“Leopold, please. I insist.”
He seemed to bristle at the use of his title. Nodding, she said, “Leopold, then. Unfortunately, I cannot return with the book. It’s simply that I’m needed here.”
His face remained impassive as he gazed at her. “May I speak freely, Bella?”
It looked as though he had something on his mind. She nodded, a sick feeling creeping through her.
“I was sorry to hear about your father’s ships,” he began.
She cringed, wishing she’d kept that to herself. Fear sprinkled through her. “Go on.”
“You said he was a merchant. I know what happens to a merchant without his ships. I know it could lead to the total collapse of his business.”
She clenched her jaw. “Yes.” The word came out in a hiss of ice. She said nothing more and allowed him to draw his own conclusions about the situation she was in.
“I can offer you double the amount we agreed upon if you will return tomorrow to translate the rest of the book.”
He was serious. She gaped at him, uncertain how to respond. Certainly, she needed the coin to make sure the household didn’t fall into ruin while her father was dealing with his troubles. But could she really leave the manor to spend her days in his library with enchanted candlesticks and books that spoke and sang?
But that wasn’t the only thing that bothered her. In his offer, she sensed a hint of desperation. He’d told her he was cursed. Perhaps that was why she was desperate to keep her distance from him. He hadn’t elaborated about the curse, and she hadn’t asked. All she knew was he’d been searching for a book. A book that could break the curse? She assumed that’s what he meant. That book was unreadable by anyone—except her.
“Is that not enough?” he asked when she didn’t respond. “I can triple it.”
“Oh,” she gasped. “That’s far too much.”
“Then double it is.” He grinned, his face lighting with joy and perhaps a touch of smugness. He got to his feet. “You’ll return tomorrow morning with the book?”
Before she realized what she was doing, she nodded. “Yes.”
“Wonderful. I’ll tell Dickens to expect your arrival. I’ll see myself out.” He bowed low. “Until then, my lady.”
He left her standing there in the parlor, stunned to the soles of her slippers. When she finally shook out of her numbness, she hurried after him to see him off. But he was already out the door, his ornate carriage rattling down the gravel drive.
She paused there a moment, soaking in the late morning sunlight, when she noticed something odd. The brambles, the overgrown vines, the wild foliage was gone from the front of the manor. The exterior looked as though it was recently painted in a muted green. The abandoned fountain was back in working order, the water bubbling through the decorated stone structure. Sucking in a sharp breath, she picked up her skirt and hurried around the side of the manor to the back.
She halted at the end of the footpath where, yesterday, she left a mess of thorny cuttings. It was cleared away as though they had never existed. The sweet scent of pink, yellow, and white roses filled the springtime air.
The rose garden, which thrived for years when she was a child, was restored to its former beauty. And so was the manor.
The carriage ride back to the castle was silent. Dickens said nothing but Leopold was acutely aware of what he’d done. He wasn’t sure how to chastise him for doing something so kind and thoughtful.
When they arrived, Leopold remarked at the sorry state the manor and grounds were in. But he knew, due to Enzo Rinaldi’s current troubles, there was no way for Bella to afford a gardener or anything else. Even when he intended to broach the subject with her and offer help, her reaction was one that said she was too proud to accept it.
Her face had fallen into misery when he mentioned the ships. He hadn’t the heart to mention her father, the inquiry, or the fact he remained in a port jailhouse awaiting a trial with the magistrate.
“You wish to scold me, my prince?” he asked, almost as though reading his thoughts.
Leopold was aware his stiff demeanor indicated his internal thoughts. He and Dickens were together for a long time and, by now, he was able to read him without much effort. He expelled a deep sigh.
“How can I, Dickens?”
“My apologies, my prince. I thought it was the right thing to do, given the state of the manor and grounds.”
“We could have sent a gardener and a painter,” he suggested.
“I have my doubts the lady would have accepted such an offer,” Dickens retorted, though it was not meant to be unkind.
He was likely right. She was headstrong and wanted to do things her way. She wanted to find a way to support her household without having to resort to handouts or returning favors. Hence the reason he offered to double her pay for the translation.
