Veiled in Moonlight (The Ministry of Curiosities Book 8)

by C. J. Archer

  His brow crashed down and he pushed up from the chair. "You're wrong." He strode to the door and jerked it open.

  "You're throwing me out?"

  "Encouraging you to leave."

  "Why?"

  "Because I'm busy and you're a distraction."

  "Ha!" I stood there and tried to glare hard enough to dig the answer out of him.

  It didn't work. He placed his hands on my hips, picked me up, and lifted me over the threshold. He set me down gently.

  "What are you going to do, Lincoln?"

  He hesitated then said, "There's only one thing I want to do." He pulled me against him and kissed me with more passion than most people thought he possessed. Then he let me go and closed the door in my face.

  I couldn't concentrate when we visited Lady Vickers' friend. I was too worried about Lincoln to sit still and contribute to the conversation. When she asked if I wanted to return home instead of calling on her next friend, I eagerly told her I would. She decided to remain at Lichfield too, postponing her calls for another day.

  "Stay here," I ordered Tucker after I assisted Lady Vickers down from the cabin. "I may have need of you."

  I raced up Lichfield's front steps, a sense of foreboding settling over me. "Is Mr. Fitzroy at home?" I asked Doyle as he opened the door.

  "No, miss. He went out an hour ago."

  An hour. Damnation. "Did he take Seth and Gus with him?"

  "Yes, and Lord Vickers asked me to give you this." He handed me a note that had been folded in half. It simply read "Swinburn."

  I released my breath. Thank God I'd asked Seth to leave me a message if they went out. Not that it was difficult to guess their destination. I picked up my skirts and passed Lady Vickers on her way inside.

  "Where are you going, Charlie?" she asked.

  "To stop Lincoln from putting himself in danger." I only hoped I wasn't too late.

  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 wante
d 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 pu
lse 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.