CHAPTER 16

Lincoln massaged my neck with one hand, and splayed the fingers of the other across my back. I stayed locked in his arms until my tears dried and his breathing returned to its normal rhythm. I was acutely aware that he hadn't spoken, but his embrace said more than words ever could. He wasn't throwing me out. He did care.

His horse moved and the hand at my neck let go to catch the reins. The clip clop of hooves on the road grew louder and I looked up.

"Charlie?" Seth jumped down before his horse had come to a complete stop. He beamed at me and opened his arms.

Lincoln let me go and stood aside while Seth scooped me up, lifting me off my feet.

"Bloody hell!" he murmured in my ear. "We were so worried about you."

"Have you both been out looking for me?"

"All night. Gus too. Cook wanted to join us, but someone had to stay here in case you returned." He set me down again and I winced.

Lincoln crouched at my side. He removed his riding gloves and skimmed his hand over the frayed patch of my stockings where the rope had bitten into my ankles. He gently lifted my foot the way one would a horse's hoof. I placed a hand on his shoulder to steady myself, and felt him slump as he peeled away the shredded, bloody mess of my stocking at the sole.

Seth sucked in a breath between his teeth. "Jesus, Charlie. How far have you walked like that?"

"From Savile Row. Captain Jasper has rooms at number nineteen."

"You went to see him? On your own?"

I shook my head. "I went for a walk last night and he abducted me. He had Jimmy and Pete with him. It happened right here on this spot. He wanted to use my necromancy to complete his experiments. You were right," I told Lincoln. "He was expelled from the army for misconduct. He was testing a serum on near-dead men. It was supposed to bring them back to life, but it doesn't work yet."

"Bloody hell." Seth shook his head and glanced at Lincoln as he rose. "Will we ride to Savile Row now, sir? Want me to get the pistols first? Knives would be better. Something that can be attributed to a burglar."

He meant to kill Jasper? Bile rose to my throat. I didn't know why I found the thought abhorrent. Jasper had abducted me, and he didn't deserve mercy. Yet he wasn't a bad man. Strange, yes, and deluded, but not a monster.

I wobbled on my good foot and Lincoln caught me around the waist. Before I knew what was happening, he'd picked me up and planted me in the saddle.

"Ride to the police station," he ordered Seth. "Give them a brief account of the abduction, no more. Have Jasper and his men arrested."

Seth blinked twice, then nodded. "Yes, sir." He mounted and rode off.

"It means the police will come to question you," Lincoln said to me.

"I know."

"You won't have to answer any questions until you feel ready." He walked the horse along the drive, his gaze straight ahead.

"Lincoln," I said softly.

"Yes?"

"Seth seemed to think that I'd left of my own accord. Is that what you believed too?"

"It seemed the most likely scenario, considering the tension between us lately and that you asked me for a reference just before your disappearance. A reference I refused to give."

"I wouldn't have left without saying goodbye."

"Not…not even after the way I treated you?"

I touched his shoulder and he finally glanced my way. He scanned my face and I smiled gently to reassure him. "You treated me far better than I deserved. I would have thrown me out, if I were you."

"I doubt that." He turned away and we walked on in silence. We were just rounding the side of the house when he spoke again. "They blamed me for your departure." His hand stroked the horse near my leg. "I blamed myself," he added quietly.

I reached out to touch his hair, but drew my hand back when Cook burst upon us from the courtyard.

"Charlie! You came home!" He grinned but it faltered when he saw the state of my feet and cheek. "You had an adventure on your own, eh?"

"Something like that."

"You be making a habit of it. A bad habit," he added with a scowl. "Don't do it again."

I saluted him. "I'll be sure to tell my next kidnappers that you don't approve."

"Kidnappers!"

Lincoln helped me down then once I was steady, let me go. "Take her inside," he said. "Cook her whatever she wants." To me he added, "I'll run you a bath when I come in. Your wounds need cleaning and dressing."

"You don't have to," I said. "I can do it myself."

He walked the horse to the stables without responding and I allowed Cook to help me into the house. I gave him the brief version of what happened as he stood by the stove stirring something that smelled delicious. He didn't complain once about his bandaged thumb.

