Chapter 17

17

Lustina

Lustina stepped cautiously through the brush, eyes scanning the surrounding forest by instinct. Her mother had taught her how to sneak up on prey without making so much as a crackle across the dying bracken, but as she approached where the baron sat with his back to her, it was she who felt stalked, somehow.

“I see you did as I asked,” he said, without turning to look at her from where he remained crouched by the river.

“You expected otherwise?” She relinquished her tiptoeing and stepped out into the clearing from behind the bush where she’d hidden.

“I know few things about you, Lustina, but I can say with certainty that you are one who does not particularly enjoy doing as she’s told.”

The comment made her chuckle, and she nabbed a fallen twig and stood at the river’s edge beside him. “Your observations are astute, My Lord.” Drawing swirls into the water’s surface, she debated the questions that’d plagued her mind in the week since their encounter at the cathedral. So many things she wanted to ask him, but feared how to approach them without inciting his defenses. “I released the bird, as you had me promise last week.”

“And did he fly?”

“Quite impressively. The sight brought immense joy to my heart. Thank you for seeing to his wounds.”

“It pleases me to know you are happy.”

Head turned away from him, she hid a smile at the thought of having pleased him. “Was there meaning behind your words, My Lord? When you asked me to set it free … was it the bird you spoke of?” A sudden lump in her throat made for a horribly obnoxious swallow. “Or yourself?”

“I thought it obvious that it was the bird.”

The warmth of embarrassment heated her cheeks, and she shook her head. “Of course. I was just curious--”

“Don’t be curious. Curiosity can be dangerous.”

Still distracted by the circles she’d drawn into the water’s surface, she smiled. “It also births answers, My Lord. Ones that still remain a mystery to me. Like, why Drystan was there in the undercroft that day.”

From his profile, she watched his lip peel back into a snarl, as if so much as the sound of his name was an offense. “He attends mass with his mother.”

“Forgive me, but I did not see a woman accompany him into the chamber where you had been taken.”

“If your inquiries serve a purpose,” he said through clenched teeth, “I suggest you make it known. I have no time for games, or riddles.”

The comment gave her pause. Did her interrogations serve a purpose beyond her own curiosity? After all, knowing would not change the outcome, nor future outcomes, for that matter. The men she’d seen involved were the most powerful in all of Praecepsia. Still, she asked, anyway. “What did they do to you in that room? I heard your screams.”

“And how can you be sure those screams belonged to me?”

“Because I know your voice as distinctly as I do my own. I hear it even when you are not present.”

“Tell me.” The heat of his gaze burned hot over her skin. “Do you hear it in dreams?”

“Sometimes.”

“And what do I say to you in these dreams?”

“A number of things.” Things that would’ve had her blushing, if she told him.

He pushed to his feet and stepped toward her, his eyes alight with something dark and mischievous. “I want to hear them from your lips.”

A cold rush of discomfort twisted her insides at such a request. “I would rather not say, My Lord.”

“Tell me, or there will be consequences.”

Chin angled high, she stared back at him with an unabashed and steely nerve. “I ask to know the consequences.”

“Why?”

“So that I might decide which is worse--suffering them, or telling you my dreams.”

“The consequences will surely be worse.” He stepped closer, forcing her to take a step back. “Though, more important than hearing your fantastical dream, I want to know if you touched yourself, as I asked, while thinking of me.”

Lustina’s face burned with humiliation over the question, and yet, she did do as he’d asked. While bathing in the cool current of the river, she’d closed her eyes and, below the water’s surface, allowed her fingers to roam to those forbidden places. She’d imagined his arrogant smirk and bold words whispered in her ear, and though she didn’t quite know what more existed beyond the tightening of her muscles and the rapid little breaths that’d sputtered past her lips, she’d enjoyed the sensation, nonetheless.

Her mother had always told her such pleasures were perfectly normal for a curious young girl, but the pentashes had frequently referred to it as an unnecessary and indulgent sin.

Lustina gulped, nodding in answer to his question.

The corner of his lip lifted to a slight smile, as if it pleased him, the sight of which sent a new sensation through her. The embarrassment of before slowly fizzled into something foreign. Something she’d never experienced before, and although she couldn’t quite pinpoint precisely what it was, it had her pulse hastening and warmth rushing to between her thighs.

She only knew that she liked seeing the smile on the baron’s face.

