Cyprian immediately stiffened. ‘They don’t have another choice.’
‘What if they did?’ said Will.
The shadowy light in the alcove emphasised a quality he had of nighttime beauty, his pale skin and dark hair made for the evening. Will hadn’t spoken while the others had clashed heatedly in the Hall. Now he was talking in a quiet voice, in a space hidden from the Stewards.
‘What do you mean?’ She felt her heartbeat speed up.
‘What if there was another way to get inside Simon’s estate?’ said Will. ‘Not an attack, with Stewards trying to fight against magic. The three of us slip in secretly. I could manoeuvre us past any guards. Violet could break any locks or chains. And Cyprian – Marcus is your brother. If he’s still himself, he’ll trust you enough to come with us.’
Violet felt the possibility stir in her, a way to avoid the bloodshed, the carnage of a full-frontal attack.
‘And if he’s turning?’ Cyprian didn’t flinch as he said it, his handsome face steady. ‘You heard them. If he’s turning, I’m not strong enough to fight him.’
‘You and Violet are, together,’ said Will. ‘And you can help him hold on. He’ll fight the shadow inside him harder for you. You’re his brother.’
Violet was shaking her head. ‘There’s no secret way in. James said that getting to Marcus would take a full-frontal assault. He can’t lie under compulsion. Can he?’
‘He can’t lie,’ said Will. ‘But he doesn’t know everything.’
His face in the dim light was full of delicate planes, all cheekbones and dark eyes. He was still too thin, though he no longer looked underfed, and he was animated by the bright spark of a new idea.
‘I know someone who can get us inside,’ said Will.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
KATHERINE STEPPED OUT into the garden at dusk. She had told Mrs Dupont that she enjoyed the brisk air, and she told herself that as well. It was proper, she thought, for a young lady to take a constitutional. There was nothing remarkable about it. She drew her shawl around her shoulders against the chill. And so she had found herself out here each night, waiting until the light faded.
The garden was comprised of three paths, which only a few weeks before had been quite yellow with fallen elm leaves. The bordering flowers in early winter were quiet shrubs of dark green. Ivy covered the cast-iron fencing, and garden benches nestled under trees that had a bare, wintry look to them, one or two sharp frosts having stripped them of the last of their leaves.
She took the eastern path, feeling the cold air chill her cheeks, and she stayed outside until night fell, until it was dark and she had to go back. She told herself that she didn’t feel foolish, because she had no expectations.
And then she saw the jacket, folded and resting under one of the bare trees, and felt her heart begin racing.
He was here.
She could feel it, like a change in the air. It had been three days since he had dressed in the stables, then disappeared out into the night. Three long days, marked by her aunt’s sharp comments. Katherine! Stop mooning about at that window and return to your needlework!
It was a thrill that turned her days and nights of waiting into a single, pleasurable build to this moment.
‘You came,’ she said to the garden.
‘I made a promise.’ His voice was closer than she had expected – the warm tone of it – behind her—
‘It’s dangerous,’ she said. ‘The servants—’
‘I’m not afraid of them,’ Will said, and she turned to look at him.
He was standing under the night-green branches of a tree. His dark hair was a tumble over his forehead. His eyes, always intense, were fixed on her, as hers were on him.
‘You should be.’ The shock of seeing him again felt physical and came with a cascade of remembered moments: her fingers on his bare skin as she tied his neckcloth. The moment when she’d seen him in her fiancé’s clothes. ‘Mrs Dupont likes to come out and check on me.’
‘I know the risks,’ said Will.
He wasn’t wearing Lord Crenshaw’s clothes now. He was dressed in strangely old-fashioned garments, a thigh-length tunic with a star emblem that nevertheless seemed to suit him, as though he’d just stepped out of an ancient court.
‘I came to ask for your help.’
His voice was serious. He sounded like he was in need, even in danger, like he wouldn’t have come to her if he had any other choice.
‘My help?’