My stepmother considered the grand front hall and sniffed. “I don’t like to see a painting askew the moment I step inside,” she said in the icy voice she usually used when speaking toMeredith.
She glanced around to confirm none of the unsparked staff were nearby and motioned the gold-framed artwork that had provoked her displeasure. The gesture turned into a quick flick of magic. The painting shifted straight without so much as atouch.
Celestine looked at Meredith with a slight arch of her eyebrows, as if to remind the manager that a lesser witch like her couldn’t afford to use her own magic that flippantly. “I hope the rest of the house is in better shape. Double-check the main floor rooms, willyou?”
The corners of Meredith’s mouth tightened only a smidge. “Yes, Lady Hallowell.” Her gaze slid past my stepmother to my father, the man she considered her real employer. He nodded, but he gave her a wry smile at the same time as if toapologize.
As Meredith bustled away, a sallow, gangly figure appeared at the top of the staircase. “I’ve seen to it that all your office materials are as they should be, Lady Hallowell,” Douglas, my stepmother’s primary assistant, calleddown.
“Excellent,” Celestine said with a wave to dismisshim.
From the depths of the house, the chime of our ancient grandfather clock rang out. Seven o’clock. A lump lodged in my throat. The familiar smell of the manor, wood polish and aged plaster, had drifted all around me, but it only made the ache in my chestdeepen.
This place was home, but it felt abruptlyempty.
“From what I understand, your Derek plans to arrive tomorrow morning,” my stepmother said to me. “You did pack some of your nicer clothes, didn’t you,Rosalind?”
“I did,” I said without looking at her. Although I wasn’t sure why it mattered. Derek wasmyDerek because he’d already agreed to the betrothal. In two months he’d become both my husband and my consort in magic. Spending this time on the Hallowell estate together was only meant to give us a grounding for that bond, the final step before the official ceremony we were already committed to. I couldn’t imagine how horrible an outfit he’d have to see me in to back outnow.
A persnickety part of me kind of wanted to experiment to find out. And to see the look on my stepmother’sface.
“Well, make sure to get out something appropriate for his arrival,” Celestinesaid.
“I’m sure Rose knows how to dress herself by now, dear one.” My father patted both of us on the shoulders as if we’d been having an affectionate conversation. “I believe dinner is nearly ready. Shall we freshen up and assemble in the diningroom?”
The thought of walking deeper into the house made my chest clench tighter. An excuse tumbled out of me. “I think I forgot something in the car. I’ll be there in aminute.”
I managed to walk at a normal pace out the door and down the steps. Then I hurried toward the gate. My fingers dug under my sleeve, unwinding the ribbon as Iwent.
The tall wrought-iron bars glowered down at me. I clutched the ribbon—white, the one I’d always thought of as mine among its five companions of other colors. My pulse hitched. Then I reached up and tied the ribbon by one of the hinges. Loosely, roughly, as if it might have blown away and simply gotten tangledthere.
“What’s that meant to accomplish?” Philomena asked, cocking herhead.
I stepped back with a breath that came easier. “I’m not sure,” I said. “I guess we’llsee.”
* * *
The leaves on the oak outside my bedroom window rustled with the rising wind. I drew my feet up under me on the armchair where I was curled up with a book. After dinner, I’d told Dad and Celestine I was heading right to bed, but instead I’d started unpacking mylibrary.
The built-in shelves around the room were only half full. I’d gotten sucked into one novel along the way. The rest couldwait.
“I’msurethat story can’t be half so exciting as mine,” Philomena said where she’d flopped down on my bed. She was slightly prone to envy. One of her very few faults, she liked tosay.
“I don’t know,” I teased. “It’s pretty good. Maybe I’ll have a newfavorite.”
She stuck her tongue out atme.
“Oh, very lady-like.” I waggled the book at her. “Haven’t you always said that a girl needs a littlevariety?”
“In men,” Phil said. “Not novels. And even when it comes to men, I did settle down with one in theend.”
“I’m pretty sure that library you snuck into for your trysts had more than one book init.”
She huffed, but she was smiling. “Well,perhaps.”
“Anyway, this is the only wayI’mgetting any variety of men,” Isaid.
“Which really is a shame. You could be the talk of theton.”