Gus arrived along with Lincoln, and the brawny fellow drew me into a hug that left me gasping for air. I repeated my story for them both, going into more depth about Jasper's motives for the abduction and how he'd found me. While Cook and Gus inserted their own comments, gasps and growls, Lincoln remained silent. He didn't move a muscle as he stood by the door, his arms crossed and his half-closed eyelids veiling his gaze.

When I'd finished, he suddenly turned.

"Where are you going?" I called out.

"Bathroom."

Cook placed bacon, eggs and soup in front of me all at once. The delicious smells drew my focus away from the door, but not from Lincoln. He'd sounded…odd, like that single word had been torn from his throat.

"Eat," Cook ordered.

"All of it?"

"Every last mouthful."

By the time I finished, Lincoln had returned. "The bath is ready. Can you walk?"

"I'll try." I got to my feet, but the cut one stung awfully, and the other had developed blisters from taking most of my weight on the walk home. "It's not too bad," I lied.

"You can't get all the way up there on your own," Gus protested. He glanced at Lincoln, but Lincoln remained unmoved by the door. With a shake of his head, Gus picked me up. "I'll do it myself," he muttered.

But Lincoln stepped in front of him and held out his arms. Gus handed me over. I felt like a sack of potatoes until Lincoln cradled me close to his body. I could feel his strong heartbeat through his shirt and waistcoat and smell the scents of horse and leather on his skin. I drew in a deep breath and placed my arms around his neck.

He carried me up the stairs, his face in profile as he stared straight ahead. He deposited me in the bathroom then left without a word. I peeled off my clothes and stepped into the bath. The warm water stung my feet at first, but I soon got used to it. I lay there without moving for a long time, thinking about what might have happened if I hadn't been able to get away. Would Lincoln have found me? How long would he have searched? If he thought I'd left of my own volition he might have given up after only a cursory attempt.

The water rippled with my shudder. It didn't bear thinking about. I was home safely, and Jasper would be in jail soon, if he wasn't already.

I cleaned my feet, ensuring the cuts were free of grit, then climbed out of the tub. I dried off but realized I had no clean clothes with me. I wrapped the towel around my body and opened the door.

Lincoln looked up from where he was leaning against the wall opposite and a little down from the bathroom. His gaze heated as it settled on my bare shoulders then moved down to my legs.

"I need clean clothes," I told him as a blush crept up my throat.

His gaze flicked to mine then he quickly turned, presenting me with his back. But not before I saw something I'd never seen before on his face. He looked confused, like he didn't know what to do or say.

I hobbled to my room and quickly dressed before making my way outside again. I didn't get far. Lincoln stood in the corridor, the medical bag in hand. Seth, Gus and Cook stood behind him. When he didn't move, Seth and Gus edged around him. They stood on either side of me, looped their arms behind my back, and carried me to the armchair.

"Sit down," Seth ordered.

I sat, and Lincoln crouched on the floor in front of me. He gently took my foot in his hands and inspected it.

"Did the police arrest Jasper?" I asked Seth.

He nodded and sat on another chair. "He was still in his rooms, dazed from a blow to the head. He sported a rope burn around his throat too, similar to your wrists and ankles. Know anything about that, Charlie?" he asked with a lopsided grin.

"I may. Was he really that dazed?"

"He was. Had a bruise here too." He tapped his temple. "That's quite a punch you must have delivered."

"It was my elbow."

"Ah. Good girl. Elbows are stronger than fists. Clever thinking."

"I wasn't really thinking at all. Not then, and not earlier when I managed to hit Pete. It was instinct."

"Thanks to all that training," Gus said with a decisive nod.

"It be paying off," Cook added.

"Yes." I smiled down at Lincoln, but he wasn't looking at me. "I hope we can resume as soon as possible."

"We can modify training until you're healed," Seth said. "Perhaps some weapons training while you have to stay off your feet."

"Knife throwing," Cook said. "I can show you how from sitting."

"Guns too." Gus rubbed his hands together and blew on the fingers. "I know someone who'll sell me a little muff pistol at a good price."

