The voice outside the door was the butler’s—announcing an unexpected guest.
Cedric, hair still messy from stress, ran a hand roughly through it and strode to the door. His glare was so intense it startled the butler.
“Is it… Miss Harriet Listerwell?”
“Yes, sir. How did you—?”
Harriet had come.
Cedric’s heart jolted. A strange, unplaceable feeling surged through him—one he might’ve labeled as rage. What else could make him feel like he was about to lose his mind?
“Escort her to the rear garden. By the fountain.”
“…As you wish.”
The butler looked mildly surprised—Cedric never received guests in the garden—but he said nothing more and bowed before leaving.
Cedric didn’t want to meet her in a confined room. He wasn’t sure he could control himself. In such tight quarters, he might actually suffocate her.
He wanted to shake…
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Emilybronte
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