A Matter of Circumstance and Celludrones (Dark Matters)

by Claire Robyns

  “I really did die,” she said quietly, needing the words out there. “She really did kill me.”

  Lord Adair gave her one of his rare, kinder looks that softened his entire face and hinted at a gentle nature hidden deep beneath his rock-hard shell. “I cannot imagine how horrific that must have been for you.”

  Dying had been horrific, to say the least, as were the rebounding memories that had haunted her all night long and most of today. Now, however, something else was thrown into the mix, a blurred emotion she couldn’t quite define. The one thing she’d always—to use Lord Adair’s words—had an unnatural fear of, had transpired yesterday and here she was today, still living and breathing.

  By Heaven’s stars, I defied death.

  She felt simultaneously terrified and euphoric, vulnerable and invincible. Either her brain had finally shattered or, with a little help from Lord Adair, she’d survived death. Given those options, she’d take the latter. All the rest, possibly even the truth, could be shoved into a jar of mental formaldehyde, preserved for when she was better able to deal with it.

  “Lily, we must be going.”

  She nodded, falling in beside him as he skirted the crowds and veered toward the bottom of the field where the carriages were parked. “Do you truly think Lady Ostrich will still come? When you stepped back yesterday, it changed the course of events.” Lily glanced up occasionally, searching for Evelyn amongst the paddlers, relieved each time she couldn’t find her. “I asked Ana and it seems Lady Ostrich never put in an appearance at my home at all.”

  “Assumptions are dangerous.”

  “You must have some experience in the matter.”

  “When I time-run,” he said, “I usually keep right on running and don’t look back.”

  “My goodness, Lord Adair, that doesn’t sound like you.”

  “I finally decided to stop and this is what happens.”

  “Me?” she asked, taken aback by the bitterness in his voice. She surged forward to block his advance.

  He shook his head. “Almost getting you killed.”

  She looked into his eyes, looked past the impossible rogue who strained her manners and saw the vulnerability lurking there. He always asserted himself with such confidence and nonchalance, but now she realised he wasn’t much older than her. How long had he been running? What had he been running from? “I’m pleased you stopped and found me, Lord Adair. I wouldn’t have survived Lady Ostrich without you.”

  “How many times do I have to rescue you before you’ll drop the formalities and call me Grey?”

  She turned from him to the crowds with a small smile. “I could perhaps manage Greyston.”

  “That’ll do for now.”

  “Damn and blast.” The curse slipped out as her gaze landed on Evelyn’s husband.

  He stood by the white marquee, his feet braced far apart and his head tilted all the way back. She followed his line of sight to an air-paddler who must have taken off recently, given the slow ascent. White bloomers billowed from a tight waist, tucked into some sort of stocking below the knee to prevent the material tangling in the chain. Her gaze travelled up, to the short, fitted jacket and up, to the cinnamon curls protruding from a plain white bonnet strapped firmly beneath the chin.

  No wonder she hadn’t seen Evelyn in the skies. She’d been looking for a velvet green winter coat.

  “Is that Lady Harchings?” There was a hint of awe in Greyston’s tone. “What the devil is she wearing?”

  Bloomers, Lily might have snapped. But one didn’t mention undergarments in mixed company. One certainly didn’t wear them on the outside in mixed or any other company. If Devon was in a murderous mood, he had a choice of valid reasons. “He’s going to have an apoplexy.”

  “That’s certainly a sight to overwhelm most men.”

  “Do you have to sound so amused?” She shot him a blistering look.

  He shrugged. “It’s amusing.”

  “Not to her husband,” Lily groaned. “He’s going to throttle her and then she’s going to throttle me. First you, then Lady Ostrich, and now Lord Harchings. Does the whole of London know our whereabouts today? It was supposed to be a secret.”

  “Did you share that little fact with Ana?”

  “Lord Harchings would never, not in a million years, even think of asking her.” He had lied to her, after all. “You said neither you nor Ana had told anyone else.”

  “And that’s the truth.” He dropped his gaze. “But the housekeeper may have been present while I spoke to Ana.”

