Garden of Shadows

Cádiz

1

Chapter One

I tapped the driver on the shoulder. "Señor, deténgase aquí, por favor. He nodded in acknowledgment, steering the horses from the flow of traffic. To Matias, I added, This is Hugh’s address."

After months at sea, Cádiz was a feast for the eyes, an appealing contrast of stark buildings against turquoise seas, rust-colored lanes, and azure skies. Throngs of people and horses clogged the streets. My previous visits to Cádiz had been brief resupply stops; we’d rarely ventured further than the docks. After months on a ship, my brain was dizzy from the colors and sounds.

We wobbled to a halt at a buff-colored multistory house with a watchtower perched on top.

It took me a moment to gain equilibrium after descending from the cart. An ornate knocker in the shape of an owl sat at the center of Hugh’s door, its whimsical expression daring me to knock. I tapped the ring, and it reverberated on the wooden surface. Nine o’clock in the morning was an unfashionable hour for visiting by London standards, but Hugh wouldn’t want us to wait.

The butler who opened the door was pocket-sized, but his disdain was enough for two men. I attempted to disarm him with a winsome smile. "Buenos días. Me llamo Lady Wren. Soy pariente de Lord Holloway. ¿Está disponible?"

He scowled and replied in accented English, Lord Holloway does not wish to be disturbed. Return later.

He’ll forgive me, I reassured the man.

I’m sorry, señora, but—

My impatience to see Hugh wouldn’t tolerate a delay for formalities. As he continued to ramble, I leaned around him, pushing through the door into the vast entryway. Hugh! Arise, you lazy man! I know you’re here.

The butler remained on the threshold, speechless at my audacity.

Matias came around him, apologizing under his breath.

A barrage of footsteps followed the slam of a door down the hall. Hugh emerged, wrapped in his dressing gown, with a piece of toast between his fingers. Linnea! You arrived early! He tossed the toast aside, spreading his arms in welcome. Let’s get a look at you.

Decorum abandoned at the door; I pelted across the entryway.

His familiar bergamot scent filled my lungs, easing every muscle in my body. He was slimmer, his chestnut hair threaded with more silver. There was a lightness to his being—his facial muscles were relaxed, his movements loose. He, likewise, perused me from head to toe.

The Cormorant did not have any mirrors, but I assumed Matias would have intervened if I’d appeared untidy. I was about to say as much when another man entered the hall.

He was a few inches shorter than Hugh and at least ten years younger. He had broad shoulders and a narrow waist, and dark gray breeches hugged his muscular thighs. He also wore a dressing gown. And he was barefoot.

Was he . . . ? Had Hugh . . . ?

Hugh flushed as my astonished expression shifted from the man back to him. His mouth was agape, absent of sound.

As Hugh composed himself, the man spoke, hand outstretched. You must be Linnea—er, Lady Wren. I am Antonio Navarro. I have been looking forward to meeting you. His handshake was firm, his chocolate-brown eyes lambent with intelligence.

Hugh cleared his throat as el señor Navarro released my hand. Antonio is an inquiry agent recommended by, er, acquaintances. To help find Felicity Ward. The men exchanged a meaningful glance. And he is my . . . friend.

My concerted effort to mask my amusement at his awkwardness made the corners of my mouth dance. El señor Navarro hid a grin behind his palm. Hugh glowered at us, which unleashed my suppressed laughter. It echoed off the walls of the hallway.

Embarrassed by my outburst, I tried to shift the topic of conversation. It’s lovely to meet you. Hugh, may we stay with you? Our hired driver is waiting to unload the cart.

We? Hugh peered over my shoulder, acknowledge Matias. Ah, Mr. Ward, I didn’t recognize you. Welcome. 

Matias approached our trio with a quizzical look in my direction as he accepted Hugh’s handshake. I’d written Hugh from Valparaíso but neglected to mention that my relationship with Matias had become more than professional. Confessing such a monumental development in a letter hadn’t seemed right, so I’d delayed. And here we were.

A sheepish grimace communicated what I couldn’t say aloud.

Hugh’s glacial-blue gaze promised a later discussion of this turn of events. With a nod, he addressed the butler: Alberto, please have their trunks delivered to the green room at the rear of the house.

The butler, satisfied by Hugh’s acceptance of us, called for the footman. In a whirl of fabric, Hugh turned with a beckoning wave, el señor Navarro on his heels.

