Page 51 of A Single Thread of Moonlight

“What was he like?”

I shot a glance at him, but the question didn’t seem pointed. It seemed more like he knew that I wanted to talk about my father. I wanted to talk about him quite desperately, actually, especially since Tookes’ and Mrs Chambers’ revelations. I couldn’t, though, and certainly not with Nicholas Wynter.

“He was very important to me,” I said quietly. “Riding today made me think about him.”

Nick absorbed that. “He taught you well,” he said finally.

“Yes, he did.”

“Have you got any other hidden skills that I should know about?”

I tipped my head. For a moment I considered telling him about the blade currently hidden in the pocket of my dressing gown.

Perhaps not.

“I’m a decent shot.” I shrugged. Quite scandalous enough, even though these days there were ladies who took part in shooting contests. Still, I had a feeling that Nick would not be so easily shocked, and I was right.

A glimmer of a smile played across his lips. Something in that look made my stomach flip. “I’m not considered too bad myself,” he said. “Perhaps a wager is in order. A competition.”

“What? Now?” I asked, startled. I didn’t think Helena would be too keen on firearms in the library, and on this front, I couldn’t blame her. Think of the books!

Nick chuckled. “No, not now.”

“Ah.” It was my turn to smile. “Running scared?”

“I am learning not to underestimate you.”

I liked that.

Our eyes met.

“Tell me,” he murmured after a moment, his voice soft. “Why did you come here, really? I don’t think it was for the money.”

I hesitated. Part of me actually wanted to tell him, to lay out the whole messy story, but I knew that I couldn’t. Fugitives don’t have friends, I reminded myself.

“All right,” Nick conceded as the silence stretched out. “Let’s drop the matter for now. Tell me, how are things going with Stefan?”

I straightened in my chair. “They’re going well, I think.” I thought about my race with Stefan, of the admiration in his face when he looked at me, and I felt an unwelcome twist of guilt.

“I believe it’s going very well.” Nick leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, scrubbing his face with his hands, in a way that left his hair even more dishevelled. “The party on Friday will be a good opportunity to make sure of him.”

“I think it’s my turn to ask you a question,” I said. He stilled. “Why do you want to do this to Stefan? What happened between the two of you?”

He carefully placed his glass back on the table. The burgeoning warmth between us, the undercurrent of some sort of understanding, was gone, as if it had never been there at all.

“I told you,” he said. It was as though the temperature of the air around us had dropped. “That is not an area that is up for discussion.”

I exhaled slowly. “How can you ask me to trust you with my secrets, if you won’t trust me with yours?”

“I don’t require your trust,” he said. “Only that you do the job I am paying you for.”

I got to my feet. Did he think he was the only one capable of putting up a wall?

“Very well,” I said with all the dignity that I could muster as I stood there, barefoot and in a dressing gown. “I am glad that we have clarified our positions. I believe there is no more to say on the matter.”

He had returned to glaring moodily into thin air. I picked up my book, and the candle which had burned itself out. It hardly mattered. I knew my way through the shadows of this house – after all, I had become one of them myself.

“Goodnight, Miss Fox.” His voice was little more than a low rumble.