Page 69 of The Best-Kept Secrets
That set them laughing again. How good they were for her. “I know I can trust Daria, at least. She already knows this secret.”
Daria smiled broadly, excitement pouring from her. “I haven’t told a soul.”
“I hope you mean to tell the rest of us, Eve,” Artemis said.
She’d wanted to tell them for years. Keeping secrets was not her natural inclination. She was currently keeping two very large ones from the Huntresses. There would be such relief in getting back to carrying only one at a time.
“I bake,” she said.
“And she is very good,” Daria said. “The scones we had at the very first gathering I planned during the Season were baked by Eve.”
“Those were marvelous.” Ellie’s eyes pulled wide.
“They certainly were.” Artemis looked impressed.
“I learned to bake as a means of saving the family money,” Eve said. “It lowers our expenses, but it doesn’t generate income. Even if I thought there were people near Tulleyloch who would buy baked things from us, there would be no explanation we could offer to explain how we’d come by the scones or cakes or whatever it might be.”
“Thatisa complication,” Gillian said.
“Baking might not be your answer to this difficulty,” Lisette said, “but there is an answer. I have full faith that there is. And among all of us, we will stumble upon it.”
“In the meantime,” Artemis said as she stood, “we will enjoy these gorgeous gowns”—she dipped a theatrical curtsy—“and think of ways to torture the Pack since Eve has told us we aren’t allowed to vanquish Duke specifically.”
Eve knew Artemis was teasing, so she wasn’t at all worried that Duke would actually be mistreated or that the Huntresses would reveal in any way what she had told them about the state of her heart. And while telling them didn’t remove the ache that resided there or the pain of having been abandoned after he’d promised to be a support in her struggles, it did help her breathe.
“And,” Artemis continued, “while we are tormenting the Pack, I propose that we make certain to also celebrate the unexpected absence of Mme Dupuis.”
Lisette smiled softly, even as the Huntresses all cheered. Eve put an arm around her and hugged her fiercely.
“We won’t ask you for details of how or why your aunt and uncle dispensed with her so quickly and thoroughly,” Gillian assured Lisette. “We are simply so happy that you are free of her.”
“And I am happy that we areallfree of her,” Lisette said. “What suffering she caused at the last house party.”
“Do you think she will be with you again in London?” Artemis asked.
Lisette pressed her lips closed and didn’t answer.
Artemis reached over and set her hands atop Lisette’s. “I hadn’t realized that was more than I should have asked. I really won’t press you more on any of this. I promise.”
But Eve suspected Artemis would continue to wonder, just as she knew all the Huntresses would, what was rumbling under the surface of Lisette’s family.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Duke was wandering admittedly aimlesslyaround Fairfield. He had time to himself and wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it.
He was excited by the prospect of making his home here, of traveling to London with his aunt and uncle. Eve would have been happy to hear he’d been granted his sought-after respite. And he would have loved to tell her that she might have been unintentionally correct when guessing that his dream-fulfilling future included politics. In the end, it might not be his lifelong pursuit, but it would soon be providing him with a purpose and a small income. She would celebrate that with him, and she would understand his excitement.
But he couldn’t let that happen.
His feet took him to the library. It seemed as good a destination as any, so he stepped inside. Perhaps Uncle Niles had a London newspaper to peruse.
Turning toward the desk, he found not a paper but Eve. She sat in the leather chair, arms folded on the desktop, her head resting on her arms, asleep. There was no one else in the room. The door was open, so he hadn’t intentionally intruded on her privacy. But now that he had, what ought he to do?
She couldn’t possibly be comfortable in her current position. She would likely awaken with a horrible crick in her neck. Perhaps he should wake her and give her the chance to go lie down or at least move to a more accommodating chair in the room. He stepped up to the desk but stopped himself before actually nudging her.
Was he violating his own insistence that distance be kept between them? He didn’t want to again be the cause of the pain he’d seen in her eyes the last time they’d spoken. If he opened the door to a renewed tender connection only to have to close it once more, he’d hurt them both.
His eyes fell on a bit of parchment on the desk, a lead pencil nearby. On it was written a short list.
