Page 70 of House of Roots and Ruin
I glanced at the multitudes of books with an uneasy hunger. I could barely make it through kissing Alexander without freezing in panic, unsure of myself and what I was meant to be doing. The people in the drawings not only seemed to understand what to do, but they alsorelishedit, making the wanton acts seem exciting. Something to be enjoyed. Desirable.
Perhaps…
I pushed the wicked thought away, even as my hand reached for another volume.
It couldn’t hurt to look again.
It might even help.
What were books for if not instruction?
This book was different from the other, a journal, filled with Gerard’s familiar, cramped scrawl.
I ran my fingers over his tiny printing.
The book was filled with words I didn’t know and I wondered if he was writing in a code. Every so often there were little drawings made in the margins. Plants, I guessed, though they were unlike anything I’d ever seen before. One drawing spanned an entire two pages—a triangular base, with a pair of orblike blooms sprouting from either side of its top. There was a strange musculature to it, reminding me of an anatomy book I’d once seen in Annaleigh’s collection on Hesperus.
I put it back with a shudder and withdrew another.
Another journal, but this one I could read.
Mostly.
It was a list of names.
A list of women’s names.
A very long list of women’s names, I realized, flipping through the pages.
Here and there were dates, spanning over a decade, with more words I didn’t understand jotted beside the women’s names. Some had brackets beneath them, listing others’ names, always in sets of three.
I flashed back to one of the illustrations in the other book, a group of people all engaged in pleasuring each other, together. Was that…was that what I was looking at? Alex had said his father was a man of insatiable appetites. Had he documented every one of his intimate encounters, not only recording those involved but also making a coded list of what had been performed? There were so many names within the book….
Poor Dauphine.
I pushed the book back onto the shelf and picked up my candle once more.
My stomach felt queasy as I imagined Gerard with so many others, re-creating the pictures I’d just seen. I wanted to get out of this hidden hallway, wanted to get as far from the books and the dark ideas within them as I could. I stumbled down the path, taking a right, then a left, before ending at a stone staircase.
Peering up into the void, I could make out the faint shine of metal hinges.
A door!
It opened easily, spilling me out into the hallway not far from my suite of rooms.
I closed it softly, marveling at how perfectly the edges of the door were concealed in a pattern of wallpaper, then heard approaching footsteps and the soft hum of someone singing off-key to themselves.
Gerard! The last person in the world I wanted to see.
My room was too far to duck into so I lunged for the door nearest me, cursing under my breath as the handle rattled uselessly. It was locked.
Before I could turn tail, Gerard rounded the corner. Finding me in the hallway, he stopped short, squinting in the dim light.
“Verity?”
“I…” I tried the door again, knowing it would not help me but still hoping for a way to escape. “I was just looking for…” I trailed off, every excuse sounding impossibly wrong in my mind.
“That’s my study,” he said, remaining in place, watching me carefully.
