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Veiled in Moonlight (The Ministry of Curiosities Book 8) by C.J. Archer (16)

Chapter 16

Sir Ignatius Swinburn lived next door to Lord and Lady Ballantine on Queen's Gate, Kensington. He was not at home, according to his butler, and I could not see Lincoln, Seth or Gus lurking in recessed doorways either. The butler wouldn't tell me where his master had gone, but an enterprising errand boy who overheard me trying to bribe the butler told me Swinburn hadn't been at home since the previous afternoon. I paid him a shilling for the information and directed Tucker to take me to Franklin's house. I opened the coach door and paused, one foot on the step.

Lincoln sat inside. He held out his hand and assisted me in.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, settling on the seat. "And how did you sneak in without me seeing you?"

"I'm waiting for Swinburn. The answer to your second question is stealth. Why are you here, Charlie?" His voice sounded casual, disinterested, but I could see by the way he watched me that he was very interested in my answer.

"To make sure you didn't do anything foolish."

"I never do anything foolish."

"Anything dangerous, then."

He leaned his elbow on the window sill and rubbed the side of his finger across his lips.

"You left while I was out," I went on. "On purpose, I might add, to avoid divulging your plans to me. Your secrecy tells me one thing, Lincoln—that I won't approve."

"You knew where to find me," he said. "That's hardly being secretive."

"Only because Seth left me a note."

"Thank you for confirming my suspicion."

"Don't you dare punish him for following my orders."

"Since when do you give orders to my men?" He looked to the ceiling with a shake of his head. "Since when did they follow your orders at the risk of angering me?"

"Since they realized you won't get angry with them for using their good judgment."

He sighed. "Go home, Charlie. I'll face Swinburn without you."

I sat forward and peered out the window. We were heading out of Kensington. "You gave Tucker instructions to return to Lichfield, didn't you?"

He thumped on the roof and the coach slowed to a stop. Lincoln pecked my cheek and got out. "Go home, Charlie." He gave Tucker a nod then closed the door.

I sat back and crossed my arms. I shouldn't be angry with Lincoln; he was worried about me. And in truth, I wasn't angry, I was frustrated. He wasn't the only person in our relationship with a right to worry.

There would be no convincing Tucker to return to Swinburn's house now. He knew who paid his wages, and it wasn't me. So I sat with my mounting frustration for company while we drove to Highgate. The sun broke through the clouds as the coach slowed to turn through the Lichfield gates. It promised to be another lovely day. Perfect for walking out of the estate and finding a hack to take me back to Mayfair.

The sudden, violent stop threw me onto the other side of the cabin. I landed on the opposite seat with a thud in an unladylike position. The horses whinnied and shied, jerking the cabin to the left. Tucker tried to soothe them but his voice was not at all soothing and only seemed to agitate them more.

I pulled down the window. "Is everything—" I gasped as the figure standing there, pistol pointed at me.

"Don't move, Miss Holloway," Sir Ignatius growled. "You," he said to the driver while keeping his gaze on me. "Drive us away from here. It doesn't matter where. I won't harm your mistress unless she tries something foolish or you attempt to return here. I only wish to talk to her, but I will pull this trigger if either of you try to trick me. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Tucker said quickly.

Swinburn climbed into the cabin. He sat opposite me and did not lower the pistol. I slowly raised my hand to touch my necklace, but he shook his head.

"Don't reach for your…device," he said. "You attempt to release whatever lives in it and I will shoot before you finish the order."

My heart ground to a halt. Without my imp, my only weapon was the knife tucked up my sleeve, and I doubted I could easily retrieve it. He did not take his gaze off me.

"What do you want, Sir Ingatius?" I asked, far more boldly than I felt. "Capturing me will achieve nothing."

"On the contrary. It will send a message to Fitzroy that I will not stand idly by while he terrorizes my people." His nose twitched, like an animal scenting its prey.

