These Vicious Masks: A Swoon Novel(66)
“No, you must stay here, and I will leave. It’s too late. There’s nothing left to do but hope the damage will not be so bad.” Bless her little heart. The longer I drew this out, the more upset she was going to get.
I knelt down, pushed all my weight onto the trunk, and secured the rusted clasps. Then I gave Laura one last hug. “Thank you, Laura. Just listen to your brother, and everything will be well here. And I’m truly sorry about last night with Mr. Edwards.”
She sniffled. “Hang Mr. Edwards. After what he said yesterday, I’ve already added his to the lists of houses to be set ablaze.”
As the footman dragged my trunk down the stairs, I told him to keep an eye on the house’s supply of matches.
I half regretted that warning, though, on my way out. There was no alternative but to pass by the music room, which I could swear hushed to a painful silence as I hurried past. All of Lady Kent’s perfect guests were undoubtedly aware of all my dalliances and crazed assaults on defenseless, kindhearted hosts.
Downstairs, the only other person in that house I wanted to wish good-bye to waited for me. “Thank you, Tuffins,” I said when my cab was loaded. “Thank you for being so eternally efficient and pleasant and gracious. If you ever want to work for a human being, instead of a machine, please find me.”
His lips made the smallest quiver as he bowed, and I turned to head out the open door when her twitter came down the hallway after me. “Miss Wyndham!”
Miss Verinder glided in front of me with a beaming smile. “Leaving so soon?” It took everything within me to refrain from dragging her out the door by that blond hair of hers and hurling her down the stairs.
“So you really did have nothing better to do with your time than to have me spied on?” I said.
“Actually, every little piece of evidence miraculously happened to fall into place right before my eyes,” she calmly rejoined. “And I would have been just as guilty of indecency if I had allowed it to continue. I had a moral responsibility, a duty. It’s what society demands.”
“No, all of this was your doing.”
“Most definitely not.” Her countenance turned deathly serious. “You and your sister are the ones to blame. You did this to yourselves, and, in the process, you almost dragged the Kents down with you.”
“Then your aim in all of this was what? To render yourself irresistible to Mr. Kent by comparison?”
She laughed. “You do have quite the talent for making anything sound petty and frivolous. Even when we were first introduced, all you did was complain about the season, make snap judgments, and act like you were better than it all. Better than me.”
“Anybody is better than you.”
She laughed and seemed to savor her words as they dripped off her tongue. “And now you are a nobody. You never deserved a single glance from Mr. Kent. You’ll be lucky if a street sweeper deigns to look at you.”
Her arms wound around me before I could move, enveloping me in thick, cloying perfume and the world’s worst hug. “Goodbye, Miss Wyndham. There’s no need to thank me. You made your disdain for society very clear, and I simply thought to liberate you, so that you might pursue those lofty and thrilling goals of yours.”
With a giggle, she flounced away and disappeared back up the stairs toward the warmth and the laughter.
I went the other way.
MY CAB RUMBLED forward, though I barely cared where it was taking me.
How pathetic. I shouldn’t have cared about my reputation or society—my sister was missing! But the crawling snakes in my stomach were impossible to ignore as I thought about the choices left to me. I may not have known what I wanted to do with my life, but I had always pleasantly assumed that I could make my way. Tonight would hardly be the worst of it. Now our friends would avoid us. Society would slam every door in my face. Even if I rescued Rose, we could never return to our normal lives.
I stared out the fogged window, watching the desolate street and the glowing houses. All I wanted was to find a comfortable bed and end this horrible day. No choice now but to steel my skin and become that improper single woman wandering London for lodgings late at night.
I slid open the cab’s rear hatch. “Where are the closest lodgings?” I asked.
At that moment, the driver stopped. “Right here, miss. This was the address your footman gave.” He hopped down, let me out onto the unfamiliar street, and handed me a small envelope. “He also asked I deliver this upon your arrival.”
Inside was a short note from Mr. Kent:
The old bat said nothing about writing you another word. Please wait for me, I’ ll be home shortly. Feel free to save Robert’s life if you’re bored.—Nicholas Kent
Sure enough, when I knocked on the door to Mr. Kent’s home, his maid, Miss Gates, welcomed me into an entrance hall that surprised me as much as his invitation. Anytime Mr. Kent had mentioned his own home, I had imagined it a sprawling mansion filled with ornate decorations and hundreds of portraits of himself covering the walls, eyeing guests wherever they went. Instead, this home was small (nowhere near the size of his parents’), well kept, and modestly furnished for comfort rather than show. Miss Gates led the way upstairs into a cozy bedroom with not a thing out of place, save for Robert’s unconscious body sprawled across the bed.
“When did Mr. Elliot . . . arrive?” I asked.