earth, not rise up and move against us.
A chill washed over my arms and down my body. Cold killing was always worse, at least a fight makes me feel as though I have defended myself. Beheading a vermin tied to a chair made me feel sick. I fought in this war, and yet others saw me as cursed. I acted in cold blood, not the heat of a battle. What sort of monster could strike the head from a helpless woman's shoulders? This was another mark torn into my soul to one day be redeemed.
My stomach roiled, and sweat trickled down the back of my shirt. To cover my queasiness, I walked out to the bike and slung my leg over.
Seth followed, his brow furrowed. "Why did he call you? Why did he not deal with it himself?"
"Because I am their exterminator." My position in the village was that simple. When you cannot face beheading the friend who turned up on your doorstep, even though they are salivating to take a bite from your succulent flesh, you summon the girl who carries the sword. The girl who was always different, born between servant and gentry. Born a girl, but raised like a boy. Some called me Ella the Slayer, but it is not a compliment. I would give anything to not have to carry out the gruesome job that life had thrust upon me.
His gaze narrowed even as his spine stiffened. "They are lucky it is so easy for you."
His words pierced me like a blade. Is that what he thinks? That I find killing easy? That I am some blood thirsty soldier laughing as I bayonet my enemy? I swallowed down the rush of bile. "It's not easy for me. I just hide it better than the others."
I kicked the starter on the bike and took off down the road as the tears rolled down my cheeks. I needed to be home before the shivers racking my body overcame me.
Chapter Eight
The mail slot rattled, and the dull thud announced the post hitting the floor.
"I'll get it!" I yelled from the front parlour, where I was straightening everything before she descended, giving all the surfaces a final flick over with the feather duster. I plumped up a cushion and took a final look at a pink chintz pillow, daring it to list to one side. With the morning sun flooding the room it really was a lovely place to sit, except for all the staring, judgemental eyes of the ornamental cats. I hid one mean looking Siamese behind a large vase, and stepped out to the hall.
My nimble fingers flicked through the letters; bills mostly by the looks, and a letter for Charlotte from Hubert. He seemed to correspond with her on a regular basis, and I wondered how she managed to meet a man when she rarely left the house. Then I came across the heavy card addressed to Lady Elizabeth Jeffrey in a bold hand. Turning it over, the back bore the ducal seal of the Duke of Leithfield.
"Oh, crumbs," I whispered, and hurried up the main stairs to her bedroom.
Elizabeth sat at her mirror while Alice twisted her hair up on her head. The soft morning sun lit on her face, and for a moment I realised she really was quite lovely. I could see why father was captivated by her. With blue black hair, pale skin, and red lips, he called her his Snow White. Shame that once he left, she transformed into the evil queen. Remembering myself, I dropped a curtsey and met her gaze in the mirror, waiting to be acknowledged and given permission to speak.
"What is it, Eleanor?"
"A letter came ma'am, from the duke." I stepped forward and held out the missive.
She snatched it from my hand and picked up an ivory paper knife laying on her dresser. With a flick of her wrist, she slit it open and pulled out a sheet of thick cream card.
Alice and I exchanged looks over Elizabeth's bent head. Alice feigned buttoning her lip, and a smidge of relief washed through me. Step-mother would skin me alive if she knew I spent my afternoon off last week lounging in the sun with the duke.
"Well, well, well." She placed the card back in the envelope, turning it over and over in her hands. "The duke is having an intimate soiree