Destroyed Destiny (Crowne Point #4) - Mary Catherine Gebhard Page 0,4
one by Robert Frost.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
I’d already made my decision on which road I would take. I told Grayson I would be Atlas, and I would shoulder the burden.
Whatever that might be…
I slowly raised my arms, eyes down, as they lifted my dress above my head.
I stood naked in the center of the room, holding my arms to my chest. Madame walked a circle around me, gray eyes sharp.
Calculating.
She eyed my rounded stomach way too long for my liking. I’d been hiding my pregnancy under shapeless dresses, but when I was naked, it was obvious. Unavoidable. Inevitable. I was a little over three months along, after all.
I worked my jaw.
Madame touched my hair. “Unruly.” She exhaled through her nostrils like Tansy did when examining the silver. “Come find me when you’re finished.”
The girls nodded. I watched the old woman leave the room out of the corner of my eye, her shadow reflecting in the spilled honey tea.
The girls dragged me into the en suite bathroom and shoved me into a clawfoot tub centered on the dark hardwood. It smelled like lavender and was filled with so many oils my skin shone like glass. They grabbed my arms, stretching to rub me raw.
Then they moved to go between my thighs.
I slapped their hands away. They shared a look, rolling their eyes.
“Miss, if you don’t behave, it will be worse for all of us,” the one with jade eyes said.
But they didn’t try again.
Floral-smelling shampoo was squeezed and lathered roughly into my hair. For a while the only sound was the splash of water.
I studied them. I was finally alone, and they seemed young. Not tough and imperious like the others I’d encountered. Maybe I could finally start getting useful information.
I closed one eye against the sting of shampoo. “Do you work for the du Lacs?”
They shrugged. “Kind of. We work for Madame.”
“So you live here?”
“Not here.” They lowered their voice. “This is Scotland.”
“So?”
“The du Lacs aren’t supposed to be—”
I heard a wet-sounding smack, and she stopped speaking.
It’s the last place he’ll look for you. He’d never think to check under his own fucking nose.
West’s cryptic words just before we left Crowne Hall popped into my head.
“They’re not supposed to be here? Here like Scotland? Or here like…” I glanced around, at the cobblestone walls and long-stemmed candles dripping black wax on to crystal votives. “Like this place?”
They didn’t respond.
After the bath, a silk blue robe was waiting for me. I slid one arm in, then the next, stretching the silk against my chest to see the du Lac fleur-de-lis symbol embroidered in white.
Next came my hair. While I sat on a soft, velvet vanity, they oiled it until the curls shone and draped down my back.
“Where is West sleeping?” I asked while they fingered more product into my curls.
They shared a look. “You mean Mr. du Lac.”
I sucked in a breath. “Where is Mr. du Lac sleeping? Is he here?”
“If he decides to sleep here, then he’ll be in your bed.”
I went rigid at the thought. I don’t care what he decided, he wasn’t sleeping in my fucking bed.
They kept looking at one another as they braided white gold into my hair. Whispering and then shoving each other. I felt like I was back at Crowne Hall, playing games with the servants as we worked together.
I’d done many a similar ritual to Abigail, and even Lottie, but in those scenarios I was never scribbling in a notebook.
“What are you writing?” I asked.
They shared a look, but only scribbled more.
And then we descended into silence.
“Is it true you’re the Cinderella of Crowne Hall?” one of them blurted, the blonde one with light brown eyes, while the one with eyes like gemstones shoved her.
This time, I didn’t answer.
They finished their grooming and went to stand guard by the door, while I stayed seated on the vanity. My wild curls were braided with diamonds and white gold hoops. My skin was soft and had a subtle shine. I looked more like Lottie than I ever had before.
“I don’t think it’s her,” one of them whispered. It was low enough, I think they thought I couldn’t hear, but I was a servant, and I was trained in whispers. I kept my eyes down, catching glimpses of them reflected in the vanity.
The blonde one leaned slightly to whisper to her friend. “Then why does she have the locket?”