A shadow passed over her expression for the barest fraction of a moment, and Nicholas was suddenly certain she did have a secret, something that had nothing to do with why she was in his home or how she had come to be in Marstede. Something deeper. Darker.
He should have thrown her out of the manor. But instinct told him that whatever her secret was, she was no threat. The darkness haunted her; it wasn’t her weapon.
“I will figure it out,” Nicholas promised, letting her see that he meant more than just the mystery of how she had come to Marstede.
Her hand rose, clutching at the pendant she wore at her throat. He could see the glyph carved on it, a simple protection that could do little more than ward off a paper cut. It certainly wouldn’t affect him. Or whatever put that shadow in her eyes.
“Why does it matter so much to you?” she demanded. The challenge in her voice now was bluster, desperation underlying it. “I’ll be gone in a month.”
A smidgen of regret wormed its way through Nicholas. He didn’t want to make her genuinely uncomfortable or afraid for her own safety. He’d expected her to push back, not cower. Not that she was exactly cowering, but still.
Her acceptance that she’d be gone once the month was up confused him as well. “Why come at all, then? If you have no intention of winning a place for yourself here, why not stay at home?”
Miss Pentry snorted, and the shadows were gone as if they’d never existed. “Your mother is a very hard woman to say no to.”
Nicholas allowed a huff of laughter to escape. “Finally, something we can agree on.”
Six
???
The ruse hadfallen apart faster than Sadie expected, and not due to a mistake on her end. Lady Marstede had simply underestimated her son’s willingness to question what was going on. The baron knew she was lying, but instead of kicking her out, he was determined to unravel her secrets.
Which would be fine if the only secret Sadie was hiding was her real identity. But she had a bigger secret, and if the local lord discovered she was a telepath, her welcome not only in his manor but in Lamsdel would soon disappear.
Sadie wandered around the ground-floor rooms of the manor, the movement helping her order her thoughts as she considered what to do. She could tell the dowager that she had changed her mind and scurry home. Back to the shop and Mr. Ferman and the stifling life that was the best she could hope for.
She looked around the sitting room she had ended up in. It was elegance without pretension, delicate rather than ostentatious. Surprisingly comfortable, and far more appealing than the rooms Sadie shared with Pippa. She crossed the cream rug decorated with swirls of lavender and sage and stood next to the mauve drapes, looking out over the untamed beauty of the grounds.
The problem was, she didn’t want to leave early. Which meant the wisest thing she could do was add power to her charmas much as possible and follow the same rules she normally imposed on herself. Head down, mouth closed, polite smile locked in place.
With a snort, she realized that was probably exactly how proper ladies were told to behave. It certainly described Lady Helen, the only other guest she had met so far. She turned away from the window and looked over the room once more. She could pretend to fit here, but that wasn’t what the dowager had invited her for. Moreover, it wasn’t why she wanted to stay. It wasn’t the cultivated parts of Marstede that called to her, rather the wildness that was accepted alongside.
If Sadie planned to stay, then she wanted to embrace that wildness. She wanted to argue with the baron and distract him with how she ate a slice of peach—a surprising insight from her magic that she had no qualms against using. In short, she wanted to be herself.
Surely, she could maintain her secret for a single month? Sadie had lasted longer in many of the places she had lived. She could enjoy this respite from iron control, then slip back into the obscurity of her normal life.
Decision made, Sadie began to explore the manor in earnest. There were still hours to go before she needed to return to the lavender sitting room to hear Lady Marstede’s plans for her son and guests, and Sadie didn’t plan to waste a single minute of this month-out-of-time.
The first few rooms were exactly what she expected in a noble’s home. A dining room that could fit scores of people. A parlor that took the elegance of the sitting room and added gilding and brocade. A billiards room that had Sadie wondering just how shocked everyone would be if she picked up a cue and had a go.
Perhaps she’d save that for her second day.
Sadie closed the door to the billiards room and moved on to the west wing of the manor. That was where she found it. In the farthest corner of the house, right next to a door that led out to a weed-tangled herb garden on the edge of the forest.
A brewing room.
The equipment was of the best quality, the shelves full of ingredient jars labeled with ancient dates, and the grimoires coated in dust. Someone had once valued the space, but not recently. Sadie closed the door behind herself and moved to the bookshelf. She pulled out the oldest-looking grimoire from the top shelf and flipped open to the first page.
Brews and Concoctions by Reginald Huxley
It was the personal potion book of one of the baron’s ancestors. Sadie quickly checked other books, and while not every one was penned by a Huxley, enough were—and over a long enough span—that it was clear the family had a strong history of producing witches. She reached for the most recent book and wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed not to find the name Nicholas Huxley inside.
Relieved, she told herself. There was no reason for her to want him to be a potion-brewer. Since he wasn’t, and the room clearly hadn’t been used in a long time, there was a chance Sadie could sneak in and brew a potion or two of her own. The ingredients available left much to be desired, but combined with the plants she could gather within a few steps of the door, there were several basic brews she could manage.
She couldn’t go on to sell the potions, but the ones she was thinking of were common enough that she or Pippa would probably find a use for them themselves, and Sadie could simply pretend she had bought them if her friend asked.
Sadie stared at the jars of ingredients with longing, but forced herself to leave the room for the time being. It was too close to noon to let herself get distracted by a potion. In fact, sheshould probably head to the lavender sitting room now. Sadie wanted to be the first one there so she could observe the other women as they entered.
