Page 67 of Immortal Rose

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” Foxcourt said, shocking me to my soul. “I made you the same promise as my uncle.”

“And yet you have broken it,” Felicity said. “You must make it right with her.”

“I aim to make amends,” Foxcourt said. “If she’ll allow it.”

If she’ll allow it. I didn’t want his kindness or his pity, I only—I only wanted to complete this perfume and take the inheritance promised to me. None of this mattered. None of it.

No, that wasn’t entirely true. That Felicity had spoken up for me, when I’d never ask it of her . . . that Foxcourt had listened to Felicity, treating her with kindness rather than imperious disdain . . . that meant something to me, even as it left me adrift in my confusing rush of emotions.

This household was like a mirror world in the fairy stories, where things seemed correct, but nothing was quite as it should be, rank included.

“Good,” Felicity said, the tremor in her voice easing. “Thank you.”

Sensing the conversation was at its end, I rose, intending to climb back into the darkness of the landing. But as Felicity emerged, her cheeks shining in the candlelight, she made for the servants’ hall into the kitchen and didn’t seem to notice me at all.

With a shuddering breath of my own, I moved into the entry, only to be brought up short by Foxcourt’s exhausted voice again.

“I suppose this is why Mrs. Silver could barely stand to look at me?”

Aside from the faint scent of blood, there had been no indication Mrs. Keyes was in the room at all until she spoke. “Celine will forgive you, of course, but Felicity is right. You promised that things would change—not just in keeping us fully apprised, but the delicacy in which matters would be handled.”

I drew in a sharp breath. Matters? I’d suspected the entire household was aware of the work the late home secretary and now Foxcourt did, assisting as necessary. But this made them sound almost like coconspirators.

“I can’t abandon everything he taught me,” Foxcourt pushed back. “Uncle sacrificed everything for the kingdom. He was willing to do whatever it took to keep Albion safe, and I am cut from the same cloth.”

“He fought alone, and he died alone,” Mrs. Keyes said, with that same calm. “The world will greedily take whatever you offer it, my boy. If you continue to sacrifice parts of yourself, soon all you’ll have left to offer are your heart and your humanity.”

“Better mine than Eleanor’s,” Foxcourt said. “She’s sixteen, Keyes. She’ll be his prisoner.”

“As Miss Lockwood is yours?”

My brows rose at that.

“The situations have nothing in common,” Foxcourt growled.

“Then prove it,” Mrs. Keyes finished. “You are not working alone, nor should you. This will take all of us. And that includes—”

“I know,” Foxcourt bit out. “I know.”

“Good.” The floorboards of the study creaked again, indicating Mrs. Keyes was moving toward the door. I bolted back up the stairs, my heart racing. At Mrs. Keyes’s appearance in the hall, I made as if I were coming down the steps for the first time.

“Good evening, Miss Lockwood,” Mrs. Keyes said, looking not at all convinced by my act.

“Good evening,” I said. And thank you.

The housekeeper smiled. “I expect you’ll be working late into the evening. Don’t hesitate to call for tea or any other reinforcements.”

I would certainly make my own tea rather than drag her or anyone else out of bed to boil some water for me, but I nodded anyway.

At the door to the study, I smoothed a hand back over my hair. After eating, I’d washed my face, tamed my hair, and changed into a simple white muslin dress and shawl. Now I wished I had donned the old suit of armor that guarded the second floor’s landing.

Foxcourt sat behind the imposing oak desk at the far end of the room, one hand pressed to his face, the other gripping a quill. He sighed heavily, slumping back against the chair.

“Foxcourt?” I called.

He straightened up like a shot, his hand falling back to the desk. He reordered his expression in its usual mask of cool neutrality. “Lockwood. Good. It’s past time to get to work.”

I rolled my eyes, stepping into the warm space to shut the door behind me. But he wasn’t wrong.