Page 2 of Stolen Threadwitch Bride
The door opened and the butler appeared, a short, dour man with no more than three hairs on his head. Without a word or a smile, he ushered me to the tradesman’s entrance. I couldn’t blame him—I might’ve been that gloomy if someone spoke to me like that every day.
By the time I emerged and reached the tree-lined street, my burning face had cooled. I should’ve argued with him, should’ve made my case. Lady Hawthorne and their daughters preferred me over the seamstresses of Briarbridge and the contract would’ve reserved them spots in my schedule throughout the year.
Then again, arguing with Lord Hawthorne was easier said than done. Rose might’ve managed it, but me? I scoffed and shook my head.
Maybe I could try to bump into Lady Hawthorne. She wouldn’t be able to resist the promise of—
“Miss Ariadne.” The voice, slippery and slick, slithered through my thoughts and stopped me in my tracks.
Shit. The wolf nipping at my heels.
A Wolf at Her Heels
Isucked in a sharp breath and pushed my feet onwards, but he fell into step beside me.
Sallow-skinned and ash-haired, Skeeves bared his teeth in a dull smile. “How delightful to see you.”
It was anything but “delightful” to see him. I bit my tongue against the burning need to tell him to fuck off. “What do you want, Mr Skeeves? Rent isn’t due for two weeks.” I kept my voice flat and my eyes on the road ahead where a carriage rattled by, pulled by a pair of large, black sabrecats, and all sorts of folk went about their days.
“Now, now, is that any way to talk to such a kind and benevolent landlord?”
Kind and benevolent?This was the man who’d put up our rent when Mama and Papa—and, later, I—were ill with the creeping death. I ground my teeth even as my eyes burned at the crushing weight upon my chest. My clipped pace didn’t falter, but my breaths…
They didn’t come. My chest, my throat—they were full of thick wadding. It blocked air and words. I couldn’t…
Screaming would clear it. Not a scream of fear, but one of pure and pathetic frustration.
But ladies in smart gowns trotted past, arm-in-arm, their gazes darting to me and away. Some were my clients. Others would be, if I could only entice them in.
So, no, I couldn’t scream here. Or anywhere.
Hands clenched, I coughed and managed to blast the air from my lungs. No wadding. There never was—it was all in my mind, all the imagined weight of what I owed Skeeves. Then there was the grocer and the gravedigger and the apothecary and…
Stop. Just one long breath in, and I’d be able to deal with the here and now.
And out. There. The past was done and buried, and although the debts were here like a hangover, I couldn’t solve them right this second. Right now, I had Skeeves slithering along at my side.
“A ‘kind and benevolent landlord’ wouldn’t have increased our rent in the middle of a plague.”
He sighed, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. If I did, I might stab him in the eye with my embroidery scissors.
And that would be a terrible waste of embroidery scissors.
Those things were expensive.
“Miss Ariadne, are you still going on about that after all these years? Didn’t I give you time to mourn your dear parents before I came for payment?”
“Oh, yes, that was a kindness.” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm from my voice. Not when he’d delayed collecting because he didn’t want to catch the plague himself.
“Besides”—his voice dropped and he appeared at the edge of my hood, bending closer—“I have made you averykind offer.”
I veered away, tugging my hood around my face. My skin crawled like it wanted to drag itself right off my bones and far, far away from Skeeves.
His offer would’ve made worries about my rent a thing of the past, but I would never have been able to look at myself in a mirror again. Or stomach solid food, for that matter.
Once I’d swallowed away the bile burning my throat, I shook my head. “Andyouknow I have made it clear that I have no interest in—”
“Ari!”
