Page 45 of Wolfsbane Hall
Celestine chose to ignore the ghost. “But there was more to the hiding than that.”
“There was.” Dean skated out of her arms and held open the curtain for her to exit. His jaw was tight and his bones rigid, as if he were trying to rid himself of the feel of her. All the tension she felt building between them surely was only in her head.
He swallowed. “We should return. I assume someone will be getting murdered any moment now.”
“Right.” She gulped and gave a terse smile. “We mustn’t miss the show.”
As soon as they reached the ballroom, they were accosted by Lorraine, who rushed up to them in a tizzy. “Dean, dearest, have you seen your brother?”
“Which one?” Dean raised his eyebrows.
“How dare you?” Lorraine said with horror and let out what could have been described as a scoff. “The only one that matters.”
“Oh.” Dean slid his hands into his pockets. “I haven’t seen Everett.”
Lorraine ran a hand down the leopard fur on her coat. “If you see him, will you tell him we must talk?”
“I doubt he’ll speak to you,” Dean said. “He hasn’t in years. Why do you think he’ll start now?”
“He needs to get over it.”
“He won’t. Perhaps you should have considered the consequences of your actions before taking them.”
Lorraine’s face deepened into fury, and she looked like a Victorian painting that had red poured over the canvas. “Not you, too.” Lorraine waved her hand dismissively. “Go fetch me a glass of wine. You know you’re my favorite.”
Dean released a low chuckle and shook his head. “Yes, Mother.”
His eyes flashed to Celestine’s momentarily, and they shared a grimace. If Dean hated Celestine, he hated his mother far more. He’d take any excuse to get away from her, and Celestine would have put money on him not returning if she were a betting gal.
“So, you’re their new whore.” Lorraine’s lips pursed together as she examined her prey like a scientist about to dissect a strange animal. Glee lit up her every feature.
Celestine had been called a whore many, many times before. This didn’t faze her. It was the nature of being a poor girl whoran with the rich and glamorous. A poor girl who openly flirted with and fucked said rich men. Everyone assumed she only hung around for the money and access to their abundant lives. It couldn’t be that they needed her talent and skills to better their lives. No, she couldn’t possibly be adding anything valuable.
“You’re the girl my son is obsessed with,” Lorraine continued, and Celestine laced a poisonous sugarplum smile on her lips. “Don’t feel special. Occasionally, my sons latch on to a beautiful, poor ingénue to fight and obsess over. They promise her riches and a better life, but what does she actually get? Devastation.”
All poor girls who chased after rich men received devastation. This wasn’t news. It was one of the primary reasons the Ashbrooks were only for show, possibly a fun time, but nothing more. She knew it already. Celestine would never get to keep one for herself.
When Celestine said nothing, Lorraine added, “You’re like all the rest. You’ll be discarded sooner or later…or possibly even worse.”
Definitely worse, Margot whispered at the edges of her mind.
Lorraine ran her fingers through her pearls as if drawing attention to her exorbitant wealth. “You’ll never be good enough for him.”
Celestine raised her eyebrows. “Which one?”
“Do not talk back to me. You are a maid unworthy of my presence or attention. You will answer when addressed. Do you understand me?”
Yes, Margot growled, and Celestine said aloud, “Yes.”
Was Lorraine speaking to Margot then? Was this another scene playing out? Or was she talking to Celestine? Probably both.
“Nothing will affect our image, our reputation, or get in my sons’ way. Do you hear me, girl?”
Yes.Perhaps this was for Margot’s sake—for the show—because Margot rattled inside Celestine like a beehive, feeling attacked and furious. “Yes,” Celestine repeated the character’s line.
“You will not affect their future.” Lorraine gripped Celestine’s arms, her fingernails digging in. “Youare nottheir future. Do you understand me?”
This felt like overkill. Lorraine liked to hear herself speak and couldn’t be content with just one threat. She needed many.
