She already knew about the Jewels. Didn’t she?
“I don’t see why everyone is being so difficult about telling me about a person who lived years and years ago,” Saetien complained.
Eileen slammed her teacup down so hard she cracked the cup and saucer. Tea ran onto the tablecloth, and none of the men moved as she turned on Saetien.
“Maybe nobody but you feels the need to rake up the past,” Eileen said in a voice that held a crackling fury. “Maybe nobody wants to be reminded that Wilhelmina Benedict lived in Maghre, even if it was only a short time. As for a person living years and years ago, as if that erases who and what that person was? Shall I go to the village tomorrow and tell all and sundry that you’re the great-granddaughter of Dorothea SaDiablo? She who is still hated throughout the length and breadth of Kaeleer despite her being dead and gone for centuries? How many doors would be closed to you, regardless of people’s fondness for your father? How many people would wonder if you being part of the coven of malice was a sign that her bloodline runs true in you? You want to remind people of the past? You’d best be sure you’re willing to have your own history exposed.”
Eileen pushed back from the table, knocking over her chair, and ran out of the dining room.
Silence.
Saetien sat in her chair, trembling. Soon after her arrival at the sanctuary, Surreal had paid her a visit, had handed her a sheet of paper that listed her bloodlines.
“You need to be careful, Saetien,” Surreal had said. “Because of who your father is and who your grandfather was, no one asks questions about the SaDiablo family. But the information is all there in the registers at the Keep, and anyone can find your connection to Dorothea.”
“They don’t hold that connection against you,” she’d said.
Surreal gave her a sharp smile. “I am Titian’s daughter. When I helped her skin Kartane SaDiablo alive and feed him to the hounds of Hell, I proved I was Dea al Mon. But you embraced Dorothea’s kind of evil. It will take a long time for people to forget that, especially among the long-lived races.”
Kildare cleared his throat. “Well. I guess that’s the second mark. You’ve only got one left, Saetien.” He rose from the table. “I’d best see to Eileen.”
A fierce look filled Kieran’s eyes once his father left the room. “Ask your questions when you see Butler or don’t ask him. But you won’t bring up that woman’s name in this house again. Having you here is hard enough on my mother. You will not cause her more grief.”
I didn’t ask to stay here! Saetien clenched her teeth to keep the words from spilling out.
“We should give the maids a chance to clean up the room,” Kieran said, pushing back from the table.
Ryder stood as well.
Trembling, Saetien finally rose. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll retire for the evening.”
The men gave her a small nod.
Probably relieved to be rid of her.
As she climbed the stairs to her room, she thought about calling to Shelby. She wanted someone who loved her, who didn’t think she was an awful person for wanting to know about someone a Black Widow said she needed to find in order to understand the truth about herself. But the puppy was probably playing with the adult Scelties or out for walkies. Since she didn’t want to run into anyone, it was better that he go out with the other dogs.
What would the people here do if they did know she was Dorothea SaDiablo’s great-granddaughter? Would they shun her? Hate her? Try to hurt her? Her father wouldn’t have left her here if he thought for a moment she would come to any harm.
But as she sat by the window, looking out at the night sky, she wondered if Wilhelmina Benedict’s descendants had felt the same concerns.
And she wondered what Wilhelmina had done that made people want to forget her so much.
THIRTY-SIX
The next morning, Saetien did her best to be respectful, letting Eileen know that she was walking down to the stables and maybe going out for a ride. The woman’s chilly response made it clear that trespasses weren’t quickly forgiven.
Her reception at the stables was cautious, but warmed as she helped feed and groom horses. Kildare and Ryder warmed even more when the kindred foals—except for Stormchaser—acted like she was one of them and expected her to go out to the paddock and play with them. Which she did.
She lost every race.
Laughing, she returned to the stables breathless and sweaty, only to discover the Scelties had decided it was her turn to brush them. By the time she had brushed them to their satisfaction, she was covered with fur that had stuck to her sweaty skin.
“Here.” Ryder set a large bucket of water next to her. “You should wash up a bit before going to the house for the midday meal.”
Saetien looked down at herself. “Just dump the water over me.”
A moment’s pause before Ryder grabbed the bucket and dumped the water over her head.
She gasped. She would have shrieked but . . . “Hell’s fire! That’s cold.”
“Didn’t hear you say anything about warming it up.”
She glared at Ryder. He grinned and took the bucket into the stables. When he came back out, he said, “You might want to put a warming spell on those clothes to help them dry out a bit before you try to go inside. We’ll use the back door. There’s a small room near the laundry where you can strip down.”
She wasn’t sure if Ryder had told Eileen they were going to use the back door or if the woman just had an instinct about such things, but the lady of the house was waiting for them when they arrived.
Eileen looked her over from head to toe—and sighed. “At least it’s not mud. Come in, then. Anya! Fetch a robe for Lady Saetien.”
Ryder smiled at his mother and eased out of the room, as if he’d had nothing to do with Saetien’s bedraggled appearance.
“Best if you take a hot shower so you won’t catch a chill,” Eileen said. She started to turn away, then stopped and added, “Next time, be fast enough to put a warming spell around yourself or on the water.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Anya returned with the robe and held it up as a shield while Saetien stripped out of the wet clothes.
“I’ll do what I can with the shoes,” Anya said. “You’ve others you can wear for the rest of today, but you’ll be wanting these for the stables tomorrow.”
“I will. Thank you.”
Saetien hurried to her room and took a quick hot shower. She used Craft to dry her hair well enough to avoid any comment about catching a chill and was downstairs before Eileen started to dish out the midday meal.
“I’m going up to the village,” Eileen said after they’d eaten and the men had left the table to resume their work. “Would you like to come with me?”
“Shall I go to the village tomorrow and tell all and sundry that you’re the great-granddaughter of Dorothea SaDiablo?”
Eileen’s words rang in Saetien’s head.
“I spoke in anger last night, and I’m sorry for that,” Eileen said. “No one in the village will learn about your great-grandmother from me.”