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This would be the final time we played the puppet master’s game. It had to be, because Rochefort was right about one thing. I could not survive another blow.
ChapterThirty-Three
Valentine
A feast to celebrate Valentine’s return, Rochefort declared, two days after we’d arrived. I’d been quietly settling in, determined not to cause waves. Rochefort had never been more than a few rooms away and did not trust that I wouldn’t make a break for the woods the moment he turned his back.
The staff bustled all day, readying for the feast. All were too busy to stop and talk or had instructions to avoid me.
The dinner would be an elaborate ruse to talk circles around me, or another attempt to seduce me. The fact he hadn’t behaved as I’d expected made waiting for the inevitable worse.
I dressed in the clothes left for me and readied myself for Rochefort’s next test. He appeared content while his game continued the way he liked. The trick was to keep him content so he didn’t notice as I slipped out.
There would surely be other guests at the dinner. In the bustle, I’d slip away. Minerva was a short carriage ride away. I’d visit Devere, and if I returned, I’d do so within a few hours.
The first of the guests’ carriages clattered up to the front entrance at eight. I greeted the handsome pair, if only to get a sense of who was arriving, but found them unfamiliar. This went on as more carriages arrived. Faces of people I did not know, but all of whom seemed aware of me and shared their sympathy and pity whenever they shook my hand. A few even expressed condolences about the death of my parents, and how sorry they were that I couldn’t attend the funeral due to mysituation.
Then a final carriage pulled to a halt, and as the door opened, I expected another unknown face, another thin greeting.
Devere stepped down, wearing his dashing black coat with its purple lining that caught the light from the mansion windows like a flash of magic.
As he straightened, my heart tried to fight its way out of my chest.See me. Know me.He strode up the steps, and—as I opened my mouth to greet him, to tell him how I’d missed him, and to whisk him to one side so we might plan our future—his gaze skipped over me as it did the doorman without a single glimmer of recognition.
Perhaps he had missed me. I reached out to stop him, but he breezed by, oblivious to my presence.
He’d somehow missed me on the steps, that was all.
“Devere!” I called. The shout filled the foyer.
Several guests turned to look.
Devere turned too, eyebrow arched. “Yes?”
My smile cracked. He didn’t know me. I strode closer and fought to slow my racing heart. “Devere, it’s me… Val.”
He unbuttoned his coat, swung it from his shoulders, and handed it over. “Hang that for me, will you, Valentine?”
I took it automatically. “What?”
“You’re Rochefort’s valet, no? You and the lord were alwayssoclose.”
“Devere, no, wait—” I grabbed his arm.
He yanked free of my grip and leaned close. “You should have remained in that asylum, Valentine, for it is a fitting end for a troubled boy.”
His words struck at my heart, making it shrivel.
He’d been fed the lies, and now he just knew me as the boy who had kissed him, the boy who had turned on him and had him beaten behind the shed. I’d been taken from Minerva, sent away, and that was the last he’d seen of me. In his mind, we had not had our reunion. We had not grown to care for each other or rekindled our troubled love.
I grabbed him a second time, and when he tried to pull free, I dug my fingers in. “He’s made you forget. It’s what he does. Please, listen. I came here to solve your father’s murder. You told me what you are. I’ve seen how you are made. You know, deep in your heart, you know the truth—”You knowour love.
He pulled free a second time, but now true hatred burned in his sultry eyes. “Touch me again and I will inform your sponsor. We’ll see how fast the return trip to the asylum takes you.” He strode away, taking the guests’ gazes with him, but most remained on me—the lord’s toy, his little pet project from the asylum, taken away fifteen years ago and now returned, fixed and well thanks to the marvelous Lord Rochefort.
I snarled at the gawking guests, turned on my heel, and marched to the quieter retiring room where a fire roared in the hearth. There were no guests here, and that suited me just fine. A decanter waited on the table, glasses beside it. I poured myself a drink—do not accept gifts from the fae.It wasn’t a gift, if I helped myself. I downed the whiskey and poured another.
Such hate in Devere’s eyes.
But he’d remember. He had to. He had to know, in his heart, we were meant to be. He’d shown me his inner workings. He’d told me his truths. He and I were special. There was something in that, something more than the two of us, something destined.