I licked dry lips and willed my fiercely beating heart to calm. It made it difficult to think, and I needed to think. Needed to disarm this man and free myself. Lincoln couldn't save me. My imp couldn't save me. I had only my wits and a small knife. The odds were not in my favor.

"Mr. Franklin murdered Mr. Protheroe," I said. "Protheroe wanted justice. He only terrorized Mr. Franklin, not your other friends."

"An eye for an eye," Swinburn said. "That would be fair, except that Protheroe was brought back by you, Miss Holloway, and was encouraged to violence by Fitzroy."

"He needed no encouragement. Mr. Protheroe was upset, and rightly so. He simply fell in love with the wrong woman, and for that he was killed, quite horribly too."

He smiled but it barely lifted the edges of his mustache. "Perhaps a less violent solution could have been found, but not one that would have been so…final. Protheroe was about to ruin my plans."

"What plans are those?"

He grunted. "Abandoned ones. For now." He stroked his thumb and forefinger along his mustache, a slow and calculated move that set me even more on edge. "I should kill you for what Fitzroy did to Nigel Franklin. That might be a message he'd understand."

"Mr. Franklin is not dead." I stretched out my arm, exposing the flesh at my wrist. "Go ahead, sir. Break it. An eye for an eye, isn't that what you said?"

He stared at the inch of bare flesh between my glove and cuff. "I'm not such a fool as to think I would get away with harming a hair on your head, Miss Holloway. Fitzroy would kill me."

"You have every reason to fear him." Yet I didn't believe he was afraid of Lincoln. He was much too cocky, too self-assured. I suspected he didn't know what Lincoln was capable of. Yet. "What do you want with me, Sir Ingatius? You told my driver you wanted to talk, so talk."

"I want you to tell Fitzroy to leave my people alone."

"By people you mean your pack." I checked his hands again. They were small, like Lord Ballantine's, and very human. Everything about him seemed human, yet Leonora told us that both Ballantine and Swinburn were shape changers and that Swinburn was the leader. Perhaps they were merely more advanced changers and able to hide features like large hands and feet.

"He'll listen to you, Miss Holloway," he said. "If you tell him to leave my people alone, he will do it."

"You think so?" I lifted a finger to halt his protest. "I will try, on one condition. You leave Leisl Cornell and her family alone, and everyone at Lichfield too."

"You're proposing a truce?" He twisted his mouth to the side, thinking through the merits of my offer, and perhaps considering how it would fit in with his plans, whatever they were. "Will your fiancé agree to it?"

"He will, but there can be no more killings."

"There won't be." He sounded sincere but I'd been fooled before. "I can only agree to the truce if you tell me one thing."

"And that is?" I asked.

"Who is Fitzroy's father?"

"I don't know," I said, not missing a beat or lowering my gaze. If I was to cut off his line of questioning, I had to sound convincing.

"Liar." His nose twitched and panic rose in me. What if he could smell my lie? "I ask again, who is his father?"

"It's the truth." I could do this. I'd lied for five years about being a boy, and even Lincoln hadn't guessed. "I don't know his name. No one does, not even Leisl Cornell. I'm sure by now you know she's Lincoln's mother." The best lies were couched in truth. It never hurt to direct the conversation away from the lie, either.

"She must know who the father is," he said. "She's not a loose woman, by all accounts."

"You have done some thorough research. You're right, she's a very upstanding woman, and was then, too, so I've been told. But Leisl knew her duty was to couple with the stranger who flirted with her at the fair where she told fortunes. She's a seer, Sir Ignatius, and she had a vision about her role in Lincoln's birth well before his conception. She knew from the vision that the stranger would be the father of her first child and that child had an important role to fill in his adult life. So she did her duty by whatever forces led her to have that vision and lie with the man. She never saw him again, and nine months later, she bore his son."

He studied me carefully, watching for signs that I misled him. He shook his head and lines appeared across his forehead. My heart sank. I felt sick. "What rot," he spat. "What are you talking about? What duty?"