  “You didn’t think to mention that?”

  “The woman insisted. God knows what business she thought I’d get up to if left alone in a room with a celludrone.”

  Lily groaned. “I have to fix this.”

  “No, you don’t,” he said quickly. “Marital disputes are best confined to the married parties.”

  “The reason I was dragged along here was to intervene, although it wasn’t meant to be today. I’m the official stamp of approval for Lady Harchings’ fascination with risqué sports.”

  “Correction. You’re the one who considers life too precious to waste on frivolous risks.”

  “Precisely,” Lily said. “If I’m not opposed, it must be harmless. That’s the plan,” she added somewhat doubtfully. “Now I just have to convince Lord Harchings.”

  “That’s not a plan, it’s a comedy of errors.”

  An opinion she unfortunately shared. Everyone knew of the Duke of Harchings, of course, but she’d only been formally introduced to Devon at Evelyn’s wedding a few months ago. He’d always been polite to her, never more. He rarely joined them in the drawing room. On the occasions Lily had dined in private with them, he’d kept himself rather aloof. More importantly, Devon was a sharp, serious-minded man with great responsibilities to the Crown and not the sort to be duped, easily or otherwise.

  “As much as I’d love to see this one play out,” Greyston went on, “we don’t have the time.”

  Time. She gave him a sweet smile. “We have all the time we need. You have to do your thing and take us back a couple of hours. Around about noon should be fine.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Why ever not? Just focus on whatever you were doing at noon and—Oh!” She grabbed his arm and held on tight. “I’ll need to step back with you if I’m to prevent this catastrophe.”

  “There are rules, Lily.”

  She glared at him. “Since when do you care about breaking rules?”

  “I’ve tried, and for a worthier cause than marital harmony.”

  “How about our lives?” She searched his eyes and found only scepticism. “Lord Harchings is the Secretary for Alternative and New Threats. He has an entire war department at his disposal to deal with life-threatening nuisances.”

  “Lady Ostrich defies any explanation you might attempt, including new and alternative. No man in his right mind will hear you out.”

  “Not right now, he won’t,” she agreed. “His wife is peddling thin air and supposedly with my full support. You need to bend your rules so I can fix this mess first.”

  “These are more like laws of nature.”

  “There’s nothing natural about rewinding time.” She pulled her hand from his arm. “Very well, what are these rules, then? If we put our heads together, perhaps we can work around them.”

  “We’re leaving,” Greyston growled. “Now.”

  Lily danced out of reach and stormed ahead, thoroughly disgruntled with his lack of cooperation.

  Soothe the ruffled feathers of an austere duke, enthuse over the redeeming qualities of risqué sports, save Evelyn’s marriage and enlist the war department in her aid. What could possibly go wrong?

  Devon’s gaze landed on her as she approached, black thunder written on his face. Lily put on a dazzling smile and took her cue from Mrs. Browning.

  “It’s simply lovely to see you here, Devon,” she gushed. “Were you thinking of paddling with us?”

  “
Lily,” he barked, more reprimand than greeting. “When Mrs. Heckle said you’d come with Evelyn, I presumed you were here to dissuade her from this madness.” His ice-blue gaze scorched her. “I presumed you had more sense than to allow my wife to do this to herself.”

  Lily shifted so they were standing shoulder to shoulder. She spotted William in conversation with another man and, nearby, Mrs. Browning had her face turned up to the sky. She, too, wore a pair of those outrageous full-length bloomers with a short jacket. Lily wasn’t happy to see she’d accurately guessed the stockings pulled up to the knee over the lower part of the bloomers. “Apparently they’re calling it Practical Fashion in New York and, well, it is practical.”

  “I don’t give a damn about that silly costume. I wouldn’t care if Evelyn had taken to running around naked, so long as she did it on the ground.”

  “Ah, yes, about that…” Lily glanced up again. “It’s harmless fun, really.”

  “Is that so?”

  She ignored the frosty undercurrent in his voice. “If a timid little soul like me can enjoy it, Devon, then it must be.”