Seth smacked Gus's shoulder. "The price doesn't matter." He nodded at Lincoln who was now bandaging my foot.

"We can set up targets out back." Cook ran his hand over his shiny head. "One point if she hit a biscuit tin and two for a tea tin."

"If you turn the biscuit tins on their side, they present a narrower target." Seth rubbed his jaw. He hadn't yet shaved, and the pale bristles leant his face a ruggedness it was otherwise missing. "I propose five points for a small tea tin, three points for a biscuit tin on its side and 1 point for when its presented front on."

"You got something smaller than tea?" Gus asked Cook. "We could make that ten points."

Cook nodded thoughtfully. "Tobacco tins be small."

"None of you smoke," I said, laughing.

That didn't seem to concern them. They continued to discuss the best tins for target practice, and how many points each should be worth. They had quite a system arranged by the time Lincoln finished bandaging my foot.

"There are a set of crutches in the attic," he said, rising. "Gus, go fetch them."

Gus obeyed without complaint, and Cook headed out too in search of tins. Seth yawned and sprawled in the chair.

"You've been up all night," I said. "Go get some rest."

"So have you," he said. "You should rest."

"I slept most of the night away. I might have been unconscious, but either way I don't feel tired."

"Jesus, Charlie. You were unconscious? We should get a real doctor in to look at her," he said to Lincoln.

"I feel fine," I told them both.

Lincoln nodded at Seth, and Seth rose. "I'll fetch one now."

I sighed as he left. "I feel perfectly all right." I wiggled my foot as best as I could. "Thank you. It doesn't hurt nearly so much."

"Then why did you wince and tense every time I touched it?" Lincoln asked.

"I didn't think you noticed."

"I noticed."

"I suppose you notice everything." I bit my lip, aware of how that sounded. "I…I don't mean your instincts, your gift, I meant—"

He placed a hand to the side of my face. I was so shocked that I stopped talking. "I know what you meant." His thumb stroked my cheek before he lowered his hand and stood.

"Lincoln—Mr. Fitzroy—I need to get something off my chest."

He glanced at the door. Was he looking for an escape route or to see if anyone was nearby? He sat. "Go on."

I clutched the arms of the chair to anchor myself and sucked in a deep breath. "You had every right to be angry with me—"

"That matter is over. We won't speak of it anymore."

"We have to, or things will never be right between us."

"You're wrong. What's between us…it's not that. I don't want you to trouble yourself over it anymore, Charlie. It's not your fault."

I clicked my tongue and stretched my fingers then forced them to be still in my lap. "Let me explain. You don't know all of it." I waited and he nodded at me to go on. "A few days ago, after visiting the orphanages on the other side of the river, I stopped at the General Registry Office. I thought there might be a record of my birth, with Frankenstein listed as the father. I doubted it, but decided that since I was near, I might as well try my luck. While I was there, I realized I could also ask them to check for any records of your birth." I looked down at my fingers, twisted into knots in my lap. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "It was a decision made in a moment, and I regretted it immediately. But I couldn't call the fellow back, so I resolved not to ask him for the information when he returned. Unfortunately, he gave it to me before I could stop him."

"And what did you find out?"

"Nothing. There were no records under your name."

"And about yourself?"

I looked up at him and shrugged. "Also nothing."

"So it was a wasted effort and you tripped the trigger the ministry has placed on my name there."

I gawped at him. "What trigger?"

"The ministry has triggers set up on certain official files, not only within the General Registry Office but in other government offices too. When someone asks to look at them, a particular member of the committee, or myself, is notified. The General Registry Office trigger is set to alert Lady Harcourt. You're fortunate it wasn't Lord Gillingham."

"I don't feel particularly fortunate."

"I imagine not."

As always it was difficult to tell with Lincoln, but he didn't sound angry with me. Perhaps he was too happy to have me back and would never be angry with me again. A girl could hope, couldn't she?

"At least I now know how she convinced you to go through with it," he said.

"You were furious with me when you learned I'd summoned Gurry. Why aren't you angry over this?"