“And did you reach the dizzying point of ecstasy? When your thighs would shudder with unfathomable relief?”

Had she? She couldn’t be sure. She’d only gone so far as the sharp tension in her body, before she’d grown weak and tired. “How would I know, My Lord?”

The dark chuckle that answered only stirred her confusion. “You would know.” He stepped closer, backing her toward a nearby tree. “Your scent …” Eyes screwed shut, he clenched his teeth as if offended by it. “So pure.” When he opened his eyes again, gone were the bright blue. Their black centers looked as if they had bled over to a frightening darkness.

On a startled breath, Lustina jumped backward, her spine hitting the tree. “Your eyes … they …. What happened to them?” Her mother had once told her, in times of delirium and severe illness, the eyes could turn black that way.

He turned his gaze away from her, taking a step back. “Come with me.” He spoke low, and when he looked back at her again, the familiar blue had returned. So normal, Lustina wondered if she had only imagined the blackness of moments before. “I want to show you something.”

She might’ve hesitated to follow him deeper into the woods, where he led her, but his surprises had proven to be welcomed, as was the case with the bird. As she trailed after him, caught in his grasp, Lustina’s mind raced with thoughts of what he might wish to show her. What could possibly be so important that she’d come to the woods alone, without Drystan.

As they made their way along an untrodden path, the baron stole occasional glances over his shoulder at her. Not a smile, or frown, to let her know whether what lay ahead was good, or bad. How someone could remain so completely unreadable was as mysterious as the shadows that lurked behind his eyes.

Ahead of them, a cart stood off in the distance, where a campfire had been built. In spite of the burning embers, the camp appeared to be abandoned, and the baron’s grip tightened on hers. Just beyond the camp, a figure stood off from the two. Long, straggly locks of gray hair lay scattered across the narrow, hunched back of what appeared to be an elderly woman, confirmed when she turned around to face them. Her face lit up, and she hobbled closer. A gypsy, evidenced by the tattered state of her woven shawl and the multitude of bangle bracelets at her wrist.

“Hello there,” she said, in a hoarse and scratchy voice.

The baron’s muscles seemed to tighten, his grip practically crushing Lustina’s hand with the woman’s approach. “Close enough,” he warned, snarling back at the woman.

Surely, he didn’t believe in the rumors about the gypsies, like so many in the village who viewed them as a pestilence of society. Frowning at his lack of manners, Lustina wrenched her hand loose, and stepped past him, offering a kind smile to the old woman. “Hello.”

“I’m looking for the river, and I fear I have lost my sense of direction.”

“Oh, well, you are in luck. The river is just beyond that clearing there, do you see?” Lustina pointed toward an opening in the forest, where the trees didn’t grow.

“Beyond it, you say?”

“Yes. Keep on, with the sun at your face, and you will find it. I promise.”

The woman reached for her hand, and in Lustina’s periphery, she saw the baron lurch toward her. “You kind, sweet child. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your help.” Wrinkled hands held hers, and Lustina flinched at the way they felt too cold against her skin. Unnaturally so. When the older woman stuffed the other hand into the pocket of her dress, the baron’s grip on Lustina’s shoulder tightened, his fingers digging into her bones. “Here, I have a delicious treat as a token of my thanks.” She pulled an apple from her pocket and offered it to Lustina. “You must have a bite. It’s heavenly.”

The young girl held out a hand to accept the fruit, and the whoosh of steel exiting a scabbard was the only sound before the baron propped his blade beneath the old woman’s chin.

“You first,” he gritted, and tugged Lustina behind him.

Frustration burned inside the girl, as she eyed the poor, old woman, who wore a shocked and frightened expression. Few people had ever treated Lustina with such kindness, and she found his behaviors to be an offense. “What is the meaning of this, My Lord?” she asked.

Not bothering to answer, he lifted the blade higher, pressing its sharpened edge into the woman’s neck.

“My Lord!”

An awful screech echoed through the forest, and Lustina swung her attention toward its source, where the older woman stared back at her with coal black eyes that sent a cold chill down the girl’s spine. She spoke in a language that Lustina didn’t understand, and when she hissed, Lustina caught sight of fangs and a split tongue that flicked out at her.

On a gasp, the girl jumped back, her muscles tightening and trembling.

The woman screeched again, and when she lurched forward, Lustina held her breath.

