“What did you do to her?” Mrs. Fletcher demands, her eyes on the glowing cord between Brahm and me.
The cord wraps around Brahm’s wrist before it travels to mine. Lifting my hand, I study it. I can’t feel the golden braid against my skin. It’s not cold nor hot, heavy nor light, and I wonder if it’s merely an illusion.
Brahm mentioned a tether, but I thought it was a visual representation of the magic—not an actual tether.
“This was Alice’s doing, not mine,” Brahm says. When he lowers his hand, the golden cord fades.
Brahm watches impassively as my fingers go to my wrist. His eyes seem to remind me that I asked for this.
“Release her!” Mrs. Fletcher commands.
“I cannot. The agreement was made between Alice and my mother.”
When Mrs. Fletcher begins to panic, I set my hand on her arm. “I’m all right.”
“You’re not all right!” Her hands flutter at her waist. “You’re shackled to one of them. Do you have any idea what—”
“It’s your choice whether you and your husband remain at your posts now that Alice is leaving,” Brahm says, apparently done with the conversation. “I will continue your pay if you stay. Otherwise, I will give you a small sum to thank you for the trouble of returning so briefly.”
Mrs. Fletcher’s eyes flash. “I don’t want your filthy money.”
“Mrs. Fletcher!” I say, aghast.
Calmly, Brahm holds up a hand, telling me it’s all right. “She’s no less upset than I am, but what’s done is done, and there’s no changing that.”
Mrs. Fletcher suddenly turns to me, growing frantic. “I don’t understand. What happened? He was giving you back your home! He had all the furniture returned.”
I glance at Brahm, unsure how to answer.
She turns to the marquis, pressing her hands together in a plea, changing tactics. “Please, Lord Ambrose, I beg you. Don’t take her.”
I know Brahm well enough to see his distress under his careful mask. Instead of responding to her begging, he says, “Gustin will be released by the end of the day. However, he is not welcome here. Do not allow him into the house.”
Shocked, I turn to Brahm. “You’re releasing Gustin?”
He crosses his arms, giving me a curt nod, making me think he’s not telling me everything.
“Why now?” I demand.
“Are you ready to leave?” he asks.
“Brahm!”
Mrs. Fletcher peeps in surprise, and I realize I probably shouldn’t have used his given name in front of her. The housekeeper looks like she’s about to faint, and I’m sure she’s imagining all sorts of improper things.
Brahm glances at her before he turns back to me. “The coachman is waiting.”
“The coachman?” I ask, realizing we haven’t discussed what happened with Wallen. It seemed he and Brahm were close, and I’m afraid he feels the deception keenly.
Though in the last several days, we haven’t discussed much of anything. While we’ve waited for the snow to melt, I’ve been sleeping in the bedroom I grew up in, pretending my life hasn’t changed dramatically. Brahm has taken up a guest room on the opposite end of the hall.
With the furniture back in place, and Mrs. Fletcher buzzing about, instructing the new maids and footmen on their duties and chiding the young houseboy, it almost feels normal again.
Brahm might as well be a friend of the family, here for a holiday visit.
But today, everything changes.
“The man I hired when I believed you’d be staying here,” Brahm explains.