Page 44 of Once Upon an Enchanted Castle

He held a chair out for her. She sat, her nerves jangling, and placed the book to the side of her out of the way. He was the epitome of a gentleman as he took the seat opposite her. Moments later, Dickens arrived to serve them. He poured tea, offering her cream and sugar. She waved it away.

Leopold accepted the cream, placing dollops in his cup and stirring with a spoon. All the while, he eyed the book with the parchment sticking out of the edge. Curiosity lined his handsome face. She accepted the poached eggs on buttered toast, sprinkled lightly with parsley. As Dickens served Leopold, she picked up her fork.

“The night I returned to Hawthorne, I translated a few more lines of the book.”

Leopold froze, the teacup in his hand halfway to this mouth. His brows rose as he tried to make eye contact with her from across the table. She, however, keep her gaze downcast, focusing on the delicious meal in front of her.

“That will be all, Dickens.” His dismissal was curt. Dickens inclined his head and disappeared through a side door, leaving them alone. “Did you?”

She replaced her fork and reached for the paper, slipping it from the cover of the book. Unfolding it, she glanced down at her imperfect penmanship. Placing the parchment on the table, she slid it across the table to him.

He glanced down at it, his eyes skipping over the words. In a slow, methodical move, he replaced the teacup. But she was certain she saw his hand shake.

“This is incredible, Bella.” He breathed the words. He made no other comment about it.

“You told me you were cursed. Do you know what this means?”

He shook his head. “I don’t.”

His words seemed forced verging on the edge of untruthful. She didn’t want to accuse him of lying, but she sensed he might understand what the words meant. Her suspicious senses tingled. She forged on.

“Something strange happened that night,” she continued, the memory resurfacing.

He lifted his gaze, his face impassive. “Oh?”

“I was working alone in the library. Everyone else was asleep in the manor. It was late. There was…howling nearby. Something I’ve never heard before in the country.”

She peered at him intently, trying to gauge his reaction. But he gave nothing away. He cut a piece of toast with the edge of his fork as if they were talking of nothing more than daily pleasantries.

“I’m sure it was nothing.”

“I heard it the following night. And last night, too,” she added.

Again, she kept her gazed fixed on his face. He took a voracious interest in the plate in front of him. When she arrived, she noticed the dark smudges under his eyes, as though he hadn’t slept much. She also noticed his somewhat disheveled appearance. Since the moment the wordcursealighted in her mind, she was unable to shake it.

“Did you hear anything like that?” she asked.

He put down his fork and then picked up his teacup, granting her a knee-melting smile in an attempt to wipe away the worry, the fear, and the thought of curses from her mind.

“I heard nothing like that.”

She wasn’t entirely convinced he was telling her the truth. She let it go for now and finished her breakfast. When they were both done, he escorted her from the dining salon to the library.

“Will you be staying?” She placed the book on the table. The candelabras emitted their otherworldly glow, leaving a puddle of light in the center of the table.

“I daresay I’d be a distraction for you while you work. But if you need anything, I’ll be close by.”

He gave her a low bow and then left her alone in the enormous room. Heaving a sigh, she sat and got to work.

Chapter 18

Shedidnotknowhow much time had passed as she bent over the book writing her translations. She deciphered a name in the margin.Albert. Who was Albert? She continued with her writings, her pen scratching along the parchment. Some of her notes were wrong. She struck them out in frustration and tried again. The parchment in front of her had numerous scratched out lines as well as blobs of ink where she’d held the quill tip against it for far too long in her contemplation. She pushed aside the messy parchment and reached for a clean piece and began to rewrite.

Shadows stir. The sands of time slip away. Silence forever in the gloaming.

In the darkest night, no name remembered. No light is welcome.

The hourglass bleeds its last.

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