I clasped my hands in my lap and squeezed hard. "I see you're not fully aware of Lincoln's importance. His birth was foretold centuries ago by a seer, perhaps an ancestor of Leisl's. He was heralded as the next great leader of an organization that is now known as the Ministry of Curiosities. The ministry keeps the peace between the human realm and the supernatural." I lowered my gaze to my hands. "Please don't ask me any more questions. He won't like me telling you any of this. The ministry is not well known, you see, and we prefer it that way considering the nature of our business."

I hazarded a glance at him to see if my demure plea had an effect. To my surprise, he no longer looked like he wanted to break my bones, but instead he looked intrigued. It was impossible to tell whether he'd heard of the ministry before, but it didn't matter. I'd told him nothing of importance and several supernaturals in London already knew about us anyway.

"So do we have our truce, Sir Ignatius? Your pack stops its killings, you leave us alone, and we leave you alone." I extended my hand.

He hesitated then shook it. "We have a truce, Miss Holloway." He thumped the roof of the coach. "Instruct the coachman to drive to my house so we can inform Fitzroy."

"You know he's there?" I asked as the coach slowed.

His smile did not reach his eyes. "I wouldn't come to Lichfield and abduct you without knowing he was far away."

I pulled down the window and gave Tucker instructions. We were not far from Kensington, since Tucker had taken it upon himself to return there, perhaps hoping to alert Lincoln somehow. Swinburn undid his jacket and tucked his gun beneath the flap.

"This will remain pointed at you until I have Fitzroy's assurance that he agrees to the truce," he said. "It will be up to you to convince him of my intent to fire if I feel threatened."

We traveled the rest of the way in silence. I stared unseeing out the window but felt his gaze drilling into me. When we finally reached our destination, he ordered me to open the door.

Lincoln was already making his way to the coach, no doubt ready to reproach both Tucker and me for returning. Gus and Seth emerged from their hiding places behind him. They looked curious, not worried. They hadn't seen Swinburn, hanging back in the cabin.

I stepped down to the pavement and put up a hand to halt Lincoln's progress. The hard barrel of the gun dug into my back.

Lincoln stopped dead.

"Bloody hell!" Gus exploded. "Charlie!"

Lincoln's chest rose and fell once then stilled. His jaw stiffened. His gaze quickly scanned over me, then flicked to Swinburn before returning to me.

"I'm all right," I assured him. "We've been talking."

"Let her go, Swinburn," Seth growled. "You hurt her and he'll kill you and your entire pack too."

"I won't shoot," Swinburn said. "Unless someone does something foolish. You won't do anything foolish, will you, Fitzroy?"

Lincoln's fists curled at his sides. "What do you want, Swinburn?"

"I want to tell you about our truce. Miss Holloway and I have had a productive drive together. She has convinced me to leave you and your family alone, Fitzroy, but only so long as you agree to leave my pack alone."

A carriage approached and let a lady out a few doors away. No one spoke until she entered the house and the carriage left the street altogether. Despite the lack of conversation, Lincoln managed to seem threatening thanks to the fury rippling off him. He looked as if he wanted to kill Swinburn there on the street, regardless of who watched on.

I ached to go to him, but I didn't dare move.

"Well?" Swinburn prompted.

"I won't agree to anything until you let her go," Lincoln said.

"It's all right," I told him.

"It's not all right!" He rarely shouted at me, at anyone, because his orders were always followed without question. He got angry, yes, but usually his anger was controlled. This explosion was borne out of frustration and helplessness.

"Let me go to him," I said quietly to Swinburn over my shoulder. "Let me assure him you won't harm me."

"How can you be sure that I won't?"

I turned to see him better. I wished I hadn't. His eyes were cold and devoid of compassion. He was as angry as Lincoln, and I suddenly realized that he loved his pack as much as Lincoln loved me. He would do anything to protect them and he hated that we'd hurt Franklin. But I had to trust that he would honor our truce and not make us pay for that pain.

"Because you're afraid for your pack," I said. "Because you know that Lincoln will kill every last one, starting with you, if you hurt me."

