Page 62 of Once Upon a Midnight Dreary
As she stood there, rooted in place, clutching the book and the papers, he exited the kitchen carrying a silver tray.He froze when he looked up and saw her standing there.
His keen gaze took her in, looking her up and down.Then his eyes landed on hers and paused there.His brows drew together and for a moment, he looked confused.As though he was uncertain what to say to her.
Finally, he managed, “You’re up early.”
“I never went to bed.”Her words were tight and firm.
It was time to stop pretending he knew nothing.It was time to find out the truth about how Lenore died.It was time to make him talk to her.
“Must have been that long nap you took yesterday afternoon.”He placed the silver tray on the table, avoiding her gaze.
“Perhaps.I wasn’t tired.”
If he noticed the items in her arms, he didn’t acknowledge them.He poured tea into a porcelain cup, then placed it on the table.He turned to leave.
“Gabriel, we need to talk.”
Her voice stopped him, his body rigid as he stood tall, his back to her.
“About?”The one-word answer was as taut as a bowstring.
“I think you know,” she said, keeping her voice steady.She was not going to let him out of it this time.She steeled herself, determined to be strong.
“I do not wish to discuss that.”
He punctuated that with his hasty exit back into the kitchen.
Saints preserve her, he wasn’t making this easy on her.
She charged after him, pushing the door open.It swung closed with a snap behind her.His back was to her as he placed scones on a serving plate.Their thick aroma permeated the air.
“Gabriel—”
“No.”
“Yes,” she insisted.“I’ve been patient.I’ve waited for you to come to me, to tell me the truth while all these things happened around me.Around us.The tree falling on the greenhouse.The cold mist.The piano.Everything.But I know now.I know Lily drowned in a pond.I know Lenore was so distraught with her grief, she did something horrible.Something irreversible.”
The last part was a guess.A gamble.But judging by the way he stiffened, she had guessed correctly.
Then she lowered her voice, gentling her tone.“I know, too, something happened to you to keep you tethered here.”
He remained where he was, not moving.Not wanting to look at her.“You know nothing.”
The accusation was a gut punch.How could he say that to her when she had proof in her hands?She huffed out a frustrated breath.
“Gabriel, I found my father’s journal.I read it.He was searching for answers, too.And I knowwhyhe was searching for answers.Lenore was my distant cousin three times removed.We share the same blood.That’s why the house—why she—calls to me, isn’t it?”
He spun toward her, his face ashen, his eyes wide and glassy.“That cannot be true.”
So, he didn’t know.Or if he did, his act was convincing.
“My ancestor, Lord Alaric Ravenwood, built this manor.His children split the bloodline in two.One was on my father’s side.The other was on Lenore’s side.The side that dabbled in dark and dangerous things.”
Color returned to his face as he realized what she was saying.His lips thinned as anger pinched his expression.“I don’t believe you.”
“Then tell me.How did she die?”
An unintelligible whisper sounded through the room.Cold tendrils danced up her arms to the nape of her neck.She had come to understand that when that happened, Lenore was nearby.
