Page 36 of Once Upon an Enchanted Castle

“It may be difficult for you to hear,” he said. “Leclare Port Authority has opened a formal inquiry into the loss of the ships. They believe there may have been some sort of contraband on board.”

The world tipped on its axis. Blood drained from her head in a sudden whoosh. Black spots danced in her vision as she pitched forward, swaying on her feet. She hated he was the one to tell her the news. Lord Vincent wrapped his hand around her elbow. She let him steer her toward the back of the house, her feet moving of their own volition.

Of course, he’d know. He had contacts everywhere. Whispers carried on dockside winds before anything ever reached official channels. And now, the gossip would spread about her father.

“I am sorry,” he said, his voice low.

She didn’t answer. The weight of humiliation and fury pressed down on her. When they reached the back of the house, she pulled her elbow free, picked up her skirt and hurried up the steps. She needed space. She needed tothink. And she didn’t need him to see her unravel at the seams.

But he continued to follow and moments later they were in the parlor. The door clicked shut behind them, closing them inside the deathly silence. She sank into the soft, worn cushions of the sofa, her head in her hand. Numb. She wasnumbas she tried not to think about how their lives were turned upside down. Trying not to place blame on the magical, cursed book on the writing table in the library.

But itwasthere. Waiting for her to return to it.

“Bella,” he began.

He stood in the center of the parlor, his hat in his hands.

“Is there more news you wish to share with me, Lord Vincent?” Finally, she looked up, meeting his gaze, her stomach twisting and her breath shallow. Frankly, she wasn’t sure she wanted anymore news.

The look on his face said therewassomething more, but he pressed his lips together into a thin line that said he didn’t want to tell her. His face went impassive as he moved to sit in the chair opposite her.

“Allow me to send my gardener.”

She was shaking her head before he finished. “I cannot allow you to do that, for then I would be in your debt.”

“It would be my pleasure to help you—”

She shot to her feet. “Please, my lord, I cannot accept your help. For I would want to pay for his services and surely you understand that under the circumstances, that simply is not possible.” Realizing her sharp words bordered on rude, she plastered on a bright smile and clasped her shaking hands together in front of her. “I do thank you profusely for the offer, though. It’s most kind and gracious of you. I’ll fetch Emmaline. I know she’ll want to see you before you leave.”

“Emmaline?”

She dipped a curtsy. “Thank you again for coming, Lord Vincent.”

Before he responded, she was out the parlor door and into the breezy hallway, shutting it behind her. She closed her eyes, a breath shuddering out of her. What was she going to do now? If the port authorities were involved and investigating, she worried that something dreadful had happened to her father.

“Bella?” Emmaline’s soft voice floated to her.

Her eyes flew open to see the girl standing near the foot of the stairs, question in her eyes. Bella rushed over to her.

“Oh, Em, Lord Vincent is in the parlor. Perhaps you’d be kind enough to see to him? I’m feeling rather faint.” She pressed her cold shaking hand to her forehead. “Please give him my apologies.”

“Of course, miss.”

Before Emmaline said another word, Bella rushed up the stairs to her room. She flung herself on her bed, burying her face in her pillow, and allowed the tears of worry and fear to slip from the corners of her eyes.

Chapter 15

Leopoldpacedthelengthof his private sitting room for the third time, his hands behind his back as he waited for Dickens to return. He counted the steps on the same worn path of the carpet where the light didn’t quite reach. The blue-tinted sunlight bleeding through the tall lancet windows made everything feel colder than it was.

Books lay in loose stacks on the shelves and floor, exactly where he’d left them. He hadn’t touched any of them in days. Couldn’t focus long enough to read or research. Not since the day Bella walked into his life with that cursed volume.

The hearth stood cold. The firewood untouched. He could light it with a word, but the silence felt cleaner somehow. Less like pretending to be civilized. He was far from civilized, though his put up a good façade.

Dickens was gone most of the day, giving him hope that when he returned, he would have more information for him about Isabella Rinaldi and her father’s merchant business. Now, the day waned, and twilight was upon them once again.

Disappointment flooded him when the carriage returned late that morning without her. It was a sure sign she refused to return. He hadn’t expected the ache deep in his chest when she didn’t. He suspected it was because of his eccentric library. Or perhaps his brazen confession he was cursed. Her face paled when he told her. He shouldn’t have told her.

It was even more disturbing when he woke up in the middle of the foyer at sunrise face down on the floor. The cold tile seeped into his aching bones. All he wore were his trousers with ripped hems. His shirt was gone. His shoes were nowhere to be found. The rose branded on the inside of his forearm pulsed with an agonizing throb. And he knew, the moment his eyes opened, what had happened the night before.

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