Page 40 of Once Upon an Enchanted Castle

“Shall I bring refreshments?” he asked, blissfully unaware of her inner turmoil.

With precise movements, she folded her napkin in half and then in half again trying to keep her hands from shaking. “Yes, Gerald, and thank you.”

She pushed back from the table, rising on shaking legs, and took a deep breath. Gerald went on to the kitchen while she forced her feet to move, one step and then another, from the dining room to the parlor. The parlor where, only a day ago, Lord Vincent gave her the news that made her world come crashing down.

Leopold stood near the parlor hearth, too still for someone merely waiting. One hand rested lightly on the back of a chair, the other tucked behind his back, as if forcing himself into patience. The morning light cast sharp shadows across his coat—a deep charcoal gray, tailored close, with subtle embroidery along the cuffs and lapels. Silver thorns stitched in black thread. His cravat was simple, loosely tied, as if he’d dressed in haste—or with distraction.

He looked entirely out of place in the cozy, well-kept room. Not because he didn’t belong, but because he brought the weight of something darker with him. A shadow trailing behind polished boots and noble bearing.

Dickens stood inside the door, hands folded in front of him like a statue carved from stone. His eyes, that unnatural, ancient stillness in them, moved once to track her arrival. Then not at all.

Neither man spoke.

But Leopold’s gaze fixed on the doorway as she arrived. Expectant if a bit tense. Like he’d rehearsed what he meant to say and still didn’t trust himself to speak it aloud.

When she entered, she put on her best smile. “Your grace, this is a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He moved from behind the chair and reached for her hand. She placed it in his gloved one, her heart skipping as he bent over it and pressed a soft, warm kiss there. His lips were featherlight against her skin, sending a tingling sensation through her to the top of her head. When she pulled it back, she clasped her hands in front of her doing her best to pretend he had not affected her.

“Apologies for the early morning calling. I do hope I’m not intruding on your day?”

“Not at all.” She moved to the nearby sofa and sat, perching on the edge and crossing her ankles.

Leopold’s gaze flickered to Dickens. Silent communication passed between them. His valet gave an almost imperceptible nod before glancing at her.

“Pleasure to see you again, my lady.”

And then he slipped out of the room on silent footsteps. The front door opened and closed as he waited outside for Leopold.

“What brings you to Hawthorne Hall?” Bella asked, trying to sound pleasant and cheerful.

She was glad to see him, but she was not glad he had come to the estate to see all the overgrown foliage that seemed to want to take over the manor house. Or the drab exterior that begged for a fresh coat of paint.

“We missed you yesterday.” He kept his keen eyes on her.

Bella dropped her gaze to her clasped hands as her palms suddenly turned cold and damp. She had to tell him the truth. She did not want to translate the book, though she needed the money. She did not want to return to his wondrous strange castle, either. She did not want to spend one more moment in his presence, for he affected her in ways she refused to acknowledge.

“Yes, well, I should have sent a note.” She lifted her gazes. A shiver of delight shuddered through her at the intensity of his eyes. “I must remain here where I’m needed.”

“I see,” he said, looking thoughtful.

Before he said anything more, Gerald entered the parlor with his tea cart. He paused in the center. Sensing the tension in the room, he glanced between the two of them, then gave her a brief nod before backing out of the room.

“Would you care for some tea?” she asked, rising.

“No, thank you. Bella, there is no need to fear the library.”

She remained where she stood, her hands still clasped in front of her to keep them from shaking. Her nerves were on the edge of snapping. She didn’t want to break in front of Leopold. She had to remain strong and sure and confident. She lifted her chin.

“It’s not the library I fear.”

“Oh, then me?” There was a twinkling of mirth in his pale brown eyes.

She shook her head. “No. It has nothing to do with you or the library. It’s—”

Catching herself, she pressed her lips together to keep from saying more. She dare not tell him of her father’s troubles. She shouldn’t have told him about the ships in the first place.

“Forgive me, your grace—”

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