We danced to song after song, and he was a patient teacher as I continued to stumble and step on his toes. When he released me, I was breathless. I lifted a hand to pinch the stitch in my side.
He waved a hand in the air, and the butler strode into the room, carrying a tray of refreshments.
“Miss?” The butler offered me a glass with a white-gloved hand. Beyond parched, I accepted the glass and drained it greedily, then patted my lips with my fingers as Lord Winslow eyed me with amusement.
“Wore you out, did I,” he said.
I replaced the glass on the tray. “You are quite good.” I realized how much I’d enjoyed myself.
He drained the contents of his glass, returned it to the tray, and gestured for the butler to leave. “You challenged me. And what was a gentleman to do,” he said with an impish smile.
I craned my neck to peer up at him. “How so?”
“A fortnight ago you told me you didn’t believe I knew how to have fun, and I took it upon myself to show you that I do indeed appreciate a good time.”
My cheeks burned. “I didn’t mean to offend you, my lord.”
“On the contrary; I like a good challenge.” He touched my arm.
I drew back, confused and mortified. “All of this was to prove me wrong?”
He sobered, and the intensity in his gaze kept me from racing from the room. “No. Well…not all of it. I enjoy your company, and I wanted to give you an evening of enjoyment. Now I feel I’ve offended you. Please accept my deepest apology.”
“All is forgiven. If you’ll excuse me, I’m tired.” I turned to go, but he reached out to stop me.
“Please don’t leave.” The tenderness in his eyes made my heart race.
“I think it’s best,” I said.
He released my arm and nodded. Without another word, I retreated to my room.
Liverpool, England—Nisse
Mud splashed over my shoes and trousers as I raced across the cobblestone street, dodging omnibuses and private carriages while threading between people and mystical entities that had abandoned their lands and coexisted with humans. The pungent effluvium from factories, workhouses, and sewage hung in the afternoon air. My weeks in Liverpool had proven useless. I’d plodded the streets inquiring on the whereabouts of the Winslow family, and so far, I’d come up empty-handed. As my frustrations grew, images of Schläfrigz and what could be transpiring in my absence plagued me, but the disappearance of Valentina and the entire Fürst family urged me forward.
“Winslow? Earl Brett Winslow. Do you know where I can find him?” I asked a gentleman coming out of the town hall with his top hat tucked in the crook of his arm.
“Never heard of him.” He dodged past me and climbed into a private carriage driven by a smartly dressed troll with gleaming gold teeth.
Deflated, I moved on down the street and stopped two women exiting a coffee house. I smoothed back the wisps of hair escaping the ribbon at the nape of my neck and directed my question at the brunette. “Excuse me, fräulein. May I have a moment of your time?”
“Why, yes.” She pressed a hand to her chest and smiled warmly. Too warmly. Her dark eyes roved over me, and she gave her friend a pleased nod. “What is it we can help you with?” Her mouth curved seductively.
“I’m looking for a gentleman by the name of Winslow,” I said.
“There are several Winslows around these parts,” her blonde friend said. “You will have to be more specific than that.” She eyed me uncertainly.
I offered her my full attention, and her brunette friend heaved a dejected sigh. “Earl Brett Winslow. His wife was from France. A Lady Risette. She died—”
“Took her own life, from what I heard,” the brunette said.
“Yes, that is the one.” Hope buoyed. “Do you know where I can find the family?” I regarded the brunette and victory gleamed in her eyes. She seemed pleased to have secured my attention.
But it wasn’t to last, as the blonde spoke. “My cousin is betrothed to his lordship.”
The brunette touched my arm and cocked her head, looking at me through thick lashes. “But what is it you will do for us?”
“Pardon me?” I looked from one woman to the other.
With unnerving coyness, the wayward daughter of one of Liverpool’s finest, I assumed, drew closer. “We gave you something of value. Now it’s your turn to give us something we seek.”
I didn’t have time for games, but I stifled my irritation. “What is it you seek?”
