“Hugo. What would you like to do?”
“For now…” Ben watched Remi disappear. “For now, we’ll keep this between us.”
With a nod, Jacques sank back into the shadows and Ben returned reluctantly to the sorrowful mourners and the stories that would inevitably follow, all the while wishing that he could seek out solace in the silence he imagined Remi found in the garden.
OPEN CASKET
REMI
Exhausted from the day, Remi wanted nothing more than to turn in for the night. Her feet ached, and her corset pinched uncomfortably. Still, she needed to be sure the manor was clear of any lingering guests before she could find some respite. Suppressing a groan, she stifled her discomfort for a few moments longer.
“You’re nearly there,” she whispered to herself.
There was no one left in the manor except for those inhabiting its walls. Paul and Martin headed down the drive toward town, and Sylvie was no doubt preparing Remi’s room, having already taken care of Elise’s accommodations.
With a great sigh, she rounded the corner to the parlor and stopped short of going in. Partly because she’d avoided it all day, but mostly because Ben was there beside his father’s casket, his back to her. She could not see his face, but she could hear his voice.
Not wanting to interrupt him, she turned to leave but mistakenly stepped on a floorboard with a notoriously loud creak. It echoed in the hall, calling attention to her presence. In less than a second, Ben was hovering in the door frame with a curious look on his face.
“Why are you out here creeping about?”
Remi blushed and hissed, “I was not creeping!”
He seemed unconvinced at first, but finally, the wrinkle between his thick brows smoothed out, and he sighed. “Then what are you doing out here?”
“Nothing scandalous,” she said, feeling slightly defensive. “I wanted to be sure that the manor was clear of any guests still loitering about.”
“And are we alone?” he asked, his eyes momentarily shifting from her to the open spaces around them.
“Yes, I think so.”
He crossed his arms and leaned against the frame. “I overheard your garish aunt mumbling about your cousin. Is she staying?”
“She is.” Remi nodded. “She would say it’s because I’m in need of comfort. Really, I think this whole situation is an excuse for her to avoid her wedding plans.”
Ben smirked. “Fair enough.”
“I hope it’s alright that she’s here. I don’t expect my aunt will let her stay for much longer.”
“As far as I’m concerned, Madame, you have free reign of this place. It’s as much mine as it is yours.” He paused. “My father was quite clear about that.”
Remi frowned. She wondered if it upset him that his father split the inheritance, little that there was given that the other half might not even exist. It never crossed her mind during their heated exchange earlier that morning to ask him how he felt about the arrangement.
“I’m sorry for earlier,” Remi started, feeling breathless as she spoke. “Your cheek, is it sore?”
Ben’s eyes widened. “Not necessary. It was well-deserved.”
“It was unladylike,” Remi insisted.
Ben studied her for a moment longer. “And I am telling you that it was well-deserved.”
Remi sucked in a breath, ready to argue, but he smiled, shattering her resolve.
“Besides,” his voice dipped lower as he spoke, leaning in toward her face, “I like a woman with a strong right hand. Helps remind us stubborn men of our place.”
“Let’s not make a habit of it,” Remi said.
“Speaking of.” Ben’s smile remained as he straightened. “How often do you find yourself in the company of Monsieur Marchand?”
“Rarely,” she said. “He’s not particularly pleasant. Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” Ben replied, but it felt like a lie. There was more to his question, he just wouldn’t say. “In any case, I am strongly opposed to him ever stepping foot inside this house again. If he so much as crosses that threshold, I will not hesitate to deal with it in the swiftest—perhaps harshest—manner.”
“I can only assume that his meeting with you was disagreeable.”
“In a manner of speaking.” He glared down his nose at her, more serious than ever. “It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. I just don’t like him.”
“I don’t believe anyone does,” Remi agreed. “Especially Elise.”
“Yes, well.” He turned on his heel and tucked his hands behind his back. “I’ll be turning in for the night. You should do the same.”
Remi nodded and watched him go, an odd ache settling in her breast. For a moment, she felt her composure crack—like a hairline fracture on a porcelain mask. It was difficult to see him go, even if he was a galling ass earlier. For a moment, she imagined reaching for the cuff of his sleeve and pulling him back, if only to delay the inevitable loneliness that would follow his departure.
Tomorrow, there would be no one at their door. Edgar’s body would be carried to the family’s mausoleum by a black, horse-drawn carriage while Remi, Ben, and the staff would follow to say their final goodbyes.
Edgar would be well and truly gone.
As Remi hesitated in the doorway to the parlor, she could feel eyes watching her.
