Sweetest Dark 02 - The Deepest Night by Shana Abe

Author:Shana Abe [Abe, Shana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780345531735
Amazon: 0345531736
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 2013-08-13T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Wire transmission from His Grace the Duke of Idylling, Bath, to Miss Eleanore Jones, Tranquility at Idylling

01 JULY 1915 13:04

MY DEAR MISS JONES STOP KINDLY CEASE DAWDLING STOP ALL BEASTS MUST HAVE COURAGE STOP I AM TOLD IT IS IMPERATIVE ARMAND GO ALONG STOP FOR HIS SAKE HURRY STOP

Chapter 18

The cable arrived the following afternoon. I would have burned the damned thing before Armand had a chance to read it, but since he was the one who handed it to me, it was too late for that.

“Whatever does that mean?” asked Sophia, peering over my shoulder to make out the typed words. She rattled her glass of iced tea in my ear.

“I don’t know,” I lied, and crumpled the paper in my fist. I directed a look up at Armand, still standing over my other shoulder and my table of miscellaneous bandage rolls.

Why hadn’t he waited to give it to me? Now Sophia would never stop pestering me about it.

His smile was slim and hard as nails. His cobalt gaze seemed more piercing than ever, almost unnaturally vivid.

“The doctor informs me that Reginald’s delusions are as real to him as this”—he gestured to the cramped supply room—”is to us. No doubt you play some mysterious role in them, Eleanore. I’m sorry for it. I’m surprised he was allowed to send this at all.”

“Oh,” said Sophia. She bit her lip. “We don’t have to discuss it, Mandy.”

“No, we don’t,” I agreed. I stuck the wad of paper in my pocket. “Was there anything else? I have to say, you’re looking a bit peaked, Lord Armand. It’d be such a pity if you took ill. Perhaps you should go have a rest.”

“I feel fantastic,” he said, and turned around and left.

Sophia waited until he was no longer in view. “You might be kinder to him.”

“Pardon?”

“His father’s illness isn’t Armand’s fault.”

Empathy from Lady Sophia. Was it snowing in hell right now?

“I know that,” I said.

“It’s a shame you’ve been drawn into it, but sometimes parents do things well beyond our control. Queer things. Reckless things. It’s not his fault,” she said again.

I touched her on the arm. “Sophia. I know.”

She shrugged me off. “Good.”

I returned my attention to the table, to the tiresome, interminable strips of cloth waiting to be transformed into useful rolls. Sophia walked to the tea service and stood there without reaching for any of it.

“They hadn’t any money when he met her,” she said suddenly, not looking at me. “I mean, none. Just bloodlines and a bankrupt estate and I must suppose some sort of womanly charm to lure him in. And it worked. He was lured, hook, line, and sinker. And they married and she and Chloe moved in and every day after that became some version of Of course you must call her Mamá, since she’s your mother now. Just forget about your old one, and If Chloe prefers your room to hers, then you must let her have it. Or your riding pony. Or your hair ribbons.

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