Father tore the bottle from my hands. “This isn’t for a lady,” he snapped.
“Good. Then it’s perfect for me.”
Father replaced the stopper and returned the bottle to the bookshelf. “You’re determined to ruin yourself, I see. You think you’re an adult and I haven’t control over you anymore. That is where you’re wrong.”
I bristled as spikes of anger twisted into my gut. He hadn’t seen me since I was ten years old. Hadn’t left me money or a home, just a crippling scandal. He didn’t get to dictate what was right and wrong. He didn’t get to tell me who I should marry.
Montgomery saw the look in my eyes and shook his head slowly, warning me. But I couldn’t go along with the charade like he could. “You think I care what you think,” I told Father. “And that is where you’re wrong.”
I turned before he could respond. My hands were shaking and I didn’t want him to see. Montgomery stood by the door, and suddenly my heartstrings tightened, needing a kind look from him, some reassurance. But Alice touched his arm and whispered something in his ear, and his attention was only on her. I turned my thoughts to the silverware, straightening the already straight knives, trying not to feel stung.
Edward filled the doorway, rubbing his temples. I went to him, not in small part to show Montgomery I had someone else to pay attention to as well. But when I saw the shadows under Edward’s eyes, Montgomery drifted from my mind.
“How’s your head?” I asked softly.
“Do I look that awful?” Edward said.
I smiled. The scar down his face was now only a whisper of pain, reminding me of the first time I saw him, sunburned and beaten by waves and straddling the line between the living and the dead. I didn’t think him handsome at the time, and yet the way he wore the bruises had intrigued me. Not complaining, not vain, but like they were an inescapable part of him.
“Like Death’s waiting around the corner,” I said.
“That sounds about right.” He folded his arms. One of the cuffs had a frayed white thread that stirred a memory. They were the same clothes Montgomery had been wearing when I broke into his room at the Blue Boar Inn. Montgomery had no use for a gentleman’s suit now—he wore loose clothes on the island, clothes you could hunt and ride in.
I touched the thread, and as if seeing the line of my thoughts, Edward pulled it loose. Perhaps he didn’t want my mind turning to Montgomery, but it was too late, because Montgomery was coming over.
“Any luck finding Ajax?” Edward asked.
“No. Balthasar’s still out with the hounds. I’ve had enough of that awful rain.”
Father stared out the window. “The island is in a perpetual deluge this time of year. Trade winds off the Pacific, you know. Easy for a man to hide in weather like this if he knows the jungle.”
Easier still for an animal, I thought.
Cymbeline entered, straining under the weight of a steamer platter. Alice rushed to show him patiently how to cut and serve.
Montgomery ruffled the boy’s hair. “Smells wonderful,” he said to Alice. “You’re as good a teacher as you are a cook.”
Her cheeks turned a deep shade of peach. A pang of jealousy struck me deep inside and I flopped into my chair. The others joined me at the table. Didn’t Montgomery remember last night, during the storm, running his fingers down the bare skin of my back? I did. I could barely think about anything else.
Edward sat across from me, deep in his own thoughts. His hands still bore the scratches from our escape. I wondered if his ribs still hurt him. I absently touched my own, remembering the feel of his hands holding me there behind the waterfall. As if he knew what I was thinking, he looked up and gave me the flicker of a smile. His dark eyes were intense.
I bet he remembered.
“Those clothes suit you well,” I said.
“Montgomery was kind enough to lend them to me.”
“I hardly had use for them,” Montgomery added with a slight grin. At least he and Edward were back to being somewhat civil. “Besides, Edward’s the gentleman, not me.”
“That’s certainly an understatement,” Father said. Outside, a crash of thunder shook the windows. His bitterness killed what little contentment we had. I sat back, throwing my napkin on the table. Ever since Father had found out that Jaguar was alive and Montgomery had lied to him about it, he’d treated Montgomery like a dog. But all Montgomery was guilty of was sparing a creature’s life.
“When, exactly, were you going to tell us about the murders?” I asked Father, my voice tight. “Or did you plan to keep calling them accidents and having Montgomery bury the evidence?”
Father speared a dumpling and didn’t blink at my accusation. “This is my island, Juliet. Not yours. If you’d stayed inside the compound walls as I instructed, there wouldn’t be any murders.”
I nearly choked on my food. “How is this my fault?”
“You set loose the rabbits,” Father said. His voice was cold. “The islanders didn’t even know what killing was before Ajax killed a rabbit. We’ve found three more rabbits with their heads torn off.”
I turned to Montgomery, who confirmed it with a nod.
I leaned on the table, anger making me as tense as the storm outside. “Be careful with your accusations, Father. The murders started before I even arrived.”
He dismissed my comment with a scowl. “I had everything under control before you came. Now you’ve riled them up. Trying to turn them against me, but it won’t work. I’m God to them.”