"I wasn't furious. You told me yourself that your investigation at the General Registry Office was hastily decided upon and you regretted it. The summoning was more planned, deliberate. I thought you and Julia had concocted it together. I should have considered the possibility that she'd blackmailed you," he bit off. "It seems so obvious now, but at the time… It was a bad error on my part, and I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for. You couldn't have known, and it's not entirely Lady Harcourt's fault. I could have refused, but the truth is that I wanted to know why you killed Gurry too."

"Did she ask you the night before?

I nodded.

"I wondered why she came. It seemed odd that she would collect me."

"She was also worried you would change your mind and not go to the ball."

"Was she?" he ground out. He shook his head. "We won't speak of this anymore, Charlie. It's done now."

"It's not. I wish to clear the air."

"It's cleared."

"It's not! Lincoln, you need to know how awful I felt summoning Gurry's spirit. I felt sick. And then when you interrupted us in a fury…I thought you would murder someone."

He flinched. Perhaps that had been a poor choice of words. "I wasn't angry with you, Charlie." He rubbed his temple then dug his fingers into his eyes. "I was disappointed. I probably didn't express it very well."

Here was the crux of it. This was what I needed to know, although hearing him speak of his disappointment in me was like a blow to the stomach. "You were disappointed because you thought you could trust me," I finished for him.

His hand dropped to the chair arm and he gave a slight nod.

"Lincoln, you can trust me." I leaned forward, hoping that would get my point across better. "I won't betray you again. I promise."

He said nothing, just stared down at his hand.

"Lincoln?" I said in a small voice. "I have to know…can you bring yourself to trust me again?"

"I already do."

My lip wobbled. I bit it hard.

"But trust goes both ways," he went on. "And clearly you don't trust me or you would have told me what Julia had threatened to do."

"I almost did. That's why I waited up for you to return from the ball. But you were in a foul temper and I changed my mind."

The muscles around his eyes tightened in another flinch. "Then I deserved what happened. Don't excuse my behavior," he said when I opened my mouth to protest. "That entire evening is one I'd rather forget. I was in a foul temper, and unfortunately you were in the firing line at the wrong time. I'm sorry I said the things I did. It was uncalled for."

"Thank you. I forgive you. So…your family wasn't there?"

"One member was, but he knows nothing about my existence. I'm not worthy of his notice, so consequently, he didn't notice me. I don't know why I expected him to."

I bit back my sympathetic response and instead said, "Even though I didn't tell you in advance about Lady Harcourt's request, I want you to know that I do trust you, Lincoln."

His gaze lifted to mine. "Do you? I've betrayed you just as badly in the past."

"That incident was months ago," I said, waving my hand. "I'd already forgotten it." He was referring to the time he'd let me go then set a brute onto me to scare me into staying at Lichfield. It was sometimes difficult to reconcile that incident and the man who'd instigated it with the Lincoln Fitzroy sitting before me.

"No, you haven't," he said quietly. "You still have nightmares about it."

He knew that? "Not only about that man," I assured him. "The nightmares have lessened now, anyway." I shrugged and folded my arms across my chest.

"I was desperate then, Charlie. I didn't know how else to get you to stay. Another man would have known, but not me."

Desperate? For me to stay? Oh. I swallowed and nodded to let him know that I understood. I was too shaken by his honesty to speak. It meant a lot that he would confide in me like this.

"I want you to trust me," he said. "So I'm going to tell you about Gurry."

My eyes widened. "You don't have to."

"I want to. I want you to feel safe here, and that means allaying any fears about me you might still have."

I was about to tell him that I didn't have any fears, but I didn't want him to change his mind and not confide in me so I remained quiet.

"I was eleven when he came to tutor me. We didn't get along particularly well, but that wasn't unusual. My tutors were there to teach me in any way they saw fit."

How could any child learn anything while being beaten? Or fearing a beating?

"When I was twelve, things changed in the general's household. The housekeeper's nephew came to live with us. His parents had died, and he had no one else. He was two years younger than me, but we became friends, of sorts. I'd never had a friend before, never been around other children, so I wasn't easy to get along with. But we did, after a while. The problem was, I was busy with my studies and had little time for him."

