Please forgive me.
I crumpled the letter and threw it into the fire, watching the edges singe and curl inward. Edward wanted my forgiveness, but I wasn’t certain I could give it. Part of me wanted to blame everything on the Beast. He was the guilty one, not Edward. And yet hadn’t Edward said they were two sides of the same coin? The longer he lived, the more he and the Beast grew together.
I was certainly no physical match for the Beast. The only way I could stop him was to cure Edward of him—yet how could I even be in the same room with him again, after the Beast had nearly sliced me open?
And after what you and Edward did in that bed, a voice whispered.
I slumped to the floor. I was alone again. I could tell the professor and Elizabeth, but they already thought my mind dangerously unstable. Without Edward, I had no one to trust.
Another knock sounded at the door some time later, this time Elizabeth. “Are you ill again, Juliet? Would you like tea brought up? You know, if you’ve changed your mind about the masquerade tonight, I can send a note canceling.”
The Radcliffe masquerade—it had been the last thing on my mind. What a terrible friend Lucy must think me, and she didn’t even know what I’d done last night with the young man she loved. I doubled over, bracing my head with my hands. Edward’s voice from this morning returned to me.
I won’t let anything, or anyone, come between us.
I sat up, a tickle of worry at my spine. I had assumed he meant the professor, or Montgomery, or maybe the memory of Father and the island, but what would he stop at? Or rather, who? Lucy was between us, after all. He knew how strong willed she was, that she’d do anything to protect me. Would he hurt her just to keep me to himself?
I brushed back my hair with my fingers, and then threw open the door. Elizabeth seemed surprised by my sudden energy, and she gave me a suspicious once-over.
“I haven’t changed my mind,” I said. “What time is it?”
Elizabeth glanced at the cuckoo clock. “Quarter past one.”
“I’ll get dressed at Lucy’s—my gown and mask are already there. Please have Ellis bring the carriage around at three.”
She bit the inside of her lip, looking as though she didn’t believe a word that came out of my mouth. Well, let her suspect something. Anything she imagined couldn’t possibly be worse than the truth.
“I’ll see you there tonight, then. The professor won’t come, not even with the promise of Radcliffe’s finest brandy.” She paused, with the hint of a smile. “It will be nice to have a bit of fun again.”
SOME HOURS LATER ELLIS let me off in front of Lucy’s house, where the iron gate hung wide open as though beckoning me in. A small fleet of workmen filled the front garden, sweeping the front walk and securing candles among the trees that would be lit later tonight when guests arrived. I didn’t want to get in their way, so I walked around back to the servants’ entrance, where I used to sneak into the house to visit Lucy before her parents approved of me. It felt strange turning that corner, seeing the hedges trampled with footprints and street salt and all manner of muck. A flash of my former life—a life I never wanted to return to.
A delivery wagon waited in the alleyway, the horses’ feet stamping impatiently. I could only imagine the extravagant purchases Lucy’s father must have made for the party—lace tablecloths woven with red and green threads, white pillar candles of every height, champagne by the case. I knocked on the servants’ door tentatively. It swung open to reveal Clara’s tired face. Her mouth hung open to scold, but when she recognized me her face lit up.
“Miss Juliet! Why didn’t you come to the front? Oh, never mind that. Hurry in, Miss Lucy’s been expecting you.” She waved me in and closed the door a little breathlessly as she wiped her hands on her apron. “Come quickly, I’ll take you upstairs before I’m missed. Goodness, you’ve no idea how many deliveries we’ve gotten today.”
We both jumped as someone shouted in the kitchen, followed by the honking of a goose and clatter of pans. Clara rushed me through the pantry and up a narrow set of stairs to the second floor, where I caught a glimpse of the sprawling ballroom with its enormous fir Christmas tree, a peek of polished floors, workmen on ladders, and housemaids carrying silver warming trays. Just as quick, we were climbing up to the third-floor bedrooms.
It was blessedly quieter here, with the soft carpet and empty hallways, and I started to feel calmer until a curse came from a room to our left.
“Oh, stuff it, and this blasted ribbon, too!”
I hid a smile. Only Lucy cursed like that and got away with it. Clara hurried me across the plush carpet runner to Lucy’s room and stuck her head through the doorway.
“Clara, I’ve had an awful time with these curls. Won’t you send Molly up?”
“Yes, miss. And Miss Juliet is here.”
I heard a commotion like metal dropping to the floor, and then Lucy’s disheveled head popped through the doorway. She was in her corset and a combination with lace trim, ribbons half-untied in her curled hair, her blue eyes wide and beautiful.
She grabbed me with something like a growl and pulled me into the room. “You devil! I’d started to think you weren’t coming.”
I caught myself against a dressing table that was littered with ribbons and brushes and an overturned tin of face powder. It looked like a wild animal had been set loose in her room.
She picked up a mask from the table, a delicate thing of black and soft purple, made to cover just the eyes, with shimmering green feathers along the side like a bird taking wing. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and she thrust it at me like a can of beans.
“Mother picked this one out. I detest it.” She flopped into the dresser chair, tossing the mask to the side. “It’s so boring. John will probably adore it.”
I bent down to right the overturned powder tin. All the makeup, and ribbons, and the vase of lilies on her desk didn’t fit with the words I’d come here to say. If only the masquerade wasn’t tonight, and she and I could dance and drink champagne and have one last night together, before I had to shatter her world with my confession.
But Edward was out there, and she needed to know the truth about the man she claimed to love.
While she hummed a sweet little song and admired herself in the mirror, I went to her bedroom door and closed it softly. An array of brushes and powders and rouges were laid out in front of her, as she debated which to apply first.