“Nothing.” The blonde woman placed a gloved hand on her friend’s arm and glowered at her before looking back at me. “What is your business with the Winslow family?”
“I need to speak to Lord Winslow about his estate in Schläfrigz. It’s urgent.”
Her keen eyes studied me, and I felt my insides squirm with discomfort as I waited.
“You seem like a stand-up sort of fellow,” she said. After we exchanged a few more words, she gave me an address. I thanked her and raced to a nearby carriage and hired the driver to take me to Winslow’s countryside residence.
The brownstone mansion resembled a castle on a hill, overlooking a large pond. Meticulous hedges and gardens in full bloom surrounded the home. Private carriages lined the lane, and to the left of the house, a horse race was underway. The sunbonnets and umbrellas of onlookers speckled the field. Women clutched their gentlemen’s elbows, and cheers rose as a brilliant chestnut thoroughbred crossed the finish line.
The carriage stopped in front of the home, and a giant clad in black and white livery descended the stairs. The driver climbed down from the carriage seat.
“His lordship isn’t expecting any guest,” the steward said in a deep voice.
Through the gap in the curtain, I saw the driver shrug before walking to the carriage door. When he opened the door, I ducked my head and disembarked.
“Good day, sir,” the steward said. The fabric of his white gloves strained to contain his massive hands, held stiffly at his sides. “What is the purpose of your visit to Risette Estates?” His acquired refinement seemed odd in a giant. Remarkable! Bloody remarkable. Who would have thought the cannibals could be tamed?
“I came to speak with Lord Winslow on matters of his estate in Schläfrigz.” I kept my eyes honed on him, alert for any sudden movement. I imagined myself hog-tied and slung over his mammoth shoulders and taken to the kitchen to be stewed by his one-eyed wife.
Recognition glimmered in the giant’s eyes, though his brow drew down, tugging at his sparse hairline. “You’ve come all this way?”
“That is correct.” I squared my shoulders.
He sized up my appearance, and as if perceiving I wasn’t one of his lordship’s highfalutin acquaintances, he said, “His lordship is busy with a previous engagement.”
I nudged my head at the field. “Am I to assume that he and his engagement are out there in the fields?”
He peered down the bridge of his crooked nose, probably broken at some point in his life, and advanced on legs like tree trunks until he stood towering over me. The breath coming from his nostrils ruffled my hair.
Not about to let his size intimidate me, I said, “I suggest you go and fetch him and tell him the matters I have come about can’t wait. They will be very concerning to him.”
“Very well, I will speak to him.” His breath, redolent of onions, roiled my stomach. But I stood, gawking with befuddlement. It was believed impossible for giants to live in harmony with humans, let alone manage a household. “You will wait in the parlor. Filibert?” he said over his shoulder.
Behind him, the flowers in the flowerbed swayed, and dirt flew in the air and collected with speed on the cobblestone drive. “What do you want now, Ingo?” a crackling voice snapped.
I leaned to the left to look past the steward at the dirt pile, beside which a pint-size gnarled man with a hunched back and a plaited white beard now stood. I took a second glance. Well, I’ll be! A Barbegazi living amongst humans.
�
�See to it our guest is made comfortable in the parlor while I go and inform Lord Winslow of his arrival,” the steward said before marching off with surprising grace.
I turned my gaze back at the thump of heavy footsteps to find the gnome squinting up at me. “Filibert?” I asked.
He puffed out his chest. “That’s right. I’m the personal treasure keeper of the House of Winslow.”
“His lordship keeps his treasures underground?”
He scowled, and his lip curled up in one corner. “Why you asking?”
I lifted my hands in peace. “You divulged, and I inquired.”
He snorted and elevated a brow. All the while, I saw the gears turning in his head, as if he wondered if he’d said too much.
I cocked my head and studied him.
“What,” he said. “Ain’t you ever seen a gnome before?”
