by CJ Archer
The mist rolled in while Jack and I sat in silence. It draped the ruins like a ghostly veil, and only the taller structures rose above it. The cooler, damper air doused the last remnants of heat inside me. It could not, however, dampen my raging thoughts. There were so many, and picking them apart proved impossible.
"We'd better go back," Jack said, standing. "I'd offer my hand to assist you, but I don't think that's wise."
I rose unassisted and put on my jacket. I would have to mount Clover without aid too.
Jack must have been thinking the same thing because he led my horse to the column base I'd been sitting on. "Stand up there and put your left foot in the stirrup." He held the stirrup for me and I did as suggested, careful not to touch him.
Once I was safely in the saddle, he mounted too. His horse shifted restlessly, as if he wanted to race off, but Jack soothed him with gentle words.
Clover moved behind the other horse, and my gaze shifted to Jack's broad back and shoulders. They were strong, capable shoulders and looked magnificent straining the seams of his riding jacket.
Now that the shock of discovering that he liked me had worn off, I was able to think about our situation more clearly. Or rather, my situation. I should have told him that he had the wrong girl. I should have told him about the real Violet Jamieson. She needed the training, not me. She needed to know there was someone else like her.
The lie was beginning to eat me up inside, turning me cold where the heat of Jack's blast had warmed me only moments ago. Would he ignite like that if he touched Vi? Or had that only happened because he liked me, and it was something only I had the power to do?
Despite my doubts, the notion that Langley would use Vi as a test case still gnawed at me. If it were just August Langley who'd kidnapped me, I would have been certain that he wanted Vi so he could study her, but it was Jack and Sylvia's involvement that threw water over that theory. They seemed quite harmless. What I needed was a test of my own to determine once and for all if I could trust Jack.
"Are the police following up that information you gave them about the boot print?"
He half turned in the saddle to look back at me. "Why do you ask?"
"I'm simply curious. Don't you think it's unusual that a thief entered the house, stole some papers, then got out again without anyone seeing him?"
He focused on the path ahead once more, but I saw the slight stiffening of his back. "Unusual, but not impossible. It's a big house."
"Yes, but not one single servant heard or saw him."
"What are you getting at, Violet?"
"Just that I'm surprised none of them mentioned seeing or hearing an intruder to you." He made no comment, so I asked as boldly as I could. "They didn't, did they?"
"No."
My heart sank. It was an outright lie. He'd told Tommy that the maid named Maud had described the intruder to him. I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth.
"When we go to London, will you be staying with Sylvia and me the entire time?"
His hesitation was small, but it was there. "If you wish me to."
I urged Clover to speed up and she trotted alongside Jack's horse. He glanced at me then away. "You won't be going to visit people you used to know there?" I asked.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Your accent sounds cultured now, but when you grew angry in your uncle's rooms, it changed."
"A person's manner of speaking can do that when they're ruled by their emotions."
"Yes, but they don't switch to London slum accents. I wondered if you would visit your old friends upon your return, and if you'll take Sylvia and me with you."
He turned to me again. His jaw was set as hard as stone, his eyes even harder. "How do you know what a London slum accent sounds like, Violet? Heard many while locked away in the attic of a grand house?" He squeezed his horse's flanks and the big animal set off at a gallop.
By the time Clover reached the stables, my rear was sore and my heart sorer. Jack was nowhere to be seen.