"What about after lessons?"

"I studied every day from six in the morning until eight at night for day classes, then the night lessons would begin on those evenings I had them."

"Night classes? What could you possibly learn at night?"

"How to find my way around London in the dark. How to get in through a locked window without waking anyone. How to move about the clubs and dens without being noticed. Among other things."

That was quite an unusual education. I wished I'd had those sorts of lessons. Living on the streets might have been easier at first if I had. "The less I saw of Tim, the harder he tried to get my attention. He was bored and lonely in that house with nothing to do but a few chores. So he would amuse himself by tapping on the windows until my tutors came looking for him, then he'd run off. Or he would place tacks on their chairs, or break their pens and inkwells. He was mischievous, but he did it to get me to laugh."

"He never got caught?"

"Frequently. The tutors would beat him, but never severely. The housekeeper wouldn't let them."

"Did the general know what they were doing to him? And to you?"

He nodded. "It was in the reports they gave him upon his infrequent returns to the city. They'd detail what I'd learned, how well I was doing, how much they needed to discipline me et cetera."

"And he didn't try to stop them beating you? Or Tim?"

"The general believes in strong discipline. The more wayward the boy, the harder the beatings should be."

I covered my mouth. "Oh, Lincoln."

He flinched and I bit my lip. It wasn't pity he wanted, it was understanding.

"That's why he liked Gurry so much. His beatings were the hardest. Several months after Tim came to live with us, he took his fun too far. He'd made himself a slingshot and hid outside the window. We'd planned for me to open it during my lesson with Gurry and Tim would fire things at him. I followed through on the plan, and Tim shot a series of small objects at Gurry. Gurry batted some away, but Tim was fast and the rapid fire overwhelmed Gurry. He accidentally swallowed one of the pellets and almost choked. When he recovered, he went looking for Tim. It took all afternoon to find him and catch him, but when he did, he beat him with a cane. Tim was defiant, and refused to apologize. He told Gurry that the object he'd swallowed was a ball of dried horse dung. Gurry was a stickler for hygiene and had a fear of germs. He almost had an apoplexy when Tim told him that. It set him off even more. He beat Tim harder and harder, on his back, his shoulders, and around his head. Gurry went into a frenzy. I tried to pull him off but couldn't. The housekeeper started screaming, but he seemed not to hear her. He kept hitting Tim, even after he collapsed. He was bleeding from the nose and ears, but still Gurry didn't stop. It seemed to go on forever. Finally, he calmed down, but only when Tim was no longer moving."

"Oh God," I whispered into my hand. "He killed Tim. He beat him to death."

"The housekeeper wrote to the general, and the general dismissed Gurry. I never saw him again until almost a year ago in that lane. It all suddenly came back to me, and I couldn't put aside my anger. I'd let Tim down all those years ago. I hadn't been able to save him, but I finally had a chance to see justice served. So I killed Gurry then and there."

I stared at him, stunned by the story and the image of that poor boy at the mercy of Gurry. And poor Lincoln too, living with the memories for so many years. He'd had one friend in his entire life, and that friend had died because he'd been a distraction to Lincoln's studies. It was a lot to bear.

"You didn't fail Tim," I assured him. "You were only a boy too, when it happened. Don't blame yourself for something only Gurry is responsible for."

He glanced at me, a small crease connecting his brows. "And of my actions in the lane? I was an adult then. I knew what I was doing, and I chose to do it anyway."

I couldn't meet his gaze. While I understood why he'd done it, it still unnerved me to think he could hold onto his revenge for so long then act upon it in a cold, calculating manner. "Was his death swift?"

"Yes."

"Then that's something."

His brows arched.

"I don't blame you, Lincoln. I know the man you are…the man you're trained to be…and I accept that side of you. But it is only one facet of you. There are many others, and together they make up someone I like. Someone I want to get to know better."

I stood to go to him, but he shot to his feet at the same time. He swallowed heavily and placed his hands at his back. He gave me a firm nod, then turned and walked out. Just like that.

I stood there, blinking at the doorway, debating whether to go after him or not. I might have trouble catching him, bandaged up as I was.

