Gothic Brides by Erica Monroe

Author:Erica Monroe [Monroe, Erica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781386650645
Publisher: Quillfire Publishing

Nicholas’s jaw dropped for the second time that afternoon. “You can’t be serious. This is some sort of hocus-pocus, isn’t it? Probably by the witches Lockwood dealt with on All Hallows’ Eve. Is this your revenge upon me for not attending Aunt Margaret’s funeral?”

He’d never thought Felicity was a particularly vengeful person, but he’d gladly accept that over the far more terrifying possibility that she actually thought she could resurrect Margaret.

Felicity shook her head. “The coven has nothing to do with my experiments. I did this.”

She spoke with that same finality she’d used all those years ago to assure him ghosts weren’t real. Except now there was a note of accomplishment he didn’t want to recognize—how could she possibly be proud to have defiled her guardian’s body? She, who claimed to love Margaret so much.

Unless this was all a great joke. Then she’d be delighted to finally be the one to pull the wool over his eyes for once, instead of vice versa.

Lord, please let it be that.

“Devil of a time to develop a sense of humor, Felicity.” He carded a hand through his hair, still trying to work through this all in his mind. “I think I preferred when you were humorless, for this is the least funny joke I’ve ever had played upon me.”

Felicity blinked. “It’s not a joke.”

“I don’t know how you managed to procure a replica of Aunt Margaret as she was in her last days, but I suppose it’s true what they say about idle hands being the devil’s work.” He couldn’t stop himself from shuddering, remembering how lifelike Margaret had looked. It wasn’t right. “This is why I didn’t want you to remain at Tetbery, all alone.”

“I wouldn’t be alone, if Margaret was here,” Felicity hissed, a heavy wrinkle creasing her forehead. “You don’t understand. You never have. Margaret is all I have.”

Her use of the present tense was enough to send a chill down his spine. She looked so lost—so small—standing there. The dark silk of her mourning gown swallowed her up; the only break in the blackness was the silver pendant she wore, featuring four triangles, two with lines through them. She’d once told him the symbols were for the four elements.

She reached up, tucking a loose tendril of red behind her ear. Her fingers were streaked with ink. Somehow, that made her seem more human—this girl, who was meticulous in all things, could not avoid making a mess when taking notes. How long had he set her up in his mind as some otherworldly creature, devoid of anything but solid, unflustered logic?

“You’re right,” he admitted. “I don’t understand. But I want to. Make me understand, Lissie.”

She sat down on the settee, crossing her arms over her chest. As if she were the one who needed protecting—she, who apparently thought she could bring the dead back to life.

All his life, he thought he’d been the one with power.

He’d been wrong about that, too.

“Why, Felicity?” he asked.

The direct approach worked, as it had before in the kitchen.

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