Two Dark Reigns (Three Dark Crowns #3)(15)

“Do not be silly.” She softens at the memory. “I was cross with you nearly every time you cooked for me.”

“Kept you from being poisoned, didn’t I?” He grins, but it fades quickly. “Well, except for that last time.”

“That was no one’s fault. But do not change the subject.”

“What subject? I thought we were just waiting for your sister.”

Mirabella goes to the window and snatches the curtains out of his fingers.

“About my sister,” she says. “How many times have I heard your mother hint about how much happier Arsinoe would be at your country estate? Hidden away from you and away from anyone who might view her as an embarrassment. How many times have they mentioned Christine Hollen as your potential bride?”

“Lots, I suppose.”

“Then when are you going to tell them about you and Arsinoe? That she will not be sent away. That you will not be cowed into marrying someone else.”

Billy lowers his head. He is a handsome young man. Many times Mirabella has thought so. His looks are less dramatic than Joseph’s were; he is less like a thunderstorm. He is real and of the earth. He is what her sister needs. Or at least he was. But here on the mainland, he is no longer the daring suitor who risked everything for them. On the island, he was courageous, with an outsider’s bravado. Here when girls call him a rogue, they only mean he is trying to get under several skirts at once.

“If you regret bringing us here,” she says carefully, “if you do not intend to be with Arsinoe, then I will take her someplace else. I am not without skill or cleverness. I can make a life for us.”

Billy stares at her, almost like he does not believe her. But then he takes her hand.

“That’s the last thing I want. I will tell them. You have my word. I won’t leave her without assurances.”

Before Mirabella can say anything further, he sees movement thought the curtains and exclaims, “She’s here!”

He opens the door and reveals Arsinoe, shivering and soaking wet, on the front step, with what looks to be a dirty fur rolled up beneath her arm. Then Billy embraces her, and the fur barks.

“I found him in an alley after some boys chased him down there with sticks.” Arsinoe holds the dog, squirming, to her chest.

“Poor thing,” says Billy. “But he’s filthy, Arsinoe; my mother will have a fit if you bring him in here.”

“No, see?” she says, and runs her hand over the little dog’s back. “Under all the scum, he’s got a pretty brown-and-white coat. I thought we’d clean him up and put a ribbon on him. Give him to your mother and Jane as a peace offering.” She steps farther into the foyer as Billy rubs his forehead and chuckles. Distracted as he is by the dog, he does not notice the haunted look in Arsinoe’s eyes. Nor does he note how hard she is shivering, far too hard for someone who has just come in from a warm summer rain.

“Let us take him into the washroom, then,” Mirabella says. “Quietly.”

Once they are in the washroom, Mirabella sends Billy to heat water for a bath and to fetch extra lamps. When he is gone, she pulls a blanket down from a shelf and wraps her sister in it.

“Now,” she says. “What is really the matter?”

“Nothing. I saw this dog get chased, and I wanted to save it. It’s how I was raised.”

“Yes, yes.” Mirabella smiles softly. “Poisoner by birth, naturalist at heart. But there is more to this. Why did you stay gone for so long?”

“I fell asleep,” Arsinoe answers, eyebrows down so Mirabella knows she is not telling her everything. But it will have to wait. Billy is returning with the hot water and lamps. So they set the dog in the washbasin, and Mirabella reaches for soap.

“It is a good thing Mrs. Chatworth and Jane are already in bed,” Mirabella says. “They would be beside themselves if they knew you had taken off your dress in public.”

“It wasn’t in public. It was in the graveyard, behind a tree. And besides, I had all these clothes on underneath!”

They finish bathing the dog, who really is quite a lovely fellow underneath all the muck, and towel him dry before Arsinoe carries him up to their bedroom. Billy does not leave her side until they are in the doorway and then leans in to kiss her cheek.

“Don’t worry me so much,” he whispers.

“Then don’t worry so easily,” Arsinoe whispers back.

“Good night, Billy,” Mirabella says, and closes the door. She goes to Arsinoe’s dresser for dry clothes while Arsinoe gets the dog settled into bed.

“Here. Get out of that shirt and into something dry.”

“I’m all right.”

“I am the oldest.” Mirabella holds the nightshirt out. “Do as I say.”

“Or what? We’re not on the island anymore; you’re all out of lightning bolts.” But Arsinoe unbuttons the shirt and takes it off, then pulls the quilt off her bed to wrap herself in. “This place is going to make us soft. Everything so precious and fancy. Look at this wall covering.” She taps her finger against the pattern of raised green velvet. “It seems like a tapestry, but if you pick at it, it’s paper! It peels!”

“Arsinoe, stop that. Mrs. Chatworth will cut your hands off. Besides, according to you, I was always soft. Raised in Rolanth on a fat bed of priestesses.” She looks at her sister’s still-shivering shoulders. “Now tell me what really happened today.”