Tangled Webs (19 page)

“It didn’t look too complicated to me. In fact, it all seemed quite clear.”

Arista balled her fingers into fists at her side. How could he understand the small taste of freedom she’d gotten tonight? How it made her feel so alive inside that she’d
had
to dance? Grae had no right to be angry.

“Then you mistook what you saw. Someone like you would not understand.”

“Then explain it to me.” Grae dragged a frustrated hand through his hair. “Simple enough so that I don’t feel the need to tell my mother who you really are. That our
houseguest is actually a blackmailing liar!”

“I’m not,” she gasped. His words stung. “I swear I’m only doing this because…” She almost spilled out Wild’s name. There was no explanation she
could give that would satisfy Grae, not without revealing everything. And she could not do that. Even now, raging at her, he was so vulnerable. She didn’t want to hurt him more. It would be
her burden to bear. Her secret.

She sighed, her body suddenly heavy. “I’m sorry—I wish I could make you understand, but there is so much I can’t tell you.” She took a step away from him and felt
her body protesting. For a few glorious nights, she had felt something, had felt truly alive. Grae had given her that, and she didn’t regret a second of it. “I’m not like you. I
didn’t have a family who loved me, who protected me, and I’ve only done what I had to do to survive. But I promise you that the person you met, the one who danced with you, that
is
me—the real me—behind all the pretense. I want you to see who I really am.”

Arista stared at the ground, unable to look at Grae. She finally dared to meet his eyes. “I would never lie about this, Grae, because it’s one of the only real things I’ve ever
had in my life. I hope that you can at least trust that.” She prayed he could see the honesty in her face, because there was nothing more she could say.

From the corner of her eye, Arista watched a black carriage make its way slowly down the street. She knew Wild would be waiting. “There isn’t anything else I can say. Good-bye,
Grae.”

Her heart cracked as she walked away, and he didn’t come after her.

That was it, then. He would tell his mother who she really was, and she would be kicked out of their home. The only place she’d ever felt welcome.

She had almost reached the parked carriage when a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind. Taken by surprise, she reacted without thinking, and had her knife out from its sheath and pressed
back against her assailant’s ribs in a flash.

He froze. “I see that you can take care of yourself, at least.” At the sound of Grae’s voice, her hand dropped. Yet her traitorous pulse sped up. He
had
come after
her.

“I do want to trust you,” he said in her ear. “Because whatever this is between us, it feels real to me, too. But you have to tell me everything so I can help you. We can
figure this out together.”

Up ahead, the carriage door opened, and blind panic gripped her limbs. Would Wild approach her with Grae right here? Wild glanced their way and nodded his head, then entered the gates of the
party.

Arista exhaled. That was why she couldn’t tell Grae the truth. Because someone like Wild would ruin him, for the sport of it. She wouldn’t let that happen—not to Grae. For his
own safety, she had to push him away.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to tell you the truth.” She felt him tense up behind her. “This is my life. This”—she waved her hand that held the
knife—“is how I stayed alive. None of this is my choice, but you have no idea what it’s like. You can’t understand what it’s like to have nothing.”

“But you always will have nothing if you refuse help,” he argued. “Unless this is all really just part of the lie, too?”

The denial was right there, but it would not come out past the lump in her throat. He was right—she always would have nothing. But at least she had nothing to lose. If anything happened to
Grae, she would never forgive herself.

“Is it, Ana? Is this all just a lie?” Grae demanded.

Silence stretched between them. She took a deep breath in.

“My name’s not Ana.”

“What?” The disbelief in his voice nearly broke her.

“My name. It’s not Ana, it’s Arista.” His grasp loosened and it took all of her strength to walk away from him again.

A
rista closed the door softly and crept into her room.

Wild had left her by the back gate to the garden, after giving her half the money as he had promised. The coins sat heavy in her reticule. Tonight had not gone as she’d planned. How had
Grae known where she would be? She’d told no one except for Becky, who had worried about Arista going alone to meet the client.

Arista groaned. Becky had told him. “Of course.”

In the morning, she would have to have a talk with her friend—try and explain the danger that Grae would be in if he were to get caught up in their world.

It wouldn’t matter now anyway, she realized with a pang. Whatever had been between her and Grae lay in pieces on the street. Admitting that even her name was a lie must have been the final
straw. But it was better that Grae hate her than have him be in danger.

With a heavy heart, she sat and undid her boots, setting them carefully aside. Then she stood and began to unlace the corset—she could do it herself, as it was tied in the front for her
costume. The light from the lantern on the side table cast the room in a soft glow. The colorful skirt came next, and then the white blouse and stockings. Finally she stood in nothing but her
underclothes.

Arista blew out the gas lamp and the room sank into darkness. In the morning, would Grae demand answers? Or worse yet, would he continue to ignore her? Either option left a sick feeling in her
stomach. She sank down on the edge of the bed. What was she going to do?

She pulled back the quilt to get into bed. A barely discernable scratching noise sounded at the door—the one that led to the garden. She listened—there it was again. The hairs on her
neck stood up. She reached for her knife, tucked under her pillow, and crept to the door. When she pressed her ear against it, she heard nothing. The latch clicked, overloud in the quiet room. Very
slowly she pulled the door open, inch by inch. Her eyes, already accustomed to the darkness, easily scanned the lines and shapes of the garden beyond. There were no shadows out of place. Nothing
moved.

