My mind drifted to Grayson. I don’t know why he punched West. I could think of a million reasons. It wasn’t like they ever got along.
A million reasons…and in all of them, none of them should include me. The woman who was most definitely not his wife.
“You breathe very loudly for someone who isn’t asleep.”
“Uncle!” I leaned forward. “You’re awake.”
“It’s hard to sleep through that noise.” He sat up.
You breathe like Hannibal.
I exhaled the sad memory through my nostrils. As if my uncle knew.
“When I die—” he started.
“Whoa.” I cut him off. “That’s an awful way to start this conversation.” Nausea swamped me at the thought.
“When I die,” he continued, “promise me you’ll leave.”
I wished he’d stop telling me he was dying.
“That’s not happening for a very long time, Uncle.”
He didn’t respond, but the way he rolled his lips told me everything. My gut sank. The one person I had left in this world was going to leave me.
He took my hands in his, eyes red.
My uncle never cried, but the tears were there, on the lids.
“I promise,” I choked out, the thought of leaving closing my throat. But once he was gone, there would be nothing for me here. No reason to stay.
He slowly withdrew his hands from mine. “There are things you need to know.”
“You keep talking like you’re leaving me. You still have so many months left in you,” I said weakly.
“I’m not leaving you with a fortune. I’ve saved a lot, and it will be enough to leave Crowne Point and to start over, not underneath someone’s foot.”
“I don’t mind it here…”
“There is a coin.” He took a raspy breath. “The coin is the most valuable thing I own. Now you own it. It is buried…” he broke off, taking another breath. “It’s buried beneath a poem.”
“Uncle you’re not making any sense.” I worried his mind was deteriorating with his health. “Maybe you should rest, I’ll read you a poe—”
“Listen to me, Storybook!” He yelled, and I snapped my mouth shut.
My uncle never yelled.
“That coin grants wishes, but only one. Anyone in the Crowne world will understand what it means and does. If you ever need a wish granted, use it. Remember.” He grasped my wrist, and I was again struck with how much weight he’d lost, his fingers skeletal. “You only get one.”
My brows knitted.
A coin that granted wishes? Buried beneath a poem?
Hot tears bubbled up my throat.
This wasn’t fucking fair. My uncle was the smartest man I knew but he was losing his mind. I didn’t want to make him yell again, and I knew that trying to reason with a deteriorating mind was pointless.
“Why didn’t you use it?” I croaked.
His grip loosened, and he fell back against the bed, eyes closed. “I did. My wish was to give you a wish.”
I lifted my eyes, but my uncle had sunk back into his cushions, his breathing steady.
If the coin had been real, I knew my wish. But I somehow doubted even a magical coin could make him live longer.
I leaned against the closed door, head spinning with the day’s events. I pulled out my phone and scrolled and scrolled past various blogs and tweets. The video was trending.
My lungs felt like they were shriveling up inside my chest. What would my uncle think if he knew? And would this really be forgotten in the morning?
“You’re late.” I quickly scrambled off the door, finding Ms. Barn glaring at me.
“Just because you’ve slept in Grayson Crowne’s bed doesn’t mean you can lie around and do nothing. You’re Mrs. Grayson Crowne’s girl, and she’s waiting.”
Five
STORY
I went to go attend to Ms. du Lac—No, Mrs. Grayson Crowne—but I stayed outside for longer than I should’ve. Once again, my eyes fell to the bruise on my ring finger. I was supposed to help her into her lingerie. It was my job. I was nothing more than her girl.
But I’d fucked her husband—and now ruined her wedding because of it.
The Crownes wedding rituals dated back centuries, before they came to America, and that was one of the tamest. I shuddered, thinking about the ones that used to include me.
The door swung open and Lottie stopped short. She looked surprised to see me; then her smooth features faded into exasperation.
“You’re here.”
I lifted my head. “Mrs. Crowne.”
“Mrs. Grayson Crowne. I’m not his mother.”
I pursed my lips, nodding.
“I’ve been waiting an hour for you,” Lottie clipped. “I barely have any time to get ready before he comes.”
Before he comes.
To fuck her.
His wife.
Whatever I thought I’d heard in Grayson’s voice was a mirage of my own desires. Over and over again he chose her.
“If we have to be stuck together, can you just…try a little?” Lottie wasn’t haughty or imperial with her request, like the Crownes; she was beseeching. Of me. A servant.
I blinked. “I’m sorry. I…lost track of time.” I quickly dashed past her, pulling the ivory lace off the window.
I wanted to apologize again, but I knew there was no point. I trailed after Lottie back into Grayson’s wing.
Grayson and her wing.
Sometime while I’d been away, someone had come and decorated the hollow room with flowers and candles. Who? I wondered. They couldn’t have made my uncle? But then, West had gotten in as well…A distant part of me worried for Grayson. His fortress was slowly eroding.
Lottie made a noise, and I realized I’d been standing for too long. I quickly got to my knees, placing the soft fabric at her feet.
“Your foot, miss,” I said.
I had to go inside myself, numbing to the situation. At least I had practice—it was how I’d lived when my mother was alive.
“It’s Mrs.” Lottie stepped into the hole I’d built in the fabric.
“Of course.” I lifted the spidery fabric up her naked hazelnut curves. “I apologize.”
I adjusted the corset material that pushed her breasts up, made sure everything fit properly, but I didn’t step back right away. My fingers rested on the thin satin bows at her shoulders. I was so close to Lottie I could smell her sweet floral scent, but my eyes had wandered. Silky white roses left a bread crumb trail up to the second floor, and against everything in my body telling me not to, my eyes followed them up to the bedroom.
I’d taken Grayson’s virginity. Was Lottie a virgin? Would he take hers tonight? Unless…had they already done it? I felt possession grow inside me. This must be that ugly, patriarchal disease men get when they learn women are virgins.
Now I have it.
I took Grayson’s virginity, and I don’t want anyone else to touch him. He’s mine.
Lottie cleared her throat.
She was just an inch taller than me, and our eyes locked.
“Are you a virgin?” I asked.
I stepped back instantly, eyes finding the floor. Oh my god.