“Yes, but in the mountains, where they guard their own secret treasures. Any gnomes I’ve run across aren’t too fond of socializing, and they certainly aren’t footmen in humans’ homes.”
“I don’t live with humans. I keep to my underground tunnels. But when Ingo calls, I assist.” He turned and marched toward the stairs and heaved his feet up them. “We sort of took to looking out for each other since the master brought us here.”
Master? “Lord Winslow is your master?”
He turned and glowered at me as he reached the landing. “No more questions.” He stretched on tiptoe to reach the doorknob.
Inside, the fluttering of wings greeted us, and I spotted a fiery-haired fairy perched on the back of a pigeon, coming at us. “Greetings,” the fairy said, pulling back on the leather reins.
“Bring something for our guest to quench his thirst,” Filibert said before continuing down the corridor.
I inclined my head at the fairy and followed after him.
In a room stranger than any parlor I’d ever stood in before, Filibert gestured for me to take a seat on an embroidered armchair. After he left, I rose and examined the room embellished with treasures superior to any I’d witnessed on my crusades. Items one would have to dicker with thieves in back alleys or venture into lands not intended for humans to obtain. A glass dome caged a creature with hundreds of jagged teeth and oversized watering, eyes that pleaded with me to release him.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
I turned as the fairy approached on the pigeon. A glass of water hovered in midair and moved toward me. As the glass drew near, I reached out and gripped it, holding it to inspect the magical enchantment.
“Are all of Lord Winslow’s servants magical creatures?” I asked before bringing the glass to my lips and gulping back its contents. Fire raced down my throat, and I frowned and held out the glass to inspect it as the taste of brandy warmed my belly.
Her musical laughter danced about the room. “Most guests require a stiff drink to endure time spent at his lordship’s home.” She winked. “His appetite for collecting is quite extraordinary. But to answer your question, no, not all of us are marvelous beings that some humans seek to possess while others run from in terror. His lordship does employ a few predictable humans.”
I turned back to the dome. “And you don’t mind that he keeps your kind caged?”
She hovered beside me. Her delicate fingers traced the dome. “That is a Kjøtt eater. They inhabit the tree canopies in the Weeping Forest in Norway. The slice of his tongue will sever your flesh and inject deadly poison that will infect your blood first, then as it moves through your body, devour your muscles and then your organs, leaving your brain for last. They are a threat to all living things. Above all, they crave fairy blood and have an appetite that is never satisfied. So, to answer your question, no. I care not what my master does with his kind.”
“Are you a slave in this household?” I gave her a sideways glance.
Her face softened, and a small smile touched her ruby red lips. “I stay of my own free will. Most all do.” She eyed the creature trapped in the glass. “Lord Winslow found me wounded and nursed me back to health. Brought me back here because I had nowhere else to go.” Her fingers tightened on the dome, and it shook under her grip. I heard a cracking sound, and a hairline fracture appeared in the glass. “The Kjøtts invaded our homes and slaughtered us, and the few of my kind that remained fled to other regions.”
“Peony!” A voice reverberated behind us. The fairy veered her mount backward and hung her head, not out of fear, but out of reverence. A dark-haired sweaty fellow with mutton chops strode forward and covered the dome with a larger one.
“I’m sorry, my lord. But I hate the sight of the little demon,” she said with downcast eyes.
“I understand. But his kind is also becoming extinct. If we go around killing off each other, there will be none of us left.”
“I disagree, my lord. The strong will always defeat the powerless.” And with that, her mount flew out of the room, leaving an undeniable scent of peonies in her departure.
The man I assumed to be Lord Winslow stood staring after her with his hands resting on his hips. After a moment, he turned to me, and his hooded gaze disappeared, and curiosity took its place. “I heard you bring news of my estate in Schläfrigz.”
“I do. I’m Nisse Strasser.” I held out a hand, which he shook cautiously.
“Tell me, Nisse Strasser; what is this news you traveled so far to bring?”
My heart pounded. “Are you indeed Lord Brett Winslow?”
