Page 96 of A Sorceress Comes to Call
Cordelia swallowed. “He… he ordered the servants to help. It was in a book in his library. They didn’t know what was going on, they just did what he said. Except the head gamekeeper.” He’s safely dead, she can’t do anything to him. “Ev… Richard… told him. So he could help draw the circles. Then Falada killed him, and Richard chopped his head off.” She began to cry, which didn’t take any effort at all. “I didn’t… I’m sorry…”
“I know you are,” her mother said kindly. Evangeline picked up the penknife and tapped the hilt against her lower lip. “Now, are you sure you’re telling me everything? Do you need another reminder?”
Cordelia cringed, desperately trying to think of something to distract her mother without getting someone else hurt. “Lady Imogene found the book,” she said. “But she didn’t believe it. She said it was nonsense.” She closed her eyes, trying not to look at the knife. “She doesn’t believe in sorcery, not really. And Lady Hester said that it’s only good for cheating people buying livestock.”
Her mother snorted. “Well, she’s in for a surprise.”
“W… what? What are you going to do?”
Evangeline put the knife away and relief poured over Cordelia like water. She felt like the worst kind of traitor. I just sold out Lord Evermore and now it sounds like Hester too even though I was trying not to and I shouldn’t have but it hurt so much… Hot tears slid down her cheeks.
“Well, obviously Evermore must be dealt with. It’s a shame, that’s all. Such a good match. Still, the Squire says that he and that fool sister of his used to be in love, so it’ll make perfect sense when she stabs him out of jealousy.” Her mother sighed, shaking her head, and reached down to pull Cordelia to her feet. “And that way no one will expect a full year of mourning for a murderess. Yes, I think that’ll work. Come on. Up, up. Time to deal with this before it gets too far out of hand.”
Hester woke because someone was pounding on the door.
Her first thought was that no one ever pounded on her door. Mary would have gone after them with a tea tray if they tried. Maybe the house was on fire?
Her second thought was that Mary was still recuperating from her earlier encounter with Falada, had taken nerve pills and gone to bed. This did not rule out the house being on fire, but did explain why the pounding was going on.
Her third thought, as she swam toward consciousness, was that she wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing and Richard was curled up around her, snoring gently against the back of her neck.
Hester stared wide-eyed into the dark. She hadn’t meant for that to happen. Come to think of it, she didn’t think he’d meant for it to happen either. He had come to her room last night, hastily relocated to a small guest bedroom with more stairs but fewer glass doors, and asked if all was to her comfort.
“What, other than the monster terrorizing the grounds?” she asked dryly. “It’s fine, of course. I’m hardly going to complain about the accommodations under the circumstances.”
“Practical of you,” he said, leaning against one of the tall bedposts. “I’m sorry this has happened.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She set aside the book that she’d been trying, and failing, to read. “I’m the one who brought all this to your doorstep. It’s my fault you’ve lost a good man.”
He frowned at her. “Nothing of the sort. I was the one who failed to keep my people safe.” His shoulders slumped and he no longer looked the least bit boyish.
“Against a monster.”
“Against anything. What good is it, to be a lord, if you can’t protect the people who rely on you?”
His voice cracked on the last word, and Hester started to get up, knee be damned, and then he closed the distance between them and dropped down at her feet, pressing his forehead against her leg.
“Richard…” She ran her fingers through his hair, guilty and heartbroken. This is my fault, even if he’d never blame me. I called him in to help me.
And then, a colder little voice, one that sounded a bit like her grandmother and a bit like Imogene, said, What utter tripe. The fault belongs to Doom and always has. It’s her monster that’s gone on a killing spree. If she hadn’t murdered Penelope and ensnared Samuel, none of this would have happened at all.
Richard turned his head to look up at her. He was not a man who wept easily, but there was a suspicious redness to his eyes. “I could have lost you yesterday,” he whispered. “I keep thinking of that. You could have died before I even knew you were in danger.”
“But I didn’t,” said Hester. She stroked back the silver at his temples. Poor Evermore. He was no one’s image of a warrior. He liked books on culverts and had strong opinions about crop rotations. He spent his life mostly trying to make things a little better for the people who depended on him, and for fifty years, that had required nothing more than listening closely to their problems and hiring good people to implement solutions.
“But I couldn’t protect you. Hell, I couldn’t even help Bernard.” His laugh was more of a croak. “I couldn’t hold up my end of the ritual. What good am I?”
She pulled him up and wrapped her arms around him, sinking her face into the crook of his neck and smelling starch and aftershave. “I’m here,” she said, because that was the only thing she could think of to say. “I’m safe.”
When he started to argue—because of course he started to argue—she kissed him.
They were both ten years older. Hester turned out the lamp and was glad of the darkness to hide another decade’s hard use. Richard didn’t seem to mind. She wished that she could look at him without being looked at in return, but that would have involved more conversation and what they both needed right now was comfort, not to go around the old arguments again.
And it was comfortable. Quick and somewhat furtive, of necessity, but familiar. Her body hadn’t forgotten anything in the past decade. Neither, it seemed, had his.
The real prize came afterward, when he held her tightly, and she heard his breathing slowly even out and his grip relax as he slept. She told herself that she’d stay awake. It wouldn’t do to be caught abed with another woman’s fiancé, for God’s sake, even a fake and temporary one. People would notice. There would be gossip.
She told herself this very firmly, and then fell immediately into the deepest sleep she’d had in ten years.
