“Blagden?” His voice shook, his eyebrows rose over his cerulean eyes and revealed such innocence, such…betrayal, Aria almost recoiled. His expression had changed in an instant from some kind of revelation. “She sent you here,” he breathed out. He turned to Gable. “Go find Harper and bring her to me.”
“With respect, my lord, I think I should remain with—”
“You’re insulting me by not trusting me with her. Do you really want to make me your enemy as your brother has?”
Will didn’t protest again but turned and hurried off the terrace in search of Harper.
“Why are you so nasty to people?”
The marquess stared at her and then at the key. “People deserve it.”
Goodness, something had really broken him and changed his life. She’d seen hints of it in his dances. Had it been the death of Will and Sarah’s father, or was it something else? The loss of his mother? Wait. He’d fallen apart before her eyes when she mentioned Mrs. B. Or more specifically, the name Blagden. But it didn’t pardon him from being mean.
“Why does Will deserve it?” she asked him.
“Because he’s a Gable.”
“Ridiculous!” She tried to snatch the key from his hand, but he held it over his shoulder, about to hurl it into the sea.
“No!” She stepped up on her chair and leaped at him to grab his wrist. “Please! Please, I need it to go home.”
He looked into her eyes level with his as he caught her in one arm. “I’m a puppet.”
It was more like a groan than a statement. They were close enough to share breath. He hadn’t moved to give her the key so that she would back off, so she didn’t. “Please don’t throw it away.”
Finally, he lowered his arm and handed her the key. “Try the front doors on your way out.”
He left her alone on the terrace and disappeared inside the castle. Did he just throw her out…again? She was almost glad that he didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve when he wasn’t dancing. His sadness was too palpable. He was angry, as well. The kind of anger that seeps deep into your bones and begins to shape you. Aria sat back down and looked at the key in her hand. This stupid thing caused more trouble than it was worth. What did it have to do with him? Why had he looked as if he recognized it? How would that be possible? Why had he wanted to hurl it into the estuary?
I’m a puppet.
Images of him dancing with his elbows up and his forearms dangling, a mad gleam in his eyes, and a macabre grin on his lips, assailed her. No. This really wasn’t her problem.
Aria rose to her feet to leave. She would check the main castle doors as the marquess suggested. He probably hoped she disappeared the way she’d come. Why would he want her around? He didn’t seem to like her very much—or anyone else for that matter.
She took a step toward the door when Will returned. The woman who was playing the violin earlier was with him. She looked around, scowling when she didn’t see the marquees. This was the woman he believed also came from the future and the woman who raised him after his mother disappeared.
“He left,” Aria let her know. “He was angry,” she told her quickly when the woman turned to leave them.
The woman returned her attention to Aria. “What happened? Why was he angry?”
“He said he was a puppet.”
The woman—Harper—looked as if Aria had slapped her. She stumbled into one of the chairs. Will hurried to her aid, but she waved him away. “I don’t know why they don’t just explain things to him.”
“Explain what?” Aria asked, taking the seat beside her. “Who do you mean?”
Harper stared at her. She was pretty, Aria thought, mid to late thirties.
“Tell me about yourself,” Harper invited in a suddenly curious tone.
“Since the marquess mentioned that you’re from my future,” Aria informed, “why don’t you tell me aboutyourselfinstead?”
“He told you… I see. Just how close are you to him? I know you’ve spent time with him.”
“How do I get home?” Aria asked her. “That’s all I care about.”
“How did you get here?”