"Charlie!" Gus scowled when he saw me standing. "You were supposed to wait until I brought you these." He handed me the crutches. When I continued to stare dumbly at the doorway, he took my hand and placed it on the horizontal bar. "Let me adjust the height for you."

***

I spent most of the day in the library, reading. The men disappeared at different times to nap, then would return to keep me company. The only one who didn't was Lincoln, and I missed his company terribly. I sent Seth up to his rooms to ask him to join us for a game of cards, but he still didn't come down.

"What's he doing?" I asked.

"Pacing."

"Pacing?"

He nodded as he dealt. "Stop worrying about him, Charlie. He knows his own mind."

He did, and that was partly the problem. His mind was always working, always remembering. What was he thinking now? I would have thought telling me about Gurry would be a weight off his shoulders, but it seemed to have made him more agitated. I was contemplating venturing upstairs to see him when he strode into the library dressed in coat and hat. He handed some letters to Gus.

"Deliver these to the committee members tonight. They're messages informing them of what transpired with Captain Jasper. They'll want to know the outcome, even though it wasn't a ministry matter."

"Can I have a game first?" Gus asked.

Lincoln nodded then walked off without another word, and without even glancing at me.

"Where are you going?" I called after him.

"For a walk." The front door opened and closed.

Gus tapped the cards in front of me. "He'll be all right. He won't get himself kidnapped."

Seth rolled his eyes. "You say the stupidest things sometimes."

"That right? I happen to know stupidest ain't a word."

"Neither is ain't." Seth threw down a card. "Stop dandying about and have your turn."

***

General Eastbrooke arrived late the following morning. I was ensconced in the library once more and heard his arrival. Lincoln answered the door. It was the first time I'd seen him all day, and I hadn't heard him come home the night before.

They came into the library and the general greeted me with a thin smile. "You're in one piece," he said. "That's the main thing."

I suspected that was all the sympathy I would get. I expected nothing else from a man who allowed his employees to beat children.

"I was going to send this last night when I received your message." He handed Lincoln a piece of paper. "It's a list of disgraced doctors dismissed from the military in the last ten years. Jasper is there." He pointed to the paper. "Unfortunately, I didn't get this in time for it to be of use."

Lincoln folded it and handed it back.

The general pocketed it. "According to his file, he was dismissed for keeping the dead bodies of some of the soldiers and performing tests on them."

I pulled a face. "He'd given them his serum before their deaths and needed to test its effects afterward to see how it performed."

"That what he told you, eh? Sounds like a madman to me."

"He was."

"Lincoln mentioned Jasper wanted to use you to help him."

I nodded. "Hence the kidnapping."

"Well. Glad you got away. How did you manage it?"

"With an elbow to his temple and a little trickery to scare his man."

His grunt held more than a hint of admiration. "Well done. I expect you'll be recovered in no time. Who'll keep house for you until she does?" he asked Lincoln as he walked out of the library again.

"No one," Lincoln said, following. "I don't need anyone else."

He didn't return after the general left. The others came and went, but not Lincoln. Not until Lady Harcourt arrived to see me at around lunch time. At least, I heard her tell him she'd come to see me, but she spoke a long time with him in the entrance hall. I caught most of their exchange since she did all the talking in a shrill voice.

"I don't know where he's gone, and nor does his brother," she said. They were talking about Andrew Buchanan, her stepson. "He left without a word, and he's taken nothing with him. He's gone, Lincoln, and I'm terribly worried."

"He's a grown man. He can fend for himself."

"That's the thing! He can't. He's hopeless. He lurches from one crisis to the next and needs either me or his brother to get him out of them. I'm concerned that he's in over his head."

"Are you?" he drawled. "That's unlike you, Julia, particularly where Andrew is concerned."

I wished I could see her face; it was a long time before she spoke. "I found books on the occult in his rooms. Charms and amulets too."

"You think he's dabbling with forces he doesn't understand?"

"I do." Her voice sounded more like her usual confident one. "I'm going to raise this as a ministry matter since it involves the supernatural."

"We don't know that for sure."

