Chapter 14 Chapter 14

Chapter 14 Chapter 14
Adrian
The scent of lie is a bitter thing.

I knew it because I could recognize one from afar off. I was a master at it.

Before the pier glass in my dressing room, as the valet fastened the silver buckles of my waistcoat, I could smell the deception clinging to the stones of Northbrook Hall.

It didn’t come from the servants, or from the drafty West Wing. It came from a single person.

Vivian.

My anchor, prophecy, and beautiful, yet strange ruin.

I adjusted the fall of my lace cravat, my fingers surprisingly steady despite the lingering tremor in my bones from the previous night’s transition.

The ton may believe that a Duke was made of titles and land. What they do not realize, however, is that we are also made of echoes.

I could still hear my wolf’s howl the other night, reverberating in my marrow. It was like a low, constant vibration, only stilling whenever Vivian was near.

And now, she wasn’t as near yet.

“Your Grace,” the valet behind me murmured. “The Baron Blackwell has arrived. He is waiting in the small drawing room.”

I went still.

Edmund Blackwell

I had not expected him back from the Continent yet. He was due to be back on another fortnight. Or did the days run by so fast?

Edmund Blackwell was perhaps the only man in England who did not flinch where the silver in my eyes betrayed me.

A baron of keen intellect and softer speech, he was a man who moved through life with the grace of a ribbon of smoke.

As I entered the drawing room, Edmund rose, dressing in an impeccable somber of black, yet striking than the most colourful peacock in London.

His smile was a masterpiece of restraint.

“Adrian,” he said, voice echoing like velvet over gravel. He took a step forward, placing a hand on my shoulder.

The touch lasted a moment too long, like a subtle claim. But it was a touch I was used to ignoring.

“I heard whispers in France of a miracle at Northbrook,” he said. “A cousin from the colonies? You have always been private, but this… this is a sudden bloom in a very cold garden.”

I suppressed a scoff. I had given Vivian that identity to help her fit in. It seemed so much so that the identity did not help to quiet things down.

“Edmund,” I replied, tilting my head ever so slightly. “The trip has treated you well, it seems. You look… refreshed.”

“I am revitalized,” he replied, his eyes tracing the line of my jaw with intensity. “Though I find the air here changed. There is a new frequency in the house. A pulse that does not belong to… us.”

Beneath my skin, I felt my wolf shift as a low growl formed in my chest.

Edmund’s charm was a mask for a mind that saw too much and knew too much for his own good.

The obsession for the Northbrook legacy has always plagued him. Not just the wealth, but the nature of it.

“Vivian,” I echoed. “She is my guest. And my concern, if I may put.” My voice dripped of a warning echo.

“Of course,” he murmured, withdrawing his hand.

“But you should, do be careful. New things, as you should know… are fragile. And the woods… the woods have been restless of late. I saw track on the ride in. Not of wolves, but of things that have forgotten how to die.”

Before I could press him on his meaning, the doors were thrown open with a flourish that I’d almost forgotten belonged to one woman.

Cordelia Hawthorne.

She swept into the room in a whirlwind of emerald silk and calculated elegance. The daughter of an Earl, she was a woman who viewed marriage to a Duke as a coronation and not as a union.

“Adrian,” she cried, extending a hand. I was forced to bow over.

“This village speaks of nothing but your masquerade,” she continued. “And this… cousin. Really daring, to keep such a secret from me? I thought we were beyond such trifles.”

Her eyes darted to Edmund, a brief flash of rivalry crossing her face. As soon as it came, it was replaced with a smile of saccharine sweetness.

“Baron,” she said to Edmund. “I see you have returned to haunt our shores once more.”

“Lady Cordelia,” Edmund bowed, voice dripping with mock-gallantry so subtle. “You look as… formidable as ever.”

Cordelia turned to me, her fingers on my arm tightening.

“I have heard that she is a girl of strange cultures. Perhaps, just a girl with a clever tongue. You must introduce us at once, Adrian. I should hate for the poor thing to be overwhelmed by the ton. I shall take her under my wing, if you please. We would not want her making any… cultural mistakes.”

I looked from Cordelia’s sharp, hungry gaze to Edmund’s deep calm, disguising a deceptive gaze. The predators were circling.

I doubt they welcomed the coming of Vivian. They saw her as an intruder in the world they intended to rule. The world they intended to control.

“You shall meet her at the ball,” I said, voice hard as iron. “Until then, she is under my wing. Entirely.”

I could feel the cold malice of Cordelia as I ushered them out, and the cold indifference of Edmund, masking something I could not quite tell.

After they left, I walked to the window and stood, watching the sun as it dipped into the horison, the splash of orange and pink hue particularly amazing, and a stark reminder of the presence in the room above.

Vivian.

I felt the spark of her presence, the sudden sharp flare of her spirit that always made my heart beat faster, and a new fear gripped me.

The push was somewhat becoming a pull.