Page 17 of A Lesson in Thorns (Thornchapel 1)
No, no, of course not. Of course he should leave. He’s engaged and I’m not stupid, and there’s no world where he should have been looking at me like that regardless of those two things.
The others push through the door just as Auden’s trying to leave, and Delphine gives him a playful smack on the arm.
“The tea’s been ready forever! What was taking you so long?”
To Auden’s credit, the question doesn’t fluster him. He merely drops a quick kiss on Delphine’s cheek and murmurs an excuse as he slides out of sight. Becket watches him go, holding the tea tray and frowning.
“Everything all right?” Rebecca asks, looking between me on the ladder and the door.
“Totally all right,” I lie. But it shouldn’t be a lie.
Or should it?
I want to hit myself in the face with Estamond’s ledgers. This is exactly what I’d wanted to avoid when I came to Thornchapel. This exact situation.
Becket sets down the tea things in the middle of the room, presumably to help me, but Rebecca is already on her way over. “Do you want to hand those to me?”
“Yes, please,” I say gratefully, twisting enough to pass them down, and then I hear her suck in a breath. I crane my neck to see what she’s reacting to, but it’s not necessary. At that same instant, I feel her finger trace a line over the marks on my thigh.
Oh, holy fuck. The marks.
Rebecca’s face is thoughtful. “This looks like a cane.”
I don’t answer. I can’t. I hadn’t planned on ever revealing this part of myself here, and while I’m not ashamed, I have no rehearsed lines and clear explanations to pull out of my brain. My brain is blank.
“And a paddle too.”
She pokes a bruise, and I gasp, nearly dropping the books.
“Give those to me before you fall.”
Disoriented and not a little panicked, I obey immediately, and this sends a small smirk curling at her mouth. “Well, well, well,” she says, taking the books. “Proserpina Markham is a little sub girl. Who would have guessed?”
“I don’t—” I look over at Becket, who’s turned back to the tea and is currently pouring Delphine a cup. They can’t hear us. “I can’t—”
“You don’t have to justify anything. Not to me,” she says. There’s a world of understanding in her deep umber gaze.
“You too?” I whisper.
“I’m the one who gives little submissive girls what they’re looking for. Stay there one moment.” She sets the books carefully on the closest table, and then angles her body so I can climb down the ladder without exposing my marks any further. Which is only half a relief because she still knows they’re there.
And—oh God—Auden.
Auden knows they’re there. That’s what he saw, that’s what sent him fleeing from the room like he was being chased. And as I step off the ladder and smooth my skirt down my legs, something obvious becomes clear to me: Auden knows what these marks are.
He knows what they mean.
If he’d thought I’d fallen or that I was being abused, he would have said something, asked after my welfare. But instead he’d gone rigid and silent and then left.
Was he aroused? Disgusted? Both?
He’s your employer, Poe, however much it doesn’t feel that way. You need to explain.
“Have some tea!” Delphine chirps from beside the fireplace.
“I, um . . . yes, I’ll have some tea in just a minute. Where’s the nearest bathroom?”
“You’ll have to go upstairs,” Rebecca says, her eyes on my face. I get the feeling she knows I’m lying, but I also get the feeling she’s not going to press me on it. Yet. “Up the back stairwell and take a right.”
