She glared at it.
Now it could not be possible for a band of cloth to signify chagrin, but somehow she got that impression from it. It moved toward the door, and she followed, closely.
The unseen servant led her as far as the library, and then their path diverged. This was a much less welcoming part of the Manor; she passed many closed doors, plain and heavily built, before they descended a stair into a chilly cellar. More closed doors, though one was ajar, giving her a glimpse into a wine cellar, until finally, the servant brought her to a very forbidding part of the establishment indeed. And there she found her host, minutely examining a door that was at least half a foot thick, reinforced with iron straps, with a formidable lock.
“What on earth are you doing, Duke Sebastian?” she asked, more than a little irritated that he was down here mucking about with a lock when he should have been doing something about her predicament.
He jumped and yelped. She was immediately sorry.
“Oh, I do apologize, I had no idea that you didn’t know I was here,” she said. “I had come looking for you to determine if you knew anything more than you did when we last spoke.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “Well, I know that whatever happened to me last night, I didn’t break out of this cell. All I can think is that somehow the door failed to lock. I don’t know, perhaps it jammed. I’ll make certain it is secure tonight. I have contacted Godmother Elena, or rather, I have sent her a message, so if she doesn’t already know by her own methods about what has happened to you, she will soon know from me. I have also arranged for Granny to come here.” He smiled wanly. “That was fairly simple. I just rode out to the cottage and asked her to come.”
Bella had to throttle down her indignation. What? He could come and go as he pleased, but she was a virtual prisoner here?
But good sense completed the throttling. He had no reason to trust that she wouldn’t run off — after all, hadn’t she actually been contemplating just that? — so of course she was a virtual prisoner, at least for now.
“I thought horses couldn’t abide werewolves,” she replied, watching as he carefully oiled the lock mechanism.
“Mine are fine with me as long as I’m not hairy,” he replied absently. “I really don’t know if that has something to do with me, or is another sign that I’m not the usual sort of werewolf. I would have asked you to come along, but you were asleep, and I didn’t know if you could ride.”
She bit her lip. “Not…very well,” she admitted. “I mean, I can ride a hired horse that has to be goaded into anything faster than a walk, but…”
“Ah.” He contemplated her for a long moment. “I don’t think I actually have anything you would feel safe in riding. All my horses are…well…spirited. And large. Hunters, actually. They — erm — like to jump.”
She swallowed. The one time she had been on a horse that had jumped over anything, she had nearly felt her heart stop. She considered herself to be brave, but to be nearly the height of a man above the ground, on something that was moving, that then attempted to fly through the air — well, it had been unexpected and rather unwelcome. “Perhaps…not,” she said.
“If you end up remaining here for a while, I can see about getting a mule?” he offered.
“I hope I won’t, but that might be an option.” A mule, now, that would be better. She liked mules, although Genevieve would have been horrified at the idea of riding something so plebeian. Mules were quiet and sensible, and although you couldn’t get one to move very quickly, they were also a great deal more comfortable to ride than horses.
“Well, Granny said she will come in the next few days.” He smiled. “At least she will be company for you. Who knows? She might have some good ideas.” He looked as if he might say more, but she saw his sleeve moving vigorously, as if something was tugging on it. “And I beg your pardon, but sunset is drawing near, and I would really rather be certain that I was locked up securely. Follow your servant — that was a good idea with the armbands, by the way. Your servant will either take you to the dining room, or your own rooms, and bring you dinner there, if you like.”
Involuntarily, the memory of that horrible beast trying to dig her out of her flimsy shelter last night swept across her, and she shivered. Charming as Duke Sebastian might be, she had no desire to encounter the wolf again. Ever. She had the feeling she wouldn’t be so lucky a second time.
“Good evening, then,” she said, and turned to follow the floating scarf out into the cellars. Just as she reached the staircase, she heard the cell door slamming firmly, followed by a heavy rattling as Duke Sebastian tested it.
She hesitated at the top of the stairs. The dining room was impressive but…it would be odd and lonely to sit by herself at that enormous table. “I would like dinner brought to my rooms, please,” she told the invisible servant, which turned back toward the direction from which they had come.
She had a very good memory for direction, evidently. Where such a thing had come from, she had no idea, but she found she didn’t really have to follow the floating armband; she was picking out her way without its help. But when they got to her rooms — and she was resolved to try the other doors on that corridor, just to see what was in those rooms! — she was quite glad that she had left Duke Sebastian when she had. It must have been much, much later than she had thought, because the light coming in through the windows had a distinctly golden- orange tint.
She turned toward the armband. “I would like to go to the kitchen, please.”
The armband went absolutely still, as if with shock.
She tapped her good foot impatiently. “I am accustomed to running a household,” she told it. “I write the menus. How can I know what to order for dinner unless I see what is in the pantries?”
