Ever After (Unfinished Fairy Tales #3)(84)
There’s a darkness in his tone; he looks capable of committing murder himself. Before, when I was attacked in the streets by Mr. Tolliver, he was already frantic with worry. I can still remember when I visited his garden, and how he put his hands on my shoulders and told me he could have the palace physician for me. This time, things are more serious. We had believed I would no longer be in danger, since the fairies’ magic allowed me to survive, and Edward has got me out of jail. We had thought that since the divorce case, Edward and I will be able to remarry, and Bianca can never cause trouble again. But apparently, her hatred for me has run so deep that she was willing to risk her reputation to get rid of me.
In the past, Bianca had tried to harm me, but they weren’t serious enough to make her a criminal. She had tried to lock me in the cellar when I wanted to go to the ball, she had accused me of posing as her sister, and most recently, she has thrown me into jail. Those instances were insufficient to convict her of criminal activity. However, hiring a hitman to kill me is an unpardonable crime. While Bollard should definitely be punished, I’ll be damned if he is the only person to take the blame. Aristocrats like Lord Fremont have got away unscathed because they could use their influence to twist or conceal their crimes. This time, Bianca and her husband shall not escape justice.
* * *
“No, you cannot leave the house.” Amelie’s voice is severe. “Not until the wound has healed.”
On my way to the kitchen, I pass by the small room where Bertram sleeps. Normally the servants sleep on the fourth floor, but since he is shot in the side, Thomas and Cook cleared out a room for him—incidentally, it’s also a storage room where Cook keeps sacks of flour and sugar.
Bertram is the only person who’s happy after the incident. Amelie has changed completely after Bertram took a bullet for me. She nurses him every day, changing his bandages and bringing him meals, and he’s basking under the tender care of his long-time crush. Like he’s gone to heaven.
“The wound ain’t that serious,” Bertram protests. “His Highness will be needing me around.”
“You are no use to him if you cannot walk,” Amelie says severely. The door is purposefully left open to safeguard her reputation, and I can see she’s leaning over Bertram with her hands on her hips. “Lie back, you idiot. Until the doctor says you are fit to walk, you are not getting out of this bed. If you’re bored, I can read you a story. Princess Katriona has quite a collection.”
Since I moved into Henry’s house, I have been buying a lot of novels. Not being officially princess, I don’t have mountains of letters to read and answer, nor can I help Edward proofread his drafts. So I occupy my spare time with more novels from The Bookworm. I’m not sure if Bertram will enjoy the Gothic romances, but I won’t pass up a chance to hear Amelie reading romances in her curt, serious voice.
“All right, then,” Bertram says with reluctance. “As long as you stay by my side.”
I have to swallow back a laugh. Oh my. Bertram must have picked up some flirting tips from his master.
“I’m going to get the book,” Amelie says, her face rosy red. “And remember, don’t you get up and move, or I won’t be looking after you.”
“‘Course, Amelie.”
I smile and turn away. It has taken years, but Bertram has found his way to Amelie’s heart.
41
Kat
I am reading the paper by the window when Cook knocks on my door.
“There’s a message for you, Princess.” She hands me a thin envelope.
“Thanks.” I look for the letter-opener, then pause. “Why are you bringing me the mail instead of Amelie?”
“She’s changing bandages for that young giant.” Cook shakes her head in exasperation. “Never saw a man so happy to be shot.”
I repress a giggle. “Thanks. You sure you don’t need any help in the kitchen? I’m almost finished here.”
“Nothing to worry about, Princess. I’m more worried about the food prices—did ya know a loaf of bread costs a whole pound? If this keeps up I’ll be needing to ask His Highness for extra.”
When she leaves, I sink into the chair and put a hand on my forehead. The papers are still dominated by my attack and the question of the Pembrokes’ involvement, but if food prices continue to soar, the headlines will be back to the inflation. I wonder when the tax bill will be formally introduced in Parliament; Edward has been so focused on prosecuting the Pembrokes that I don’t think he had any time to draft the proposal.
With a sigh, I open the letter. For a moment, I forget about the worries about food. It’s from Poppy, asking if she can bring her children over this weekend. Mr. Davenport has got his well-deserved vacation, and she wants to try my idea of a ‘date night’.
I run downstairs and alert the household we are to play nanny for the day. On second thought, I decide to invite Elle as well, as I haven’t seen her for a while and besides, she has experience taking care of the kids. Her reply is prompt; she’ll be delighted to come over and watch over the children with us. I also convince Edward to stay at the house that day.
“Edward, you’ve been working yourself too hard,” I say severely. “Yes, there are important issues to deal with, but your health is my priority.”