“I am.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, how long has it been since you were in Schläfrigz?” I asked.
His brow furrowed. “Close to ten years, I would guess. Why do you ask?”
My throat tightened. If the man that stood before me was Lord Winslow, then who was the man Valentina had spoken of? Panic seized my chest. “A woman has gone missing. The last time I saw her, she informed me she had taken on a job as a maid and governess at your estate.”
The wrinkles in his brow deepened. “That’s quite impossible, as I mentioned.”
“I gathered as much, because when I visited the estate it was in disrepair. It was as though you had abandoned it without a thought for its maintenance during your absence.” I raked my fingers through my hair. What had happened to her?
Lord Winslow lowered himself down into the armchair I’d occupied moments ago and gestured for me to take a seat on the settee. “Missing, you say?”
I sat down. “Before she went missing, it was her brother, and some years before that, her parents vanished.”
“Strange indeed.” He steepled his fingers at his nose, his dark blue eyes probing me.
“You may know of them. The Fürsts?”
“Yes, of course. The Fürst family were my neighbors. I caught Timo in my house, trying to steal my best silver. Slimy bastard. He had a boy with him that I learned later was his son. Felt kind of sorry for the lad to have been fathered by Timo, until I peered into the boy’s eyes.”
“Why?” I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees.
“His eyes were like looking into a demon’s eyes. Empty and unnerving.” He shivered at the memory. “I’ve seen my share of demons and creatures, but something about that boy stuck with me.”
“There is a beast the dwarves call the Seelenfresser that has come to our canton. A hunter once made claims he’d seen the beast. Some believe it is the reason the animals have been disappearing. The creature’s victims are becoming numerous, and my vater was one of them.” I choked back the emotions that admission conjured. “The people of Schläfrigz are not skilled enough to take on the creatures that exist outside our borders. Most choose to dismiss tales their sons bring home from their crusades and those of travelers as stories made up to entertain children.”
“Did you say the Seelenfresser?” He had blanched.
“You know of it?”
He wetted his lips then stood, strode to the stand, poured a glass of whiskey, and swallowed the amber liquid before following it with another. He
set down the glass and stood with his hands on either side of the tray, his head bowed. “May the gods help us all,” he said. “He succeeded.” A guttural groan rumbled from him.
“Who?” I stood. Fear enveloped me like it had the day I’d gripped a mountain ledge to pull myself over and saw my reflection in the iris of a dragon.
“King Gian of the miner dwarves.” He turned, and I saw the fear in his eyes. He knew something. Something grave.
“What is it? You must tell me.” I strode forward and gripped his arm. “My village may lay slaughtered and the woman I-I love…” My voice cracked. I couldn’t speak the words.
“Sit, and I will give you the answers you seek.” He returned to his seat. After I sat down, he continued. “When King Gian learned of my travels and adventures into forbidden lands, he and his entourage paid me a visit. It was during our evening meal. My wife, Risette, was heavy with child. At first he thought he’d persuade me with mediocre artifacts and treasures, but when I declined, his ego convinced him that it was because his offering wasn’t substantial enough for a man who possessed so much. He threatened me with the life of our unborn child. Said he’d use his black magic to ensure the babe never drew breath. Afraid, Risette begged me to go in search of the power he sought.”
“What power?”
“The Vormacht. It is a power he thought, when combined with the Zwilling, would surpass all magic,” he said.
“Did you go?”
“I didn’t. I could not leave my wife in her condition, and I didn’t believe he would do what he threatened because he needed me. My pride got in the way, and because of it, after our child was born, he played with my wife’s mind. She envisioned a rat scurrying in the bassinet with the babe. She…” Tears welled in his eyes. “She threw our child over the balcony, thinking he was the rat she was disposing of.” Sobs convulsed his body, and he buried his face in his hands.
Nausea gripped my gut. I sat quietly until he collected himself. “I’m sorry for your loss,” I said, my own grief surging in my chest.
The Maid of Chateau Winslow Page 18