Page 55 of When Bones Whisper
“What’s wrong?”
Something wriggled under his paws. Charlotte glimpsed the large, glossy brown body of a cockroach and tsked under her breath. “Let him go.”
With a flick of his head, he let out another violent hiss, but she wasn’t going to let him kill a creature in front of her. What he did in his own time was none of her business, but to see an insect tormented like that was too much.
“Duke, I mean it! Enough.”
With her hands around his body, she snatched him away. Duke writhed in her hold, his claws dragging over her wrist, but she didn’t care. The poor, tiny cockroach scuttled away quickly, antennas twitching when he reached the edge of the floorboards as if the insect was thanking her. In a flash, he was gone and she let Duke go who jumped over to where the cockroach had disappeared.
She stood, crossing her arms over her chest when he whipped his head back and growled. “I’m sorry, Duke, but I won’t allow that in front of me.” With a huff, she added, “What you do in the gardens is none of my business.”
It was hypocritical, but if she didn’t have to witness it, then that was fine. He was an animal, and the primal urge, no, deep-seated drive to hunt was a part of him. Yet, if she could aid a helpless prey in its escape, knowing firsthand how it felt to be the target, she would.
Loud ticks sounded from the wall clock, pulling her focus. The gold pendulum swayed back and forth. Tapping echoed from the other side of the door, and Charlotte froze.
Hartley’s voice sounded through the room, and she sighed in relief. “Miss, are you awake?”
“Yes, yes. Please, come in.”
“How are you this evening?” she asked as Hartley placed a tea tray on her dresser.
Charlotte quickly combed her fingers through her curls, taming them back, and wiped the sheen of sweat from her forehead. “Do you ever see ghosts here?”
Hartley’s face blanched. “Sometimes I hear things.” She tucked back a blonde ringlet that had escaped under her white cap and looked around. “Knocking, footsteps, you know. The attic is the worst. I hate going up there.”
“Why do you need to go into the attic?” she asked.
“Lord Sallow often takes his tea up there.”
“He drinks tea?” she asked, surprised that was the first question that came to mind. “Although I have seen them drink whiskey and wine. I just assumed they’d only be able to tolerate blood.”
“They can eat, but it tastes like ash to them. The alcohol gives them somewhat of a sensation, from what Mr Young has told me, but the tea is just habit.” Lowering her voice to a whisper, she leaned forward and said, “I think Lord Sallow takes it to feel more human.”
“Why does he go to the attic?”
Hartley fell silent, pursing her lips as if she wished she could take back the slip in statement.
Charlotte leaned forward, gripping the edge of the mattress. “Please, Hartley. Tell me.”
“I should not have said anything, Miss. Please, put it from your mind.”
“Of course, I will.”
She would not.
With a tense breath, she nodded and rolled back against the headboard as Hartley poured her tea.
“I can do that,” Charlotte offered, and Hartley shook her head.
“No need at all. Miss Ellenwood would like you to join her in preparing for the ball tomorrow night.
Would you like help dressing?” she asked, replacing the teapot in the center of the silver tray. “
Her stomach knotted at the thought of them already preparing for it.
“No, it is okay. Thank you,” she said, picking at her cuticles. “You have been here for some time, correct?”
“Two years, Miss. Hopefully soon that will change.”