"You forget that I hold the gun and therefore the upper hand."

"Just because you can't see his gun doesn't mean he doesn't have one. Gus and Seth, too. In the time it takes you to pull the trigger, all three will draw their weapons." I turned back to Lincoln and took a small step forward.

Lincoln stepped forward too but halted. His gaze flicked to mine then past my shoulder to Swinburn. He swallowed.

"Say you agree to the truce," Swinburn said.

I took another step forward. Lincoln did not move this time, but Seth put up his hand to stop me.

"Stay there, Charlie," Gus said.

"Say you agree to the truce, Fitzroy," Swinburn said, louder. "Or I shoot her dead."

I closed my eyes then opened them again. "Lincoln," I warned.

His nostrils flared. The pulse in his throat jumped.

I stepped forward again and Lincoln paled. Behind me, the gun cocked, the click as loud to my ears as any gunshot.

"I agree," Lincoln said on a rush of breath. "I agree to the truce."

I went to him and he enclosed me in his arms. He drew in a shuddery breath and pressed me against his body. I looked back to see Swinburn lower his weapon, his eyes bright and a curious little smile on his lips.

He nodded then climbed the steps to his front door. His gun was nowhere in sight.

I took Lincoln's hand and led him to the carriage. We got in, Seth and Gus too, without an exchange of words. Lincoln was still angry, but something underlay it, and I could only guess that it was worry.

"I had to make the truce with him," I said. "He has promised not to kill anyone, or interrogate your family anymore. I think I satisfied him with my answer anyway, of sorts. I didn't tell him about your father, Lincoln, only that no one knew who he was, not even Leisl."

"You managed to do that?" Seth nodded his approval. "Good work, Charlie."

"Aye," Gus said, patting my hand. "Gave me a bloody fright seeing him step out behind you. But you got it all in hand on your own."

I did. So why wasn't Lincoln pleased?

"The truce won't hinder us," I told him. "We've promised not to harm his pack, but we can still investigate them and keep our eye on them."

His lashes flickered and he nodded. "Good work."

I wanted to ask him why he was still upset but not in front of the others. He wouldn't answer me. Besides, it was likely he was still recovering from the shock of the confrontation. My nerves continued to jangle and my heart had not resumed its regular, steady pattern.

I got my chance to speak to him alone when we alighted from the coach at the front of Lichfield. Lincoln took my hand and walked with me to the apple orchard. His strides were so long that I had to take two steps to his one to keep up.

He stopped under cover of the blossoms and branches where we couldn't be seen from the house, drive or outhouses. He pressed me hard up against a tree trunk and I opened my mouth to tell him to calm down, but his kiss stole my words. It wasn't a sweet kiss yet it wasn't brutal either. It was filled with the darker kind of passions within him that he rarely unleashed. The sort of passions he kept locked away because he thought they scared me.

But this man didn't scare me. He never could. I knew him, the good and the bad, and I knew those dark passions would never overrule him to the point where he'd hurt me. Others, perhaps, but never me.

Yet sometimes I suspected he scared himself by releasing them. Like now.

I kissed him back just as fiercely, to prove that I didn't fear him, and just because I wanted to. I cradled his head, stood on my toes, and arched into him. I welcomed his passion, wishing I could absorb the darkness but knowing I could not. It throbbed through me as it throbbed through him, wild and strong. Mad. Perhaps that's what it was, a kind of madness that we both felt on occasion. It was certainly difficult to think clearly with my blood racing and my mind reeling and his lips claiming me.

Finally the kiss gentled and he pulled away, the darkness once again safely locked up. A remnant of it swirled in his eyes and in his fingers, massaging my waist so hard he was in danger of putting a hole in me.

I touched his cheek and smiled up at him. "Say something," I said.

He shook his head. Because he had nothing to say or because he was afraid his voice would tremble? He backed away and lowered his head. Strands of black hair fell across his face, hiding his eyes.

"Swinburn will keep his end of the bargain," I assured him. "He's just as afraid of your wrath as you are of him harming your family."

