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I’ll be able to destroy this man, just like he destroyed my family.
But then, there’s Ada.
Dancing with him. Letting him kiss her fingers. Giving him smiles that should only belong to me.
One woman shouldn’t derail my plans, but I can’t help myself. Count Gregory’s life is going to implode, and I don’t want her to be collateral damage.
Instead of heading back to dinner, I give my apologies to the footmen at the exit and leave the building. It’s the safest thing to do. It’s the only way I can protect her until I can bring the full weight of the law down on Count Gregory.
But damn, it hurts. I wish I could take Ada with me and protect her from all this.
Letting my driver take me away, I stare at the dark castle behind me, hoping she’ll forgive me for leaving.
17
Ada
The morning after Count Gregory’s dinner party, I wake up and feel so nauseous I puke, then let out a sigh and rest my head against the cool porcelain.
No gold inlay in the Belcourt toilets, by the way. Why do I feel so horrible? I didn’t even drink last night.
Groaning, I check the date on my phone. Count the days since my last period. Then, I count them again.
I’m late.
My heart thumps. Panic floods my veins as I stare at my screen. I couldn’t be…?
I can’t even say the word. I can’t even think the word. No. No, it’s not possible. It’s a stomach bug. I’m stressed about the Duke and Count Gregory and about my last piano performance this year, and I’ve been having more sex than usual. My hormones are all messed up.
I’m on the pill, for crying out loud!
But as I crawl up from the bathroom floor and stare at myself in the mirror, I suck in a breath. My gaze drifts to the toilet.
I puked once recently, too, just an hour or less after taking a birth control pill. Then I had unprotected sex with the Duke of Blythe.
My breath comes in short, staggered gasps. Oh my goodness. Oh no. No, no, no.
I could be pregnant with the Duke of Blythe’s baby.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I turn away. I can’t look at myself. This isn’t happening. There’s some other explanation. Food poisoning. A virus. A bug. My period will start as soon as I calm down. It has to.
My phone buzzes.
Heath: Morning, beautiful.
Any other day, that text would send a thrill of excitement coursing through my veins. He’s not ignoring me. He heard me last night, and he’s showing me he wants to talk to me.
Now, though?
Terror. Cold, black fear.
I type back a quick good morning and stuff my phone in my pocket, slipping a baggy hoodie over my head and grabbing the biggest sunglasses I own. I slip down the back stairs and get in my car, driving to a pharmacy clear across town. I don’t want to be recognized.
I buy four pregnancy tests and enough chocolate to deal with the fallout of either result. If it’s negative… Wait—do I want it to be positive? My head is a mess. I want to cry and scream and call Heath and also never speak of this to anyone, ever.
When I get home, Maggie sees me enter with a bag clutched to my chest. She frowns. “What’s that? Where did you go this morning?”
“Nowhere.” I turn my back to her, hurrying up the stairs.
