Page 48 of A Fragile Enchantment
“No, I don’t think I am.” Her gaze swept meaningfully over his shoulder, and Niamh felt the intensity of it pass over her face. “If you would, sir, you can pass along a message for me. Tell the prince regent that I will be waiting, right here, until he decides he wishes to talk.”
The moment Kit and Niamh returned to the palace, Jack accosted them.
His hair, normally fastidiously done, was in jagged disarray, as though he’d been running his hands through it in a fit of pique. Sofia trailed after him like a pale shadow, her hand pressed anxiously to her lips. Niamh thought of her the other night on her balcony,standing at the railing like a ghost. She looked as insubstantial now as she had that night, vanishing into the heat of Jack’s anger.
Jack’s gaze bounced back and forth between Kit and Niamh. But whatever frustration or suspicion he harbored lost out against his concern. “Where have you been?”
“Meeting with Helen Carlile.”
Jack paused, clearly stunned. “You jest.”
“I neverjest,” Kit said contemptuously. “There’s a mob waiting for you in Eye Park. I assume you’re aware.”
“Perhaps we should retire to the drawing room to discuss this,” Sofia said placatingly. “I could send for some—”
Jack held up a hand. “Not now, Sofia.”
Sofia’s gaze dropped to the floor. Niamh felt a twinge of hurt on her behalf. To be so dismissed—by your own husband, no less… It seemed a cruel fate indeed. She wished she could offer her an encouraging smile, but Sofia kept her head resolutely bowed, a few wisps of white-blond hair obscuring her features from view.
“That woman,” Jack continued, “has sent me ten letters a day at this rate. She has come to petition me again, I expect, but it is a waste of her time and mine. There is nothing I can do for those people.”
The disdain in his voice drew Niamh up short. Even if his magic was nowhere near as potent as his ancestors’, he was the Prince Regent of Avaland. How could he insist that there was nothing to be done? If he wished, he could release a statement today accepting responsibility for his father’s role in creating the Machlish Blight. He could agree to reparations, or work to make his staff happier, or… Niamh knew it was foolish to feel betrayed, but she’d trusted him to do the right thing.
“I’ve been asked to tell you that she will not leave until you agree to an audience. Is that really your answer, Jack? You intend to hide yourself away forever?”
“Your idealism is dangerous.” Jack’s voice was strained, vergingon desperate. “I beg of you, Christopher. If you will listen to one thing I say, let it be this. Do not meet with her again. This is a delicate situation, one I swear to you that I am handling. Trust me to manage this, as I have managed all things for you.”
Niamh heard the plea plainly in his voice:Let me protect you.
He’s avoiding all of his problems,Kit had told her once.There has to be some reason.
The flash of vulnerability stunned her. It must’ve knocked Kit off his guard, too, for it slapped some of the hostility clean off his face. When he spoke again, he adopted the same put-upon tone he reserved for both her and Sinclair. “How can I trust you when you won’t trust me? I don’t argue with you for my health, you know. One of these days, you’re going to crumple from lugging all this weight around alone.”
The brothers watched each other from across the atrium, the weight of a thousand small wounds pressing down on them.
“Don’t worry yourself on my behalf.” Jack’s voice was still unguarded, but Niamh could see his trick at work again: folding all of his emotions up neatly and filing them back away where they belonged. Then, as if something just dawned upon him, he said, “I have an idea. We shall host our next ball at Woodville Hall in four days’ time.”
A heavy silence fell over the room.
“You can’t be serious,” Kit said. “I am not going back there.”
“We haven’t returned since Mother’s death. It is about time we reopened it. Besides, it requires fewer servants to maintain. We will leave the Machlish servants behind.” Jack turned to Niamh. “Except for you, of course, Miss O’Connor. You will join us.”
The cruel voices of those noblewomen echoed fresh in her mind.He’s trotted out his new tailor at every event like some sort of show pony.
“It’d be my honor,” she murmured.
Sofia flinched. “I think—”
“So you intend to run if you cannot hide,” said Kit. “Is that it?”
When Jack did not reply, Kit scoffed, “unbelievable,” and stormed out of the room.
Sofia rounded on Jack, emanating palpable disapproval. “I do not think that was wise.”
“Yes, I see that now. Do you have any other counsel for me?” Jack asked wearily. “Or you, Miss O’Connor? Would you care to chime in as well?”
Before Niamh could stutter out a reply, Sofia’s bearing turned arctic. The temperature in the room dropped—quite literally. Niamh’s breath misted in the air before her, and gooseflesh broke out on her arms. Even Jack paled at the sudden display of power.
