“Aren’t you going to kiss me goodnight?” She raises both brows now.
“I think we should stick to tradition and wait until our wedding.” The lie is delivered easily.
She frowns. “I think a kiss is allowed.”
“I’m a stickler for tradition. Goodnight, Miss Crowley.”
Her eyes spark, and I see her peeking at me with all her cunning and sharpness. She curtseys. “Master Lucas.” Her steps are filled with a purpose.
I stand for a moment and George starts to clear the table. “Can I get you anything else, Master Lucas?”
I exhale as I flex my hands. “Yes you can, George.”
He looks at me with tired eyes. “Get rid of that bell.”
His smile is quick; his eyes don’t look so heavy. “With pleasure.”
I touch his shoulder gently before leaving the room.
My hands are soaked in blood. I bathe them before wrapping them in white bandages. I think of Ella, holding them carefully in the white towel. She was so gentle, so caring.
Guilt churns in my stomach and I push it down. I change out of the tux and into black trousers and a shirt before finding a new pair of gloves. It’s hard getting my hands into them with the bandages, but I wrapped them light enough that I do manage. The pain has me biting the inside of my jaw as I leave my room.
My father is in my study when I enter. He’s sitting behind my desk. “I thought you would be here sooner, since your date ended over an hour ago.”
I close the door behind me. “I was changing.”
“Sandra isn’t very happy.”
I glance at my father now and can’t hide my disgust. “I don’t care.”
He’s standing, his hands curling into fists as he leans on my desk. “You should. She’s worth a small fortune. The merger of our families will strengthen us. Don’t be foolish son.” He pushes off the desk and moves towards me.
“This is what you were born for. To rule. You can’t rule with softness. You must do so with an iron fist.” He clenches his fist.
His eyes are wide and driven with hunger for more power. Looking at him, I used to think I was just like him but I’m not.
His face softens as he reaches me. “I know you are angry, son.” He smiles. “You have a weakness just like me for pretty things, so I have come to a solution for you.”
He pats my shoulder hard before stepping away from me and back to the desk. My muscles are taut since I entered the room.
“A solution?”
Pride sparks from his eyes. “Yes, with Ella.”
My hands tighten, I hate him even saying her name.
“You can have her.”
Everything starts to unravel with hope, with confusion and fear. Is he lying, trying to trick me? My heart pounds.
“I don’t have to marry Sandra?” I hate how hopeful I sound.
My father's laughter is cruel as he throws his head back. I have to wait for him to stop and when he does, it is an abrupt stop, as he pulls the chair in close to the desk.
“You will marry Sandra, but you can keep Ella here as well. I’m sure we can all come to some arrangement. Just publicly Ella is not to ever come to light.”
I hear my father's words, but they sound far off. “Like a mistress?” My tone is flat.
“You don’t have to label it son.”
I feel sick. I move towards the desk. “Like an affair. Wouldn’t she lose a wedding finger?”
My father's eyes cut to the bookshelf. “If I knew you wouldn’t appreciate my offer, I wouldn’t have made it.”
“Sorcha Newtown, was she your plaything?”
He taps his fingers on the desk and glances up at me. “Yes.” I didn’t think he would admit it.
“But don’t be foolish like me son, I got caught.”
My stomach turns again. “What about mother?”
“She was angry, but she got over it.”
I tighten my fists at how dismissive he is about my mother. “Did you lock her away so she couldn’t tell people?” Blood roars to life in my ears.
“Don’t be daft.” My father stands, his eyes narrowing.
“Am I really being daft? Or are you worse than I could have possibly ever imagined?”
“Your mother is locked away because she is a danger. She tried to kill your brother.” He sounds so calm.
“Why, because he tried to kill me?” The past was rearing its ugly head.
“Don’t start licking old wounds. Children playing in a garden, they get lost. It happens.” He waves it off like it’s nonsense
“He wasn’t a child.”
“Are you still going on about that?” His smile is cruel and I shut down, trying to remove myself from this conversation.
“How did Sorcha die?”
His smile turns into a warning glare. “Your mother killed her.”
I’m nodding. “Yeah, because she’s a crazy killer.”
I see a crack in my father’s armor, it’s brief but I see it as he lowers his shoulders. “My affair resulted in Henry.” His words are low, but I hear them.
“Your mother was enraged, we couldn’t have a child, we had tried for so many years.” There is something vulnerable in my father right now, like he’s speaking about someone else and not himself. Like he pities these people.
“So when she found out about Sorcha, it drove her mad.” His eyes meet mine now. “She killed Sorcha and I covered it up.”
I feel sick. I move back towards the bookshelves to give myself something to lean against. “You mean you drove her mad.” I correct him and he ignores me.
“She cut off Sorcha’s finger and hid it. It’s something we have never been able to find.”
How did it end up in Henry’s possession? It is his real mother's finger. Did he know that?
“Does Henry know?”
My father shakes his head. “No.”
My father looks at me for a long time. “When you were born it was like I got my wife back, she was happy, happy with her precious son. So when Henry did…” He waves his hand in the air before placing it back in his pants pockets. “What he did, she snapped, and I had no choice but to have her locked up.” He pauses before speaking again. “Now you know.”
“Did you kill Declan?”
“No.” I had no reason to doubt my father, but that didn’t mean I should believe him either.
“But he was having an affair with someone since his finger was cut off.”
My father looks at me and I try to keep my own truths in about what I know.
“I don’t know who he was having an affair with,” he answers.
“So someone is collecting fingers.” I state. I had both, both found in Henry’s possession. Both people connected to him.
“The past won’t change the present or the future. I would prefer you focused on strengthening your upcoming marriage to Sandra.” My father fixes the cuffs of his shirt. “That is why I am here.”
He looks up at me, any earlier vulnerability gone. “I have decided on your punishment.”
I nod, actually glad that I will find out what it is.
“The final ball is in two nights.” My stomach rolls, but I don’t react.