Page 35 of Marrying Bluebeard

A benevolent smile graces her lips. “This is to be our little secret, do you understand? You’re not to let Bertrand know you’ve seen me, or the game will be over and you’ll be sent straight to bed without cake.”

Bertrand. Who’s Bertrand? I struggle to conjure a face to match the name, but my head is a muddied fog of pleasure. Still, my mistress is waiting for a response, so I dutifully nod. “Not a word.”

She pats my face. “That’s a good girl. Normally I wouldn’t keep secrets from him, but he’s been terribly naughty, ruining my new doll. He collects them for me, you know. Blushing brides, all sweet and innocent. Not like you.” She wrinkles her nose. “You’re not innocent at all.” Her nail digs into my cheek, scratching its way down the soft flesh. “You’re a wicked, rotten little thing, aren’t you?”

Her words carve a hole in my chest, every part of me aching to please this magnificent creature. Fearing that I never will.

Her hand falls away, leaving me desolate as she glides toward the arched window. “Let him play with his pilfered toy a bit longer. Let him think he’s gotten what he wants.” The ghost of a smile graces her angelic face as she peers through the plated glass. “It’ll make his despair all the sweeter when he sees you break.”

23

BERTRAND

This is going to work. It has to work. The woman sitting across from me in the carriage with her hands neatly folded in her lap and dingy carpet bag unraveling at her feet is the answer, I’m certain of it. A young woman of no consequence, with no bothersome relatives to wonder what has become of her. Quiet and meek, with a mildly pleasant face and innocent eyes—she checks all the boxes on Celeste’s list. The preferred qualities I’m to seek out in each new bride. Ones I neglected when choosing Adelaide.

Adelaide.

God, I miss her even now, with less than a day lost between us. She haunted my thoughts with each interview, tempting me to choose the first potential maid and be done with it. Sticking it out until I found this one—the right one—was positively grueling. It’ll be worth it, though, once she meets her new mistress, and I can finally relax knowing Adelaide is safe.

It’s a strange feeling, this indulgence I’ve allowed myself. Both blissfully freeing and suffocating all at once. After a century serving as Celeste’s whipping boy, doing something for my own pleasure feels deliciously empowering. And there’s something about Adelaide, something intangible, that makes every effort, every strange new feeling, worthwhile. She’s beautiful, yes, but I’ve met countless beauties in my lifetime, and none of them ever tempted me to act against Celeste’s wishes.

No, it’s not her porcelain features and raven locks that make her so precious, lovely as they are. It’s something else. Something in the way she smiles, the way her laugh seems to fill the myriad cracks marring my soul. It’s in the softness of her voice when she spoke with Sister Mercy. There hadn’t been a trace of fear or condemnation, despite the fact that she was speaking to a ghost who’d brazenly admitted to murder. She’d understood Sister Mercy’s actions. Praised them, even.

It gives me hope that I, too, might one day be redeemed, impossible though it seems.

But that same hope strangles me in the night as it warps into fear. What if I’ve gone too far? What if Celeste doesn’t accept my offering? If she cuts me off, the beast will eventually overpower my will, and there will be far more lost than a few meek maids and innocent brides.

The carriage rolls to a stop at the base of the steps leading up to the castle, and I give the new maid—what was her name again—a terse smile. “Here we are—Château de Montragoux. I hope you’re prepared to meet your new mistress right away. She’s most anxious to make your acquaintance.”

“Yes, sir,” the woman replies. “I’m quite ready.”

There’s a determined tilt to her chin that makes me pause as guilt trickles through my veins. She has no idea what she’s in for, the tragic twist of fate awaiting her at Celeste’s hands. If there was another way…

But there is not, so I climb out of the carriage, not bothering to look back at the woman as Griffon helps her down—reminding myself she’s expendable. A trifle to appease the monster lurking in the tower, one whose fate will save countless others. The only woman in this wretched world who truly matters is Adelaide.

Speak of the angel.

If I still had a heart, it would be tripping over itself at the sight of my beautiful bride, hair loose and whipping in the wind as she stands at the top of the steps, a glorious smile stretched across her face. She waves down at us as we approach, and it’s like I’m walking on air.

“Bertrand, you’re back!” Adelaide’s voice is brimming with excitement as I jog the last few steps standing between us. She lets out a delightful squeal as I scoop her up, lifting her into my arms and placing a kiss on those delectable lips. She cards her fingers through my hair, pulling me down for another. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, darling,” I murmur, reluctantly setting her back on her feet. I drink in the sight of her, all tousled hair and flushed cheeks from the wind—but what’s this? An angry red slash mars the left side of her face, and I can barely contain my growl as I trace the raised line with my thumb. “Who did this to you?”

Adelaide turns into my hand, placing a kiss against my palm. “An incredibly impertinent bramble in the garden. I demand you cut it down at once.”

My anger melts in the face of her light, and I let out a relieved chuckle. “Consider it done.”

“And your business in town?” she asks. “Is that done as well?”

“Almost. I have just to situate the new maid, and then I’ll be all yours.”

Her gaze flicks over my shoulder, eyes gleaming with curiosity. “A new maid?”

“Yes. To assist Louise now that the household is expanding.” I feel a stab of regret that I wasn’t able to ferry the young woman up to the tower without Adelaide noticing. This greeting, delightful though it may be, has made everything a bit more complicated.

“How lovely.” Adelaide steps around me as she addresses the young woman waiting an appropriate distance behind. “I’m Madame de Montragoux, mistress of the château. If you have any trouble, please feel free to come to me with your concerns.”

God, she’s kind. Kind and considerate and gentle. My precious Adelaide. I lift her hand, kissing her knuckles as I move behind her. Breathing her in.