Had it been an animal? She started to close the door, and then looked down. Something lay on the stone step. A bundle of some sort.

Had Wild left it there? Another assignment, already? Why had he not told her in the carriage, only an hour ago? But it could not be her next task, because it was too thick. And it wasn’t
just one letter—there was a stack of them, tied with a crude piece of string. She ran her thumb over the wax seal of the letter on the top.

There was no way she could sleep without knowing what this was. She carefully relit the lantern and held the packets closer. Her eyes swept over what she held in her hands before the shaking in
them caused her to drop it. The packet landed on the floor with a soft thump, but she didn’t hear it. She was already out the door and in the garden. Cool night air washed over her uncovered
skin, but she didn’t care. Barely even noticed.

“Nic,” she whispered as loud as she dared. “I know it’s you.”

She paused, listening to the sounds of the night. Nothing moved within the walls of the garden.

“Why did you leave those for me?”

Only silence answered her.

Coldness seeped up from the ground, chilling her bare feet. Goose bumps sprang up along her arms and she wrapped them over her stomach, rubbing her hands up and down her arms for warmth.

“Nic?” She tried one more time, but she already knew. He was gone.

With no other choice, Arista went back inside her room and latched the door. The packet lay on the floor, in the shadow cast by the side table. How did Nic know where she was? Why hadn’t
he stayed, so she could see him, talk to him? She picked up the letters and pulled the string loose, letting them spread out over the bed. She picked one up at random and read it. Then another. And
another.

Nic had not just left her letters; he’d left the secrets she’d collected as Lady A over the years. The same secrets that the aristocracy had paid enormous sums to either procure or
hide.

Did Nic expect her to use them?
The one who controls the secrets controls those rich bastards.
Nic had always thought that way. He wanted to own them all, just like Bones. So did he now
expect her to use them, and continue the blackmailing?

“What am I supposed to do with these?” she asked the empty room.

After tucking the packet safely away in the back of the wardrobe, she crawled under the quilt to fight off a sudden wash of chills.

She lay awake in the darkness for hours. When sleep finally pulled her under, her dreams were filled with shadowy alleyways and voices cutting through thick fog. And faces: Nic, Grae, Bones,
Wild. They changed from one to the other until they seemed to merge into one terrible image, staring at her through deep, vacant eyes.

“Good morning, miss,” Becky said cheerfully. Arista blinked her eyes open and was surprised to find the room bathed in morning light. “I thought you might like
some help getting ready. The family will be eating in a half hour. Miss Sophia has been hovering outside your door all morning, waiting for you to wake up.”

Becky pulled back the covers and urged Arista to sit. “Everyone here is so nice,” she continued, chattering away. “Do you know that Wilson and the cook, Jane, are married? Mr.
Sinclair had rooms added to the house just for them. And Sara, Miss Sophia’s maid, is sharing her room with me, and she gave me this new bonnet.”

Arista watched Becky move around the room, efficiently gathering what she needed. Her steps were light, and she kept smiling between words. A fresh bandage covered her injured eye, and a pretty
blue bonnet sat atop her neat curls.

She wore a new dress, too: a plain light-grey uniform with an immaculate white apron. In this attire, her step seemed more sure, her head higher, despite her injuries. Becky caught
Arista’s eye and smiled.

There was one thing that needed to be said first. Arista frowned. “You told Grae where I went last night.”

Becky’s face fell, and she clutched Arista’s underclothes to her stomach. “I was worried, miss. You’ve always had Nic to watch out for you, and Mr. Graeden said he just
wanted to be sure you were safe. I’m sorry, miss, I shouldn’t have told him.”

Arista sighed. It was hard to be mad at her friend for anything. Becky had only done what she thought best. “When I’m out, no one is to know where. It’s better that way,
okay?”

Becky hung her head. “Of course, miss.”

Arista moved across the room and gently took the bundle of clothing from Becky. “Thank you for caring, Becky. That means a lot to me. I don’t mean to be harsh, I just want to keep
Grae away from that part of my life.”

Arista didn’t tell her that it was too late. That he knew who she was—what she did. Her friend was happy in the Sinclair home, and Arista vowed to make sure she stayed that way.

This is what she wanted to give Becky for the rest of her life. Security and happiness. Things that a cut of Wild’s money could buy. And maybe now, with the secrets Nic had left for her,
she might find a way to earn even more. Ideas flashed through her head, but she needed to think them through before she did anything rash. There might be a way to get everything she needed.

“Are you ready to get dressed, miss? Breakfast will be starting soon. You needn’t worry about Mr. Graeden,” Becky chattered as she helped Arista into her day dress. “I
heard him tell Wilson that he went back to his ship. That there were things he needed to attend to.”

Arista’s spirits sank. A part of her had hoped that he might understand in the light of day. With a heavy sigh, she sat as Becky started tending to her hair. It had gotten longer since the
last time Nic cut it. Small curls hugged her neck and framed her face. Becky had pinned up a small section in the front, pulling the hair away from Arista’s eyes. Had they always been so
blue?