“You’re awake,” she said with a
smile and an overwhelming sense of relief.
She looked like she hadn’t slept.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” he croaked. Working his dormant tongue caused him to
taste old blood in his throat. He made a
face. Miss Marlowe poured him a glass of
water from a jug on the nightstand and administered it to him like he was a
small child. He would have taken the
glass from her if his arms didn’t feel like lead.
“I told my family that your mother
wanted me to spend a month at the Estate, and I told your mother that I had to
leave town for a family tragedy,” Miss Marlowe said simply, placing the glass
back on the stand. Haddock leaned his
head against the pillow and closed his eyes.
“Lies within lies will only get
you into more trouble.”
“You’re one
to talk,” Miss Marlowe replied with a sniff.
Haddock was too drained and weak to engage in a verbal battle right
now. The sounds of a swishing dress drew
away from the bed.
This was followed by the sound of a chair being dragged to the bed and
subsequently occupied. Nails thrumming
on a book cover.
“I made a deal with Evans after he
pulled that bullet out of you. I told
him that we could take turns looking after you so that he wouldn’t be worn
ragged. He quite liked the idea, which
is why he helped me to fabricate the stories sent to my family and your
mother. He’s resting right now—he stayed
up most of yesterday as your personal nursemaid. You should thank him when he returns, Mr.
Haddock. You owe him your life.”
Haddock almost said, “It’s not the
first time,” but held his tongue. Miss
Marlowe was putting on an air of indifference to hide the worry she was
unconsciously projecting. He didn’t need
to alarm her about his past injuries.
Instead, he asked:
“How long have I been, um…?”
“You’ve been
delirious for two days, talking nonsense when you’ve been intelligible enough
to string together words…”
The thrumming stopped.
“Do you want
me to tell you what you said?” she queried, a smile in her voice. “Oh, I’ll
just tell you anyways. For one, the way
you called my name incessantly shed some light on your true feelings about
me—"
Haddock’s eyes popped open as he snapped his head in Miss Marlowe’s
direction. Miss Marlowe laughed.
“I’m only teasing you, Mr.
Haddock!”
Haddock
glared at her. It was a half-hearted
glare that fell away into an easy smile.
Miss Marlow’s laughing subsided.
She quirked a brow at him.
“Is there something on my face, Mr. Haddock?”
“What?”
“You’re staring, and it’s making
me feel very self-conscious.”
Haddock
twisted his head back so that he was looking up at the ceiling once more.
“No—no. Your face is…fine. It’s fine.”
He needed to
change the subject quickly or he’d start finding it difficult to talk to her.
“What happened to Sir Drexel?” he
asked.
“You nicked
him in the arm and he cried like a baby.”
Haddock snorted.
“No,
really. What happened to him?”
“I just told you, but if you’re
referring to what he did afterwards, he holed himself up in his townhouse and
hasn’t left it since. He’s recovering,
like you.”
“He’s licking his wounds and plotting,” Haddock said flatly. “If I had
just aimed a few more inches to the right…”
Haddock counted knotholes in the beam over his head, thinking.
“What day is
it, Miss Marlowe?”
“Saturday,
but you slept through most of it.”
“The next full moon is this Friday,”
Haddock mused.
“What are
you thinking?” Miss Marlowe asked suspiciously.
Haddock turned his head to look her full in the face.
“He’s injured but not too
grievously that he wouldn’t pass up a chance to go hunting during a full moon…He
wouldn’t expect someone to be hunting him—”
“And that’s going to be you, is it? Mr. Haddock, I hope you realize you lost a significant amount of blood in your previous attempt at murdering each other. You need to be resting, not thinking about going for a second round,” she said authoritatively. “I’d like to see you try to get up and walk around after lying about like a cor—”
“And that’s going to be you, is it? Mr. Haddock, I hope you realize you lost a significant amount of blood in your previous attempt at murdering each other. You need to be resting, not thinking about going for a second round,” she said authoritatively. “I’d like to see you try to get up and walk around after lying about like a cor—”
Miss Marlowe bit her lip. Lying
about like a corpse? She shifted in
her seat to hide her discomfort.
“The werewolf constitution helps the healing,” Haddock said. That was half true. “And I’ll actually be the
bait. Evans will be lying downwind to
shoot him with a silver bullet.”
“But you’re still fighting him.”
“Yes—”
“Is Evans privy of his role in your scheme?”
“Not yet—”
“Is this how you treat your
friends, Mr. Haddock? Volunteering them
for possibly-fatal exploits?”
Haddock turned his head, facing
the window. That was a low blow. The sun sank lower, bathing the room in blue
shadows. Haddock heard a chorus of
crickets begin chirruping from beneath the windowsill.
“Do you know how to shoot a
pistol, Miss Marlowe?” he asked.
“Excuse me?”
“Do you know how to shoot a
pistol?”
“…No.”
“I’ll teach you.”
Miss Marlowe
ruffled visibly.
“I—you can’t just—how dare you
assume—! You’re an idiot if you think
you can attempt two fights in a row!” she snapped, and got up and crossed to
the window before Haddock could respond.
Haddock’s thoughts fell inward.
He began to see how much the duel and him getting shot had thoroughly
rattled Miss Marlowe. There was a sort
of hysterical edge to her that he hadn’t seen before, one that felt if she was
pushed too far, she would be liable to completely break down. An uncomfortable, sickly sensation susurrated
in Haddock’s chest. Guilt. He’d ignored her
pleadings and strong repulsion towards the duel just so that he could feel the
satisfaction of dropping Sir Drexel. The
ghostly image of Florence fluttered forth from the back of his mind where he’d
locked away his deep regrets. No, not again. He barricaded her away.
“Miss Marlowe?”
The woman
turned so that the sinking sunlight limned her in a white glow, throwing her
face in complete shadow.
“Yes?” Wary.
“Sir Drexel’s
comeuppance can wait.”
The silhouette shifted.
“Are you
being sincere, Mr. Haddock?”
“Quite.”
There was a
brief pause.
“It’s nice to know you’re being sensible for once.”
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