Page 76 of Once Upon an Enchanted Castle

“I came for the final translation of the book you provided,” he said, without greeting. “I’m impressed you finished it so quickly.” His gaze raked over her, studying her, as though looking for something out of place on her person.

She clutched the books tighter. “I’m glad I was able to finish it for you.”

“Miss Emmaline was gracious enough to allow me to stay for dinner,” he said, a smile playing upon his lips.

Bella cut her a glance as annoyance lanced through her. The girl, at least, at the decency to flush, her cheeks turning pink.

“Is that so? I don’t recall her being the lady of the house.”

“I-I’m sorry, Bella. I—”

“Miss Rinaldi, may I have a word with you?” Lord Vincent interrupted, effectively hushing Emmaline. “Alone.”

Her gaze swiveled back to him as curiosity—and a tiny bit of distress—flicked through her. “Em, will you take these books to the library and leave them on the desk for me, please?”

“Yes, miss.” She nodded and gave a little curtsy as she took the books from her and slipped down the hall.

Bella stepped into the parlor, closing the door behind her and remaining where she was. Thick tension filled the air. There was something disturbing about the way he looked at her from across the room. As though he had a sordid secret he was prepared to share with her. As though he knew something that would ruin her reputation forever.

She didn’t like it.

And she thought of their morning encounter and worried that somehow he followed her to Thornhurst Castle. Perhaps he thought he knew something. Perhaps he was wrong.

She tried to steer the conversation the way she wanted it to go. “If this is about my father—”

“No,” he said. “It is not.”

She stiffened. She refused to sit and invite him to do the same. Because that would mean she accepted him into her home, and she was perfectly fine with him here. She wasn’t. She wanted him to leave. She wanted him gone.

She lifted a brow, trying to remain calm. “And what is it then?”

“Where did you go this morning when you climbed into that carriage?” he asked, point blank.

She was momentarily caught off guard by the question. For a moment, she could only blink at him, the words lodging somewhere useless in her throat. She hadn’t expected the edge in his voice. A flicker of something ugly—hostility, maybe even suspicion—broke through his otherwise polished demeanor, and she felt it like a slap she hadn’t seen coming.

It rattled her. More than she wanted to admit.

She straightened instinctively, gathering the shreds of her pride around her like armor, even as something small and raw twisted inside her chest.

“I don’t think that’s any of your concern, Lord Vincent.”

He paced the confines of the small room, prowling up and down as though he were a predator about to pounce. The tight clasp of his hands behind his back did little to disguise his stiff energy.

“Perhaps not.” His voice too smooth, too sharp around the edges. He turned, fixing her with a look that made her spine stiffen. “I asked around about that carriage,” he went on, each word deliberate. “The one with the carvings of thorns and roses in bloom.”

She forced herself to hold his gaze, even as her pulse stumbled in her throat.

“No one knows it.” His tone dropped lower. “No one seems to have seen it. No one…except for me.” A beat of silence “And you.”

The room seemed to shrink around her, the air growing heavier with each syllable he spoke. The unspoken accusation in his voice wrapped around her like thorns. Tight, cutting deeper with every breath.

“Where did you go?” His gaze narrowed as he asked it. “Or perhaps I should ask, who were you with?”

She backed up to the door, reaching behind her for the knob. With a twist, she shoved it open. She didn’t want to answer. Didn’tneedto answer. Where she was every day was none of his concern.

“I think you’ve worn out your welcome, Lord Vincent. You have your translation. You should go now.”

A faint, oily smile flickered over his lips. “As you wish then.”

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