Matias bent to my ear and whispered, You didn’t tell him about us? 

There wasn’t time. He knew that I—we—no, I didn’t tell him.

Matias pivoted toward the front door. Perhaps I should find somewhere else to stay. I don’t want this to be awkward. Or do you think he expects me to have proposed?

Clasping his hand to stop him from fleeing, I interrupted, All is well. And I don’t want or expect a proposal. Hugh won’t judge us, obviously.

He tilted his head toward the two men. Yes, another thing you kept secret.

I kissed his stubbled cheek, towing him toward the breakfast room. There had better be coffee . . . a lot of coffee.

A giant plush bed dominated our bedchamber, beckoning as a siren song. When I was two steps from the bed, overwhelming fatigue conquered me.

More than three months had passed since we’d departed Chile—half a year since our violent confrontation with Matias’s half brother, Lucien—yet I still had nightmares frequently. They’d been impossible to hide while sharing a berth with Matias on the Cormorant. Hidden away from the rest of the crew, we would whisper into the night, sharing stories of our lives until exhaustion claimed us. Our waking hours had been suspended in a comfortable bubble, but in my dreams, I’d revisited the blood, violence, and my fears of losing Matias.

Now, I didn’t sit so much as collapse onto the coverlet.

Are you well? You were on deck early this morning.

Well enough. I was anxious to see Hugh. At least they found Mrs. Ward.

Lucien, Matias’s half brother, had confessed that his mother, Felicity Ward, had been the mastermind behind the murders we had attempted to solve on the Cormorant and Chiloé Island. Her ultimate plan had been for Lucien to murder Matias and enable her to receive his inheritance. Hugh had followed Felicity from England to Spain, hoping to delay her long enough for our arrival.

Over breakfast, Hugh and el señor Navarro had informed us that she had attempted to flee Spain when she’d learned Hugh was in Cádiz. She’d had one foot on the gangplank when el señor Navarro confronted her. She was in custody, but Matias would have to give evidence to the British consulate before she would be deported to England.

Matias reclined on his elbows next to me on the bed. There’s no guarantee she’ll be charged. If we hadn’t arrived, there would have been even less of a chance.

Captain Hastings is sailing on the evening tide. Should I send him a message and ask him to delay? Would you prefer that we return to England when she does?

Matias’s exhale was exasperated. Who knows how long it will take to deal with her? No need to involve Hastings and the crew. But I can stay alone to attend to Felicity if you want to go.

I hadn’t even considered leaving without him.

No, we’ll endure this together. Unless you want me to go.

I refused to say what else was on my mind.

Matias flopped onto his back, the mattress dipping beneath us. His lack of response hung between us. Instead, he brushed his fingers along the inside of my wrist. The contrast of his callouses against my softer skin sent a shiver up my spine.

The casual affection between us was mesmerizing in its unfamiliarity. Matias was a physical being, always administering kisses and gentle caresses. I was surprised to find it reassuring rather than smothering.

So, Lord Martin prefers the company of men? Or is it not exclusively men? Were you aware of his inclinations?

I supposed we were finished with the other topic.

I tugged at my bootlaces and kicked my boots to the floor. Wiggling my unrestrained toes was bliss. Of course I was aware. He and my Uncle Liam were together. But Hugh’s love life is personal. I would never gossip about him. And in England, it can be a death sentence.

Matias ran a fingertip along my spine. You know I would keep his secret.

It wasn’t my mine to tell. It had nothing to do with you being trustworthy. Until now, I wasn’t sure whether Hugh had had another relationship since Liam. If he has, he’s been very, very discreet.

Are you concerned about el señor Navarro? Fortunately, Matias sounded curious, not disgruntled.

I took in the room’s decoration while I pondered my reply. The furniture was minimal but well maintained. And modern. Not a family home, then. Not at first glance. Hugh is happier. That’s enough for me.

He does seem content.

Content. I snorted. "That’s tepid. Are you content?"

He captured my stockinged foot, tickling the arch until I thrashed on the bed.

When we both recovered our breath, he sat up. We should get up. It’s not even one in the afternoon.

I groaned, draping my arm over my face. Do you want to get your interview with Felicity Ward over with today?

He meandered across the room to open the balcony doors and let in the street noise. No, I need to be in the right state of mind. I want to approach her with a logical strategy.

I forced myself to leave the bed, snaking my arms around his waist and resting my head against his back. What are we going to do after Felicity departs? Do we find a ship to England right away, or do we stay awhile? What would you prefer?

