One Last Regret (The Governess: Book 7) by Blake Pierce

Author:Blake Pierce [Pierce, Blake]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2025-01-28T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I finish showering and dress in my nightgown and slippers. After checking to make sure the coast is clear, I head downstairs to make myself some coffee. Like most Englishwomen, I drink tea regularly, but I am also American, and when I’ve had a particularly trying day, I find the bold richness and greater kick of coffee more helpful than the soothing warmth of tea.

Heaven knows today has been trying.

It’s after two in the morning when I sit at the table with my coffee and a few butter cookies, but the party still rages outside. I wonder what the city will look like in the morning. I wonder what the partygoers will remember of the night before and what emotions will linger once the fog of debauchery has worn off.

Marcel’s piece, the Vie Apres a la Morts, fits perfectly well with Mardi Gras. It is excessive, aggressive, mischievous and leering, just like this holiday. I can only wonder what on Earth possessed Marcel to compose something so disturbing.

I scoff lightly. Considering the effect the song seems to have had, perhaps possession is the right term. I wouldn’t be surprised at all to learn that some demon truly did have a hand in all of this.

Soft footsteps approach. I spin quickly toward the noise, but it’s only Philippa. In the chaos of the past few days, I’ve completely forgotten about her.

She lifts a hand in apology. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

I sigh. “You are among the least startling things to happen to me today.”

She gives me a sympathetic smile. “When I was young, my mother told me that Mardi Gras was a day of witchcraft. Here, it’s worse than Halloween. I think she was right.”

“I think so too,” I agree. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Yes, thank you. No don’t get up, I’ll get a mug.”

She returns a moment later with a mug of coffee and sits across from me at the table. She bites her lip pensively and says, “I heard about what happened at the club tonight.”

I sigh again. “Forgive me, Philippa, but I really don’t want to talk about that right now. The children are safe. That’s what’s important.”

“They’re not safe,” Philippa says with sudden vehemence. “Gabriel is not safe.”

A chill runs through me, but at this point that’s so common I might as well not bring it up. “What makes you say that?”

She looks upstairs as though afraid Josephine might come shrieking after her, claws extended like a harpy. On second thought, that’s not at all unlikely.

She turns back to me and says, “That music is cursed.”

“So I’ve heard,” I say drily.

She mistakes my sarcasm and says, “No, you must listen! I know it sounds crazy, but there is dark magic in that music. Marcel, he was not well at the end of his life. He spent most of his time at the piano playing. Much of what he played wasn’t any sort of music that people should hear. And he had this look about him, like he wasn’t really here anymore.

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