Chapter 6 - A Game of Shadows
Before Clara could pull away, the kitchen bell chimed violently—three sharp rings indicating an urgent summons to the master bedroom. Morrison scoffed, stepping back with a dark chuckle, gesturing for her to answer it.
Clara wiped her hands on her apron, heart hammering against her ribs, and ascended the back servants' staircase. She slipped into Julian's dimly lit chamber. The air was thick with the scent of camphor and medicinal herbs, masking the reality that the man lying beneath the embroidered silk duvet was fully awake, armed, and waiting.
Julian sat upright the moment the heavy door latched, setting aside a small leather ledger. His pale linen shirt was open at the collar, highlighting the dark stubble shadowing his sharp jaw.
""Morrison knows,"" Clara blurted out quietly. ""He told me Genevieve is taking control of the estate tonight. He knew Julian Vance wasn't supposed to survive the day.""
Julian’s eyes narrowed into slits of obsidian. ""Then the trap is sprung earlier than anticipated. Richard arrived twenty minutes ago with a fabricated will, signed purportedly by my hand.""
Clara walked toward the bedside, noting the loaded revolver resting on the nightstand beside a vial of clear liquid. ""Why didn't you confront them openly downstairs?""
""Because in high society, treason requires absolute confession,"" Julian murmured, extending a hand to her. ""Come here, Clara.""
May you like
She hesitated, then stepped forward. Julian reached out, his warm fingers lightly touching the silver locket hidden beneath her apron collar—Marcus’s locket.
""They won't just kill me, Clara,"" he whispered softly, looking into her eyes. ""They know who you are. And they have someone waiting outside your door tonight.""
