Page 35 of The Musician and the Monster

Jackoby sucked in a breath. “The decorum of this manor falls apart in a moment,” he mumbled to himself. “Be seated,” he ordered to her. “I’ll be back shortly. Kent.” He waved his hand in the other man’s direction.

If it was her brother, they might need her help. “Should I come—”

“No,” both men replied at once.

Ceridwen startled, standing a little straighter.

“Apologies, miss.” Kent gave a short nod as Jackoby hustled in his direction as fast as his manners permitted.

Odd. So odd.She watched them go, her brows wrinkling until they rounded a corner out of sight. A trickle of apprehension crawled under her skin. If not her brother, could this have to do with the beast? It never came during the day, not that anyone knew, but it had to go somewhere during that time.

The dining table had already been set for two. The serving dishes stood empty, the candles unlit. Heavenly smells—roasted meat, a whiff of potato, the barest hint of sweet pastry—wafted in through the closed door leading toward the servant’s entrance, which connected to the kitchens down a flight of stairs. The cook’s food never failed to please. In fact, whenever her services came to an end, Ceridwen would miss the food. Once, it might have been the thing she missed most, besides the money, but no longer.

She trailed one finger over her bottom lip, recalling the unexpected softness of Drystan’s lips, his soft groan when she’d melted for him, and the odd spiciness that invaded her nose.

A door creaked, giving her a heartbeat to pull her hand back into her lap before two maids entered carrying steaming dishes. The first raised her eyebrows when she caught sight of Ceridwen but said nothing about her early arrival. Nor did the second. They made a second trip a few minutes later, finishing off the arrangement of food in the center of the table.

Her stomach rumbled at the savory scents filling the room from the covered dishes. Where was Drystan? Or Jackoby and Kent, for that matter.

The double doors behind her groaned open.Finally.With them came a flood of conversation.

“—just wait,” Jackoby ordered, sounding more ruffled than she’d ever heard him.

“Does my dear cousin expect me to starve?”

The unfamiliar, rich male voice practically pulled her shoulders back, straightening her in the seat. She dug her fingers into the wood of the armrests as she grasped for purchase among the wave of surprise flowing over her.Cousin?Drystan never mentioned…

“Honestly, I’d expect more hospitality than—” His haughty words cut off abruptly along with the heavy tread of boots across the floor.

She ached to turn and look at the guest at her back, but wariness held her in place. The candlesticks on the table flickered and wavered more than she did.

“Now, what do we have here?”

The amusement in his voice twisted a knot within her stomach, one that tightened as the footsteps turned light and moved in her direction. At that, she did turn, catching sight of the man.

At first glance, he reminded her of Drystan, with the same dark hair and strong cheekbones. But this was not the lord of the manor. Green eyes twinkled in a smirking face, and his skin was a shade darker than Drystan’s. His piercing look pinned her to the chair like an insect in a collection.

He pulled a brooch off his coat before she got the full look of it. Iron? An animal, perhaps? He tucked it away into a tailored, fine-stitched coat that radiated wealth. Whatever it was, it paled in comparison to the rings on his hand that glittered with gemstones only someone of great importance could possibly own.

A noble. He had to be.

“A pretty bird, hidden away in this dingy manor. Such an unexpected surprise.”

Leather with a hint of spice tickled her nose as he stopped next to her chair and bent slightly in her direction, tilting his head this way and that as his gaze raked her body.Ceridwen studied her plate; heat flooded her cheeks as she fought the urge to squirm under his inspection.Oh, to be able to disappear through the floor.

“Have my charming looks stolen the words from your delicious lips?”

Ceridwen snapped her head in his direction. “Not even a bit.” His looks were charming, but his attitude, and the leer in his eyes that made her want to run, overrode his physical beauty.

He threw his head back and laughed, a deep rumble that rolled across her and filled the room. “Oh, that fiery look in your eyes,” he said, reining in his laughter and pinning her with his stare once again. “You are interesting. What are you to him, hmm?”

“Perhaps you’d take a seat and wait for—”

The visitor cut Jackoby off midsentence with a quick scowl and wave of his hand. Jackoby stepped out of view as the annoyance slipped from the visitor’s face to be replaced by mirth once again.

Her lips thinned as she held back the retorts rising to the tip of her tongue. Anyone who could silence Lord Winterbourne’s butler with one motion was not someone she cared to anger. The newcomer tapped his index finger on his smirking lips while she dug her hands into the chair to keep from smacking the lecherous look off his face.

“A hired courtesan, perhaps?” he mused.

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