Stasi sweeps out, leaving us with the weight of our decision. Silas stares after her.
“We should have told her why we’ve invited them,” Kit murmurs.
But I shake my head. “What if we’re wrong, Kit? What if we’re building all of this up in our heads? Just because we want to believe the best of her doesn’t make it true.”
He drops back down into his seat. “We’re not wrong. But would it change anything for us?”
Neither Silas or I respond. There’s no point, not when we all know the answer.
None of us will let her go again. No matter what.
“Maybe not,” Silas says finally. “But if Ella Cooper is lying about what happened, if Stasi has been sentenced unfairly, then we have something else to consider. Because she shouldn’t be here at all.”
We might lose her anyway. Even if we got on our knees and begged her forgiveness, it might not be enough. It wouldn’t be enough. Why would she choose us, when we didn’t believe in her?
For once, I opt against heading into the city, choosing to hole up in the study instead. Kit is already at his desk, but we both work in silence, lost in our own thoughts.
Both of us avoiding Stasi.
When it’s time to get ready, I don’t think I’ve done a single productive thing. My jaw is tight as I stalk downstairs, down to where Kit and Silas are already waiting.
“They’ve just pulled through the main gates.” Silas is stiff as a board, I nod, my eyes moving to the kitchen door. I can hear movement on the other side.
I want to check on her. But I doubt she’d welcome it.
So I focus on why we’re here. Plastering a smile across my face as Silas opens the door, and Crispin strolls in with a nod.
He turns and holds out his hand.
And in she sweeps. Ella Cooper is resplendent in her deep scarlet dress, layer upon layer of silk broken up only by the diamonds across her neck. Her blonde hair is swept up in an elegant bun, a matching tiara nestled in her hair. She takes Crispin’s hand, but her eyes are already on me as he leads her across the room.
“Introductions!” Crispin’s voice is jovial enough, even if I can hear the thread of concern underneath. Maybe he’s worried that we’ll spill his financial worries to his future bride. “Darling, meet Rafael Tate. Rafe, this is Ella – but you already know that!”
He laughs, and Silas steps forward to pull him into conversation as I sketch a light bow. “The pleasure is all mine, Your Highness.”
I let my eyes skate across her, examining her and not bothering to hide it. Ella is beautiful enough, but she carries herself with the air of someone who knows exactly how attractive they are and uses it.
I can’t help but compare her to Stasi. And she comes up… lacking.
Twin spots of color appear on her cheeks as she blushes, but her eyes are bright, examining me just as closely.
“The infamous Rafael Tate.” Ella takes a step closer. “I have heard so very much about you since our last meeting.”
“All good, I hope.” I keep my voice low, and she slides a look towards Crispin before turning back to me. She leans in a little closer, one elegant finger reaching up to brush across her bare collarbone.
“Perhaps,” she murmurs as her eyes move up to mine. “Perhaps not.”
My lips curl up into a slow, lazy smile as Kit appears at her elbow. Ella steps back and looks between us, her mouth opening. “Fascinating. You really are identical, but for your hair and eyes.”
She sounds scintillated, as Kit takes her hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. “A pleasure to meet you properly at last.”
She titters. “The pleasure would have to be mine, on this occasion.”
And as she watches us, I see it.
The greed. It flickers in her eyes, just for a second before she blinks it away with a soft smile, glancing to her fiancé. “Shall we go in? I confess that I’m rather… hungry.”
“Well, we can’t have that.” I offer her my arm, Kit doing the same on her other side. Ella slides her hands into the crook of our elbows, and we escort her towards the dining room. Behind us, Silas and Crispin follow, the murmur of their conversation floating over us as Ella’s fingers dig into the material of my shirt.
Kit and I exchange looks over the top of her head. A brief glance, but full of unspoken words.
I think we already have the measure of Ella Cooper. But the night is still young, and the worst is yet to come.
And Ella’s fingers tighten as we walk through the doors, her breath hitching as her eyes land on Stasi.
She stands quietly next to Ellen, both of them waiting for us next to the selection of steaming dishes. The room drops into silence as Ella inhales. “Anastasia.”
And her fingers… they shake. Stasi barely looks up before her eyes move back to the floor, but her brief glance takes in the sight of Ella between us.
And I catch the flicker of hurt.
Looking away, I drop my eyes back to Ella, my hand reaching for hers and squeezing her shaking fingers. She glances up at me, her eyes misty.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “It’s just… this is harder than I thought it would be.”
And she moves a little closer into me. Her whisper is loud enough for Stasi to hear, and in the corner of my eye, I see her stiffen.
