Page 35 of A Taste for the Peculiar

Her stilted silence is enough. Her mother releases Avirin’s wrist and flexes her fingers when she stands. “Wonderful. We’ll draw up the marriage articles.” She inclines her head toward Lord Reid, smiling as if the vein in her forehead isn’t pulsing. “There are the matters of the dowry and pin money, of course, but I’m sure we can come to an agreement. If we work quickly, we can secure the church for next week and announce your engagement at the Gildings’ party.”

Avirin might be sick. She grips the arm of the couch while her mother and Lord Reid move toward the door, but her mother pauses on the threshold and looks back at Avirin.

“I have assured Lord Reid that your union will still be a legitimate one.” Her mother sniffs, as if she doubts the truth of it. “To ensure that, you will not leave my sight. The staff have been given strict orders to watch you day and night. You will not attend any event without me at your side. Do you understand?”

Avirin’s pupils threaten to spread. She breathes through clenched teeth, but it’s like she’s in free-fall, spiraling deeper into the earth and clawing for anything to hold onto…

But there’s nothing. The world keeps moving.

Lord Reid and her mother talk quietly for a moment, and with a sharp glance toward Avirin, her mother finally nods. She bustles out of the room, pulling the door shut and leaving Avirin alone with the viscount.

Avirin’s spine straightens. This isn’t right. She should not be alone with him. No matter how desperately she wants to be free of her mother, her eyes flick toward the door in a silent prayer that she’ll return.

Lord Reid braces his hands behind his back. “Miss Ellison.”

Her stomach turns. His voice is soft, like they’re sharing a secret, and she is reminded of when Pye whispers to her. With Lord Reid, it’s twisted and wrong. She wants to cover her ears. She wants to run away.

Lord Reid takes his time to cross the rug, letting his gaze rove Avirin before he comes to a stop before her. “Perhaps my age gives you pause, but I assure you, my experience is to your benefit.”

A sour taste fills Avirin’s mouth. She doesn’t want to look up at him. She doesn’t want to look at him at all, but he stands so close, a menacing tower that blocks the light from the windows.

“Your maiden nerves will pass,” he coos.

Avirin’s nails dig into the sofa.

“They should cause you no worry. Given your affliction, you should look forward to the promise of a marriage bed.”

Avirin’s stomach roils. How does he know? This secret, this thing she’s been told to keep hidden above all else, and her mother has shared it with a stranger?

The betrayal stings like a slap. Tears prick her eyes. She has to escape this. There must be something she can do, something she can say, something —

“Should you not find a wife with more promise?” Avirin asks. Yes. She remembers Pye’s words from all those weeks ago. Stroke his ego. Men love to speak about themselves. She forces herself to meet Lord Reid’s gaze, to infuse sincerity into every word. “A man such as yourself could easily find someone more on your level. A woman of stronger virtue. A worthy addition to your lineage.”

Lord Reid’s head tilts, and a hopeful feeling alights in Avirin’s chest. This could work. This could convince him. This could send him in a different direction —

But a smile settles onto his face, and the ground drops out beneath Avirin.

“As your mother said,” Lord Reid murmurs, “this union will be beneficial to us both. Despite my marriages, there is no heir to the Reid line. I intend to correct that with your proclivities.”

Fear rises like bile in Avirin’s throat. She clutches the seat cushions to keep herself upright. She has always known what is expected of her, but last night, for a moment, she’d thought she’d found a way out. She thought she had escaped it, but now —

“Besides,” Lord Reid continues, “I had the Grand Tour of Orena long ago. I have seen things the likes of which you couldn’t imagine.” It sounds like a threat, yet his eyes soften like Avirin should be overjoyed. “If I am honest, I’ve developed a particular…affinity for peculiars.”

He’s standing too close now. His hand extends toward her, and she recoils, but it does nothing to dissuade him. He runs his palm over the top of her head, but Avirin can feel how desperately he wants to latch onto the back of her hair.

His voice lowers. “I know how to handle them. To remediate them. To make them atone for their sins.”

Dread seeps out from Avirin’s pupils to cover her eyes. The light is too harsh, but she does not try to hide; she sets her jaw and raises her head. This man is all talk. The blacks of her eyes are the only thing that can save her. He doesn’t understand what she is. He hasn’t seen her. She will disgust him, just like she disgusts her mother.

But when Avirin lifts her gaze, Lord Reid does not flinch. He does not recoil. He traces the corner of her eye. “Do not fear, little one.” Lord Reid gives Avirin a smile that chills her to her core. “I know how to drive that demon out.”

NINETEEN

Pye

Pye hasn’t slept in days.

It wouldn’t matter if they did; all they would dream about is Avirin. The lush expanse of her skin, the brown of her eyes swelling to black, the pleading sounds she makes when she needs —