One hard thrust of the baron’s blade breached the woman’s throat on a sickening wet sound. The pitch of the screech heightened, only a moment before the woman burst into flames.

Shaking hands covering her mouth, Lustina watched the gypsy’s body crumble to ash in a crude perversion of how she’d come to know a body typically succumbed to flames.

Far too abruptly.

Choking on shallow breaths, Lustina backed away, her eyes fixed on the pile of powdery soot where the woman had once stood.

“Lustina,” the baron said, stepping toward her.

“Do not touch me. D-d-d-o not touch me!” Every muscle quaked as the terror consumed her. She twisted in the opposite direction to run, but an arm clinched around her waist, lifting her up into the air. “Let me go. Let me go!”

“There are things you do not understand.”

“I want to go! Release me!” She kicked and flailed, but he only tightened his grip around her, pulling her close against him.

“Listen to me, Lustina. I did not kill the woman you think you saw.”

“You did! I watched you!” All her squirming was futile, as his arm banded around her like iron.

“She was not of this world. You have seen how flames consume a body. Hers did not burn as most do.”

Out of breath and exhausted with her fight, Lustina stilled, considering his argument, what she already knew to be true. After all, she had watched her own mother burn. At the time, it had seemed as if her screams would never end. And in spite of the charred state, she had not turned entirely to ash. Certainly not so swiftly as the old woman.

The apple still sat on the ground, and on releasing Lustina, the baron strode up to it and cleaved it in half. Where there should have been pale flesh, inside was black and oozing a strange substance that turned her stomach. Movement within caught her eye, and Lustina stepped closer to see a small, worm-like creature with black scales emerging from the apple’s rotted core. On seeing her, it hissed, just as the woman had, bearing fangs and a serpent tongue. As it slid from the apple and scuttled toward her, she jumped back.

The blade came down over top of it, and once again, flames burst forth, turning the small creature to ash.

Shock left her momentarily speechless. The thought that she might’ve bitten into that apple, unknowingly consuming whatever that was, sent a shiver down her spine.

“How did you know?” she asked on a shuddered breath.

“There are many things I wish to tell you, Lustina, but such confessions would terrify you. Know that I will. In time.” He reached out a hand to her, and Lustina hesitated, unsure whether, or not, to trust him. “I will not hurt you.”

Swallowing a gulp, she reached back, and the two kept on their trek through the woods.

They breached the forest on a gust of wind that swept up the loose strands of her braided hair, and Lustina stared out over the edge of the cliff that stood just a short distance away. The black sea stirred below them, as the baron led her to the steep edge. A cold sensation stirred inside her chest, her hands clammy and trembling.

The reaction seemed to catch the baron’s attention, and he came to a stop before they arrived at the edge of the cliff.?“You’re afraid.”

“I … I cannot …. I am afraid of heights.”

“I beg to differ.”

“P-p-p-pardon, My Lord?” Teeth chattering with the fear that wracked her body, she could scarcely push the words past her lips.

“It’s not the height that you fear. It is falling. Slipping from the edge, with the wind at your face. Nothing to catch you. Only pain awaiting you on the merciless rocks below.”

“If your words are meant to offer comfort, I can assure you they do not.”

“What if I were to catch you--would you leap?”

“Forgive my saying so, but there is little your lordship could do once I’ve already fallen.”

Brow quirked, he tugged at her to follow. “Then, we will be careful not to let you slip.”

She wrenched her arm back, desperately avoiding the edge of that cliff. “What is so important that I cannot see from here?”

“It cannot be explained in words. Come. I want to show you.”

Heart hammering inside her chest, Lustina forced her mind to relent the images of him pushing her over the edge. As cruel as he could be, he surely wasn’t a murderer of the innocent. Of course, who would think him the culprit of such a crime, seeing as she’d foolishly ventured into the woods without escort.

“You can trust me,” he said, as if reading her thoughts.

With hesitation, she reached for his outstretched hand, and he took hers much gentler that time. Acids rose to her throat as she stepped, cautious and slow, toward him, daring not to lift her foot from the rock below her shoes as she dragged her feet along. With her toes at the edge of the cliff, and her eyes forward, Lustina breathed hard through her nose. A strong hand wrapped around her waist, lips at her ear, as the baron whispered, “Look down.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Lustina held her breath and shook her head. “I cannot.”

