by Candace Camp
“That’s the creation of small minds. There was no magic—she didn’t brew potions or dabble in witchcraft. She had an ability, like one’s ability to think or see or hear. It’s just that very few people possess that sense, and most of those who do dismiss it. It’s an uncomfortable gift.”
“I would think so. What does the Eye do exactly? Have you used it?”
“Yes, from time to time. However, my ability is strong enough that I don’t need it, usually. It makes the spirits in the air easier to see. I used it when I was beginning.”
“Are you really able to see Old Eldric? My grandfather?”
Cornelia nodded emphatically. “Those who are closest to me are the most visible. All that talk about necromancy is nonsense, of course. One cannot raise the dead with it—and, frankly, I don’t know why anyone would wish to do so. Why would anyone want an old moldy corpse walking about?”
“But people believed she could.”
“Oh, yes, the legend persists even to this day.”
“What about her family? She must have had children if we are descended from her. What happened to them?”
“That is one thing we don’t really know. One presumes they moved to the edges of civilization to conceal themselves. Scotland, perhaps.”
“But you know that they changed their name. At least one of them.”
“They must have. Else why would Ballew not be on the family tree?”
“That’s a rather circular argument, don’t you think?”
Her grandmother shrugged. “We know we are descended from her because we have the Eye.”
“Someone could have stolen it.”
“Ah, but then they would have had the instrument but not the ability to use it. We have the ability and the Eye.”
“That’s all you know?”
“Yes. What else would there be?”
“Does it...give you any other ability than seeing the dead?”
“Other abilities? You mean seeing that that young man draws death to him, that you would die because of him?”
“Yes. Or like dreams.”
“I saw him without using the Eye. And dreams... I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I just thought you might have prophetic dreams, as well.”
“No. I’m not an oracle, Thisbe,” Cornelia scoffed.
“Of course not. Grandmother, please show me the Eye again. I wasn’t paying enough attention the other day—I was angry.”
“As well you should be. Imagine that young man trying to worm his way into your affections! It’s a good thing I saw him for what he is.”
“Yes, well, could you get out the Eye for me? I wanted to look through it.”
“I don’t know, dear. I couldn’t use it until my grandmother died. It’s meant only...”
“For the one who carries it. I know. But I was interested in how it worked.”
“Well, you most certainly cannot take it apart to see how it works. Don’t think I don’t remember my cuckoo clock.”
“Grandmother, I was six years old then. I won’t try to take it apart. I only want to examine it.”
“Very well.” The duchess went into her bedroom.
Moments later, Thisbe heard a loud wail, and she ran to her grandmother. “What’s wrong?”
The dowager whirled to face her. “The Eye! They’ve taken it.”
“The twins again? We’ll get it back.”
“No, no, you don’t understand. I put it in the safe.” She pointed to the small square door hanging open halfway up the wall. “Even the Greats couldn’t have gotten into that. The Eye is gone!”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“DESMOND...” THE NAME came from Thisbe in little more than a whisper, the now-familiar pain a storm in her chest.
“That blasted man stole the Eye!” The duchess slammed the safe door shut. “I should have known.”
“So should I,” Thisbe added grimly. Why had it come as a shock that Desmond had betrayed her yet again?
“I shouldn’t have shown it to him,” Cornelia went on bitterly, turning an accusatory gaze at her granddaughter.
“I know, Grandmother. This is my fault. I was too impulsive. After what I’d learned, I should have realized he couldn’t be trusted to even see the thing.” A saving anger shot through Thisbe, fury drowning out all pain and regret. “Don’t worry. I will get it back.”
Thisbe strode down the hall, her mind suddenly clear and hard as glass. The Eye had always been Desmond’s goal. It struck her with great clarity that Desmond had been the one who suggested they hire the twins’ nanny. Katie, his landlord’s sister, presumably Desmond’s friend. A woman who wouldn’t look out of place anywhere in the house, since the twins went all over.
