Page 42 of House of Roots and Ruin
His eyebrows rose with surprise. “How curious. Well. I’m confident some young man will come along and see you for the catch you are.” He nodded. “Yes. Yes, I’m sure of it.”
With a gallant flourish, he opened the door to my rooms and gestured me in.
“I enjoyed our evening as well,” I said, ready to say good night. My room had already been prepared for the evening. The bedding was turned down and a bank of low flames burned within the fireplace.
“Yes, I—” Gerard stopped, a peculiar expression on his face. Without waiting to be invited in, he stepped past me, his eyes darting about the parlor. He took a deep breath. “What a strange scent.”
I sniffed, catching the notes of Annaleigh’s candles. Whoever had readied the rooms had left a trio of them burning on my nightstand.
“The candles,” I explained, pointing. “My sister shipped a crate of them here, from Salann. So I wouldn’t be homesick.”
“Most thoughtful,” he murmured. “Sage and”—he smelledthe air again—“salt, if I’m not mistaken.” He frowned. “What a curious combination.”
“Annaleigh has always been partial to it.”
“Probably an old island superstition.”
“Superstition?” I echoed.
He nodded, seemingly unaware of my confusion. “Salt. Sage. Together they’re said to ward off unwelcome spirits. Ghosts,” he clarified, and my heart stuttered painfully within my chest.
“Oh,” I said, managing a weak smile. Why were his eyes lingering upon me? I could feel their weight boring in deep. “I’ve never heard that before.”
In my mind, I saw every crate of candles Annaleigh had ever given me, on birthdays, blessing days, thoughtful gifts offered out “just because.”
Just because.
Just because.
Just because she knew what I saw.
But did Gerard?
He turned from the bedroom, crossing back to the door with an easy stroll, giving nothing away. He didn’t seem to sense my alarm, nor offer out any telltale sign of misgiving. “It’s quite late; I ought to let you rest. Thank you again for all your work today.”
“Of course.” I trailed after him, scrutinizing his every movement.
His smile was bland and he seemed a bit weary himself. “Pleasant dreams, then, Verity.”
When I woke, it was dark. Annaleigh’s tapers had long since sputtered out and were now pools of hardened wax, spilling from the candleholders and ruining the nightstand.
I flicked my nails under the residue, freeing flakes of salt and sage.
It was a wonder I’d not burned the manor down.
I peered groggily across the bedroom, feeling a tug of something amiss.
I strained my ears, listening for an echo of something,anythingloud enough to have woken me. There must have been a noise that jarred my conscious mind to action, sinking its merciless claws into my slumber. The two glasses of champagne in the greenhouse, paired with Gerard’s surprising revelation about my sister’s candles, had left my head feeling off-kilter and achy and all I wanted in the world was a glass of water and to go back to sleep.
With a soft groan, I pushed myself from the warm nest of pillows and sat up, peering blearily for the water basin.
A shrill cry sliced the silence, setting my teeth on edge.
I flung off layers of bedclothes and stumbled for the switch ofthe gaslights, which hissed as their flames lit the room. For a moment, I couldn’t see around their blinding glare, could only hear the noise ring out again, piercing clean through me.
Was that…weeping?
I made my way through the sitting room. The air felt colder in here, draftier. Retreating back to the bedroom, I grabbed my robe. Just as I finished fastening it, my fingers fumbling against the silken belt, another volley of noise rose up.
