The Madman's Daughter (The Madman's Daughter 1) - Page 33

“But I can help you—”

“That’s admirable, Juliet, but you’d only be in the way. Science is best left to men. Women have too delicate a constitution.”

I fought against my bubbling urge to argue. I wanted to tell him all the things I’d seen. My God, the things I’d done with my own hands. But I wasn’t ready to trample on the delicate flowers of my father’s and my new relationship.

“You’re right,” I said, hating myself even as I said it. Father had a way of bending everyone to his will—apparently I was no different. “Of course.”

Montgomery gave me a questioning look. But he was hardly in a position to judge.

The sound of horse hooves broke the tension. Balthasar came along the trail on Duchess, two bandoliers across his chest, his face pinched and eyes darting. A rifle was strapped across the saddle. Puck jogged behind on foot, another rifle in hand. Montgomery leapt up to meet them.

I started to stand, but Father shook his head. “It’s nothing to concern yourself with, I’m sure. Montgomery will attend to it.”

“What if someone’s hurt?”

“Everything’s under control,” Father said, eating a strawberry. “I know everything that happens on this island. You must trust me.” He tilted his head, studying me like a specimen. His eyes were like black stars, making me forget the rifles and the commotion and Balthasar’s worried face.

Almost.

I watched Montgomery run a hand through his hair, his muscles tense, as he said something I couldn’t hear. Puck slunk about, whispering low and hushed words that made Montgomery’s hand tighten on his pistol.

I looked over the shimmering water, the savage but beautiful island below us. Whatever was happening, this was my home now, at least until the next ship came. I wanted to be a part of it.

“I didn’t come here to do needlepoint,” I said firmly. “You can use my help. Montgomery does the work of ten men. At least let me help you in the laboratory. If not with your experiments, then taking notes. There has to be some use for me.”

His black eyes bore into me, studying, thinking, analyzing. I could almost see the clockwork gears clicking into place. He chewed another strawberry slowly.

“Help me with my work, eh?” He absently ran his fingers over his shadow of a beard. His eyes weren’t focused on me anymore, but somewhere beyond the ocean. “Yes, perhaps you could be of use to me after all.”

I smiled uneasily. His words were just what I wanted to hear, and yet, between the guns and that peculiar look in his eye, something felt wrong. “Good,” I said. “I won’t disappoint you.”

Suddenly his eyes snapped back to me with a fiery intensity. “What do you know of that boy, Prince?”

“Edward?” I sat straighter. “Not very much at all.”

Father’s graceful fingers stroked the wiry hairs on his chin. I remembered the late-night conversation that Edward was so reluctant to talk about, and I wondered what Father could possibly have wanted to say to him after trying to drown him.

“Perhaps we should change that,” Father said.

I couldn’t bring myself to ask what exactly he meant. Getting to know Edward couldn’t possibly help him with his work—unless it got me out of his way. Or unless he thought the quickest way to fulfill his fatherly duty was to marry me off to Edward Prince.

Seventeen

ON THE WAY HOME I couldn’t help but notice Montgomery’s tense hold on the reins and Balthasar’s wide-eyed scan of the jungle. They were on alert. Something bad had happened, regardless of what Father said. Ever since that native had accidentally been killed, they’d all been uneasy.

Alice fetched me for dinner that evening, saying Father expected proper dining attire. I dug through Mother’s trunk until I found a suitable white blouse and lavender skirt. Elegant clothes didn’t fit such a savage place, but this wasn’t just any island. It was my father’s island.

I paused outside the French doors leading to the well-lit salon. Inside Father and Edward talked over a brandy, surprisingly amicable, while Montgomery looked out the windows, arms folded, watching the dark jungle. The dinner table was set with all the finery of a London salon, out of place on the primitive island.

When I entered, all eyes turned to me. Edward straightened. The conversation died between him and Father. Apparently Mother’s elegant clothing was something of a sight. Montgomery gave me one long, speechless look and went to the side table to pour himself a brandy.

Edward wore a fine suit with a dark-gray vest that would have been at home in any London drawing room. He smiled, though the muscle in his jaw twitched. “You look beautiful. Like one of the angels Milton wrote about.”

“A fallen one, maybe,” I said.

Montgomery watched us from across the room in his worn riding trousers and loose linen shirt. He’d washed his hands and face, but little else. He wasn’t a gentleman like Edward. He belonged in the wild.

“Please take a seat,” Father said, pulling out my chair. “I’m afraid hitherto Montgomery and I have grown lax in our manners. Now that we’ve guests, it’s time we remind ourselves that we’re not animals.”

Montgomery sat across from me, fidgeting with the silverware. I wondered if he often thought about that moment when our lips had been so close. If so, he’d said nothing. Could that attraction have been only my imagination?

Alice came in and filled our wine glasses, followed by Balthasar with a soup bowl. She kept her head to the side and wouldn’t look at anyone but Montgomery. She positively turned white when she had to serve Edward, with his fine suit and elegant manners.

For a while we ate in silence. I think the sudden sophistication and elegant attire took us all by surprise, and we didn’t quite know what to do with ourselves. The clock ticked away the seconds on the mantel. I stole glances at my father, wondering about what he’d meant when he’d said I should get to know Edward better. Wondering what had made Balthasar and Puck interrupt the picnic with so many guns.

“Well, Prince, it seems you are now somewhat familiar with us. We have the disadvantage, however, of knowing next to nothing about you.” Father tapped absently against the base of his wine glass and slid me a look. “Juliet, in particular, is curious about you.”

I studied the curve of my spoon in detail. Wished Father didn’t have to be so obvious about whatever plans he was making for Edward and me.

“You come from a good family, I assume?” Father asked him.

Tags: Megan Shepherd The Madman's Daughter Horror
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