He looked at me through his hair. His mouth opened then he shut it again. He turned and strode away. "I'm proud of you, Charlie. The truce was a good idea."

I picked up my skirts and trotted after him. When I fell into step alongside him, I took his hand. He squeezed and his thumb stroked mine. He was proud of me, of that I was certain, and he did think the truce was a good idea. Yet he was troubled. He'd been afraid for me and he hated that. He saw it as a weakness.

Last time he'd been afraid for me, he'd sent me away for safekeeping at the school. Back then, he hadn't recognized his fear or his love. Now, I only hoped he'd progressed enough to curb the instinct to send me away from the danger. From him.

* * *

The inevitable meeting with the committee occurred the following morning in the library. Lincoln had delayed it as long as possible, hoping to hear back from the Prince of Wales first. He sent a letter to him the evening before, apprising him of events, theories and the truce. The prince's response had not arrived by the time the committee meeting began.

"Sir Ignatius Swinburn is not involved," Lady Harcourt spat. "This is absurd. Slanderous!"

"Sit down, Julia," Lord Marchbank bellowed. "Hear them out."

Lady Harcourt did not sit down. She paced the carpet, showing off her fine figure and full bosom to best effect with her heaving breaths. I suspected that was the reason why she paced past Lincoln and Seth most of all. They happened to be standing next to one another, having both stood when Lady Harcourt shot to her feet. They were nothing if not gentlemanly, preferring not to sit when a lady in their presence did not.

"I'm leaving," she suddenly announced.

"Gus," Lincoln said.

Gus moved in front of the door, blocking her exit.

"How dare you!" she railed at him.

Gus settled his feet apart. "Sorry, ma'am."

She whirled around and threw herself onto a chair. Her skirts puffed up and her bustle was crushed behind her, but she didn't seem to care.

"Bloody women and their hysteria," Gillingham muttered. "Shouldn't be allowed in these meetings."

Lady Harcourt's glare would have pierced him if it were made of steel.

"If you'll listen to the evidence," Seth said to her, "you'll come to agree with our conclusions."

She sniffed and turned her face away.

Lincoln allowed Seth to report on everything we'd learned since our Isle of Wight expedition. He left nothing out, and made a good account of our conclusions. He finished with details of the truce.

"A truce!" Gillingham threw his hands in the air. Since he still held the walking stick, it was fortunate he didn't knock over the vase of flowers on the table nearest him. "Fitzroy, have you gone mad?"

"It was the best outcome," Lincoln said.

"Not mad, soft." Gillingham eyed me, as if he knew the truce was something I brokered. "You should have killed Swinburn."

"He would have shot Charlie before I could draw or attack," Lincoln said.

Gillingham smirked, as if that was hardly something worth worrying about.

"I would have killed him," Lincoln went on. "But his pack would have killed me and my men. They're stronger than us and outnumber us. The truce was the only way out and the only way forward."

"Agreed," Marchbank said. "Are you sure you can trust Swinburn to keep it?"

"We have to."

Marchbank's lips flattened in thought.

"He'll come here and kill you all in your beds," Gillingham said. "Mark my words."

Lady Harcourt whimpered. "Stop it. Stop this talk at once. The man you're describing is not the man I know. He's ambitious, yes, but he's attentive and generous."

"Do be quiet, Julia," Gillingham said. "Stay out of this until you come to your senses and see that Swinburn is a danger."

"He's not a danger!"

"How do you know? Because he prefers to fornicate with you rather than kill you? You do know you're not the only woman warming his bed."

Her nostrils flared and her top lip peeled back from her teeth.

"Don't talk to a lady like that in my house," Lincoln said, his rich voice rumbling through the library.

Gillingham huffed out a humorless laugh and crossed one leg over the other.

"Fitzroy's right," Marchbank said. "That was uncalled for. Your behavior to the other members of this committee has been appalling these last few months, Gilly. As senior member, I'm ordering you to be civil from now on. You're not so important that you can't be thrown out."

