The Queen's Assassin (Queen's Secret #1) - Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,113

hope, but not certainty, and her sudden coldness is not promising.

* * *

THEY SPEND TWO DAYS this way, avoiding each other—or rather, with Shadow avoiding him. He respects her need for privacy, but as the days pass, he worries more and more about what upset her so greatly, and if it could be related to him in some way. Perhaps her mother saw into his heart and deemed him unworthy of her daughter.

Eventually, the morning before the party, they bump into each other in the main entry hall: Shadow, carrying a straw basket filled with fresh flowers, on her way inside from the market; Cal, just back from a final fitting with the tailor.

“Have I done something to offend you?” Cal blurts out.

She startles, then answers softly, “No. I am not upset with you. I am not upset with you at all.” Her eyes well up with tears.

“Would it help to talk about it?” he asks.

“I . . .”

The front door flies open and bangs against a column near the doorway. Duchess Girt descends upon them like a hurricane of hoopskirts, making Cal feel stifled even though they’re standing in such a cavernous space. Forget the hurricane, she reminds him of an enormous confection, piled with frosting, her hat the cake topper. That’s all he can picture now: a talking dessert.

“Hello, hello!” she calls. “Did you miss me?”

“Very much!” he says smoothly. “How was your trip?”

“Oh! Don’t ask. The country is so boring. Nobody who is anybody was there at all! The duke spent all his time in stuffy meetings and I sat around doing needlepoint, of all things. I missed an opera, a night at the theater, and the king had another reception, I’m told.” She puts the dog she has been holding down. It runs off into the house, probably to chew up Cal’s boot again.

Cal’s suspicions are raised doubly. The aristocracy descends on the countryside only after the fall social season is over, so whatever drew the duke away must have been important. And if the duke is the conspirator . . . ? Cal glances at Shadow and wonders if she has the same thought as he does, but she is only watching the dog as it scampers down the hallway.

Duke Girt walks in, followed by a team of footmen overloaded with luggage. He walks right past them without saying hello, disappearing down the hall. They hear the door to his study shut and lock.

“That all goes up to my room,” the duchess says about the luggage. The staff begins marching up the stairs with all of it.

Another footman enters, holding a single trunk. “That goes in the duke’s room,” Duchess Girt tells him.

“Yes, my lady,” he says, following the others.

“Everything ready for the party, I hope?” she asks, while smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt from traveling. She looks them both up and down and grimaces. Without her influence, they both reverted back to their own simpler wardrobes.

“Yes indeed,” Shadow says. “Cal saw the tailor this morning, before you came back. Isn’t that right?” She looks at him.

“That’s right,” he says. The tone of her voice . . . something is peculiar about it. Or maybe it is just the mood. It’s odd hearing her sound so distant.

“Excellent,” the duchess says, clapping her hands together. “What are you planning to do tonight, Lord Holton?” She looks at him expectantly.

“I was up very early this morning; I’m afraid I’m already incredibly tired. I was planning to go to bed.”

She tsks. “That’s too bad. Of course, now that I think of it, I’m tuckered out myself. Traveling does that, doesn’t it? In any case, we should save our energy for the party—there will be no sleep that night! Isn’t that right, Lady Lila?”

Shadow smiles sweetly at the duchess. “Yes, my lady, no sleep at all.”

* * *

CAL DECIDES TO ASK Shadow directly what is the matter. If he hasn’t done anything wrong, why does he feel as if he’s being punished? Why did she go from being his friend, his partner, kissing him, to ignoring him? If