Severine tilted her head. “Anubis and the girls love me, and I them.”
“Dogs and nuns,” Lisette snapped. “Hardly a family.”
Severine smiled easily. “Feels rather pathetic, doesn’t it? Don’t feel sorry for me. I don’t. I have been loved deeply. I’m quite wealthy. Intelligent enough. All shall be well.”
Lisette groaned. “Do you see what I’m dealing with? It’s like she doesn’t care.”
“I do care,” Severine said mildly. “I’m just not afraid.”
“Don’t you fear death?” Mr. Thorne asked her with a surprising understanding.
“I suppose not.”
“Why?” Lisette demanded. “Why aren’t you afraid?”
Instead of answering Lisette, Severine turned on Mr. Thorne and Mr. Oliver. “Grayson, isn’t it?”
Mr. Thorne nodded.
“And you?”
Mr. Oliver snorted. “Osiris.”
“Oh,” Severine winced. “That’s worse than mine.”
“Indeed. Oliver is fine.”
“If we’re going to face murderers and killers, I do think we should be friends, shouldn’t we? Severine is my name. I don’t mind Sev, but I despise Sevie.”
“So, we’re all friends here,” Grayson agreed. “Maybe you can tell your friends why aren’t you afraid?”
Severine rubbed the back of her neck, appreciating the lack of pain. “I suppose I’m not afraid because I don’t have anything to fear. I have no great sin behind me. I believe in the next life, and I have been loved in this life. I have much to be grateful for. Dying now would hardly be a great tragedy.”
Lisette’s mouth dropped open and she stared. “You’re mad, I think.”
Severine laughed. “Not mad.”
“You could go to Paris or anywhere but here. You could get out of this house and then out of this country.”
“But then I would have something to fear.”
“What?” Grayson Thorne asked.
“The regrets I’d carry with me. I feel compelled to find the person who killed my parents. Regardless, the concerns of my heart for the next life are no concern at the moment. I cannot leave, so I must find the person who wishes to hurt me.”
“What is to be gained with your death?”
“All the money is wrapped up in me,” Severine answered. “The question isn’t who benefits from my death, but who doesn’t?”
Chapter Twelve
Severine unlocked her father’s office with Grayson Thorne, Anubis, and the girls at her side. Oliver had gone to find Florette, worried for the other damsel while Lisette had gone for Mr. Brand. Severine walked into the room with a dust cloth in her hand. The furniture had been covered, even the shelves, but the room needed to be cleaned. She’d have to be present when that happened, but for now—she was hoping that she could find what she thought might be there still.
Severine pulled the first cover off the desk and then the second from the chair behind the desk. She threw back the curtains to let in a murky light as the windows needed to be scrubbed. While she dusted the window to remove the first layer of grime, Mr. Thorne replaced the lightbulbs and pulled off the rest of the covers. He grinned over at her and said, “Let there be light.”
As the sunlight and the electric light filled her father’s office, she blinked in surprise—at herself. There she was in portrait. Little Severine holding a book and standing next to that globe in the corner.
“You were a sweet child,” Grayson said. “Your father must have loved you very much to hang your portrait in here.”
“My mother told me I was a ghost, haunting and disturbing wherever I went. You may well be reading too much into that portrait.”
Grayson started at her words and his eyes filled with a bit of pain for her. “Why?”
“She wanted a child to be another version of her. Pretty and flighty and joyful. A little fairy creature full of light and laughter.” Severine laughed as her fingers traced her father’s desk. She could almost see him there, behind that desk. See him there and watch him work. “Or a son.”
“Of course,” he said. “Your father must have wanted a son.”
Severine rubbed her fingers together and then sat where her father once sat. “Yes, I think so. But perhaps, he was less disappointed than Mother. I am more like him, I think, than my mother, and he had known a daughter was a possibility. Perhaps he got over me not being a son and was far less bothered that I wasn’t a duplicate of Mother.”
“He must have been brave,” Grayson said. “If he was like you—”
“Must he have been? Or are you flattering me?” Severine leaned back in her father’s seat, dispelling the strong memory of him. “Perhaps foolhardy is the better word for both of us. Or too proud to turn back.”
Grayson huffed a laugh and Severine had to wonder if it was just chivalry that had him accompanying her or if he wanted something. “What happened to your parents?” he asked. “Your grandmother never said.”
“Father bought this house.” Severine sighed. “He invited everyone he knew.”
“It’s a place a lord would be proud to own. I can understand why he’d invite everyone.”
“It’s a mess of architecture gone mad. It’s a place bought with blood money, conniving and theft,” she countered. “My father was not a good man.”
“How do you know? Perhaps the tales you were told were lies.”
“They weren’t tales,” Severine countered.
It was only in that moment that she realized how desperately she had loved her father, the only person to have shown her scraps of love. She had loved him, and he had left her. And this mess. She wiped a tear away and a rush of rage followed after. She loved him, yes, but she had also been desperately ashamed of him.
“They weren’t tales?” Grayson asked. “How did you know?”
Severine laughed, a bitter sad sound. “I was the silent waif. I heard too much.”
“Perhaps you were wrong,” he said gently. “Children don’t always understand.”
“Perhaps at times,” Severine agreed, “but I am certain that I am not wrong. It is why