Gillingham spluttered a protest but quieted with a single sharp glare from Lincoln. Lincoln was still angry, and Gillingham must have realized that he would only bring that anger down on himself if he continued.

"What of the relationship between the young Prince Albert Victor and Leonora Ballantine?" Lord Marchbank asked, thankfully returning the meeting to its original agenda.

"The Prince of Wales has put a stop to them seeing one another," Lincoln said. "There'll be no more contact between her and Prince Eddy."

"How can you be sure? If the man's in love with her, nothing will keep him away."

"He knows that she was in love with another the entire time," I said. "He realizes he was duped and that she had a part in duping him. That dampened his ardor considerably."

"I don't doubt it."

"That's women for you," Gillingham said, rubbing his palm over the head of his walking stick.

Lady Harcourt turned ice-cold eyes onto him. "Just because your wife tricked you into her bed doesn't mean all women are devious. Oh, wait." Her lips curved into a seductive, beautiful, and utterly cruel smile. "Or did she use her wolf strength to ravish you?"

Gillingham shot to his feet, his face crimson. He raised his walking stick but Lincoln caught Gillingham's wrist before he could strike her.

"What?" Marchbank frowned at Lady Harcourt then Gillingham. "What's this about wolf strength?"

"Julia!" Seth warned. "Don't."

It wasn't so much that she was alluding to Harriet being a shape changer that interested me. It was that she was in possession of the knowledge in the first place. Had Swinburn told her? Why would the subject have come up between them?

"Seth will see you out now," Lincoln said to Gillingham.

Seth grabbed Gillingham's arm and marched him to the door. Gus stepped aside and let them pass. Gillingham didn't appear too fazed to be thrown out.

"Thank you, Lincoln," Lady Harcourt said breathily. She touched her temples and swayed in the chair. "I feel quite faint from the excitement. I cannot believe Gilly would be so violent. Would you mind escorting me home? I'm afraid for my safety."

"You'll be fine," Lincoln said, turning his back on her. "He wouldn't dare strike you." He poured a brandy at the sideboard and handed her the tumbler.

She accepted it but not before blinking pathetically at him. She had quite a nerve, flirting with him in my presence. Or perhaps she knew she had nothing to lose since I already despised her and she me.

Seth returned, dusting off his hands as if he'd just thrown out the rubbish.

Lord Marchbank thanked him. "Gilly's temper is getting worse."

"Because he has no control at home anymore." Lady Harcourt threw back the contents of her glass. "So he tries to take control elsewhere, like here. Especially here."

"It seems I'm the only who doesn't know what you're alluding to," Marchbank said darkly. "Go on, out with it."

"Julia," Seth warned again. "It's not our business."

"Harriet is a shape changer," she said.

Marchbank sank into his chair and rubbed his scarred jaw. "Well. That explains a few things about Gillingham's behavior of late, toward the ladies in particular. Why wasn't I told, Fitzroy?"

"It wasn't necessary." Lincoln addressed Marchbank but kept his gaze on Lady Harcourt. She shifted her weight and toyed with the lace collar of her dress. "How do you know about it?" he asked her.

"That is none of your affair," she said with a sniff.

"It is."

"You gave up the right to ask questions about my personal life when you walked out of it."

"This is not personal, it's ministry business."

"Oh?" she said with sickening sweetness. "Then why wasn't the entire committee made aware of Harriet's condition? You can't have it both ways, Lincoln."

He slammed his hand down on the table near her. We all jumped. Lady Harcourt paled. "How did you find out about it?" he ground out.

She sat straight, her shoulders back, her eyes flashing. "You know very well that I have my own sources of information separate from the ministry ones. You'll have to torture me if you want more than that. Now," she said crisply. "The reason I haven't walked out yet is that I need to inform the committee of my intentions to change my will."

"Your last will and testament has nothing to do with us," Marchbank said.

"The part about the heir who will take over my position on the committee does."

"It won't be Buchanan?"

"No. I've thrown him out of the house and I wish to cut him out of my life altogether. That's what one does with tumors."