We could stay for a bit. A naturalist I assisted lives in Cádiz. I wouldn’t mind meeting with el señor Fernández. He studies wolves in the Sierra Morena. And it would give you and Lord Martin time together as well.

I nodded, rubbing my forehead across his silk waistcoat. I’ll let Hugh know while you unpack. I squeezed his waist before leaving the room.

2

Chapter Two

We strolled shoulder to shoulder along the Avenida Campo del Sur, toward the Plaza de la Catedral. The road was too narrow for privacy. Strangers pressed against each other practically cheek to jowl, vying for their fraction of space.

We turned into an expansive plaza. Palms ringed the vast square, and the rich, buttery color of the cathedral reflected the intense midday sun. Hugh inclined his head toward the benches scattered along the outskirts.

Being together is a gift, Hugh said when we were seated. Matias had stayed behind to unpack, send a letter to el señor Fernández, and decide what to do about Felicity Ward. Let’s begin with you.

My fingers clenched with nerves. In my letters from Chiloé, I had glossed over our situation. Hugh had gone to a great deal of effort to secure funding for our expedition to Chile, but the fact that a murder investigation and romantic entanglement had thwarted my research aims was not something we could share with our supporters. Their dissatisfaction would affect future endeavors, not to mention both of our reputations.

Two children ran from one side of the square to the other, a welcome distraction that gave me the courage to speak.

 You know about Lucien Ward’s capture, and what we uncovered about Felicity Ward’s plans. Matias handed Lucien over to the British consulate in Ancud. They were unsure if he would be transported to England or the Antipodes. Your letter arrived a few days before our departure, so we altered the schedule to dock in Cádiz. Fussing with the folds of my skirt, I hesitated over my next words. Chiloé was . . . fascinating. There was so much to explore, but my plant surveys didn’t uncover any rare specimens. I want to write about the contrasts of the different areas—the coast versus the forest. On the Chepu River, I camped in an isolated cypress grove for several weeks. It should be an interesting monograph subject, a comparison of the current plant distribution and discussion of how the impact of grazing on the island may result in one type becoming dominant.

He spread his palms on his thighs, his brow furrowed. My heart plummeted. Was this confirmation of his disappointment?

Hugh . . . if you are displeased with my efforts . . .

He released his arms and rested a hand on my shoulder. I’m not. Your observations sound compelling. There are few studies that have elucidated such comparisons. However, it doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me about Matias.

My eyes traced the steep sides of the cathedral upward to the crenellated, Moorish decorations on the roof. A pool of shame deep within me boiled to the surface. I didn’t succeed with a fraction of my goals. The murder investigation—and Matias—distracted me.

Hugh reached for my hands, prying them apart. "Why are you distressed? You couldn’t ignore the murders. And you and Matias . . . I suspected you would suit. He might be worthy of you."

But I went to Chile to prove my worth as a naturalist, to identify and learn about new plants. I squinted at the hazy sky, trying to maintain control. Not to fall in love.

But love trumps all, my dear. You’ve always been your harshest critic.

I scoffed. I don’t know. Vile rumors about me have circulated for years. My behavior following the shipwreck fueled people’s certainty that I was a drunk at best, and a whore at worst. A downy feather from a dove drifted from the rooftops, shuttling to and fro on the breeze. This will give substance to their gossip. My failures never fade. No one will fund future endeavors when rumors start circulating about my behavior in Chile. Love is insubstantial by comparison.

Hugh twisted to face me on the bench. Do you really believe that? Are you that jaded? 

Perhaps I did, and perhaps I was. A woman’s value was proved through marriage and childbirth, whereas a woman like me—a woman who refused those shackles—lived under a constant cloud of judgment. I was satisfied with that path, but I didn’t want to see Hugh or Matias affected by it. As soon as word of my failures reached England, opportunities would vanish. There was a possibility that I wouldn’t even be able to return to my position at the Chelsea Physic Garden.

Hugh shook his head at my lack of response. I understand your concerns, but other people have experienced less-than-ideal collection trips. Some lose their specimens, or contract tropical diseases. Everyone knows this is part of the risk with our work.

You know the standard is different for a woman.

And what about love? Isn’t Matias’s love worth the risk?

A wash of heat engulfed my cheeks. We hadn’t determined how we would move forward with our relationship; traveling aboard the Cormorant had kept reality at bay. Could our relationship stand up to the challenges that were sure to come? I had my doubts, and I suspected Matias did as well.

