Mistress of Souls: A Prophecy of the Sisters Novella Read Online Free Page B

departure. When it did, she leaned back against the shelf, the breath leaving her body in a rush, her heart pounding wildly, though she could not tell if it was from anger or humiliation.
    That little wretch! How dare she? Alice had been Victoria’s friend, had included her at a time when being included by Alice Milthorpe made one part of an exclusive inner circle.
    And yet, if Alice were honest, she did have a mean streak, had enjoyed watching the girls at Wycliffe jump through hoops for her attention, doing all manner of things and giving her all manner of gifts to be invited on one of her many adventures. It didn’t matter that one never knew if they would end in simple fun or in a firm reprimand from Miss Gray. There had been very few girls at Wycliffe who did not think it worth the risk.
    And then there was Henry. That they had dared to speak of her brother’s death—to make light of it, even—filled her with hatred so powerful it almost stole her breath. She was very nearly shaking with rage.
    Perhaps this was her comeuppance. What was it Edmund had always said? You reap what you sow.
    “Lia?” She jumped, following the voice to the end of the row. James stood there, his face a mask of shock. “Is it you?”
    Alice shook her head. “It’s Alice.”
    James’s shoulders sagged, the light leaving his blue eyes. “Of course, I’m sorry. I saw you…I thought…” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
    She stepped toward him, looking up into his blue eyes. “It’s all right. We are twins, after all. I’m only sorry to disappoint you.”
    He smiled, but she could see that it cost him something. That it did not come easy. “Nonsense. I am happy to see you. I’ve been meaning to call. I heard Virginia and Edmund left. Does that mean you are all alone in that great house?”
    “Yes. They left some time ago.” She was embarrassed to realize she did not know how long they had been gone.
    “But isn’t it strange? Being alone in so big a house?”
    The look in his eyes was too close to pity for her liking, but then she remembered her appearance, the wild ride to town from Birchwood. She straightened her back and tried to smooth her hair.
    “Not at all,” she said firmly. “I quite like the silence. It is nice to be truly independent. To have no master.”
    His nod was slow. “Yes, I suppose when you put it like that, I can understand.” His gaze traveled her face, and she wondered if he was seeing her or her sister. “Can I help you with something? In the store?”
    She looked down at the Keats book, still in her hand. “Oh, no! I was simply browsing. Coming in out of the cold for a moment.”
    “Of course,” he said. “Would you like to stay for a chat? I could offer you tea….”
    “Tea?” Her customary bravado faltered with the offer. She could not remember the last time someone had offered her anything, least of all their company. She felt suddenly shy, uncertain of the rules. “Oh…no, thank you. I couldn’t. I…I must be going. It will be dark soon.”
    “All right, then,” he said. “Perhaps another time.”
    “Yes, of course.” She shoved the Keats book back on the shelf, and he reached out for her shoulder as she moved past him. She shrunk back, unaccustomed to being touched.
    He held up a dried leaf, still attached to a twig, and smiled faintly. “It was caught in your hair.”
    “Thank you,” she said, continuing to the door. She opened it and was preparing to step through when she turned back around, meeting his eyes. “It was nice to see you again, James.”
    She stepped into the cold and shut the door behind her, hurrying for the carriage, her shoulder still warm where James had touched her.
     
    She made herself a supper of bread and cheese and washed it down with hot tea. She felt triumphant. It had taken her nearly twenty minutes to light the stove and find a proper cup, and she had had to guess in her measurement of the leaves, but in the end she had done it: brewed a