"Didn't your husband's will stipulate he could stay there as long as he wanted?" Seth asked.

"It does, which is why I expect him to return, unfortunately. In the meantime he has gone to live with Donald and Marguerite at Emberly Park."

"Bloody hell," Seth said with a shake of his head. "Is that a good idea, considering Marguerite's delicate mind? Not to mention her affection for Andrew and the fact the Buchanan brothers hate each other."

She lifted one shoulder. "They can kill one another, for all I care. Perhaps that will solve all my problems."

"Who will you nominate to replace you on the committee if you should die?" Lord Marchbank asked.

"Seth."

Seth blinked.

The clock on the mantel chimed and she gathered up her reticule. "I must go, but one last warning, Lincoln. Do not accuse Sir Ignatius of anything. He's innocent."

Lincoln strode to the door, opened it, and waited for her to leave.

Seth, however, rose to the bait. "You're biased, Julia. Your self-interest in this matter is clear to everyone in this room."

"You're just jealous, Seth dear. You always have been jealous of my other lovers."

"Not for a long time, Julia. Seeing you for the person you really are has been a liberating experience. It's as if a noose has been removed from around my neck."

She headed for the door, her stiff skirts snapping at her ankles with her purposeful strides.

"Swinburn is pack leader," Seth said to her back. "He is as guilty of Protheroe's murder as Franklin, and you'd better remember that or you might find yourself in danger."

"I'm in no danger from him. He adores me."

"He hides it well. The last time I saw you two together, he showed no more interest in you than any other woman. Perhaps because you're not a shape changer."

She rounded on him, her nostrils flaring like a raging bull's. "How dare you!" she screeched. If he'd been any closer, she would have slapped him.

"How dare you, Julia." Seth stabbed a finger in her direction and bared his teeth. I'd never seen him so angry. She'd pushed him over the edge this time. "As a committee member, you ought to have the ministry's best interests at heart, instead of your own. Lately you seem to have forgotten that. If we find out that you told Swinburn about Leisl or anything else related to Fitzroy and the ministry, you will be removed from the committee."

Her lips flattened, a severe red streak across pale skin. "You get ahead of yourself, Seth dear. Until, and indeed if, you inherit the committee position from me, you're just Lincoln's lackey. You can't threaten me with anything."

"But I can," Lincoln said. "Seth is correct. If you reveal anything to Swinburn, being removed from the committee will be the least of your concerns."

Her throat worked with her swallows, and she folded her arms as if warding off a chill. "Empty threats, Lincoln," she said, rallying. "That's all you've got now, just threats we all know you won't follow through on. Not now that she has filed down your edges. Edges that made you the powerful man you once were. Now you're just an ordinary man with an ordinary life. How dull you've become."

Her gaze slid to me beneath lowered lashes. I stiffened but didn't shy away. She didn't frighten me.

"That's enough, Julia," Marchbank barked. He grabbed her arm and marched her out of the library into the entrance hall where Doyle handed out coats and hats as if nothing were amiss.

"Do be careful, Lincoln," she tossed over her shoulder. "Sir Ignatius is not someone you can accuse without repercussions." She shook off Lord Marchbank's grip and let herself out the front door.

"The gall of her," Seth bit off. "She can't be allowed to get away with helping Swinburn under our very noses."

"We can't be certain she is the one who gave him the information," I said. "I think she's overplaying his regard for her, for one thing."

"Which is exactly why we must be careful. She's desperate enough to win his attention that she'll give him whatever information he wants."

"She wouldn't betray us," I said. For one thing, I still believed she cared too much about Lincoln to want any real harm to befall him.

Lord Marchbank stood by the door and flipped up his coat collar. "Vickers is correct. She is desperate, and desperate people do things a normal person would not. I believe her capable of anything, right now. Be careful, Fitzroy. Keep an eye on her."

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Tempting: A Cinderella Billionaire Story by Sophie Brooks

Strapped Down by Nina G. Jones

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