I know how difficult it is to balance your career with those you love. Hugh had not lost his uncanny ability to discern my thoughts. His tone turned sharp. But my situation with Liam was even more complicated. We could never reveal our relationship, never share it with anyone but trusted friends. When we were alone, we could ignore the judgment of society and the threats to our safety, but our relationship was conducted in the shadows. Do you understand? We lived with the persistent fear of being exposed. On the other hand, we did not have to deal with the complications of everyday life. We rarely had reason to be annoyed with each other. When we were together, it was as if the rest of our lives was suspended. He gripped the edge of the bench. You and Matias are free to show your affection. Don’t squander it!

I respected his experience, but our situations were not comparable. As long as we remain unmarried, our relationship will be a source of speculation. It will be used against us. Given the English’s obsession with reputation, there will be consequences. Neither of us has ever balanced work and a relationship.

He left his family in Chiloé to come with you.

Exactly. What if he has regrets and grows resentful? Even speaking those fears aloud turned my stomach. They lived in the deepest, most insecure part of my soul.

Why are those the inevitable outcomes?

My Uncle Liam had loved Hugh—of that, I had no doubt. His loyalty had been fixed; his devotion maintained until he died. And Hugh had felt the same for Liam. How did you tell someone with that experience that at some point in your life, you had decided that you were flawed beyond repair? Damaged in a way that meant a great love story would never be yours? As a logical person, I had accumulated evidence over the years to prove my theory to the point that it now felt indisputable. Matias would eventually see it for himself.

And he would leave.

A tabby crouched low to the cobbles, stalking an oblivious pigeon pecking at the remains of a pastry. The cat wiggled its rump, striped tail undulating. Who would win? Heedless pigeon or the murderous cat?

Hugh’s boot bumped the side of my shoe. A swift change of subject was in order. Can we talk about you?

Me? He pointed at himself. There is nothing to share beyond what you already know. After my tedious lung ailment, I itched for adventure. It took little prompting to follow Felicity Ward to Spain.

And you met el señor Navarro when you arrived?

Hugh’s cheekbones darkened to a charming, rosy hue. Yes, a friend with a home in Cádiz recommended Antonio.

Is the nature of your relationship with him more than—I waggled my eyebrows—professional?

His face resembled a pomegranate. I—I don’t—it’s not appropriate.

I took his hand, wishing to convey support. You deserve to be happy, Hugh.

Hugh glanced around us. We have . . . something. After Liam died . . . Christ, this is embarrassing. Desire and attraction, they perished as well. I didn’t expect to meet someone that made me feel . . . that made me feel, I suppose.

If he has sparked something in you, then it is a good thing. A wonderful thing.

His shy smile glowed with contentment. We are enjoying the moment and trying not to worry about the future.

Could I do the same? Stay present with Matias instead of focusing on what would happen?

How do you acquire a knack for not worrying about the future? Can you teach me?

Hugh rubbed his chin, where a fine dusting of stubble was growing. Maybe it comes easier with age? You have to grow into your vintage. We erupted with laughter, dispelling any remaining tension. You don’t have to have all the answers. Now that you and Matias are staying in Spain for a while, perhaps you can chart a new course.

We found el señor Navarro and Matias in a snug library, deep in discussion in Spanish. Their conversation trailed off when we entered. El señor Navarro grinned at Hugh, a dimple flashing low on his left cheek. Did you have a nice walk?

Hugh settled into a worn leather chair. We did. We walked to the cathedral.

 I joined Matias on the brocade settee. The maid delivered a tray of tea and pastries, then scurried from the room. I allowed the men to serve themselves before leaning in for my cup. Were you and el señor Navarro discussing Felicity?

Matias nodded. I was asking him for advice on how to handle the consulate tomorrow.

El señor Navarro brought Hugh a cup, then took the seat next to him. Once he was settled, I asked, Señor, do you believe it will be enough to secure her an escort to England? It’s our word against hers, with only a few letters, Edmund Ward’s journal, and Lucien’s confession as evidence.

Please, call me Antonio. And we’ve scratched the surface of the situation—Hugh passed along just enough information for us to have her detained. Can you tell us the rest?

Matias and I exchanged a look. I wanted him to be the one to tell this story.