"This is just a courtesy call to you to give you warning," she said.

"I don't need advanced warning."

"Oh, Lincoln, I also came because I had to see you."

I pulled myself out of the chair and used my crutches to get to the door and peer round it. She was leaning against Lincoln, her head on his shoulder. He gingerly patted her back as if worried he'd make it worse if he patted too hard.

"I wanted to tell you how sorry I am," she said. "If I'd known how upset you would be over summoning Gurry, I wouldn't have let her do it."

Let me do it! I gritted my teeth and tightened my grip on the crutches to storm out and challenge her, but Lincoln's hand suddenly came up at his side in a "wait" gesture. He knew I was there, listening.

"Don't trouble yourself, Julia," he said. "The matter is closed. We'll speak no more of it." He grasped her shoulders and pushed her gently away.

She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her gloved finger. "But…I need to know why you killed him. Why not just tell me?"

"Because the people who need to know already know. You do not."

"Lincoln! How can you say that? As your friend, I'm worried about you." When he said nothing, she splayed her hands on his chest. Her eyelids lowered and she tilted her face up to his. "As your lover, I have a—"

"Don't!" He grabbed her wrists before stepping away and letting go.

She blinked back at him, but I was too far to see if her eyes were teary. Her hand fluttered at the black ribbon choker at her throat. "Lincoln?" Her pitiful whisper barely reached me.

"Thank you for stopping by," he said, striding past her to the door.

She straightened her shoulders and her chin rose. I'd begun to feel sorry for her, so I was pleased to see her strength of character return. I did not want to sympathize with Lady Harcourt. "I came to see Charlie too. She's had quite an ordeal, and I want to see if she needs anything. Is she in her rooms?"

I shook my head at him, but he didn't lift his eyes and couldn't have seen. Even so, he told her I was not up to receiving callers. "As you said, she's had an ordeal. She needs rest."

"Very well. Tell her I'm thinking of her."

"I will."

She brushed past him and he shut the door before her carriage rolled away. He came over to me in the library doorway. "Apparently Lady Harcourt is thinking of you."

"You didn't tell her that you know she blackmailed me into summoning Gurry?"

He shook his head. "I can if you like."

"No. There's no need. I don't want things to be even more awkward between her and me."

"She's not your enemy, Charlie. She's…unhappy."

"I know. I don't think of her as an enemy, but I'm not sure we can be friends." I laughed at my own ridiculous statement. I was a maid and she a lady. There was no chance of friendship between us anyway. "Do you think there's any cause to worry about her stepson?"

"Possibly. I'll have to investigate now, anyway. She'll present it to the ministry in such a way that they'll feel compelled to find out where he went."

"It's not like we have anything better to do."

"We?"

I smiled. "Yes, we. Now, do you think luncheon will be far away? I'm starving."

***

We resumed training after lunch. All of us. Seth arranged a series of firearms on the kitchen table and he and Lincoln went through the particulars of each one while Cook and Gus set up targets outside and a chair for me to sit in. I'd only fired off three bullets, missing all of the tins each time, when a man approached from the side of the house. He wore checked trousers and a brown coat over a black waistcoat. He was a middle aged fellow with brown hair and a graying beard. A uniformed policeman trailed after him.

"Is one of you gentlemen Mr. Lincoln Fitzroy?" the man asked.

Lincoln stepped forward. "I am."

The newcomer introduced himself as Detective Inspector Darby. He didn't introduce his spotty faced constable. "Is this Miss Holloway?"

"Yes," I said with a smile. "You have some questions for me about the abduction?"

"I do, miss, but first, I must inform you that the fellow known as Captain Jasper is dead."

I gasped. Oh God. Had I killed him? "How…?"

"Throat was cut while he was in the cell."

Not me, thank God. Still, what an awful outcome.

"Blimey," Gus muttered. "A cove ain't safe anywhere these days."

"Sometimes those holding cells can get quite full," I said. "And when you put a group of criminals together…" I knew from experience how violent the holding cells could get.

"He was alone, miss," the inspector said.

"Then who killed him?"

"We don't know. It happened in the night. Whoever did it got in and out without anyone seeing him." The inspector shook his head. "It's a mystery."