No wonder he’d given up his pretense of affection for Thisbe. He had insinuated an accomplice into the house, someone better placed than he to search for the Eye. Then Thisbe, like a fool, had revealed the Eye’s hiding place to him. He might not know the exact spot, but he was able to narrow down the area Katie would have to search. He could tell her that her charges had found the thing before.
Her fury bubbled even higher at the thought that they might have used Alex and Con to pursue their goal. Well, she’d deal with Katie later. First and foremost, she had to find Desmond and wrest the Eye from him. Katie wouldn’t have kept it; she would have given it to Desmond.
Thisbe grabbed her warm cloak and ran out to hail a hansom...though this time she remembered to grab a handful of coins as she left. As the hack carried her toward the optical shop, she brooded, stoking her anger. How could he? How could she have been so mistaken about him? Even when she knew Desmond had wooed her in order to get the Eye, she had hoped deep down that it hadn’t been entirely a sham with Desmond, that he had some feeling for her, at least a kindness.
Desmond had played her for a fool once again. Well, he wouldn’t anymore. She was done with being gullible and naive. She was contemptuous of trust in anyone but her own family. She was impervious to Desmond’s dark eyes and sweet smile.
After paying the driver and telling him to wait, she marched into the optical shop. The middle-aged man behind the counter widened his eyes and stepped quickly around the counter, holding his hands out as if to stop her. “No, miss, please, I beg you, not another fight. My shop—”
“I have no intention of doing anything to your shop. I’m after just one man.” She directed a gaze worthy of her grandmother at him. “Step aside.”
He moved back with a moan, hands to his head. “Another morning lost.”
Thisbe shoved aside the curtain, and her eyes went straight to Desmond sitting at the back, his dark head bent over his work. Around her, everyone froze for a moment, then scrambled to their feet and turned toward Desmond, ready for another round of entertainment. Desmond’s head came up at the clatter, and his eyes went to Thisbe. An expression flashed across his face—in the past Thisbe would have interpreted it as pleasure; now she wouldn’t even try to guess at his emotions.
“Thisbe.” In the utter silence of the shop, his word was clear. He started toward her, and Thisbe rushed toward him.
“How could you!” Thisbe had intended to be cold, hard and relentless, but she couldn’t hold back this hot rush of anger. “I trusted you! Of all the things you’ve done, the lies, the deception, the—the betrayal, I didn’t expect this of you.”
Desmond stopped. “What? I don’t kno—”
“Don’t you dare deny it!” She came to a halt a yard away from him. She had meant to slap him, had contemplated it with eagerness all the way over here, but now, looking into his face, she could not. Nor could she stop the tears that welled in her eyes. “You stole it. You stole the Eye, and I want it back.”
His jaw dropped. “What? I... The Eye—it’s missing?”
“Did you think I wouldn’t know it was
you? Did you think I was such a love-struck ninny I’d not go to the police? Well, you’re wrong. That’s exactly where I’m going if you don’t return it this instant.”
Desmond grabbed his jacket and took Thisbe’s arm, starting for the door. “I think this is better taken up outside, don’t you?”
Thisbe said nothing but went with him. Now, with the first spate of rage over, she was aware of all the curious eyes and ears in the room.
“Desmond, where are you going?” the owner of the shop exclaimed as they walked past. “Are you leaving again? Blast it, Desmond, you can’t—”
Desmond closed the front door behind him, cutting off his employer’s words. He turned to her. “Thisbe, I did not take the Eye. I swear to you, I didn’t.”
“I can’t take your word anymore. You lied to me!”
“I did not lie to you.”
“Omitting the truth is a lie.”
“You did the same thing!” Anger flared in his eyes. “Damn it, Thisbe, I was not solely to blame. You hid your identity from me. How was I supposed to know who you were? Who your grandmother was? I don’t know the family tree of every blasted peer in the realm.”