"My half brother confessed that Felicity Ward sent him on the Cormorant to threaten and kill me and anyone who got in his way. She wished to claim my inheritance, which I was unaware of at the time. In his efforts to target me, he killed two men, Tomas and Cristobal. Lucien also attacked Linnea."

Hugh’s teacup tipped, spilling some liquid into the saucer. What? Linnea, you were attacked? You never said!

I cringed. Yet another thing I had failed to share with Hugh. Matias, please continue. 

After we discovered where he was hiding and who he was, we lured him to my cousin’s farm for a confrontation. Linnea stabbed him and he was severely injured, so we were able to confine him to the village gaol.

Hugh again interrupted, You neglected many details, my girl.

Matias cleared his throat. While Lucien was in gaol, he confessed to Felicity’s plan. We decided to hand him over to the British consulate. They took custody of him in Ancud before we received Lord Martin’s letter about Felicity Ward fleeing to Spain.

While Matias was speaking, Antonio had retrieved a notebook. He finished writing, then flipped the pages back. I followed her movements once she arrived. She came to Cádiz about a fortnight before Hugh. She took up residence at the Ilustrísimo Señor Conde de Cádiz’s palace after becoming acquainted with the conde while in London. One assumes they are close friends or lovers. Mrs. Ward has taken advantage of the conde’s acquaintances to garner invitations to gatherings of high-ranking businessmen and lesser royalty that reside in Cádiz. Hugh did not attend any events, but she was alerted to his presence, nonetheless. As you know, I caught her at the docks as the ship was casting off.

Someone warned her? Who else knew? Matias asked.

Antonio closed his notebook with a snap. A rumor of Hugh’s presence alone might have been enough to prompt her escape.

I watched Matias process this information. From the moment we departed Valparaíso, he had been anticipating his confrontation with his stepmother. Our frequent discussions about her had kept our experiences fresh in our minds.

Matias’s hand curled into a tight fist on the settee. The sooner she is on a ship bound for England, the sooner she is out of my life.

3

Chapter Three

Hugh was subdued at dinner, muttering about stabbings under his breath while toying with his butter knife. Antonio rushed him from the table, an arm slung over his shoulder.

After I returned to our bedchamber, I considered finding Hugh to apologize. His health had been precarious while we were in Chile; my evasiveness had been intended to spare him additional distress. Before I found the energy to act, though, I fell into a deep sleep.

And woke to an empty bed in the morning.

Rubbing at my gritty eyes, I entered the breakfast room. Matias sat at the table alone, staring into a half-empty coffee cup. His stiff shoulders relaxed when my fingers sifted through the dark waves of his hair.

Where were you last night? Did you get any sleep?

He tipped his head against my palm. His eyes were the color of conifer needles, accentuated by dark purple circles beneath them. I went for a walk around the city until my mind quieted. The settee in the library was adequate for a short nap.

I slipped into the chair next to him. You were worrying?

You should eat. Matias was trying to distract me.

You are more important. I will eat after.

He poured a cup of coffee. Have some coffee. We know you need it.

I held the cup in one hand, covering his hand with the other. Matias sighed, resting his head on my shoulder.

I allowed myself to hope that once we arrived in Spain, we could close this chapter. Banish Felicity Ward from our lives. With her gone, we could begin to think about the future. He returned upright and tossed his napkin onto his empty plate. "Even if I am successful and she returns to England, it will not be enough—not to lessen the guilt I feel over Cristobal and Tomas’s deaths. If I had never set foot on the Cormorant, on Chiloé, they would be alive. Justice will not bring them back."

Matias’s cousin Maria and her husband, Jaime, and I, had all insisted that Matias was not responsible for Cristobal and Tomas’s deaths, but those were just words. If I could take on that burden for him, I would. Instead, all I could do was listen and continue to reassure him. He would have to forgive himself.

He turned our hands to kiss my knuckles. Will you come with me to the consulate?

Of course I will.

Good morning, Hugh spoke low so we wouldn’t be startled.

Matias dropped my hand like a hot coal. My knuckles struck the wooden surface.

Ouch. I rubbed at the sore spot, then joined Hugh at the sideboard, surprised at Matias’s reaction. Hugh seemed in better spirits, though. At some point, I would need to apologize for my evasiveness.

I filled my plate with toast and delicate slices of jamón. Hugh also made his selections, then followed me to the table.

I added a slice of jamón to some bread and slid it onto Matias’s plate. Hugh watched our interaction with a knowing gleam in his eyes. You’re off to the consulate this morning? he asked.

