Page 24 of No One's Bride
Being stubborn, and perhaps because she wished to show Daventry he was right to place his faith in her, she swallowed hard and drew the box slowly towards her.
One would think itdidcontain a deadly snake. With trembling hands, she removed the lid, a visible shiver coursing through her. The second her fingers slipped around the spine, her alarmed gaze shot in Sebastian’s direction.
Something passed between them.
An awareness of a newly formed bond.
An understanding that they shared a secret.
A fear their lives may never be the same.
ChapterFive
Home of the St Clairs
Upper Seymour Street
Ailsa had just taken a bite of her toast when Helen appeared at the dining room door, carrying the dreaded casket Mr Daventry had taken home last night.
“Mr Daventry begs your forgiveness but hasn’t time to return the book in person. He asks you visit him in Hart Street later today.” Helen plonked the ebony casket at the end of the table, and there it sat like a baleful relative. “It’s so light one might think the box is empty.”
If only it contained nothing but straw. Then Ailsa wouldn’t have weird thoughts about Lord Denton. Amorous thoughts of midnight trysts in a dark bedchamber. Lewd thoughts about hard things rubbing against her buttocks at night.
Ailsa swallowed before she choked on breadcrumbs. “On my oath, whatever is in that box will bring nothing but trouble.” An ominous energy swirled in the air. One capable of turning a sensible woman’s mind to mush. “I feel like I’m already under its spell.”
Helen sat when the footman held out her chair. The servant kept an impassive expression, though talk of the supernatural had his hand shaking a little as he poured the tea.
“Yes, I think you’ve every reason to be worried. The mystic has been right three times so far. Odds are you will marry within a month, two at most.”
Ailsa’s heart missed a beat.
She couldn’t marry.
She couldn’t lose her wager with the viscount.
The idea of such an odious man owning her precious books was unthinkable. Mother Mary! How could a simple bid at an auction lead to a night of catastrophe?
“Is that why you’re wearing that old thing?” Helen, who possessed the same mischievous blue eyes as her brother, gestured to Ailsa’s ugly brown dress. “If you’re truly under a spell, dull clothes won’t save you. Indeed, there’s something different about you today. You exude an air of mystery. Your skin has an almost otherworldly glow.”
Ailsa dropped her toast onto the plate. “Has he told ye to torment me? Does he take pleasure in making me look foolish?”
Helen frowned. “Who?”
“Yer brother.”
“Sebastian? I haven’t spoken to him for two days.” Helen snatched a piece of toast from the silver rack. “I know he can be difficult, but you rile his temper more than most. Still, it is not in his nature to be cruel.”
No, Lord Denton had been more than helpful last night. With no fear of the consequences, he chased the intruder. He had done his best to persuade Mr Daventry to let them visit Chadwick’s separately. Had muttered an oath every time his gaze ventured to her loose hair.
“This business with the spell book has my nerves in tatters. I pray we resolve the matter today so we can get back to some normality.”
Yet a man had been murdered most brutally. And Lord Denton was keen to play an enquiry agent and discover if there was a connection between the grimoire and the disturbing scene.
“I’m sure the owner of the grimoire will be waiting to return your copy ofUtopia.” Helen was so in love with her husband she saw the positive in every situation.
Being under strict orders from Mr Daventry not to mention the murder, Ailsa reached for her teacup and said, “Aye, I’m sure ye’re right.”
While they broke their fast, Helen felt the need to add insult to injury and recall every detail of their trip to the Bartholomew Fair.
