The Magic of I Do (Faerie 2)

“Yes.”

He shook his head. Would she always vex him so? The pulse beating at the base of her throat was the only sign that she was even the smallest bit nervous. Would he ever know her feelings? Would he ever truly trust that she was what she was supposed to be in his head?

The carriage rolled to a stop and Finn leaned to look out the window. “What the devil is going on out there?” he murmured to himself. There was a long line of coaches outside Lord Gelson’s home where they’d come to a stop. But something was wrong. Guests walked to and fro on the lawn, rather than in the house. And someone had called the watch. Finn slipped his mask from his pocket and moved to get out of the coach. “Something is wrong. I don’t know what it is. But the watch wouldn’t be here for no reason.” He pointed a finger at her. “Do not get out of the coach.”

Claire pursed her lips and didn’t respond to him.

“I mean it, Claire.”

She looked out the opposite window and ignored him.

Finn walked slowly into the small crowd milling about on the lawn, wandering about like he’d been with the guests the whole time, until he saw one of his men. “What’s going on?” he asked as he pulled the man to the side.

His man talked out of the corner of his mouth. “There has been a murder.”

The hair on the back of Finn’s neck stood up. “Who?”

“A widow. I’m not certain of her name yet.”

Finn’s heart stopped for a moment. “A widow, you say?”

“Yes, she was found in one of the playrooms. Some-one had slit her throat.”

“I see.” Finn’s heart was still beating like the hooves of a runaway horse. “Find out everything you can, and come see me first thing in the morning.”

“Yes, my lord,” the man said.

Finn walked quickly back to the carriage and opened the door. As he climbed in, nothing but empty space embraced him. “Damn her,” he muttered. If she didn’t get herself killed all by herself, he was tempted to wring her pretty little neck.

Twenty-Five

Claire’s teeth chattered, she was so nervous, as she slunk through the shadows of Lord Gelson’s manor house. She put on her black half mask and let herself in the first unattended door she could find.

Voices reached her ears and she froze, plastering herself against the wall. But they continued down the corridor that crossed the one she traveled, and Claire followed them at a discreet distance.

Claire had never been inside this particular house, but she could easily assume that she wasn’t in the servants’ corridor. The rug was too well made. And the paneling on the walls was polished to a shine.

“You there,” a voice called out. Claire froze, but then she plastered a pleasant but not overly friendly smile on her face and turned to face the man.

“Oui?” she asked. “Pardon me, but I do not speak English,” she said in French, her accent heavy as snow on a rooftop. The man stopped and looked at her closely. Claire didn’t speak French, aside from this one statement. She hoped he wouldn’t try to ask her anything else.

He spoke to her like she was a half-wit. A deaf one at that. He pointed down the corridor and said. “You. Have. To. Go. Outside. With. The. Others. Do you understand?”

“Oui, I understand,” Claire said again in halted English. She pointed toward the way she’d come in.

He pointed in the opposite direction. “Go. That. Way.” The door to the room behind him opened and two men walked out. One shook his head. “Have the coroner come for the body,” he said to the man with whom Claire had been talking.

“Yes, sir,” the man said.

Body? Did he say body?

“That way,” he said again, pointing.

“Oui, I understand.” She gave him a smile so sultry that he blushed a bit. Then she turned and sauntered down the corridor in the direction he’d pointed. When she reached the end, she stopped and waited. The man kept going, perhaps to check the rear doors of the house. It didn’t matter. He was leaving. And she needed to get in that room, if only for a moment.

Claire waited until his footsteps receded. Then she ducked into the room and closed the door soundly behind her.

The room was awash in lamplight, which made the situation even starker than it would have been otherwise. Claire skidded quickly to a halt as she saw the large puddle of blood that covered the floor. Nausea rose within her.