  “You don’t sound very sure.”

  “Oh, look, Evelyn’s bringing the paddler around,” she exclaimed, silently cheering her friend for the convenient diversion. She raised her arm to wave. “Do you think she’ll see us?”

  “My wife is dangling like a bloody puppet in mid-air.” Devon caught her hand and all but threw it down at her side. “Do you honestly think distracting her is a good idea?”

  “Evelyn’s not dangling,” she said brightly. “She’s floating. It’s not so very different from your dirigibles, only smaller. All she has to do is pedal and hold on.”

  “I’m doing my damned best to rein in my fury until my foolish wife is safely on the ground and you, my dearest lady, are not helping.”

  “I did try to warn you,” Greyston murmured, emerging at her side. He tipped his hat at Devon, then placed a proprietary hand on her back. “If you’d be so kind as to excuse us and inform Lady Harchings that Lily has been escorted home, we’ll be on our way.”

  “And who in the blazes are you?”

  Greyston stiffened beside her, making no effort to correct his oversight in addressing a duke without formal introduction. He obviously disapproved of Devon’s tone and, right now, Devon disapproved of absolutely everything. Another second and they’d be at each other’s throats.

  Lily rattled off a quick introduction, finishing with, “I completely forgot a prior engagement in town and Lord Adair offered to drive me. Nothing so urgent, however, that it cannot wait a while longer.”

  “Are you not yet done?” Greyston asked.

  “No,” she said under her breath.

  “Maybe I can be of assistance and speed things up.” The hand at her back scraped into a fist, the tension streaming off him in direct contrast to his docile tone.

  “Please don’t.”

  “What’s going on here?” demanded Devon.

  “Your wife anticipated you’d be less than happy about her bobbing up there in the air,” Greyston obliged, “and recruited Lily as her personal ambassador in the event of you finding out.”

  Lily almost choked. She took one look at Devon’s strained jaw and shrank into the circle of Greyston’s arm instead of beating him away. “Devon, that’s not…” Not what?

  He wasn’t listening anyway. His gaze went to the sky and stayed there.

  “Now we’re done.” Greyston steered her toward his carriage, identified by the massive Neco perched on the high box, and Lily numbly let him.

  “Before you claw my eyes out,” he said, “you should know that you were digging a hole deep enough to bury both you and Lady Harchings.”

  Lily was too upset to argue. “I’ve ruined Evelyn’s marriage.”

  His hand fell from her waist to open the carriage door. “You take too much responsibility on yourself.”

  “I’m willing to share with you,” she muttered. “Lord knows you’re half to blame.”

  “I’ll take the whole lot, so long as we can get the hell away from here.” He gave his man the order to drive them to Harchings House, then climbed inside after her.

  The carriage jerked back and forth as the horses executed a tight turn in the confined space before setting out on the perimeter drive.

  Greyston settled on the opposite bench and stretched his legs. “I’ve been thinking.”

  “I’m surprised you took the time, considering what a rush you’re in.” She gave him a pointed look. “You didn’t even give me a chance to mention our troubles with Lady Ostrich.”

  “You speak of troubles and nuisances as if she’s nothing more than an irritant to be swatted by some pompous government official.”

  Lily flinched. “The Duke of Harchings is hardly—”

  “My mistake,” he cut in, “I meant some titled pompous government official.”

  “I was going to say,” she said, pronouncing each word slowly in an effort to contain her building anger, “that the Duke of Harchings is incredibly capable and powerful. If anyone can help us, it’s him.”

  “In this instance, we’re the only ones that can help us. Which is why,” he drawled, “I’m leaving for Scotland tonight on the Northern Line.”

  “Oh.” She raised her chin high to counter the sagging feeling inside her chest and turned her gaze from him to outside the window. I should be delighted. I’m finally getting rid of him.

  “The mystery of Lady Ostrich and what she wants with us must all have started at Castle Cragloden, the common point where our pasts collide.”

