“You wouldn’t laugh if you saw the company my parents keep,” he said dryly. “The ladies ruling the historical society would throw people in jail in a heartbeat, if they could make ill-thought renovations illegal. I suppose we’re just lucky that they don’t use guns to enforce their point.”
He’s funny. She nearly laughed and caught herself just in time—but not quite in time to keep from smiling. God, why was he funny? It was easy to resist a man who wasn’t charming; it was harder when he not only knew that he was, but was constantly, successfully leveraging every gleaming weapon in his arsenal of charm against you.
“You’re smiling,” he remarked.
“Because you’re ridiculous.”
“I was wrong,” he said thoughtfully. “At the wedding, I said you only might be prettier than your sister. But when you smile, there’s simply no question. It lights you up.”
Several emotions pulsed through her like—well, like brightly colored lights. Her smile faded as quickly as it had formed, and she felt her throat go tight. “That’s an awful thing to say while she’s missing.”
“I know,” he said. “But I still thought you should know.”
Why?She wanted to ask but didn’t. She couldn’t figure out a way to do it without sounding arrogant or wounded, which was exacerbated by the knowledge that she was not nearly as bothered by his compliments as she felt like she should have been.
“S-so the house—it’s barely been restored at all?”
“Yes. I’m not sure how much you remember from my mother’s tour one year ago, but I’m sure you’ve noticed the wallpaper,” Cal said, tracing the dark gloss of it as he swiftly changed subjects. “It was all imported from China. The fan palms were done with block-print, and dyed with lampblack and bronze powder. Most of the furniture is original, as well. Brought here from England.”
“It’s very—”
“Unsettling?” he prompted. “Yes, it was meant to be.”
They went down the hallway while she was still mulling over the strangeness of that. All these corridors seemed less forbidding with someone else walking beside her, but she knew that was only because she wasn’t alone. She looked at the sharp, angular furniture with scrolls that looked like fangs and horns, lurking in the shadowy corners like prowlers ready to jump. “He wanted his house to be scary?” Nadine clarified.
“This is my father’s room,” Cal said, in lieu of answering. “I think he’s in there now, so we won’t go in. But traditionally, it has always belonged to the Master of Ravensgate. The family crest hangs over the walls—Venari, dormire: in hoc est salus. To hunt, to sleep: that is the life.”
Remembering her unpleasant conversation with Nathaniel, she felt a bolt of unease and glanced around, wondering if he’d reappear. “I’ve seen it,” she mumbled. “I went in by mistake.”
“Have you. You move quickly, then.” There was a grim note in his voice. “This is Mother’s room, though she keeps her apartments locked during the day. Not even the maids are allowed in. She doesn’t like being disturbed.”
Another warning? Probably. “What about your father?”
“He has a master key.”
Odessa’s room was done in all white. “They call it the swan room,” said Cal, gesturing to the wall lamps that looked like swans, and a tapestry depicting more of the same. Ben’s room, on the other hand, was quite severe: mahogany furniture and dark gold jacquard with black accents that made the room look tight and cold. Nadine saw a few things of Noelle’s scattered about and her heart wrenched when she picked up one of her sister’s cast-off dresses as Cal watched.
Then she noticed him watching and let the silk slip through her fingers, though she couldn’t resist a final, suspicious look backwards, like she was missing something obvious. “Where are the rest of her things?” she asked suddenly. “Nathaniel said her room used to be mine.”
Cal’s face flickered. “They’re in storage.”
“Already?”
He didn’t answer, and Nadine’s frown deepened.
She’s only been missing for a few weeks, why would they put her things in storage?
“I might like to go through them then,” she said warningly.
“Of course,” Cal said. “I can take you there later.”
Most of the doors in the hallway were closed, and despite his promise of a “grand” tour, Cal didn’t open them, just as he didn’t tell her where her sister’s things were being kept. “We keep a lot of them sealed to save on heating. The insulation is very poor. It gets drafty. A lot of these doors just lead to the old servants’ corridors anyway. Back in the day, it was considered in better taste notto see the help. That a house should run itself.”
“That’s pretty shitty,” Nadine blurted.
“I agree.” He smiled slightly; it was the first time he had since they’d left Ben’s room. “That surprises you?”
“I don’t really know you well enough to be surprised by anything you do.”
