The sound of his voice, commanding and immediate, sent a fresh wave of panic through Julia.
"He's here," Julia whispered frantically, scrambling away from the armchair. "He's back." Her mind raced. She had to hide Silas. Now. Before Alistair came upstairs.
Silas was already moving, his bare chest gleaming faintly in the dawn light. "Quick," he said, his voice low and urgent. "Where?"
Julia pointed towards the bathing chamber. "In there! Hurry! He… he usually comes straight to my room when he gets back." The words tumbled out, revealing more about Alistair's possessive habits than she intended.
A flicker of surprise crossed Silas's face, but he didn't question it. He snatched his cloak and slipped into the bathing chamber, pulling the door almost shut behind him. Julia smoothed down her dress, ran a shaky hand through her hair, and took a deep, bracing breath. She had to go downstairs. She had to prevent Alistair from coming up here, from discovering Silas.
She rushed out of her room, leaving the ransacked chaos and the hidden stranger behind. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of the hall. She hurried down the grand staircase, her steps light, trying to project an air of calm she was far from feeling.
She reached the main hall, her eyes sweeping the polished floors and looming shadows. Alistair stood near the entrance, his tall frame imposing even in the morning light. Finch was beside him, rigid and impassive as always. And standing slightly apart, near the drawing room entrance, was Lady Eugenia Kingswell, looking as sharp and formidable as she had the day before.
"Alistair," Julia said, forcing a smile she hoped looked genuine. She tried to sound surprised, pleased even. "You're back! I didn't expect you until tomorrow." She walked towards him, her hand discreetly covering the still-throbbing, bandaged one. "How was your journey?"
Alistair turned, his blue eyes, usually so piercing, softened slightly as they landed on her. He was still impeccably dressed, despite the travel, his dark hair perfectly in place. "Julia," he said, his voice held a note of relief, but also something else, a subtle intensity. He walked towards her, covering the distance between them in a few long strides. "The journey was… uneventful."
He stopped before her, his gaze sweeping over her face as if searching for something. His eyes then dropped to her bandaged hand. He reached out, his fingers gently tracing the lines of the white gauze. "Your hand," he murmured, his voice softening further. "Is it feeling better?" He looked at her intently. "And your well-being? Are you quite alright?"
Julia nodded, trying to maintain the illusion of composure. "Yes, Alistair, thank you. It's healing well. And I'm perfectly fine."
Alistair's fingers lingered on her bandaged hand for a moment too long. His expression shifted, a subtle frown creasing his brow. He met her gaze again, his voice losing its softness, adopting a tone of quiet authority. "Finch informed me you were… restless yesterday, Julia. And that you disregarded my explicit instructions to remain in your room until your hand was healed." His eyes flickered to Finch, who remained impassive beside him. It was clear Finch had reported her, just as he had promised.
Julia felt a fresh wave of annoyance at Finch's strict adherence to the rules. She opened her mouth to offer some excuse, some plausible lie about needing fresh air or wanting to finish the cataloging.
Alistair's gaze sharpened. He held up a hand, stopping her. "Don't, Julia," he said, his voice firm. "Don't attempt to construct some elaborate falsehood. You are not very good at it, and I can always tell when you are lying." He looked at her intently, demanding the truth. "Tell me the real reason you left your room. Was it… because you couldn't simply 'leave it alone'?"
Julia's feigned composure crumbled. Her chin lifted slightly, her eyes meeting his with a defiant flash. "Yes, Alistair," she admitted, her voice steady despite the hammering of her heart. "It was. I couldn't stay in my room pretending everything was normal when I know it isn't. I needed answers. About Marian. About what really happened."
A sharp, brittle laugh cut through the tension. Lady Eugenia Kingswell, who had been observing the exchange with a smug, superior air, stepped forward. "See, Alistair?" she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "I told you the girl was insolent. Disregarding your orders, rummaging about, and insulting a guest, no less! You truly must address this lack of respect." She shot Julia a triumphant, venomous look.