  In the long silence that followed, Lily rallied her wits back and forth. That she had anything in common with a man such as him, past or present, should in itself be alarming. As for any attraction she felt for Greyston, that was silly and shallow. She honestly didn’t like him. Not at all…apart from the odd moment, which was far too fleeting to count.

  The sooner he left, the sooner some measure of decorum could return to her life. His only redeeming quality was his ability to step back in time and that alone was an argument to recoil from the man’s company, not embrace it.

  She folded her hands on her lap, twisting her fingers as the recent events rose like a lump of bile in her throat. Lady Ostrich wasn’t a problem that would disappear from her world when Greyston did. She no longer believed that. Their lives had connected at Castle Cragloden before she’d even met Greyston. Their celludrones connected them long before that. They were embroiled in a nightmare that had originated years ago and that was another thing. She may not be an adventurous spirit such as Evelyn, but she had as much of a natural curiosity as the next person and her mother’s history was becoming impossible to ignore.

  “You should come with me,” Greyston said softly. “I can’t protect you from Lady Ostrich at a distance.”

  Her gaze snapped to him. Impossible. “My reputation would be shredded if I travelled unaccompanied with a gentleman, let alone a rogue.”

  But Lady Ostrich had annihilated Halver without any provocation. Wasn’t she putting everyone at Harchings House at risk, and that without Greyston around anymore to intervene?

  “Ana will be with you.”

  Celludrones didn’t qualify as chaperones. She’d told him as much yesterday and his slow grin now told her he remembered. I could return to Grosvenor Square. That appealed even less, especially now that she knew the carnage had been real. And then there was Halver and the housemaids to consider.

  Greyston, on the other hand, was the one person who could protect her. He was the only person she didn’t have to worry about exposing to any risk he wasn’t already knee-deep in.

  Her chest constricted, making it difficult to breathe, difficult to swallow. She was being hunted by a woman who’d already killed her once and she was considering throwing her lot in with a man who could rewind time.

  Greyston’s gaze held hers with dark intensity. “Whatever’s up there in Scotland is waiting for you as well, Lily, not
just for me. I’m afraid that if you stay behind, it will come find you.”

  A flame of anger spluttered through her blood. She’d never put a foot outside the prescribed boundaries of society and her life had tumbled into chaos anyway. If she was going to be made to pay for her mother’s sins, it was high time she learnt the full extent of them.

  “What time do we depart?” she said. “I’ll meet you at the train station.”

  Chapter Seven

  The Great Hall at Euston Square Station was by and large deserted. The Northern Line was the last train of the evening. Since Edinburgh was the first stop on the dedicated high-speed track, the coaches were comprised of sleeping cabins and most of the passengers were settling in.

  Greyston, his bags already stowed in one of the cabins he’d reserved, paced a short path beneath the awning of the outer vestibule at the head of the platform. He hadn’t insisted on collecting Lily from Harchings House, had wanted to give her a chance to change her mind. He’d never had to look out for anyone but himself, let alone a young lady who belonged to a world of restrictions and compromising positions and ruined reputations, and he didn’t relish the new responsibility.

  Now he regretted his hesitancy. Leaving Lily alone in London felt very much like leaving her to die.

  He stopped pacing as he spotted Neco striding up the length of the platform. The sturdy strap around his neck disappeared into the black coat he’d buttoned up to conceal the Foggles hanging at his chest.

  “I’ve checked all the compartments, Grey. No one fitting the description of Lady Ostrich has boarded yet.”

  Greyston gave a grunt of satisfaction. He’d spent three laborious hours calibrating the Foggles to see through a pine branch earlier in the day, but from there it had only required a small adjustment for the panelled oak cabin sliding doors. “You didn’t raise any suspicion?”

  “I lugged your bag with me along the corridor and pretended to be lost.”

  “Excellent thinking.”

  “You told me to act natural and blend in,” Neco said. “My observational data concludes that when a man is parading the corridors of a stationary train, there’s a fifteen percent probability he’s using the amenities or stretching his legs, a three percent probability he’s up to no good and an eighty-two percent probability he has luggage with him and is looking for his cabin.”