Seth shifted his weight and I glanced up at him. But he wasn't looking at me. He was staring at Lincoln. Lincoln, however, wasn't looking at anyone. His gaze was fixed on a point on the horizon. His expression was unreadable, his body still.

"What of the two men who worked for him?" I asked. "Did you catch them?"

The inspector shook his head. "They disappeared. I had men stationed at places they frequented, but there'd been no sign of them until this morning. They turned up dead in the river."

"Both of them?" At his nod, I swallowed heavily. "Were their throats cut too?"

"They were. We have no reason to think their deaths are linked to your abduction, miss, but if you have any information that can help us, we'd be most grateful."

I shook my head. "No, nothing. I'm sorry."

"Mind if I ask you some questions about that night?"

"Of course."

They stayed for a mere fifteen minutes then went on their way. The inspector's questions were exactly the ones I expected; he didn't seem to think the deaths of Jasper, Jimmy and Pete had anything to do with us.

He was the only one who thought that.

Lincoln remained at my side while the inspector was there, but left to see him off and didn't return. I continued my target practice, but only for a few more minutes. It had been a lark before, but a dark cloud had descended over our little group and changed the mood.

I got up, and Gus offered to help me inside but I wanted to do it myself. Going up the staircase wasn't easy, and I dispensed with the crutches and hobbled the rest of the way to Lincoln's rooms. I knocked. He opened the door and didn't look at all surprised to see me there.

"You should use the crutches."

"May I come in?"

He hesitated and, if I wasn't mistaken, he was biting on the inside of his lip.

"Lincoln?" If he'd noticed that I'd dispensed with calling him Mr. Fitzroy lately, he didn't point it out.

He held out his hand to me. I took it and he directed me inside to a chair, but I didn't want to sit down. I suspected he would remain standing, and I didn't want to feel at a disadvantage. I leaned on the back of a chair for support and met his gaze. He was watching me.

"You think I did it," he said. "You think I killed them."

There were several things I could have said, but I chose the path that I hoped would encourage him to tell me more. "Why would you?"

"Revenge." His gaze traveled to my bruised cheek. "You know I'm capable of exacting it."

With those few words, he'd put me in the same category as he placed Tim—as a friend worthy of his vengeful form of justice. Despite everything, it was a relief to hear. It meant he truly had forgiven me for my betrayal. I gave him a wobbly smile, but he didn't seem to understand why I was smiling. He frowned.

"I'm mostly unharmed," I told him. "I hardly think what happened to me warrants such drastic revenge." He said nothing, so I went on. "But you were agitated most of yesterday after we spoke, then you went out last night for a long time. Today, you've been distant. I don't think you killed them, but evidence points that way."

"I didn't."

My hand almost slipped off the chair in relief. If nothing else, it proved I'd harbored a kernel of doubt. "I believe you. So where did you go last night?"

"Nowhere. I walked around for a few hours then came back here."

I frowned. "Why were you just walking?"

"To clear my head and think."

"What were you thinking about?"

He drew in a deep breath, then another, and he stepped closer. He lifted a hand to my swollen cheek but didn't touch it. His eyes turned smoky, warm, and his face lowered. "About whether I should do this."

His mouth met mine. There was nothing tentative about the kiss. It was thorough, confident, yet as gentle as a first kiss ought to be. I'd not expected him to have soft lips. They were usually drawn into a hard, firm line, but now they felt like pillows. They were wonderful. He was wonderful. I knew the kiss didn't solve anything between us—if anything, it probably complicated things—but at that moment, I didn't care.

I let go of the chair, buried my hands in his hair, and kissed him back.

THE END

Coming Soon:

Beyond The Grave

The 3rd book in the Ministry Of Curiosities series by C.J. Archer.

Charlie, Lincoln and the other Ministry of Curiosities employees fight against villains both living and dead in the search for Lady Harcourt's missing stepson, and in the process, they uncover twisted family secrets and danger.

Look for BEYOND THE GRAVE in November 2015. To be notified of its release, sign up to C.J.'s newsletter via her website:

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