Page 85 of A Single Thread of Moonlight

“What happened?” I whispered.

“She left in disgrace,” Nick sighed. “Her family sent her away to live with a relative in France. We wrote to each other, still do sometimes. I even offered to marry her myself, but she turned me down. Always doing the honourable thing.” He snorted into his drink. “But there was no season for Lila, no being the belle of the ball, no husband, no children. Not yet anyway. She’s still shut away like a criminal. She had her whole life to look forward to, and Stefan took it from her, then went back home like nothing had happened. I’d wager that he hasn’t ever thought about her again.”

“And so you wanted to destroy him,” I said.

“I wanted his choice taken from him. If we hadn’t intervened he’d have married Agatha Weston, made himself comfortable on her fortune, far from his grandmother’s control – it’s only the fact that she holds the purse strings that keeps him in any kind of check. With Agatha’s money he’d become even worse – he’d get his own way again, face no consequences.

“Now he thinks he’s engaged to an heiress. Serena Fox. He thinks he’s got one over on his grandmother, found himself a rich wife whose fortune he will control. I wanted to take that from him publicly, to embarrass him, and then to send him home in disgrace, where he must be the one to bend under someone else’s expectations. I wanted to punish him for what he did to my friend.”

“Of course you did!” I exclaimed. I jumped to my feet, anger vibrating through me like I was a tuning fork. The very idea that Stefan could act in such a way and walk away without consequences, while an innocent woman’s entire life was completely derailed made me furious.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped you! I could have done more. I will do more. We have to make it as awful as possible. Humiliate him in front of everyone.”

There was a light in Nick’s eyes now. “Bloodthirsty, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am. And I tell you, Nick, the worst of it is that no matter what we do, he won’t ever be ruined like Lila was ruined.” I was pacing now.

“I know,” Nick sighed.

“But I’ll do it,” I said. “I’ll make sure he’s forced to run back to his grandmother, to do her bidding.”

“It’s a dangerous game to play, though,” Nick said. “Stefan … I don’t know why, but he seems to feel a need to best me.”

“It’s because he’s jealous of you, of course,” I said impatiently.

“Jealous?” Nick frowned.

“Yes, stupid,” I replied, trying to keep up with the thoughts racing through my head. Nick’s frown was replaced by a chuckle, though I barely registered it. “So, what are you worried about?” I asked.

“What am I worried about?” Nick repeated, raking his hand through his hair. “My god, Iris, how can you ask? I’m half out of my mind over it. I’m worried about history repeating itself!”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

To say that I passed a restless night would be an understatement of tremendous proportions. I couldn’t sleep at all.

Of course I couldn’t sleep. How could anyone sleep after all of that? How could I have been so wrong about Stefan? How could I have missed the signs?

With a groan I remembered the incident with the maid, Lottie. Had Stefan found her alone; had he done something to make her drop the milk jug? Was that what her blushing and stammering had really been about? Was that why Nick had sent her from the room? Had it been relief, not fear, that caused her to turn tail and run? And Matilda – now that I thought about it, she had seemed worried about him proposing to me. Did she know something too?

The questions chased one another in an endless loop around my mind.

I thought of Nick’s face when he had spoken about his friend, the way she had been mistreated, his powerlessness to stop it, his guilt at introducing her to the man who would destroy her. It had all been there for me to see, no mask to hide behind at all.

I turned over again, thumping my pillow. I’m worried about history repeating itself. Did that mean he cared for me too? As a friend? As more than that?

He had told me everything, the whole truth, and I still hadn’t trusted him with my story. Not that he had asked me to. He’d shared his secret without demands attached to it. It was just another thing that made me like him more.

Because I did like him.

I liked him so much.

But I didn’t want to think about that.

Unfortunately, if I wasn’t thinking about that, then I was thinking about my father. Another man who had turned out to be nothing like I imagined. Those red-stained sheets of paper and that missing piece of the puzzle…

In the end, I drifted into a restless doze, and woke late, feeling groggy and disorientated.

Matilda came when I rang and brought with her a tray bearing a steaming pot of hot chocolate. I sipped at it gratefully, leaning back against my pillows as she pulled back the curtains and laid the fire – not that it looked like I would need it. The light was streaming through the window again, another sunny day.