Wednesday, October 17, 1888
Everett was quiet during breakfast the next morning—even quieter than usual. I kept glancing at him across the table but he would not meet my eyes, instead choosing to look at me only when I was chatting with Miss Baudelaire or Mr. Jones. Bella glanced at Everett constantly, trying desperately to get his attention.
“Is it true you’re Mr. Wyndham’s newest pet?” Bella grinned at me while crunching on a pear, its juice running down the side of her thumb and wrist.
Everett met my eyes before looking down at the table.
“Yes, Mr. Wyndham and I have become friends,” I said, skirting around what she was really asking. “I expect we will have many mutually successful business opportunities together.”
“Business opportunities?” She gave a meaningful look to Mrs. Jones across the table. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”
Mrs. Jones’ mouth puckered as she hid her smirk, Mr. Jones chuckling beside her.
“Mr. Wyndham has shown himself to be a true gentleman,” I added. “I do not know why you are all suggesting otherwise.”
Minerva shook her head at Bella, silencing the table immediately.
When I excused myself after breakfast, Everett silently followed me out. Miss Baudelaire glanced at me, a warning look in her eyes.
Everett waited until we were in the front parlor before putting himself at my side.
“Good morning, Everett,” I said quietly, continuing my pace across the room. “Pleasant weather we are having.”
He frowned at me. “When are you going to tell me what is happening here?” His dark curls were growing long, dangling over his eyes.
I could not bear to meet his gaze. “Well, I am about to ascend the staircase. Now I am ascending the staircase—”
“Cora, stop.”
He took my hand and I halted. Since I was a step further up than Everett, our heights were closer than usual. With his face just above mine, avoiding eye contact became much more difficult.
Everett caressed my hand with his thumb as he considered his words. “You had dinner with Mr. Wyndham last night?”
I swallowed. “Yes.”
Everett moved a bit closer. “Miss Baudelaire wants me out of the way so Mr. Wyndham will not be jealous. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” I whispered, my voice faltering.
“Does he have a reason to be jealous?” His voice was soft. More timid than usual.
I looked up at him but I failed to find the right words. “It is complicated.”
Everett’s gaze burned into mine, searching hard to find the truth in my eyes. “No, it’s not.”
I swallowed, my throat suddenly very dry. “What are you asking?”
He stepped closer, as close as he could be without touching me. Like a raindrop, his eyes slid down from my eyelashes, over the apples of my cheeks and down to the curves of my lips. “You know what I’m asking.”
If Everett had lowered his lips to mine in that moment, I would not have pulled away.
But he did not touch me.
“Should I leave you?” The words were faint, like a suggestion of a question.
No, you should absolutely not.
I hesitated, knowing how much better off he would be without me. Surely the stress I brought into his life was not worth the effort.
He would be so much better off without me.
“You can do what you like,” I said weakly. My tone sounded far more timid than I had intended. “You are not bound to me.”
“Am I not?”
My stomach felt uneasy with guilt and want and confusion. I could not meet Everett’s longing gaze, no matter how much I wanted to.
“Do you want to leave? You have meals and a bed—”
“I have a hammock,” he reminded me.
“What if this is my only chance to stop this Lady Selene nonsense and be taken seriously as a performer? Miss Baudelaire said Mr. Wyndham has the connections to make that happen.”
Everett crossed his arms over his chest and looked at me for a moment, his eyes narrowed. “Would you marry him if it meant becoming an actress?”
I hesitated. “Probably.”
“You would manipulate the man and pretend to love him for that?”
“I have married a man before for much less.”
“Yes, and look how successful that union was,” he snapped.
I glared at him. “Who I marry is none of your business—”
“Of course it’s my business, Cora,” he shot back, his voice tipped with vitriol. “By a series of strange incidents, I am bound to you and, despite your self-absorbed arrogance, I love you.”
His jaw twitched as those final three words were tagged on at the end. He looked away, his eyes fixed on the polished staircase railing. I had a feeling he hadn’t meant those words to escape. But they were out, hanging in the air between us—that unspoken thing that hid behind every exchanged glance and every word we spoke to one another. I knew he cared for me and certainly felt an attraction to me, but those three little words answered so many questions that hummed in my heart every time he looked at me.
Well, not every time. For instance, as we stood together on the staircase, he looked more irritated with me than enamored.
Ignoring the weakness in my legs and the rising heat on my neck and in my stomach, I studied the contours of his face. His perfect full lips that curved into a smile when I needed it the most; his eyes that were the most exceptional shade of light blue I had ever seen; his skin an exquisite bronze.
When he looked back at me, I immediately lowered my eyes to the floor.
“Everett, I—”
Magni’s bedroom door swung open, the door rattling on its hinges from the force. Shirtless and carrying a half-empty bottle of cheap wine, he swaggered in our direction.
“A lover’s quarrel?” he slurred. “So early in the morning?”
“Piss off,” Everett grumbled.
Magni shuffled onto the staircase, relying heavily on the railing to stay upright. “Oh, do stay silent.” A slimy grin slithered across his unshaven face. “Doesn’t feel very good being replaced, does it?”
Everett squared his shoulders as Magni took a big gulp straight from the bottle.
“A little bird told me you and Wyndham are getting friendly,” Magni went on. “Is that how you stole my tour? You just spread your legs and suddenly it’s your name on the posters?”
I glanced at Everett. His nostrils flared and his hands were curled into fists, but just as I thought, Everett was not the type to raise a hand to another person.
Unlike me, apparently.
Before I even knew what I was doing, my palm struck Magni’s face, a loud crack echoing through the parlor. Despite falling back onto the previous step, he still held tight to the neck of his bottle.
“You are pathetic,” I spat.
Mr. Jones had appeared in the parlor. “Oy. No fightin’ in the house please. Save it for the stage where we can charge people to watch.”
My palm burned from the impact. Magni stayed put on the stairs for the moment, cursing and putting the bottle back to his lips.
Everett’s eyes gleamed as he grinned at me. “Well done.”
The moment between us had evaporated but we could not take back what we had said.
I winced. “Everett, I—”
“Everett, I need some help with something,” Mr. Jones called.
“Yes, sir,” he replied before looking back at me, smiling warily.
He joined Mr. Jones without another word and I shut myself up in my room.
Cora Pringle: Fraud and Indecisive Fool.