“I understand,” I say, patting her hand. “Let’s get everyone seated, and perhaps a glass of wine will help.”
We move over to the elegantly laid table. Warm golden light flickers from the two candelabras as I seat Ella in the same place Stasi sat this morning, sinking down next to her. Silas takes the seat at the head of the table with Crispin next to him, opposite Ella. Kit sits on his other side.
“Well,” Ella says. “This is lovely.”
From this position, Stasi is behind us. But Silas’s voice rings out in demand. “Wine.”
She moves to him first. Head down, she fills his glass with the wine from the cellar we decanted earlier, moving around to Crispin and then to Ella.
Ella looks up at Stasi. “How… how are you?”
Her voice is soft, sweet. Unsure.
Stasi places Ella’s glass down on the table heavily, and it wobbles. “Fine.”
Her response is a snap, and Silas clears his throat. Crispin raises an eyebrow from across the table. “Still an unmannered brat, I see.”
All of us stiffen, but none more so than the woman who snatches my glass, filling it almost to the brim before she shoves it at me.
I can feel their eyes on us, and my voice is harsher than it needs to be when I snap. “Behave.”
Deep brown eyes move to mine, and she curtseys.
Fucking curtseys.
“Of course, sir.” Her tone is vaguely mocking as she backs away, filling Kit’s glass before she moves back to stand against the wall. My hand tightens around the fragile stem.
Ella glances over her shoulder, and then she turns her attention to Silas.
“Since my sister won’t answer me,” she says quietly. “How have things been here?”
Silas’s eyes flick to behind me. “We’re settling in. These things can take some time to adjust to.”
Crispin swigs from his glass. “You’re lucky you’re hidden away down here, Silas. They’re dropping like flies in the city from this damn virus.”
Silas frowns, his eyes flicking to me. “It’s that bad? I thought it was just a flu.”
Crispin shakes his head. “It is, but some have taken it badly. The hospitals are full. Spreading like damn wildfire. They expect it to run its course in a few weeks, but we’re taking the hit in the meantime.”
He takes another swig, emptying his glass and waving it towards Stasi. “More.”
When she steps up beside him, he twists to face her with a disgruntled expression. “So. You look to be in reasonable health.”
“Was she not supposed to be?” Kit’s voice rings out. He tilts his head when Crispin turns to him. “I don’t believe mistreatment was part of the agreement.”
He humphs. “I believe it was to be a fair reflection of Ella’s experience.”
I glance down to the woman at my side. She’s watching Anastasia, a small smile tilting the corner of her lips. “Perhaps you could give us some further details, and we can look into it.”
The trace of a smile disappears, and she dips her head. “I’m not sure that I would be comfortable… taking about it.”
Her voice wavers and drops away. “It was so very difficult, you see.”
The small scoff is audible.
“I think we’re ready to eat, Ellen.” Silas flicks his fingers, and they begin to carry over the plates. We settle into the rhythm of formal conversation during the first course, and I keep my focus on Ella. Keep her glass topped up, entertaining her with stories and jokes, Kit chiming in with just enough regularity that her attention is torn between us. Keep my voice low, my body turned towards her.
By the time that dessert comes out, her cheeks are flushed, her voice embellished with a slight drawl from the amount of wine she’s consumed. Crispin is ten sheets to the fucking wind, his eyes hazy and words slurring even from across the table.
So I lean over, my finger tracing her arm. “Was the meal to your liking, Your Highness?”
Goosebumps pop up in my wake, and she looks up at me. Her eyes drop down to my lips. “Oh,” her voice is breathy. “Yes. Very much.”
“Excellent,” I purr. “And perhaps a tour of the house, after dinner?”
Stasi slams the plate down in front of Ella, and a few drops of cream spatter against the scarlet dress, staining it.
Ella leaps up with a curse, rounding on Anastasia. Any sign of the sweet, soft princess disappears under the savage flash of temper that twists her face as she raises her fist. “You nasty little idiot.”
And I jump from my seat as Stasi flinches.
Silas holds his hands out, sliding between them with his back to Stasi. “My sincerest apologies, Your Highness. Anastasia – go and get a cloth. Now.”
Stasi takes a step back, then another before she turns and nearly runs from the room. Ella grabs a napkin, dabbing at the silk.
“I’m sorry for making a fuss.” Her whisper is shaky. “It’s just – bad memories.”
She pulls the napkin away, offering us a tremulous smile before she draws herself up. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to visit the bathroom.”
She glances at Crispin, but he just pours himself another glass of wine as she leaves.
Kit is on his feet too, and we lock gazes. Silas nods in silent agreement when we turn to him.
And we follow.
