Chapter 193: Return to Brackenwell
The look on her father’s face was one Ruelle had never seen before. It sat somewhere between rage and confusion, as if he had seen something that refused to make sense in his head.
When her fingers rose to her neck, she felt it sting and realised what had brought the expression. Heat rushed back into her face as she remembered Lucian’s lips moments ago. And from the way her father’s eyes sharpened there, it seemed he had realised it too.
Without a word, he turned and stormed back into the shop.
"Did you forget something?" Noah asked, one brow lifting when he saw him. But her father didn’t answer.
Ruelle followed after him, her pulse thudding louder with every step as he pushed past the waiting room and entered the corridor that led to the changing stalls. He threw open one stall after another, the doors slamming hard against the walls, but there was no one inside except dresses hanging from hooks and folded fabrics left behind.
By the time he turned back to her, the look in his eyes had grown harder. He grabbed her wrist and pain shot through her hand.
"Let go! You’re hurting me!" Ruelle cried.
The sound had brought the others. Mrs. Belmont appeared first, confusion written plainly on her face. She asked, "What is going on?" It was only moments ago everything had been calm, and now her husband looked as though he had lost his mind.
"Lucian was here!" he snapped, his eyes fixed on the mark at her neck, the fresh bruise sitting just above the soul bond. Against her pale skin, it looked impossible to miss. "Where is he?" he demanded, turning on Noah, who had just entered.
Noah blinked with a genuinely confused look. He answered, "I didn’t see him enter. He hasn’t come by in nearly a week. Though if he is here, it would save me time. I still need his fittings."
Ruelle saw her father’s jaw clench. When his eyes returned to her, his voice softened, "Was he here, Ruelle?" His grip tightened. "I won’t be angry if you tell me."
Did he think she was still a child? That she would agree because he softened his voice? Ruelle forced herself to stay calm and she asked,
"Why would he be here, Father? He must still be searching for Caroline."
Mrs. Belmont, who had only been able to find some image and reputation built here felt the humiliation of this settle over her immediately. She stepped to her husband’s side, forcing a smile, and asked him,
"Harold, what are you doing?"
Ezekiel finally let go of her wrist. His eyes were cold and he explained,
"I thought we were meant to follow the courthouse’s conditions. Ruelle and Lucian are not supposed to be acting intimate before the wedding. Look at her neck."
The words made every eye turn to her. With everyone staring at the mark on her neck, heat crawled up her skin. Forcing herself to look unaffected, she said,
"I don’t know what you are talking about, Father. The soul bond disappeared for the last two days. In the stall, I scratched the spot too hard and it appeared." Her fingers brushed the bruised skin lightly. "What does that have to do with Lucian being here? Do you think every mark on me must be because of him?"
Ruelle could see it in the way her father’s jaw worked, in the way his lips trembled with barely-contained anger.
Thankfully, her stepmother spoke, "Oh, for heaven’s sake. Even if he did meet her, what of it? They are to be married in a few days." Her eyes narrowed at her husband, "The treaty has already been fulfilled. Our family won’t be dragged for it."
Caroline’s life still hung over all of them, and unlike her husband, she had no interest in being on the bad side of the Slaters. Turning to Noah, she offered him a stiff smile.
"Forgive us for the commotion. We will take our leave."
Noah sighed dramatically and adjusted the pins on his sleeve. "I do hope Mr. Belmont recovers soon," he said lightly, as though speaking of an illness.
The words made Harold’s face harden even more.
As they stepped out of the shop, the awkwardness followed them like a shadow.
Hailey could almost feel it pressing on all four sides. She opened her mouth to say something, but after one look at Mr. Belmont’s face, she thought better of it. The man looked ready to split apart.
Ruelle stood looking down the street, her scarf pulled closer around her neck. And when Hailey’s eyes drifted there, she caught the faint bluish mark blooming against her skin. It made her blink. It reminded her of Sexton, of the groundlings she had seen with marks that came from vampires. Hailey cleared her throat and asked,
"Shall we head back home then?"
"We are going to the courthouse," Mr. Belmont snapped, his voice sharp enough to make everyone look at him.
But Ruelle turned before anyone else could answer. She said to him, "You are the only one who wants to go there. You can go. We will be heading to Brackenwell."
"Brackenwell?" her father repeated, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
Ruelle nodded. "I want to visit Mother’s grave. It has been a while."
Her father stared at her for a long second and he said, "I will come."
Of course he would.
Ruelle climbed into the carriage first. Hailey followed, then Mrs. Belmont. Her father entered last, and with them came the pureblood officer who had escorted them into the hidden town.
The ride stretched in silence. When they reached the edge of Brackenwell, the pureblood stepped down and left, leaving the rest of the journey to them.
The village looked smaller than Ruelle remembered. When the carriage stopped before the cemetery gates, she didn’t wait for anyone. She stepped down and walked through the rows of graves, her shoes pressing into the snow that the groundskeeper had cleared into narrow paths. The earth beneath still looked hard with winter.
