The Magestaff by Cordelia Castel

Author:Cordelia Castel
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub

Hours later, Mother and the twins sat in the parlor on the gilded chairs, waiting for their guest. The tea service lay on the table, along with four cups. Bergamot from the Earl Fae tea scented the room, adding to the atmosphere of sophistication. Mother had made Rilla polish the gold-plated chandeliers, cornices, mirror, and picture frames. Her eyes flickered to the exquisite portraits of her so-called family. Acidic resentment bubbled in her stomach, threatening to spill over into a tirade. One day, she would teach Mother a lesson for wasting Rilla’s money on fripperies. For now, she clamped her mouth shut.

“I want you both on your best behavior,” said Mother to the twins. Her gaze traveled to Rilla’s ill-fitting, brown, cotton gown. “I told you to wear your best. You look like a constipated boar.”

Gabrielle and Angelique snickered. The corner of Mother’s lip curled.

“My blue dress no longer fits.” Rilla rubbed her hand over her mouth, wanting to say, ‘because you spend all my money on your daughters.’

Mother narrowed her eyes.

The bell rang, and Benoit’s footsteps echoed through the hallway.

“He’s here.” Mother’s voice was an excited squeak. “Turn on your charm, everyone.”

Benoit opened the door. Moments later, he announced, “Lord Bluebeard, Madame.”

Lord Bluebeard stepped into the parlor, and Rilla pressed her back against the wall, not wanting to be noticed by such a brute.

Mother and the twins stood. From where Rilla waited by the door jamb, she could only see the back of the man. He stood a head taller than Benoit. Lord Bluebeard’s shoulders were broader than that of any farm-hand, yet his coat was of the finest navy silk. His black hair, which in the light of the parlor appeared a dark blue, cascaded down his back in huge, glossy curls.

In profile, with his long, wavy facial hair, Lord Bluebeard reminded Rilla of a picture she’d once glimpsed of a centaur. She’d never seen such a large man so richly dressed. He appeared to be about the same age as Mother, with strong features, and his brows stuck in a permanent frown. From the size of the man, and his stern demeanor, Rilla had no problems picturing him crushing a woman’s neck in a fit of rage.

“Lord Bluebeard!” Mother’s words came out in a breathy rush. “Please, have a seat. My daughters are delighted to make your acquaintance. Girls, greet our guest.”

“Good day, My Lord,” the twins chanted, giving pretty curtseys before retaking their seats.

Lord Bluebeard fixed them with a stare, but his expression didn’t change. “Good day, My Ladies.”

Mother sat, fluttering her eyelashes.

“Would you like some tea, My Lord?”

“Lemon, no sugar,” he replied.

“Cendrilla!” Mother called, false affection dripping from her painted lips. “Please pour our guest a cup of tea.”

“Yes, Mother.” Rilla stepped forward, rounding her shoulders to make herself appear small and unnoticeable. She caught a whiff of the camphor-scented oil older gentlemen used to groom their hair and beard.

Lord Bluebeard’s head snapped up. “Mother? She is your daughter, too?”

The man’s gaze fixed on Rilla as she poured the tea and brought it to him with a shaking hand.

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