“You fear this more than anything?”

“Perhaps. It comes a very close second to one other fear.”

“Which is?”

“I am not certain I wish to tell you, given your inclination to entertain one of them already.”

“I want to know what else you fear, Lustina. I want to know your vulnerabilities. The things that make you clutch to what you perceive as safe.” Only then did she realize her fingers had dug into the baron’s arm, her whole body pressed against his, quaking like a fragile leaf on a thin branch.

“I … I fear the lightning of a storm. The thunder and the crash.”

“Why?”

“I was … a child. It was a terrible storm. Lightning hit a nearby tree. It fell, just missing me.”

“Should it have missed you, this tree?”

“No. Where it was struck … it should have fallen grievously upon me.”

“And yet, you fear the lightning?”

“Of course. What kind of question is that?”

Warm breath tickled her neck where he leaned into her and whispered, “I should think that lightning would fear such a force as you.”

She pondered his words for a moment, and turned to look at him. Only her mother had ever said such things to her, had ever made her feel stronger than she believed herself to be.

“Dare yourself to look down,” he commanded.

Swallowing hard, she exhaled a long breath and turned just enough to see where her toes met the edge of a long and undoubtedly painful fall beyond. What horrible agony it would be, to land upon that unforgiving rock below. Sucking in a gasp, she clutched the baron harder, her fingers aching with the tight grip. The rocks and sea she’d imagined below lay hidden somewhere beneath the fog that had moved in to hide it. A thick, white haze shielded her view and climbed the edge of the cliff, where it danced around her feet.

“I cannot see anything. There is only fog.”

“Are you still afraid?”

“Well, yes, of course. I know the sea and rock are still there, even if I cannot see them.”

“What if I told you that you could walk upon that fog like the very ground on which you stand now.”

A sliver of panic wound around her as she took in his words. What he proposed was the gravest sin. A self-inflicted death. She recalled earlier, when his eyes had turned black. Lustina had not considered the state of his mind until right then, and suddenly, she regretted having followed him.

“What you speak of is death.”

“Perhaps. Or maybe I speak of freedom. Do you not wish to fly, as the birds do?”

“Had the Holy Father intended us to fly, he would have given us wings, My Lord.”

The chuckle in her ear assured Lustina that she had made a grave mistake by following him to the cliff. “Are you so afraid of death, as well?”

“Of my own making, yes. The nuns have said such a thing is sin. That you would be doomed to the infernal flames.”

“The same people who said your mother was a sinner before they burned her alive?”

“Yes, but … this is … “

“Madness. Yes. Tell me you have never dreamed of how it would feel to be weightless, like a bird. Free to go wherever you wish.”

She’d be lying if she’d told him she hadn’t. “What are you asking of me, My Lord?”

“I’m asking you to step into your fears.”

“You are asking me to end my life?”

“No. I am asking you to begin.”

“I cannot do this. I do not …. I am content.”

“Are you? Is your life so satisfying, tending gardens under the eyes that scrutinize you, as if you were a plague?”

Was it? Had she become so complacent that she could not see past her own misery? The way the entire village had shunned her and cast her aside like discarded bones.?Even then, there, with the baron, she would’ve faced immeasurable punishment for having run off to the woods with him.

“And what awaits me? Pain? Death? How is that better?”

“You believe in nothing. So much so, you cannot imagine that I might catch you.”

“Would you? Is that what this is about? My trust?”

“Do you trust me, Lustina? Or do you only trust the god who tells you good and innocent people must burn for their sins.”

Her breathing turned shallower as she contemplated the question. Of course she did not believe in all she had been made to think was sin. It went against her very core. Against her mother’s teachings of kindness and clemency. “Promise me you will catch me.”

“Always,” he whispered.

Eyes clamped shut, she shook her head at the thought of stepping off the cliff. “I am a fool. A complete and utter fool.”

“And you fear that most of all.”

Taking in a deep breath, Lustina steeled her nerves and released her grip of the baron’s arm. She kept her eyes closed, while her toes tingled. This is madness!

She thought of her mother and wondered if she would be disappointed in her foolishness for trusting him. How would he catch her, after all? How could he?

At the same time that she reached behind for his arm, she stepped forward, and on grasping nothing behind her, she gasped and lost her balance.