Alistair's gaze, which had been fixed on Julia, snapped to Lady Eugenia. His expression hardened instantly, his eyes turning to chips of cold blue ice. The charm vanished, replaced by a chilling, controlled fury.
"Lady Kingswell," Alistair said, his voice low and dangerous, cutting her off mid-sentence. "You are not a guest in this house. You did not inform me of your arrival, which is customary. And you are certainly not welcome here."
Lady Eugenia's face paled, her eyes wide with shock. "Alistair! How dare you! I am your relative! I came to see how you were faring after poor Marian's death!"
Alistair's smile was thin, humorless. "Firstly, Lady Kingswell, you were related to me through your late husband, who is deceased. You are not my blood relation." He took a step towards her, his presence radiating cold displeasure. "Secondly, you never truly cared for me, nor did you make any effort to visit or get to know Marian while she was alive. You did not even attend our wedding." His voice dropped, becoming a quiet, terrifying murmur. "So, I suggest you dispense with the pretense and tell me why you are truly here."
Lady Eugenia was left speechless, her carefully constructed facade crumbling under Alistair's brutal honesty. Her gaze darted nervously, her hand flying to her mouth.
"Was it money, Lady Kingswell?" Alistair asked, his voice devoid of sympathy. "Are you in some sort of financial distress now that your husband's fortune has dwindled?" He reached into his inner coat pocket, pulling out a folded wad of banknotes. "Here," he said, extending the money towards her. "Take this. It is a generous sum. More than you deserve, given your behavior."
He looked at her with cold, finality. "Now, I want you to leave Blackwood Hall. Immediately. And you are never to step foot on this property again. Do you understand?" He turned to Finch. "Finch, arrange for a carriage to take Lady Kingswell directly back to her residence. Ensure she lacks for nothing on the journey, but see that she departs without delay."
Lady Eugenia, defeated and humiliated, snatched the money, her hands trembling. She cast a final, scathing look at Julia. "This is all your fault, you little interloper," she hissed, her voice barely audible, filled with venom.
Alistair's jaw clenched, his eyes closing for a brief second as he visibly reined in his anger. The insult, directed at Julia, seemed to infuriate him more than anything else.
Just as Lady Eugenia turned to make her ignominious exit, Julia felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. The lingering effects of the tea, perhaps, or simply the sheer exhaustion and stress of the past few days. The hall seemed to sway, the faces of Alistair and Finch blurring before her eyes. She swayed, stumbling slightly.
Alistair was instantly there, his hand steadying her arm. His expression softened, the cold fury directed at Lady Eugenia vanishing, replaced by a familiar concern. "Julia? Are you alright?" he asked, his voice urgent. "You're pale."
Julia leaned against him for a moment, grateful for his support. "Yes," she whispered, the dizziness slowly subsiding. "Just… a little lightheaded."
"Have you eaten?" Alistair asked, his gaze searching her face.
Julia hesitated. She hadn't eaten the breakfast Elsie brought, not with Silas hidden in her bathing chamber. But she couldn't tell him that. And she didn't want to lie again. She simply shook her head.
Alistair's brow furrowed with concern. "Finch," he commanded, his voice firm. "Inform the kitchen to prepare a full breakfast for Miss Harrow. And have it served in the dining room immediately." He turned back to Julia, his hand still on her arm. "Come. You need to eat. You need to regain your strength."
He guided her towards the dining room, his touch gentle but firm. Finch, after a final, unreadable glance at Julia, turned to carry out Alistair's orders. Lady Eugenia, ignored and forgotten, was left to the care of another footman, ushered towards the waiting carriage.
Alistair led Julia into the opulent dining room, the morning sun streaming through the tall windows. He pulled out a chair for her at the massive table. "Sit," he ordered gently. He watched her as she settled, his gaze filled with a complex mix of concern, relief, and something else… something that hinted at the conversation to come.
"Eat, Julia," he said, his voice low. "Regain your strength. We will talk afterwards. About the marks on your body. About what happened last night. About everything."