Secret Worlds (607 page)

Somehow, she was exceptional to it. But he was different now too. Something she had done that night had changed him. Instead of a murderous automaton he was…well, she didn’t know what he was.

She’d been watching, waiting for the evil to grow back and overwhelm him. Watching for the obvious had been a mistake. It had hidden from her, working itself in more deeply to him until she couldn’t see where Matteo ended and the curse began.

What if, instead of temporarily alleviating him of his curse, she’d somehow bound him to it more tightly? If that was true, then this was all her fault. Her and her damnable ignorance. How could she possibly cure him now?

Isobel desperately wished she could speak to her grandmother. She would give anything for a few moments with her, or anyone who might be able to guide her out of this mess.

Running a hand through her disheveled hair, she tugged on it hard. Maybe the pain would give her focus. Putting the book down, she stood up to reach for another. And when that one didn’t offer answers, she reached for another.

***

Six days later, Isobel was back in the carriage with the
Conte
, determinedly trying to ignore his continuous complaints. Her husband slumped against the wall, asleep. He’d been doing that a lot lately.

When he’d woken later that morning after their wedding night, she’d been expecting the worst. But Matteo had come down to join her in the library as if nothing had ever happened. His golden brown eyes had been clear and his manner romantic and affectionate—the besotted groom on the first day of his honeymoon.

He’d immediately offered to help her sort through the books, taking up the task with energy and determination. Together, they organized a search of the countryside, gathering up what little herbs they could find with the help of Nino and, to a lesser extent, Ottavio.

There had been a bittersweet visit to her grandmother’s home. She’d been surprised it was still standing. She’d been half expecting to find a burned out shell, but the locals must have feared the memory of her grandmother enough to leave the place alone. Matteo had inspected the contents inside, saving a decorative pitcher and a tray from the tea service for her. The precious plants and mosses from that garden and surrounding wood were cleaned and stored with the stock she’d received from Meg.

Throughout the week, Matteo behaved like the ideal husband, caring and considerate—and understanding when she told him resuming marital relations right away would be too uncomfortable. He patiently waited several days before asking again, though he hadn’t been able to resist caressing or holding her.

Things had been so normal, she actually convinced herself that she’d imagined the whole thing. Perhaps she’d still been asleep, her nightmares blending with reality in an unexpected way. After everything that had happened, it was only natural that her imagination would take a dark turn.

But she hadn’t been imagining it. She knew that now. Two days later, when her husband had determinedly seduced her, she had let him, closing her eyes to the danger because she wanted to believe, more than anything, that she was wrong.

And so now she was certain, even though she only caught glimpses of the monster behind the mask.

The demon inside her husband coveted her in some strange way. It would look at her behind Matteo’s eyes, pleased when she was there. It was happiest when it was touching her—stroking her skin and tasting her body, always careful to give more pleasure than it took. And it delighted in calling her wife.

The reason why didn’t occur to her straightaway. Whatever the objective of the curse had been by the person who cast it, it was different now.

Matteo was no longer wracked with pain, a prelude to his acting with murderous intent. It had lost interest in other victims. The thing inside him was solely focused on her now because it desired something else.

It wanted to breed her.

Isobel took refuge in the conservatory, carefully checking to make sure she was alone before filling her satchel with a particular mix of herbs.

They had arrived in London a few days ago. She’d avoided intimacy with her husband by lying about the early arrival of her monthly. But now she had a plan.

Her grandmother had helped a few of the women in the village, the ones with too many mouths to feed. Helen had prepared a mixture for them that they could brew like tea. As long as the woman followed the directions properly, unwanted pregnancies could be avoided. Isobel hadn’t known the exact recipe she had to follow, but it had been easy to find—the well-used volume in her grandmother’s hand had several bookmarks on pages she had consulted frequently. Although, Helen had probably known the recipe by heart.

Matteo had been disappointed, but not surprised, that she hadn’t fallen pregnant straightaway. He still yearned for a child, someone to live on after him in case she couldn’t find a cure for his affliction. The guilt she felt at deceiving him was intense, and she constantly reminded herself that it was necessary.

In truth, her belief that the creature’s intent was to breed was little more than conjecture. But nothing else could reasonably explain her present circumstances. Spirits like the one in her husband hungered for something in particular. Her reading confirmed that. Some thrived on creating chaos, others in taking the lives they could not have for themselves. But some sought a way to make their transient existence on this plane more permanent.

If she was correct and the shade inside her husband wanted to breed, then she would be endangering any child they might have. And she couldn’t tell Matteo the truth, not now that she couldn’t distinguish as easily between the man and the monster.

So she brewed the herbs and drank them every morning in place of tea. Then she would go downstairs and spent several hours in the library poring over her books, trying to find anything that might help them.

The small library had been sorted by subject. In addition to the books of magic and recipes for healing, there were texts on natural history, farming, and some valuable first editions of classic volumes.

The latter did not belong to Helen. They were her father’s. She suspected that he had put them in the trunk for her, which made her wonder if he’d suspected that when he was gone she might need money, resources no one else knew about. The value of the books was such that, if she’d checked the trunks after his death, she might not have needed to become a governess at all.

Isobel refused to dwell on that detail, focusing on her study of the library contents instead, as well as overseeing the work in the conservatory.

The
Conte
had thankfully taken up residence in a townhouse in Mayfair, but she and Matteo stayed outside of town. The property agent had rented them a large house a scant half hour drive from London, one with a large conservatory and another midsize greenhouse farther from the main house.

A gardener had been hired to help her and Matteo with the planting of various seeds and a few cuttings for herbs—anything she thought might be useful to help him, and now herself. After the planting had been done, the gardener was reassigned to the grounds while she did the work of tending to the plants herself. And when she couldn’t for whatever reason, Nino had insisted on helping.