Horror seized her as she fell forward at a speed far too great to overcome. The fog parted for the rocks and dark turbulent water she could see clearer than moments before. Lustina opened her mouth to let out a scream and squeezed her eyes shut. She prayed her death would be quick and painless.

When she opened her eyes to face the inevitable impact, she stared in disbelief as the horizon stretched out before her.

Her feet firmly planted on the edge of the rock, just as before.

She looked down to where the water and death remained at a more comfortable distance than she was certain it had, and exhaling a shaky breath, she stepped back from the edge, her back hitting an immovable wall behind her.

She turned to find the baron there, her hand clutched tightly in his. “I … I swore I … I fell over that edge. And yet, it must’ve been a … dream?”

“Was it? Could you not feel the wind rushing past you? The breath escaping your lungs? The cold hand of death pulling at your fears?”

“I felt all those things.” Frowning, she recalled those seconds when her eyes had been closed, as if perhaps she’d passed out. Surely, she’d fallen, after having tumbled forward like that. But then, how could the baron have caught her when she was already bound for the rocks below?

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“I do not know what to believe.” Thoughts came rapidly and irrationally, taunting her with impossibility.

“What is it you find most troubling in all of this?”

“That it was real.”

“Why?”

“Because I should be dead.”

“Like that day in the woods, when the tree missed you.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me what you refuse to tell anyone else about that day, Lustina.”

She bristled at the question, at the possibility that he would have any awareness of those unspoken thoughts. “I do not know what you are talking about, My Lord.”

“You do. It is a thought which has plagued you every day since. You know precisely why that tree failed to crush you. Now, tell me what you believe.”

“You will think me a fool, if I do.”

“What does it matter what I think, when you should be dead. Tell me.”

“I think …” Panic swelled inside of her at the prospect of admitting such a thing. The arrogance of it. “I believe that … I am not meant to die yet.”

“Why?”

“Because I serve a purpose.”

“We all serve a purpose. Even Bishop Venable serves a purpose. Why should you be allowed to defy death?”

“I do not know. I should not be granted such exception.”

He reached out to cup her face and ran his thumb over her cheek, wiping away a fallen tear. “That is where you are wrong.”

“You caught me,” she said, returning to the moment. “How? It is impossible.”

“It is as I told you before. Some creatures were born to defy the limitations of what should be.” He bent forward and pressed his lips to hers.

* * *

Lustina wore a smile on her face, as she trudged back through the forest toward the Van Croix estate alone. To be seen with the baron would likely bring more trouble than she cared to face, more than the punishment of wandering off without someone to escort her.

When she finally reached the grounds, Drystan accosted her with his shoulders bunched, hands balled to fists at his sides. “Where have you been? Everyone has been looking for you!”

“Bishop Venable asked that I not be nearby during the healing ceremony for Lady Praecepsia.”

“I do not think he meant that you could run off and wander the woods alone.”

“I grew up in the forest. I am perfectly capable of finding my way around.”

“It isn’t right for a young lady to do so alone. Or were you not alone?” The way his eyes narrowed on her told Lustina he thought otherwise.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It seems the good baron has gone missing, also.”

Lustina willed herself to remain unaffected by his all-too-accurate observation. Lending so much as suspicion would prove to be detrimental. “If you are accusing that we had some sort of tryst, then I shall ask you to watch your tongue.”

“Why?”

“Because I am principled and would never endeavor to partake in something so lewd.”

“You are the daughter of a witch and a whore. It is not so unbelievable to me that you might.”

In one thoughtless swing, Lustina cracked her hand across Drystan’s face, which kicked his head to the side. A red mark flared where her palm had met his flesh, but she wouldn’t apologize for it. Not after such harsh and cruel words about her mother.

His lip peeled back into a snarl, and he lurched toward her, hand raised as if to return the slap. Instead, he caught himself. “You will regret that.” He snatched up her wrist and dragged her through the back door, into the kitchen, and into another, elaborately decorated room, where Bishop Venable stood with Lord Praecepsia and two other men she didn’t recognize.

“I found her, Your Excellency. Roaming the woods with young Lord Van Croix.”

Eyes burning with animosity bore down on Lustina, as she stood like a prisoner clutched in Drystan’s unyielding grip. “Is this true?”

It was only through formalities and a show of decency on his part that the bishop had bothered to ask instead of outright accusing her. He didn’t care to know the truth, which was why Lustina didn’t hesitate to answer, “Yes.” After all, he would undoubtedly punish her, regardless of her response.

