grew distant.Was he feeling guilty for having never visited Mum?He shook his head and gave a resigned sigh.“Send a note to your Ezekiel.We will join him at church and lunch following.”
Nora bounced from her chair and bussed him on the cheek.“Thank you, Father.”
“Don’t thank me yet.I have every intention of spouting fire until he’s either charred to bits or proven himself capable of withstanding the heat.I’m going to lie down.Do try to keep that cat from creating any more messes or attacking me while I sleep.”
“I’ll do my best, but I make no promises.”
“Maybe we ought to keep him.If Winston were ever to come around, that devil’s spawn would do a fine job of defending you.”
Now there was a thought.What would Ezekiel think if she claimed Tristan for her own?At least until Mrs.Beaumont returned home.It certainly would be a comfort to have a cat around to confirm what was real and what was her imagination.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
C-C-COLD.CONSTANZA WAS SO COLD.And hot.Fiery hot.She could feel the burning stings of a million angry hornets all over her body.Cold.Hot.Hot.Cold.Why could her body not decide which it was?
And those hornets.They buzzed so loudly in her head.The only thoughts that could rise above them were short and broken.Escape.Danger.Eleonora.
Eleonora.The word was a razor blade, cutting away through deadened senses that bound Constanza’s mind in a thick fog.The details of why those three words were linked were gone, but all that mattered was Eleonora.And Eleonora needed her.
Darkness met Constanza when she opened her eyes.Even after they’d adjusted, she couldn’t distinguish much except the room was cold and stank of body and excrement.If it weren’t so quiet, she’d swear it was a cell in the Tower of London.
Escape.Danger.Eleonora.Winston.
Her breath caught.Winston.He’d found her.Found Eleonora.
Constanza tried to roll to her side, but her whole body had become lead.Hot, cold, muddled brain, a deadened body?She’d been drugged.He’d done this to her.
The man was a devil, and his reign must end.Eleonora needed her, and Constanza would fight until her dying breath.First she had to get free.The hot tingles prickling her skin meant the medicine was losing effectiveness.Her body was awakening.It just needed an extra nudge.
With a jaw clenched so hard it ached, she rolled.Metal bit into the skin of her wrists and ankles.Shackles?He’d placed her in shackles?The fiend.She fought against them, her strength coming back in small batches.Wetness formed and slicked the restraints where they rubbed.Iron scent tainted the air, and its taste filled her mouth when she bit down on her already chapped and split lips.
A door opened, and light cast the figure in shadow.“Nurse Rhodes, grab the morphine!”
Morphine?And from the sounds of it, a female spoke.But not Ursula.
Light flooded the narrow room as the nurse brought in a lantern.Gray walls, tall ceilings, and a single barred window caged Constanza.A thin straw tick lay beneath her, and the iron door—meant to protect her from the world—or, more likely, the world from her—stood open, forgotten in the nurse’s haste.
Isolation.
Memory flooded her.The conniving blackguard.He knew what he was doing in goading her to attack him.