“Even if that is true, which I doubt, the fact remains that you didn’t tell me after you found out who I was.” Thisbe slashed her hand through the air. “This is pointless. I’m not here to argue about who is to blame for what. I am here to get back the Eye. I have no desire to air our family matters to the world, so I would prefer not to have to turn this over to the authorities. I would think you would rather not be investigated by them, as well. Give me back the Eye, and we can go our separate ways.”
“I. Don’t. Have. The. Eye,” Desmond said through clenched teeth. “Why are you so bloody determined to put the worst possible connotation on everything I’ve done? Stop being bullheaded and think about it for a moment. Why would I take the Eye, knowing I would be the most obvious suspect? Why wouldn’t I have taken it before?”
“You didn’t know where it was until I stupidly showed you its location.”
“Oh, for—” He broke off and glanced around at the passersby, who were slowing their steps and watching them. “Is that your hack?”
Before she could answer, he took her arm and steered her toward the vehicle. Thisbe jerked her arm from his grasp, sending him a baleful look, and marched off to the carriage.
“Where to, miss?” the driver asked.
“I don’t know.” She hesitated, glancing back at Desmond.
He spread his arms wide in a manner she found immensely annoying. “Do you want to search my room? Will that satisfy you?”
“Very well.” Thisbe climbed into the carriage, leaving Desmond to give the man their destination. It apparently required a good bit of explanation, but Thisbe didn’t mind. It gave her a chance to calm down. However satisfying it had been to spew out her rage at Desmond, it would serve no purpose to let her emotions rule her. She must be calm. Logical. Make him see that hers was the correct course. Desmond was, despite all else, a man of reason and intellect.
He climbed in and sat down beside her. The hack was small, with only one seat, and he was uncomfortably close to her. Their arms almost touched. She looked down at his long legs, stretched across the width of the carriage and still looking too cramped. Why did she find that so endearing? And why did she still feel this way when she looked at him? How could she want to smooth back the lock of hair that fell across his face, or place her palm against his cheek? How could she want to kiss him? Thisbe turned quickly away, looking out the window.
“Letting me know the Eye was in your grandmother’s room was scarcely giving anything away,” Desmond said, taking up the argument again. “I didn’t see where she hid it.”
“You knew it was in her bedroom.”
“Anyone would have guessed that it would be there. I could have searched her rooms before,” Desmond said.
“Perhaps you did.”
“You know I didn’t. You were with me every minute I was in your home.”
“Which is exactly why you didn’t steal it earlier. That’s why you slipped your cohort into our house.”
“My cohort? What—Who—Good Lord, do you mean Katie?”
“Yes. Katie. The woman you so conveniently knew, who could so conveniently start immediately, whom we would all trust because we trusted you. Whose presence anywhere in the house would never be noticed as yours would have been.”
“Don’t.” His eyes hardened. “Don’t you dare bring Katie into all this. She is entirely blameless—she knows nothing about the Eye. I gave your mother her name because I wanted to help the duchess, and it was a pleasant bonus that I was able to help Katie, as well. That is all. If you let her go because of this, without any proof, it would be heartless.”
“You want to talk to me about being heartless?” Thisbe said in patent disbelief.
“At the moment, I don’t want to talk to you about anything at all.”
Unbelievably, foolishly, his words stung, and Thisbe had to glance away to hide the tears that suddenly filled her eyes.
Despite his words, Desmond continued in a low, bitter voice, “I never thought I would see you act like an aristocrat.” He knocked on the roof and called to the driver, “Here it is.”
Desmond opened the door before the carriage had come to a full stop and jumped down. He stood waiting for her, hands jammed into his pockets. He nodded toward a narrow alleyway between two houses. “It’s up the stairs.”
Thisbe followed him up the two flights of stairs to a door high in the outside wall. He opened the door and went inside.
“You leave it unlocked?” Thisbe asked in surprise.
“I’ve nothing to steal.”
