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We ride to the stable to settle the horse in for the night, then continue on to the manor. Once inside, he offers me tea, surprising me when we enter the kitchen, and he begins preparing it as he has always done it himself.
“My servants go home to their families at night,” he says to my perplexed expression. “I would like to think I’m at least capable of doing simple things for myself.”
“Oh,” I say, unable to think of anything else.
Thomas clears his throat as he sets out two cups. “What were you doing outside my gates so close to night?”
The question is light, but I catch the slightest hint of suspicion. Either that, or it’s my guilt getting under my skin, knowing heshouldbe suspicious of me.
“My driver broke an axel.” There’s a slight inflection on the last word, though I meant to say it as a simple fact.
“Is that a question?” His hands pause their movements as he lifts his gaze to arch a brow.
I shake my head. “He’s an idiot.” It comes out harsher than intended. I cross my arms and glare at the steaming cup of tea set before me. “His eyesight must be failing him because he steered into a pothole the size of barn and snapped an axel. Then he went to get help, leaving me to wait.”
It’s almost all truth. Especially my annoyance.
“Well, you’re more than welcome to stay here for the night. I don’t think anyone will be coming to fix it before dawn.” Thomas takes a sip of his tea. “It’s fortunate it happened near here.”
Again, I catch a hint of suspicion. Only this time there’s also admonishment.
To avoid answering, I lift my cup and drink. The hot tea scalds the tip of my tongue.
Our conversation grows more natural and comfortable. Once we finish our tea, we stay where we are. And when my stomach rumbles loudly, he fixes me a modest plate of meats and cheeses. I politely refuse the glass of wine he offers because tonight I need to keep my wits about me.
Eventually, we move to the drawing room. There’s already a roaring fire. The furniture here is the same beautiful dark wood as his bedroom. I curl up on a plush sofa. The upholstery is the softest leather I have ever touched.
It’s all too easy to feel at ease with Thomas—even when he teases me until my face burns. I need to keep reminding myself to be on guard because he could turn into the monster terrorizing the city, thinking my footman left me alone in the carriage. It would be easy for him to discard my body somewhere along the road as if demons got to me. Breaking down near someone’s home doesn’t make them guilty.
But he is all charm and smiles. When he asks me about the books I studied over the last week, there is genuine interest. He asks questions that help me see where the holes in my knowledge are. Thomas even seems to catch that my main interest is herbology without my saying so. At one point, he mentions a title the library doesn’t have. And in seconds, he is gone, then back, holding it in his hands.
We talk for hours, though it feels like only minutes pass. Yawning breaks up my sentences more and more, and eventually, my eyes grow watery from exhaustion.
I trace the gold lettering on the cover with my finger. A long silence stretches out between us. It seems neither of us wants our conversation to end. For the first time, I have been able to discuss my studies at length without someone’s eyes glazing over or changing the subject.
The grandfather clock chimes into the silence, and there’s no denying or ignoring the hour. It’s already halfway through the night. Retiring for the night means putting distance between us. I resist the urge to get closer to him, both emotionally and physically. A challenge I wasn’t expecting when the night began.
He leads me to a guest room on the third floor on the opposite end of the hallway from his. I stand in the doorway and watch him enter his room. Thomas turns and offers me a smile and a nod. He looks at me with heat and longing, and I wonder if it mirrors the way I am looking at him.
It’s a silent battle of wills. I’m not winning against myself, though. At least I’m not losing. I release my breath as he enters his room and closes the door.
My nerves spike, and I’m no longer tired. Regret colors the memory of tonight. If only my story wasn’t a lie. If only there wasn’t a murderer on the loose. If only I met him under different circumstances… and whatever is growing between us wouldn’t be built on a lie.
An oil lamp on the night table lights the room. I pace, chewing on my bottom lip. If anything, his actions tonight only proved that he is every inch the gentleman that he appears to be. It’s not too late to call off this plan?—
I shake my head. No. I must find out either way. And if he’s innocent, I will tell him everything… if he’s willing to listen and doesn’t hate me.
I tug the hidden tie at my waist and unwrap my skirt. Underneath, I wear leggings similar to men’s pants, only tailored to flatter a woman’s figure. Years ago, my favorite seamstress and I devised the style together. It looks like a typical lady’s skirt, allowing me to dress as a lady of my station is expected, but with the ability to change for fencing or sparing practice without having to carry extra clothes with me or go home.
The two blades Benjamin gave me are strapped to my legs, one on each thigh. With every movement I make, they seem to glint with malice in the lamplight. I stride over to the bed and douse the flame.
After a while, my eyes grow accustomed to the dark. The gentle ticking of a clock is the only other sound in the room except for my breathing. I wait for over an hour. The minutes drag on and on. I remain standing, resisting the temping bed, because If I sat down, I would be asleep before I knew it.
When I’ve waited as long as I dare, I tiptoe to the door and open it a crack. The light under Thomas’s door is out. As I slip into the hallway, I can only hope the saints are on my side tonight. Then I slowly make my way to the stairs and down to the second floor.
My shoulders relax when the third door I open is a simple yet elegant office. I guide the door closed behind me, then take everything in.
A wide desk is to the right, with a fireplace behind it. To one side of it is a globe resting on a floor stand. Directly across from that is a window with a table between it and the door. Bookshelves are built into the two long walls. Other than that, the only other thing in the room is a life-sized bronze-colored cat figurine in the corner behind the door.
