Page 32 of Wolfhaven

“Someone once loved you, didn’t they?” she murmured, taking in its worn fabric fur and scratched glass eyes. Gareth’s childhood toy, perhaps? Or Marina’s? She didn’t know how young the girl had been when she arrived at Wolfhaven.

Behind her, a floorboard groaned as if a man’s heavy weight had stepped on it. Evaine inhaled sharply and stared out the window at the sunny afternoon. Old houses creaked. She was alone in this house, except for Gareth and Gran.

She tucked the stuffed bunny under her arm and forced herself to turn.

A tall, dark figure stood in the doorway. Evaine shrieked.

“What are you doing in here?” Gareth growled, stepping forward. “I told you not to come here.”

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in bed!” She was not going to admit how relieved she was to see that it was him.

“It’s my house,” he pointed out, reasonably.

“One you hired me to help you strip of any remaining valuables. I wasn’t going to waste an entire afternoon waiting for you to finish your nap.”

“I wasn’t asleep. I rested for a while. My headache subsided, so I got up.” He strode over to her and snatched the bunny. She refused to relinquish it, resulting in a brief tug-of-war before he gave up and let her have it with a huff of irritation.

“Was this your bunny?” she asked.

“Yes.” He glared at her. “It still is.”

“Did it have a name?”

“Herman.”

“Herman the Rabbit,” she said, smiling fondly at the worn stuffed toy. “I have difficulty imagining you as a young boy.”

“There is a portrait of me at age seven out here.” He gestured pointedly at the door. Reluctantly, Evaine went out into the living area. She wasn’t finished exploring the ducal apartments, but her presence here was clearly unwanted. “There.”

Now that there was light in the cave-like main room, she saw the small gilded frame hung on the wall near the bedroom door. He was a somber young lad in his blue velvet suit. Her heart pinched. She hugged the stuffed rabbit close to her chest.

“You look worried,” she said.

“I have always been a serious lad. I take after my father.”

“Are there any pictures of him left, or did you sell them all?”

“I burned them.” Gareth strode to the rectangle in the center of the room, which turned out to be a large desk. An odd place for one. Judging from the worn spots on the carpet, Evaine thought the desk must have been a later addition. There were what appeared to be indentations from sofa feet set around the same area. It was easier to imagine this as a public sitting room where the family would gather or entertain visitors.

A squeak of wood jolted Evaine out of her woolgathering. Gareth was testing the drawers.

“How much do you think this old thing would fetch?” he asked.

“A Napoleonic campaign desk? Hundreds of pounds, potentially.” In truth, she had no idea. The auction house she had briefly worked for mostly handled fine art and antique furnishings. This particular object was not in her wheelhouse.

“It’s authentic. Boney himself used it for a time. My father was something of an enthusiast for the Corsican Ogre.”

“Oh, well, in that case, a thousand pounds isn’t out of the question. People will pay for historical artifacts. I will be claiming my share of the sale,” she said, turning away, her skirt swishing as she cast her eye around the room for anything else that might sell.

“Is that why you came in here against my wishes? You think I want to cheat you out of your share of the proceeds?”

Shame curdled in her stomach. She wanted to answer no, but she couldn’t in honesty, so she sidestepped the question instead.

“What about that old clock?” she gestured. “I confess I don’t know much about time pieces. I think a good quality grandfather clock could sell nicely.”

“Doubtful. It’s nothing old or fancy. Just like the one that fell on me…” he trailed off. Evaine had wandered over to inspect the enormous carved oak case. She turned slightly, still clutching Herman the stuffed rabbit, and found Gareth staring at something he’d found inside the desk. Damn. Had she missed out on a valuable find?

He said he wasn’t going to cheat her. But Evaine had heard lies fall from the lips of rich, titled men before. She had given her virginity to such a man once. She was no longer so easily fooled by false sincerity⁠—