“Wait for me in the carriage,” he said through clenched teeth.

“I will see her to the carriage.” Drystan yanked her forward, as if he had any authority to do so, and when she wrenched her arm back, he tightened his grasp. The bruising of his fingers digging into her skin told Lustina he was furious.

“Why are you … doing this!” Lustina dug her heels into the gravely earth and tugged in futile resistance, as Drystan dragged her after him. When he didn’t bother to answer, she gritted her teeth in frustration. “You are with the bishop! I saw you last week during mass. You entered the chamber in the undercroft.”

He finally skidded to a halt and turned on her. Something flickered in his eyes, like serpents, which made her step back. “Do you have any idea how foolish you are? Do you have any idea what the baron really is?”

Contemplating the questions, she stared back at him.

“He is the spawn of the devil himself.”

Laughter tugged at the back of her throat, and before Lustina could stop herself, it broke loose on a quiet giggle, and she slapped a hand over her mouth to contain it.

Drystan’s brows pinched to a frown. “I am serious! It is not a laughing matter, Lustina! He is evil in the flesh!”

She bent forward, laughing harder, unable to reign in her amusement.

“Laugh. And when he damns your soul to the infernal realm for eternity, perhaps you will wish you had listened to me.”

An unattractive howl escaped her, the laughter so intense, it drew tears. “You have … no idea … how utterly … insane you sound!” More laughter poured out of her, until her face burned and her throat turned hoarse.

“He is capable of things no man can physically do. Tell me you haven’t witnessed them and you are lying. He is a dangerous aberration that must be destroyed.”

“Perhaps it is you who are the aberration, with your talk of destroying another human being.”

“He is not human.”

“And neither are you. What good human being is so self-righteous as to judge another? That is not human. That is monstrous! More so than the spawn of which you speak. You torture him. I heard it. You and the bishop torture him in that chamber. If your god is as merciful and right as you say, it is you who stand to be punished!”

His palm slammed into her throat with a force that banished the last sip of air from her lungs. “Defend him, if you must, Lustina, but he will never find happiness with you.”

* * *

Lustina lay on her stomach. The wounds on her back, where she’d suffered the lashings, burned like flames across her skin. As Pentash Maria daubed a particularly deep cut, Lustina closed her eyes, praying the pain would subside. Tears streamed down her temple, and as the pentash tended her wounds, she lay pondering how cruel fate had been that day in the woods, when she’d first lain eyes on the baron, had first felt the dangerous tendrils of the unknown wrap around her curiosity.

The bishop would have referred to such an encounter as a test of her virtue in the face of temptation.

For Lustina, it had been an awakening. The cursed unveiling of truth that had lain buried in her heart for too long. The realization that no matter how virtuous she endeavored to be, the church would never consider her worthy of redemption. For if a baron could be punished for his existence, in what hope stood the daughter of a condemned witch?

A door clicked. Heavy footsteps followed, punctuated by the tap of a staff between each step, undoubtedly made by Bishop Venable’s crosier, and alerted her to who had come into the room. Dread sank deep into her stomach.

“Leave us,” he said to Pentash Maria.

“Your Excellency, she still requires her wounds to be--”

“I shall not repeat myself.”

The cool cloth that’d given Lustina a small measure of relief was lifted from her skin, and her lashings flared in complaint.

The door clicked again, signaling the pentash’s retreat, and Lustina found herself alone with the bishop.

“Do you understand why I punished you, girl?”

Lustina didn’t answer, the anger and sadness inside of her too overwhelming.

A lightning bolt of pain struck her back, in the same moment she realized Bishop Venable had stuck his finger into one of her wounds.

“Answer me!”

“Yes!”

He removed his finger, but the pain persisted, jabbing at her ribs every time she dared to take a breath. “Did you honestly think the son of an earl would have anything to do with a sinning harlot such as yourself?”

“My intentions with the baron were innocent and chaste.”

“Of course they were.” The bishop crossed in front of her. “You are no longer permitted to accompany me on these visits.”

“But Lady Praecepsia--”

“Lady Praecepsia is dying. So shall her interest in you.” At the brush of his finger over her cheek, she jerked her head away from his unwanted touch. “You will remain as unloved as your mother.”