Matias cut a slice from his toast with care. Yes, I have an appointment at ten o’clock. I have asked Linnea to attend the interview.

Would my presence be of help?

Matias took another bite, mulling over his offer. We had discussed Hugh’s involvement on the journey here. While it might help our case to have an earl present, Matias did not wish for him to become entangled in Felicity’s schemes. Assuming all goes as planned, we should be fine, but the offer is appreciated.

I watched Matias as discreetly as possible while he finished eating. There was a slight tremor in the hand that held his knife. He laid his cutlery on the side of his plate and rose from the table without making eye contact with either of us. I’m going to refresh myself. Linnea, I’ll find you when I’m ready to leave.

We watched him shuffle from the room.

Is he well? Hugh whispered.

As well as he can be, considering his family tried to kill him and he has to confront the instigator of that scheme today. Not to mention the discovery that he has inherited his father’s properties in England, a place he hasn’t lived since he was twelve. And leaving behind his newfound family on Chiloé. He is coping.

At least he has you.

I took a sip of coffee. Would I be enough? These doubts had tormented me prior to committing to this relationship and had only grown stronger as we crossed the ocean from Chile. How long before he regretted what he had given up? We had come to Spain so he could confront Felicity Ward, but where would we go from here? The fact that we had both avoided discussing the issue had to mean that he was as conflicted as I was.

Yes, he has me. My appetite had vanished. I’m going to take a walk in the garden. Enjoy your breakfast.

Hugh’s perceptive stare burned between my shoulders as I exited the room.

Matias met with a group of consulate officials while I squirmed on an uncomfortable chair in the anteroom. The moment I began to fidget, though, they emerged.

We were shown into an ornate parlor to wait for Felicity Ward. The officials assured us they would observe our interaction through a slot cut into a painting and reiterated that we must extract a confession from her within this room. My guess was that they were watching through the painting of an amorous, cross-eyed bull frolicking beneath an oak grove.

I turned from the brooding bovine to observe Matias yanking on his cuffs and smoothing the front of his waistcoat as he paced the room. Are you ready for this?

He strode to the covered window and twitched open the heavy velvet curtain. I’m angry. Staying calm may not be possible.

We need her confession, and then you’ll be free of her.

Will we? If we’re fortunate, there will be a trial, which may prolong her presence in our lives.

As I was about to respond, a familiar shriek came from the corridor. Do you know who I am? Mora will not stand for this. Release me immediately. This is harassment!

We stood side by side as the door flung open and slammed into the flocked walls. Felicity Ward stepped inside, halting on the threshold.

You! she spat. "What are you doing here?"

As she glared at Matias, I examined the woman who had been the mastermind of violence against us. After becoming acquainted with her son, Lucien, the resemblance was uncanny. Her face was pale, lips pursed in disgust.

Felicity, do you remember Lady Wren?

Her poisonous gaze slid sideways. A jolt of anger sizzled through my body when our eyes locked. She hadn’t witnessed the brutality perpetuated by her greed. She wasn’t the one who’d found Tomas and Cristobal, their bodies defiled with slashes, dead in pools of blood.

Meanwhile, we lived with those horrors.

Matias gestured to several chairs gathered around a small marble table. Won’t you join us?

Felicity Ward folded her arms, refusing to move. I have nothing to say to you.

No one is coming—nor will they—unless you speak to us.

I prefer to wait.

But Matias’s icy tone was a warning she should have heeded. Matias removed Edmund Ward’s journal from where he had tucked it alongside a chair cushion. The thunk when it hit the table cracked her facade.

Felicity blanched. Where did you get that?

From your son, of course.

My son! Is he here? Her nervous eyes darted about the room.

He is not.

Lucien would never give you that journal. What have you done to him?

Matias riffled the pages of the book. Felicity, do you love your children?

What a stupid question! Of course I love my children. She seemed irked, not distressed for Lucien.

If you knew one of them was going to die, would you do anything to save them? Matias asked placidly.

Are you threatening my children, you foolish boy? I don’t care who you are, I will scream down this building.

Go ahead. The consulate authorized my presence. I have proof that you conspired to kill me in a scheme that led to the murder of two innocent people and the attempted murder of another. Matias’s eyes flashed with fire. His early nervousness was absent. His manner reenforced my confidence as well.

Felicity glared at him, searching for a crack in his composure. Her forced laugh was tinny. "This is a