Chapter 143: A Threat

Cecilia

My heart hammered against my ribs.

Stay calm. Stay in character. Don't let him see you break.

"No," I said finally, my voice coming out steady and bored despite the way my hands were trembling inside my gloves, despite the scream building in my throat that I couldn't let escape.

"Should I? She's quite beautiful, I suppose, in that classical sort of way. Though the styling is rather dated—this must be at least a decade old."

Lord Rhys's eyes narrowed fractionally, his gaze boring into mine with an intensity that made me feel like he could see straight through the porcelain mask.

"Her name was Evelyn," he said, his voice taking on a quality I couldn't quite identify—something that might have been grief or rage or both twisted together into something darker.

"She was my wife, once. Before she betrayed me, before she ran back to America like the coward she was."

"How unfortunate," I said, injecting just the right amount of polite sympathy into my voice while keeping my expression coolly neutral. "Betrayal is always... distasteful."

"Oh, she had her reasons," he said, moving closer with measured steps that reminded me of a cat stalking prey, each footfall deliberate and controlled.

"Or at least, she thought she did. Evelyn was always rather... dramatic about things. Couldn't handle the realities of our lifestyle, couldn't accept that some sacrifices are necessary to maintain power and position."

He stopped directly in front of me. "But here's what interests me, Miss Emmaline," he continued, his voice dropping to something more intimate, more dangerous.

"Evelyn had a daughter. A girl she abandoned when she married me, a child she left behind in America without a backward glance."

My blood turned to ice in my veins, every muscle in my body going rigid with the effort of not reacting, of not showing any sign that his words had landed like physical blows.

Beside me, I felt Sophia go equally still, her breathing shallow and careful as she waited to see how I would respond.

"And?" I managed, keeping my voice level through sheer force of will. "I'm sure many women have made such... pragmatic choices when presented with advantageous marriages. Children from previous relationships can be complicated."

"Indeed they can," Lord Rhys agreed, but his eyes never left my face, never stopped searching for cracks in my carefully constructed facade.

"The thing is, I've been hearing some very interesting rumors lately. Rumors about Evelyn's daughter—a young woman who's been causing quite a bit of trouble, asking questions she shouldn't be asking, investigating matters that are none of her concern."

He reached out suddenly, his fingers catching my chin and tilting my face up toward the light with a grip that was just gentle enough to avoid being overtly threatening but firm enough to make it clear I couldn't pull away without making a scene.

"And you know what's curious? The descriptions I've heard of this troublesome young woman—they match your build almost perfectly. Same height, same coloring."

Every instinct I had was screaming at me to jerk away, to run, to do something other than stand here frozen while this monster touched me and accused me of being exactly who I was.

But moving now would confirm his suspicions, would be as good as a confession, so I forced myself to hold still, to let him examine me like I was just another piece of merchandise at his twisted auction.

"How fascinating," I said, channeling every ounce of aristocratic disdain I could muster into those two words. "Are you mocking me? Daring to compare me with the traitor's daughter?"

Lord Rhys studied my face for another long moment. Then, finally, he released me and stepped back, his smile widening into something that suggested he was enjoying this cat-and-mouse game far more than he should.

"Of course not," he said smoothly, as if he'd never doubted me at all, as if the past few minutes of interrogation had been nothing more than polite conversation. "Forgive me for being so forward—it's just that Evelyn's disappearance left quite an impression on me, and I find myself seeing her ghost in unexpected places."

He moved back to the fireplace, retrieving his scotch and taking a slow sip while his gaze remained fixed on us over the rim of the glass. "Evelyn took some secrets when she left. Some secrets that belonged to me. And then, just a few weeks ago, I heard the most extraordinary news—she'd turned up dead in America. Suicide, they said. Facts have proved that the police station is utterly incompetent."

My throat tightened, my hands clenching into fists inside my gloves as I fought to keep my expression neutral, to not show any reaction to hearing my mother's death discussed so casually, like it was just another piece of gossip rather than a tragedy that had torn my world apart.

"And now," Lord Rhys continued, his voice taking on a quality that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, "her daughter has been causing trouble. Investigating her mother's death, asking uncomfortable questions, making accusations against powerful people. It's almost as if she doesn't understand how dangerous that kind of curiosity can be."

He set down his glass with a decisive clink that echoed through the suddenly silent library. "But of course, none of that concerns you, does it, Miss Emmaline? You're just here for entertainment, for the thrill of our little auction, for the pleasure of acquiring something that fights back."

"Quite right," I said, forcing myself to sound bored rather than terrified, to inject just the right amount of aristocratic condescension into my voice.

"Your family drama is fascinating in that voyeuristic way that other people's tragedies always are, but ultimately it has nothing to do with me. Now, if you'll excuse us, I believe our bodyguard is waiting with our purchase, and I'm quite eager to begin... enjoying our new acquisition."

I turned toward the door without waiting for permission to leave, pulling Sophia with me, every step measured and deliberate even though I wanted to run, wanted to sprint down that hallway and never look back.

"Oh, one more thing," Lord Rhys called out just as my hand touched the door handle, and I felt my entire body go rigid with dread at what might come next. "Do give my regards to your father, won't you? Heinrich and I go way back—it's been far too long since we've had a proper conversation."

Fuck.

That was a threat, thinly veiled but unmistakable. He was going to contact the real Heinrich Von Reichenbach, was going to verify our story.

We had minutes at most before our cover was blown completely.

"Of course," I managed, my voice steady despite the panic racing through my system. "I'm sure he'd be delighted to hear from you."

Then I pulled the door open and stepped through, Sophia close behind me, both of us moving with measured grace down the hallway.