I Spy a Duke by Erica Monroe Page A

the bag between her pursed thumb and index finger, she raised it to eye level and gave it a shake. An ominous muffled rattling emitted from inside, not tinny enough to be coins, nor as tinkling as glass. Her palms began to sweat. The beat of her heart was now akin to the repeated slam of a door. In one swift motion, she upended the bag, dumping the contents in her hand.
    Teeth. Sauveterre had sent her yellowed teeth. Seven jagged, broken teeth.
    Oh, God.  
    The world crashed around her. She didn’t scream. She couldn’t. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Panic clogged her mind, until all she could do was keep breathing, one breath after the other, faster and faster. No amount of air seemed to help her. Her chest contracted, but she didn’t move. It was impossible to tear her eyes from her outstretched hand.
    Each tooth was no bigger than her fingernail. The buds were a dingy white, but the roots were stained with long-dried blood, as though the teeth had been forcibly ripped from someone’s mouth.
    This can’t be happening.  
    That one phrase kept repeating in her mind, over the din of her pounding heart, and the roaring in her ears. She could not be here, with teeth in her palm.
    The room spun around her. Her head felt so light. For a minute, she could not focus on anything. Her hand dropped, falling to her side. The teeth scattered onto the bed, contaminating everything they touched. Her sheets. Her skin. Her mind. She’d never be clean again.
    She burst from the bed, seizing the basin of water and the soap she kept on the bedside table. She scrubbed her hands until they were red and raw, but still she could feel the grime on her. The rose scent of her soap wafted to her nostrils, but it could not erase the foul odor of decay.
    Whirling back around, Vivian dried her hands on a towel. A part of her had hoped that the teeth would disappear while her back was turned. That this had all been some awful nightmare. But no, the offending molars remained on the bed. She breathed in again, trying to calm her racing heart to no avail.  
    She needed to get the teeth out of sight, and she needed to never, ever, ever touch them again. Wrapping her hand in the towel, she lifted each tooth back into the bag and then closed the bag. Still using the towel, she picked the bag up and took it over to the window. She opened the window, tossing the bag outside. It fell to the ground with a horrid rattle.
    One of Abermont’s many gardeners would find it and dispose of it. She’d never have to see the teeth again.  
    She tugged the counterpane down on her bed and then sat back down, her legs no longer able to support her. Why in God's name would Sauveterre send her this? And perhaps more importantly, whom had those teeth originally belonged to? She bit at her bottom lip, fearing the answer.
    What if—what if the teeth were Evan’s? Evan’s face had been so badly beaten when she’d went to identify his body. She closed her eyes, the image of his body on a slab in the coroner’s office appearing before her. Her stomach seized, and for a second, she thought she might vomit. Swallowing the bile back down, she put her hand on her stomach to quell the roil. Dash it all, she’d been too distracted by his bulging eyeball, the footprint across his cheek, to notice if his teeth were missing.  
    She opened her eyes. A speck of white peeking out from the edge of the quilted counterpane caught her eye. The letter.
    With trembling fingers, she plucked the paper up from the bed and slit the seal. For once, Sauveterre's missive was quite short. The first line read:
    You see now what I did to your brother.  
    Her mind reeled, as the pieces of the puzzle smashed into place. No, no, no, no. How had she missed this? She was so stupid! Fury boiled within her, threatening to take hold when she needed logic the most.  
    Sauveterre had killed Evan. She’d wasted six months of her life obeying his every bloody order. Six months of being led