Tea, Lycanthropy and Other Virtues

Chapter Fifteen

Constance pulled herself from sleep with great difficulty. Her head felt as if someone had stuffed it with wool. She blinked her eyes open. She was in her own bed, the morning sun slanting through her windows. Relief washed over in a great wave. It had all been a dream, a terrifying dream. Lord Connor was not a werewolf and her cousins had not betrayed her. Nothing that mad could happen here in the small village of Bunsall.

She sat up, pushing her covers back, her eyes landing on her black and blue wrists. Her breathing became unsteady, sweat beaded on her back. Constance was out of her bed before she could really think about what she was doing. She grabbed her gowns and petticoats off the chair in the room's corner and shoved them into her trunk. Baines and Mary had intended her to die at the hand of Lord Connor. And while she couldn't even begin to understand why, she understood that they'd failed. They'd know it soon enough. What would stop them from trying to kill her another way?

But why? Bewilderment clouded all her other thoughts. She paused, a silk shawl in her hands. It was as if she'd missed some crucial piece of information, or not been told the rules to a game she didn't know she'd been playing. If I run home, then what? Her heart pounded and dizziness tipped the edge of the room.

For so long, the tapestry of her life had been held together by a thin fraying thread, and now Mary had pulled it free. She was unraveling.

She forced herself to breathe. Then she dressed and packed away her hair things, her dance slippers. There were still guests here. If they saw she was alive and well after the full moon, would that at least buy her another month? Did her death need to look like it was at Hugh's hand, or was he simply the means of getting rid of her? If the guests saw her this morning, it would at least buy her enough time to seek Lord Connor. He had to have brought her back to her room. Maybe he understood what was going on, maybe he could help.

The image of him shirtless, muscles rippling as he pulled the headboard apart, bubbled up. You are going to keep me safe. She blinked hard. He'd almost killed her last night, but he wasn't the one she was afraid of.

Go to breakfast so the guests see that I'm alive. Find Lord Connor and figure out what the Hell is going on. She shut the lid of her trunk and swallowed. What if all the guests were part of it? She clasped her hands and took a shaky breath. If that were true, then there was nothing she could do, anyway.

She found a pair of fingerless gloves to hide her bruised wrists. She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and exited her room.

Her legs felt funny, her fingers numb as she made her way to the breakfast room. The sounds of clinking china and soft chatter made her want to turn and run. Never had conversation so scared her. She took a moment to school her features and then entered the room.

Edward was sitting at the head of the table, Mary at the foot, her back to the door.

"Cousin?" Edward said, his eyes widening.

Mary went rigid. The rest of the guests kept on eating their breakfast and reading the paper. Baines wasn't there, which made her feel marginally better.

"Good morning Edward," Constance said, making her way to the sideboard where the breakfast things were laid out.

Wonderful delights filled the table, none of which sounded the least bit appetizing. She took a deep breath and looked out the windows. It was a beautiful day, a beautiful day she almost hadn't gotten to see. She put a piece of toast on her plate and took a teacup, but her hand was shaking so badly she didn't dare take the steaming teapot.

"Good morning Miss Allen. May I?" Lord Conner said softly. She had no idea when he'd come up beside her.

"Thank you," she said.