Her steps slowed when she reached her mother’s stone.
She stood there quietly. A mother she had only ever known through stories. And no memory of her voice or her touch. With no one near her, she bent down slowly, pulling her glove off her hand and then pressing against the frozen earth.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then beneath her palms, the hardened ground softened. Thin blades of green pushed through the frost, fragile at first before spreading around the grave like quiet life waking under winter.
Glancing over her shoulder, Ruelle caught her father still watching her. At the same time, Lucian’s words returned to her.
’Bring your father to Brackenwell. Keep him there for as long as you can.’
Turning away from the grave, she walked to where her parents were and she said, "I should go find flowers for her."
"Flowers? In this weather?" Mrs. Belmont frowned at once.
"I thought I saw some on the way here." It was a poor lie but enough and she turned to Hailey. "Come with me."
The moment Mr. Belmont shifted to follow, Mrs. Belmont caught him by the arm.
"What is wrong with you?" she hissed under her breath. "You’ve been acting like a madman all day. They are only walking through the village, and the guards are going with them. Come with me. I want to see what state our old house is in. Did you eat something bad?"
Ezekiel forced himself to breathe. The mark on Ruelle’s throat had broken his composure more than he liked and he could not afford another mistake. Not now, when Lucian could already be back.
So he lowered his eyes and let his shoulders slacken. "I am only tired, Megan," he said, quieter now. "Everything is falling apart. I just want to make things right."
That seemed to soften her enough. She tightened her hold on his arm and led him away through the streets.
Even then, Ezekiel strained to listen for Ruelle’s footsteps growing distant, but being a half-blood meant his hearing only stretched so far. Not like the pureblooded vampires.
On the other side of the cemetery path, with the guards behind them, Hailey leaned closer to Ruelle, her brows lifting in question.
Ruelle only smiled faintly. "Did you like the dress you chose today?" she asked, keeping her eyes ahead.
Hailey’s face brightened immediately. "At first I thought you would make me pay for it," she admitted. "But when Mrs. Belmont said the courthouse would cover it, I thought—why not?" She grinned.
Then after a pause, her friend added, "Though I feel like your father’s hair might turn grey before the wedding."
Ruelle huffed under her breath, "It wouldn’t surprise me."
"By the way," Hailey said, her voice quieter this time. "Thank you. For inviting my parents to the wedding. Father told me when I saw him at Lady Maxine’s."
Ruelle shook her head and she replied, "You don’t need to thank me." But her steps slowed when she recognised a man not far down the street.
"Ruelle," the man called, surprise clear in his voice. "Is that you?"
It was the man she had almost married. Mason Webb. The man who had once cast her aside with a letter and left her to carry the shame of it alone.
For a second, Ruelle only stared. He looked almost the same, broader now, rougher in the face, carrying a bundle of chopped wood under one arm. He walked toward them, surprise plain in his face.
"For a moment, I didn’t recognise you."
His eyes moved over her. From the coat she wore, to the quality of the fabric, to the scarf wrapped neatly around her throat. There was something almost startled in the way he looked at her, as though he had expected her to remain exactly where he had left her.
He then said, "I heard your family moved in with your aunt because of your father’s habits. Are you here to visit your mother?"
Ruelle gave a small nod. "Yes," she answered.
"It’s good you came," Mason said, lowering the logs to the ground before straightening to his full height. He dragged a hand through his hair, and then said, "I wanted to apologise. For the letter I sent back then. I shouldn’t have written it the way I did."
"It no longer matters," Ruelle said after a moment.
But the man didn’t seem happy about it. He said, "I heard you went to Sexton for a while." His eyes caught on the odd marking at her neck. Then he laughed lightly, as if reminiscing about the past. "I was thinking... perhaps we could continue what stopped between us. You always cared for me. You knew my habits better than anyone."
To think there had been a time in the past, she had followed him...
Ruelle turned and noticed Claude appear after parking the carriage. She then turned back and said,
"It is good to see you are doing well. But we should be leaving."
"Wait," he stepped forward. "Where are you staying now? I could visit you, if today is inconvenient."
Ruelle looked at him for a moment. She wondered how convenient it must be for him to forget, the things she heard from others. She said,
"We are not acquaintances anymore, Mr. Webb. I am not interested in continuing anything. And my future husband would not appreciate your visit."
"Future husband?" Mason blinked and his eyes flickered to her bare hands, which had no ring. He laughed, "And who’s the impoverished man? Whoever he is, I can offer you better."
Hailey’s brows rose and she asked, "Do you not read the newsletters?"
But before another word could be spoken, a woman’s scream tore through the street. It was sharp enough to make everyone turn.
When Ruelle and the others reached the place, a small crowd had formed. Pushing through, she noticed her stepmother’s hand clamped over her mouth, her face pale.
And on the ground, her father was sprawled in the snow with blood stained on his face, surrounded by the debt collectors. Each of them held thick logs in their hands.
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