Perhaps…
I pushed the wicked thought away, even as my hand reached for another volume.
It couldn’t hurt to look again.
It might even help.
What were books for if not instruction?
This book was different from the other, a journal, filled with Gerard’s familiar, cramped scrawl.
I ran my fingers over his tiny printing.
The book was filled with words I didn’t know and I wondered if he was writing in a code. Every so often there were little drawings made in the margins. Plants, I guessed, though they were unlike anything I’d ever seen before. One drawing spanned an entire two pages—a triangular base, with a pair of orblike blooms sprouting from either side of its top. There was a strange musculature to it, reminding me of an anatomy book I’d once seen in Annaleigh’s collection on Hesperus.
I put it back with a shudder and withdrew another.
Another journal, but this one I could read.
Mostly.
It was a list of names.
A list of women’s names.
A very long list of women’s names, I realized, flipping through the pages.
Here and there were dates, spanning over a decade, with more words I didn’t understand jotted beside the women’s names. Some had brackets beneath them, listing others’ names, always in sets of three.
I flashed back to one of the illustrations in the other book, a group of people all engaged in pleasuring each other, together. Was that…was that what I was looking at? Alex had said his father was a man of insatiable appetites. Had he documented every one of his intimate encounters, not only recording those involved but also making a coded list of what had been performed? There were so many names within the book…
Poor Dauphine.
I pushed the book back onto the shelf and picked up my candle once more.
My stomach felt queasy as I imagined Gerard with so many others, re-creating the pictures I’d just seen. I wanted to get out of this hidden hallway, wanted to get as far from the books and the dark ideas within them as I could. I stumbled down the path, taking a right, then a left, before ending at a stone staircase.
Peering up into the void, I could make out the faint shine of metal hinges.
A door!
It opened easily, spilling me out into the hallway not far from my suite of rooms.
I closed it softly, marveling at how perfectly the edges of the door were concealed in a pattern of wallpaper, then heard approaching footsteps and the soft hum of someone singing off-key to themselves.
Gerard! The last person in the world I wanted to see.
My room was too far to duck into so I lunged for the door nearest me, cursing under my breath as the handle rattled uselessly. It was locked.
Before I could turn tail, Gerard rounded the corner. Finding me in the hallway, he stopped short, squinting in the dim light.
“Verity?”
“I…” I tried the door again, knowing it would not help me but still hoping for a way to escape. “I was just looking for…” I trailed off, every excuse sounding impossibly wrong in my mind.
“That’s my study,” he said, remaining in place, watching me carefully.
“Is it?” My hand fell from the cut-glass knob.
The space between us felt as wide as a canyon but my feet still itched to get farther away.
“It is.”
“I wasn’t going to…” I wasn’t sure what I was about to deny doing and stopped. “It’s locked.”
He fussed with his cravat for a moment before pulling free a silver key, dangling from a chain round his neck. “It’s one of the only doors in the manor kept that way,” he said. “As a duke, there are many sensitive papers that need to be kept under lock and key.”
It was a simple explanation. “Of course.”
“Your sister undoubtedly does the same with hers.”
I nodded.
He slid the key back under his shirt. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
I took a step backward, unwanted memories of the illustrations flashing in my mind. “No. Thank you. I…I should be getting back to my room. Back to sleep,” I clarified, finally acknowledging the lateness of the hour. I offered out a quick smile before turning toward my rooms.
“Bad dreams?” he asked, calling after me and forcing me to look back.
“Hmm?”
“You’re up late. Did you have bad dreams? I shouldn’t wonder after everything that happened today.”
“No,” I said swiftly, stopping him before he could press again about what I’d seen in the poison garden. “I…I was up late, reading the books you loaned me and…there were phrases I didn’t know,” I said, grabbing onto the excuse as it came to me. “About the flowers. Botanical terms. I thought I’d go to the library.”
“The library,” he repeated in a tone so even I couldn’t tell whether or not he believed me.
I nodded, falling into the story. “For a dictionary. I wanted to be able to ask you questions about the books later without sounding foolish.”
Gerard smiled, looking pleased. “You didn’t find it?”
I cocked my head, not following.
“The dictionary.”
I glanced down at my hands, only holding the candlestick. Quick as a wink, he removed the key once more, unlocking the study door before I could stop him. He ducked inside and returned with a thick tome.
“This should be able to help with whatever you’re looking for,” he said, offering it out to me.
I cradled the oversized book to my chest. “Thank you. This will be most helpful.”
Gerard nodded, remaining on the threshold of the study.
“What are you doing up so late?” I asked, edging back toward my rooms. “Or early? It feels early, doesn’t it?” I licked my lips, trying not to prattle as more images from his hidden cache of books returned to me.
“Late, I think,” he said. “I just left the greenhouse. There’s a bit of correspondence I need to get out at first light.”
“I’ll let you get to that, then,” I said, grateful for the conversation coming to an end. “Thank you for the dictionary.”
“Of course. Good night, Verity.”
“Good night, Gerard,” I echoed as he began to edge the study door shut.
I was nearly to my room before he called out. “Don’t read too late into the night. Dauphine’s soiree is tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll want to look your absolute best for all of the excitement.”
“Of course,” I said, turning back to glance at him.
He was standing in the middle of the hallway now, watching me with an unreadable expression.
I closed my door with a quick swish, turning the locking mechanism slowly, so he wouldn’t hear the click.
The morning dawned in shades of scarlet and crimson. The sky looked like a bolt of bloody satin unfurled and every bit of my island upbringing cringed, feeling the storm that was bound to set in later.
From the parlor terrace, I watched the flurry of activity in the garden as footmen hung strings of lanterns and set out series of candles across railings and parapets.
Poor Dauphine.
So much effort, doomed to be washed away.
There was a rustling noise from inside the room behind me, and I turned.
A young woman, blond with dark eyes and only a few years older than myself, was in the middle of the sitting room, creeping toward the mannequin form Dauphine had sent up earlier. My gown had arrived late yesterday, and she’d already had it steamed and fluffed to perfection.