She walked into a small, oddly shaped room with a peaked ceiling that sloped on both sides down to a short wall. It had clearly once been an attic. Next to the door was a single window letting in a dim light, clearly limited by the taller building beside it. The place was small and spare, with only a few pieces of plain furniture, none of them new. But it was meticulously clean and had a certain quaint appeal.
Thisbe glanced around the room. Books were scattered across a small table. His comb and brush, along with shaving paraphernalia, sat on the chest beside a washbasin, a small mirror above it. A muffler was draped over the back of a chair. It felt very awkward to stand here in this private place of Desmond’s. She was pushing in where she didn’t belong, where she wasn’t wanted.
It was obvious that Annie Blue’s Eye was nowhere to be seen, and that there was little place to hide it. Desmond ostentatiously opened each of the dresser drawers and shoved the clothes to the side to show that the Eye was not there. When he closed the last one, he turned to her, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.
Thisbe swallowed. It hurt to see this harder, colder Desmond. She walked to the window, just to give herself something to do. Looking out, she said, “I haven’t said anything to Katie. Nor to my mother or anyone but you. Nor would I accuse Katie without any proof or a chance to defend herself.” She forced herself to look at him. “I’m not acting like an aristocrat. I suspect her because of her connection to you, not because she’s from a lower class.”
“Really?” Desmond moved closer. “I think that’s exactly why you accused her. Why you assumed I had taken it. You know there are several others who want it, yet you came straight to me. What about Carson? Wouldn’t you have taken his word as a gentleman when he said he didn’t steal the Eye? Would you have accused Carson as quickly, as harshly, as you did me?”
“No! Because I didn’t love Carson.” Tears sprang into Thisbe’s eyes, and she started for the door. She would not let him see her cry.
“Thisbe...” Desmond’s voice lost its hard edge. He caught her arm, stepping in front of her. “Thisbe, look at me.” He tilted up her chin and cupped her cheek, his thumb sliding across it to wipe away an errant t
ear. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I caused you any pain. If I could go back and change it all, I would. But I can’t. The best I could do was tell you the truth, even though I knew it would cost me your affection. And I am telling you the truth now. I did not steal the Eye.”
It was an almost physical pain to be this close to him—to hear his voice, to feel his skin upon her cheek, to look into the dark depths of his eyes. With all her heart, Thisbe wanted to believe him. She wanted to melt into his arms and feel his lips on hers, to put her faith in him. But she was wiser now. She knew to think rather than feel. She took a step back, breaking their connection.
She would use her head. And her head suspected he was probably telling the truth. Her anger and hurt had colored her judgment. She had wanted Desmond to be the culprit. But, looking at it logically, it would be a foolish thing for him to steal the Eye right after she’d shown it to him, and Desmond was not foolish. Nor would he be unwise enough to stay in the city, working at the same place, where she could so easily find him. When she told him it had been stolen, the shock on his face had been very real.
“Very well,” Thisbe said. She wasn’t ready to trust him, but if he hadn’t stolen it, she could use his help. If he had, he’d obviously hidden the thing, and perhaps she could get a clue from him as to where. “I’m willing to go forward on that premise.”
There was a tinge of disappointment in his eyes, but he only nodded and said, “Obviously the others in my group are the main suspects. Mr. Wallace, Professor Gordon and Carson. One of the others could have done it, I suppose, but...” He shook his head. “They haven’t displayed as much interest. I’d put them last.”
“I presume you told all of them about the Eye,” Thisbe ventured.
The guilt on Desmond’s face was answer enough. “I’m sorry. I told them that the dowager duchess wouldn’t let us study it. So, yes, they knew for certain that it was real and that your grandmother did indeed possess it. I suppose I should have told them it didn’t exist, but that didn’t even occur to me. I couldn’t lie to Professor Gordon. The man has been ridiculed so much, I couldn’t bear not to let him know that he’d been right about the Eye all these years.” He dragged his fingers back through his hair. “Clearly I am a failure at deception.”