Page 6

Before the children could attack, she decided to play a trick. Discreetly, she gave the bottom of the pot a little kick. It made Mr. Grumble sway violently to one side. The sight made the children freeze, their bravado vanishing.

“It…it just moved…” Peter observed, blinking rapidly as though he had just seen a ghost.

Marina kept her face perfectly straight, kicking the pot again. The plant moved once more, and this time the children stared, then broke into screams.

“She brought it to life!” one of the girls cried, stumbling backward. “She …she truly is a witch!”

The snowballs fell from their hands. Peter turned and fled, and the others followed. Their five pairs of boots dashed over the snow as they shrieked at the tops of their lungs. Once they had disappeared into the distant fog, Marina burst into laughter, holding her stomach. She adored those children, she really did. And as much as she found their shenanigans troublesome, she always missed them when they were gone.

At once, she regretted letting her loneliness show.

“You still have this emotional attachment to children, Marina,” Harper said. “Do you still secretly hold on to your dreams? Of getting married? Of starting a family?”

“That dream is long buried, along with my husband,” Marina said.

“Marina…” Harper tried again, though there was affection beneath her frustration.

It was an expression far too familiar, and one Marina didn’t like to see. It only reminded her of how her family pitied her, as though there was something wrong with the way she lived her life. She loved her little cottage with its greenhouse, deep in the woods. She’d live here for the rest of her days planting herbs—a whimsical happy ending for a woman cast out. Although the neighborhood would prefer to call it a haunted, depressing abode of a witch.

Before Marina could come up with a clever response to change the topic, footsteps sounded. It was urgent, heavy enough to suggest that whoever was approaching had no intention of arriving peacefully. The sisters turned toward the sound. A woman was marching through the snow toward the glass house, her face twisted with fury.

Marina knew her well enough. Lady Beatrice Wakeford. Peter’s mother. The woman with the fastest mouth in the neighborhood. Lady Beatrice could carry a piece of gossip from one end of town to the other before most people had finished breakfast. Marina had to give her credit for that. Half the ridiculous stories surrounding the cottage had likely passed through those lips first.

Lady Beatrice reached the glasshouse and stopped before them. “How dare you?” she raged.

Marina raised an eyebrow. “How dare I what?”

“How dare you cast your witchcraft on my son?” Lady Beatrice demanded, her voice rising with every word. “I warned you to stay away from him!”

Marina glanced toward Harper. Her sister’s expression had already hardened. Lady Beatrice pointed an accusing finger at the glass house.

“I will not have you filling his head with your wicked nonsense. If I have to, I will burn this entire place to the ground!”

Marina looked at her beloved greenhouse, then back at the woman. Before she could say anything, Harper stepped forward.

“You will do no such thing. I assure you, my sister has done nothing wrong and I will not have you threaten her. I assume you know who my husband is?”

The woman glared at her.

“I know the Duke of Netherton,” she admitted.

“Good, then you will know that he would not like to hear that his sister-in-law was threatened. Now. Be on your way.”

Lady Beatrice’s face reddened. Harper made a tiny sound beside her, and Marina could not tell whether her sister was trying not to laugh or preparing to drag her inside. Either could have been true for Harper.

To everyone’s relief, Lady Beatrice heeded the warning and hurried away.

“Well, there she goes, storming away. I half expect her cheeks to go red after the verbal walloping you gave her,” Marina said and Harper’s gentle laugh broke through the silence. Marina tried to hold it in, but the absurdity of the whole encounter soon got the better of her, and she joined her sister. For a few moments, they laughed together until the tension faded. When their laughter died down, Harper moved closer and wrapped her arms around Marina. She held her for a moment before taking both her hands in hers.

“I will not pressure you,” Harper said. “But just know that the estate will always be open to you whenever you decide to leave this unfortunate situation.”

Marina’s smile faltered. She hated seeing the affectionate tears threatening in Harper’s eyes. Her sister always had a way of unveiling emotions Marina tried so carefully to hide.

“Truly, I am fine here,” she assured her. “I am content with my life. You do not have to worry about me.”

Harper breathed deeply before pulling her into another hug.

When sunset arrived, Harper returned to Netherton estate. Marina watched her sister’s carriage drive away and then went back to her little cottage, back to her little peace. With her sister gone, her life had returned to its usual quietness. She was alone again, as she had been for the past six years…