Aside from sleeping too much, Matteo behaved very much like himself. Or at least the man she thought he was. She had to admit, there was a lot about him she didn’t know—or about how the spell might have altered his normal personality. He appeared to be a dear man, conscientious and kind. If his malady hadn’t succeeded in altering that, then she had to believe he was worth saving.

The thought that the spell was making him kinder and more appealing was something she dismissed right away. Based on what had happened to all those other victims, the goal had been to create a monster. She had interfered and made something else.

Though Isobel knew the demon inside him was still there, she tried her best to forget about it. Maybe it was cowardly to ignore it, but she couldn’t get through her daily life unless she did. So she accepted her husband’s affection and tried to treat him with the same consideration he demonstrated for her. The “other” inside him was put into a locked room in her mind, one she didn’t open until she had to. Otherwise, she would go stark screaming mad.

The
Conte
visited on several occasions, and he seemed pleased with the semblance of normalcy that Matteo was able to maintain. She warned Aldo that that’s all it was, a temporary reprieve, but he didn’t care. He invited several of his friends over to pay calls to his son and had even gone so far as to secure them invitations to the last events of the little Season.

Isobel was nervous about mixing with others at such large social events. The calls paid to them at the country house had been stressful enough without having to worry about making small talk or dancing in a ton ballroom. But Matteo had been so taken with the idea of socializing, of being a normal man again, that she hadn’t the heart to say no.

That night was going to be their first ball. Compared to the ones held during the regular Season it would be small, only a few hundred or so people. Which was a few hundred too many for Isobel. Fortunately for her, their debut in society as a couple had been delayed until she had a wardrobe befitting a rich lord’s wife.

They had had to wait for the ton’s most fashionable modiste, madame Josephina, to make up a new ball gown for her, as well as dresses for morning, afternoon, and evening, along with an assortment of matching pelisses. Additionally, there was a riding habit,
a la militaire
as was the fashion, and a multitude of gloves, hats, muffs, and everything else the ton deemed necessary garb for a woman to leave her house.

Her new blue day dress from Carrbridge had been immediately discarded as soon as the new purchases began to arrive. The waste bothered Isobel, but Matteo had laughed at her and told her to get used to being spoiled now that she was a future Countess.

She reluctantly abandoned her work in the library a few hours before the ball in order to get ready. The gown she was wearing was a deep emerald green velvet, with short sleeves and a full skirt.

Unlike the other fashionable gowns of the ton, it was modestly cut at the bust. Isobel didn’t want to worry about falling out of her gown
and
dancing at the same time.

Her time as a governess hadn’t prepared her for a ton ballroom, but she did have a little familiarity with the waltz. In her former position at Sir Isaac Warton’s home, she’d accompanied the dancing master as he taught her charges in preparation for their come-out. But dancing in front of a hundred people was not the same as dancing in front of two spoiled young ladies and their bored ten-year-old brother.

Isobel put on her new gown with trepidation, dressing by herself. With an overabundance of caution, she’d decided not to employ a lady’s maid. The fewer servants they had the better. She put her hair in a simple style, only slightly more elaborate than her normal coiffure. Her stays and the dress fastened in the front at her request, so she didn’t need to call Matteo in to help her.

When she was done, she gave herself a long critical inspection in the bedroom looking-glass. It was still her, but different. The green set off her skin nicely and deepened the color of her eyes.

Fine feathers, she thought. Feeling slightly fraudulent, she pulled on her gloves and then smoothed her skirts.

Never in her life had she worn such a beautiful dress, not even as a child. Especially as a child, she thought, remembering the sorry state of her dresses after an afternoon rambling in the woods. She was no longer that carefree, careless girl, but the thought of spilling something on herself was enough to make her bite her nails in anxiety.

At this point, however, humiliating herself was the least of her concerns.

Matteo was waiting for her on the stairs. When he saw her coming down the steps he froze, his lips parting.

“
Cara
, you are a vision,” he said, his eyes wide.

Isobel laughed despite her trepidation. “You don’t have to sound so surprised,” she replied cheekily, although she could feel her cheeks pinkening with pleasure.

He smiled and took her hand and spun her in a slow circle. When she faced him again, his expression was serious. “I’m afraid I can’t let you go out like this. You’re missing something.”

She glanced down at her gown and gloves in surprise. “What am I missing? I warn you nothing else is going to fit in this gown,” she said, running her hands down the tight bodice in a cursory examination.

“Well, compared to the other ladies who’ll be at the party, you’re nearly naked.”

She scowled at him, but he just grinned at her. With a twinkle in his eye, he took a thin box from a nearby table and presented it to her with a flourish.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“You can’t make your debut in society without being properly attired,” he said as she opened the box.

Her mouth dropped open. Nestled against the soft black interior of the box was a stunning emerald necklace and matching set of earrings. Mixed between the large oval cut emeralds were smaller glittering brown stones.

It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Her first thought, after she recovered from her surprise, was that she couldn’t wear it.

“I’m going to lose it,” she said with a creased brow.

Matteo chuckled and took the necklace out of the box. “I assure you the clasp is very secure.”

“What are these brown stones?” she asked, touching their cool smooth surface as he fastened the necklace around her neck.

“They’re a variant of goldstone. I told the jeweler that I wanted something that reminded me of your eyes. I’m very pleased with the result,” he said, his breath warm on the back of her neck just before he pressed a kiss there. “He’s making up a matching brooch and bracelet as well, but so far only this and the earrings are ready. It was a bit of a rush job.”

He removed the droplet earrings and helped her fasten them, taking advantage of the necessary proximity to press another kiss below her ear. Flushed and warm, she took the arm he extended to her and they climbed into the carriage.