She threw back the covers and gingerly set her feet down on the rug — or started to. Before she could move very far, the armband intercepted her, and the invisible hands grasped her good foot, sliding it into a warmed sheepskin slipper. The hands did the same to her injured foot, then let her go.
It was a very, very strange sensation, to say the least.
She discovered as soon as she put weight on it that the injured foot was uncomfortable to walk on, but much improved. Encouraged, she began exploring, even if she was limping. She’d never let an injury stop her from doing something she wanted to do before.
There wasn’t a great deal to look at in either the bedroom or the bathroom. While she liked the clothing well enough — to her relief it proved to be not as…fluffy…as the twins would have liked — it wasn’t the sort of thing that she would ordinarily picture herself wearing. Too expensive, for one thing, and not in practical colors for another; although since while she was here, she supposed that she wouldn’t be in and out of places where she would get dirty. But if she had any say in this, she wasn’t going to be around long enough to need any of it. The bathroom was still amazing in itself, and she was looking forward to having a long and leisurely hot soak tonight, but once she finished sniffing all of the bottles and jars to discover what scents were in them, she was done with that room for now. Although this was the room that also contained the water closet, so that was a relief to find.
And I am going to sweep everything before me and lock the door before I use it, too.
But the sitting room — now, that was another story altogether. She had barely glimpsed it on the way through to the bedroom, earlier. Now the armband circled the room, and oil lamps lit up with a soft glow in its wake as it turned up the flames.
The bedroom was a place for sleeping — or at least lying abed. This was a room made for doing things in. It had a good desk and comfortable writing chair, a pair of exceptionally comfortable chairs on either side of the fireplace that would be perfect for reading, as each one had a lamp placed on a table beside it. The external wall was literally covered in bookcases — with more of those tin-bound books in them. Someone had thoughtfully supplied a sewing work-basket beside a chair at one of the windows. There was another pair of chairs at a second window with a chessboard between them, and an intricately carved set of ivory chess pieces on it.
Although the carpet in this room was a little worn, it was also huge; it covered most of the floor, making the room that much warmer. The expertly built fire in the fireplace kept the entire room comfortable, with no drafts.
“Well, this is pleasant enough,” she said aloud. “However…I would much rather be at home. So, take me to your master. I wish to discover what he has or has not accomplished so far.”
The armband hesitated.
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.
Wait, hadn’t he just said he had ridden out?
“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.”