“Forgot what?” I whisper. I don’t like the sound of this.
“Our parents are coming for dinner tomorrow.”
My mind goes utterly blank while my heart thuds. It takes a few moments for my brain cells to work again.
“Both sets of parents? As in your parents and my parents?” I ask weakly.
Felford nods. He is eyeing me warily again. As if he thinks I’m about to erupt into a fit of hysteria. But it’s fine. Unexpected, but fine. It’s short notice to arrange a dinner, but not insurmountable. The staff aren’t up to my mother’s standards, but I can give the most promising ones a crash course.
Parents visiting their newlywed children is a standard event. I should have expected this. But that’s fine. And that’s all this is. A normal dinner. They are not checking up on me. They only sent me the dagger the other day.
“Luke, bring the car round, now please,” says Felford.
I blink. I’m standing up in the middle of a coffee shop. Hyperventilating. Everyone is staring at me.
Felford slides his phone back into his pocket and reaches for me, slowly and tentatively. It is the only encouragement that I need. I throw myself against him. Smoosh my face against his broad chest. His arms wrap around me. Soothing. Calm ice against my raging fire. I can breathe again.
He scoops me up into a bridal carry and I keep my face hidden and buried against his chest. I don’t care that I’m being carried through a coffee shop. My husband is holding me and it is the most wonderful thing.
I might not be all alone after all. There might be reason to hope.
Chapter nineteen
Drew
This has to be the most unpleasant dinner of my entire life. I wish I had canceled it, but Luci had been so terrified when I announced that decision, that I backtracked. Like the idiot I am. The last thing Luci needs is to be sitting next to his abusive parents. What was I thinking?
I sigh. What is done is done. After his panic attack in the coffee shop, it is not surprising I was worried about setting him off again. Even though the way he clung to me had been darkly delicious.
I shake my head to clear it, and to focus on the here and now. I take a sip of the alcohol-free wine Katy ordered in for me. Gods, it’s disgusting. But it looks like the real thing and therefore will stave off any prying questions.
We just need to get through the next few hours, then never again. Luci’s parents will never be welcome in our home ever again.
I look down the length of the table to my vessel. His head is bowed and he is picking daintily at his food. His dark-colored suit is nice, but I hate everything that it signifies.
I watch him for a moment. He doesn’t look at all happy, but he doesn’t seem to be on the verge of a breakdown. It is the best that can be expected, I suppose.
It is startling to realize how much of his public face is a mask. All the long years of our engagement, I was fooled. Or perhaps I didn’t want to see. And the taste of that thought is even more bitter than this wine. But I need to shove it aside. This dinner table is no place for wallowing in regrets. I need to concentrate and keep my wits about me.
Luci’s exquisite magic is swirling within him. I think he will be ripe tomorrow, or the next day. Lust thrums through me at the thought, and I hate that desire is my reaction. I should be concerned for Luci and the extra stress being nearly full is probably causing.
“Earl Rocester is still evading capture,” says my father and his annoyance is clear in his voice.
It is so hard not to look at Luci. But I can’t. I can’t do a single thing to arouse suspicion. The apparently random comment strikes rather too close for comfort. Of all the things my father could have chosen to talk about. For fuck’s sake, luck is clearly not on my side tonight.
“That’s unfortunate,” I say casually.
“Blasted Revivalists are getting bolder every year!” scowls my father.
“Rocester is not a Revivalist,” I say.
Damn it. I shouldn’t have said a thing. Defending Barny’s name is as stupid as it is pointless. Changing the topic of conversation would have been the far wiser move.
My father waves his hand dramatically in the air. “He had the audacity to break into Council property and free his dark magic practicing butler!”
“That doesn’t make him a Revivalist,” I insist. “Just a criminal.”
Apparently, I’m incapable of learning from past mistakes. Or of shutting the hell up.
“We don’t know what he is until we catch him and question him,” grumbles my father.
I shake my head. “Barny is your nephew. My cousin. Don’t be so quick to assign guilt.”
“Bah!” exclaims my father. “We are Old Blood. Everyone is related to everyone in some way. Can’t go around giving everyone free passes.”
I open my mouth, but my mother interjects with a comment about the opera, and the conversation is safely diverted to calmer topics. Sometimes my mother is not all bad. I sigh and take another sip of my fake wine.
As soon as everyone seems fully distracted by discussing this season’s opera offerings, I risk a peek at Luci. I feel awful for bullying him into helping Barny, and having the whole thing brought up at the dinner table can’t have been good for his nerves. Especially when he was already feeling anxious.
But he appears to be listening to the conversation attentively and politely. He doesn’t look frazzled. That’s a relief.
A sudden thought comes to mind and I nearly choke on my disgusting drink. My father grumbled to me and mother weeks ago about Barny and his butler’s disappearance, and how the guards had been lured from their stations by a pretty girl. I’d assumed the guards had been lying because a pretty girl was less embarrassing than whatever Luci had actually done to them to get them to leave. But now that I’ve seen Luci in dresses, oh my goodness! Suddenly it all makes sense.
My vessel is such a minx! And I had no idea. He did all that for me. When, at that time, I’d never said a kind word to him. Despite that, he was still willing to risk everything to help me with my harebrained scheme.
Guilt, shame and regret claw like ice in my gut. I’m going to have to spend a lifetime making amends to Luci. And that’s not even going to be long enough. I’ll just need to pray that the fact I’m willing to try counts for something.
“Is there not a Revivalist shrine here on your property?”
