Of Fate and Phantoms (Ministry of Curiosities Book 7)

by C. J. Archer

  "I don't doubt it. You're still very beautiful."

  "Bah. I am old and wrinkled."

  "You have the bones of a beautiful woman, Leisl, and the bearing. The lines on your face tell the story of a life well lived. Don't wish them away."

  "So wise and kind for one so young." She suddenly sucked in a sharp breath, and set down her cup again with a clatter in the saucer. "I must go." She quickly rose and headed for the door before I could stand. She was spritely for her age.

  Lincoln filled the doorway, blocking her exit. He wore his expressionless expression, the one that told me there was far more going on behind that façade than he wanted anyone to see. But he forgot that I knew him well now, and that he couldn't dupe me into thinking he was unaffected.

  "Leisl," he said with a slight nod.

  She glanced at me. For assistance? To carry the conversation? I hesitated. I didn't want to help her—or him. I wanted them to converse without my interference.

  "I am leaving," she said.

  He stepped aside. "Good afternoon."

  "Good afternoon." She hurried to the door, her head bowed. Doyle assisted her into the cloak.

  "Wait!" I marched past Lincoln, grabbed his hand, and tugged him after me. I felt his reluctance with every step. "You can't leave yet. Lincoln, say something to her."

  Leisl pulled the edges of her cloak together at her throat. "I must go."

  "Doyle," Lincoln said, "have Gus drive Leisl wherever she wishes to go."

  Doyle bowed and left. Good. It would take a few minutes for the coach to be ready. That would give them time. They needed help to begin, however.

  "Lincoln, Leisl was telling me about the day you were born," I said. "How the general—"

  "Now is not the time or place." His voice rumbled with simmering anger.

  I drew in a deep breath. It was worth risking his ire for this. "There is no better time or place."

  His gaze turned flinty. "I know the general took me from her. He told me." To Leisl, he said, "The general's allowance will continue, with an increase."

  "You do not need to," Leisl said, her gaze lowered. "It is enough."

  "Prices have risen over the years. It's only fair that your annuity does too. In the event of my death before yours, the payments will continue."

  "Thank you."

  I looked from one to the other. How could mother and son speak of money after so long apart? Why weren't they asking more important questions? I didn't expect them to embrace, but this formality felt wrong.

  "Lincoln." I pressed my hands on my hips. "Did you know you have a half-brother and sister?"

  His nostrils flared. "I have them on my father's side too. They don't know I exist, and I have no interest in meeting them. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

  He turned and stalked off. I went to run after him, but Leisl caught my arm.

  "Leave him," she said quietly. "One day, perhaps, we can talk, but not today."

  She was far more forgiving of his rudeness than me. "If that's what you want."

  "Thank you, Charlie. You are a good friend to him, I see." She took both my hands in her bare ones. She had not worn gloves despite the cold. "You love him and he loves you."

  I bit the inside of my lip in case it wobbled. I nodded.

  She patted my hands and looked up at the chandelier dangling above our heads. "Then it must be difficult to live here together and not be married, eh?" She chuckled. "Very difficult."

  "We're, er, waiting for…for me to know my own heart on this matter. Our past together has been full of ups and downs."

  "Aahhh. You wish to punish him for wrongs?"

  "No!" Not really. Perhaps. I tried to smile, but it felt forced.

  She patted my hand again and made a noise in her throat that I think meant something, but couldn't decipher what. She let me go and flipped her hood over her head. Outside, wheels rumbled on the gravel.

  "Goodbye, Charlie."

  "Wait, Leisl! Will we meet again soon?"

  "If you wish it."

  "You can't see whether we do or not? In a vision?"

  She laughed. "No. I cannot choose to have a vision. They come when they want, not when I want."

  "How inconvenient. Well, I'd like you to know that I do wish it. In the meantime, I'll work on Lincoln."

  "Good luck." She tapped her temple. "He is stubborn. Romany men have hard heads. It takes a strong woman to be a good match. You are a strong woman, Charlie. Never forget that."

  I waited until Doyle shut the carriage door behind her then headed up the stairs. I knocked on Lincoln's door and held my breath, unsure if he would even receive me.

  He opened the door, crossed his arms, and scowled. "No."

  "You don't even know what I'm going to say."

  "You're going to ask me to visit her. The answer's no."

  "You're wrong." I pushed him in the chest, not hard, but he stepped back anyway and allowed me to enter. I kicked the door shut and scowled back at him. Be strong, Leisl had said. I would do my best. "I haven't come to ask you to do anything, but tell you how rude you were to her."

  He turned away and strode to his desk.

  "Lincoln! Don't walk off on me. Disregarding the fact that she's your mother, she was your guest today, and you ignored her."

  He sat at his desk, his back to me. "I spoke to her."

  "That is hardly the same as having a conversation."

  "You know I'm not very good at small talk. You said so yourself. Besides, you were doing fine without me. Better, I'd wager."

  "That is not the point. The point is, she came here to see her son."

  "I am not her son!"

  "Lincoln—"

  "Don't, Charlie." He half turned and glared at me over his shoulder. "I don't want to argue with you, so don't press me on this."

  I fisted my hands at my sides and forced my nerves to settle. "I don't understand you. If I had the chance to meet my mother, my real mother, in the flesh, I would be so happy and eager."

  He turned away again. "Not everything I do or say is supposed to make sense to you."

  "Explain it to me then. Help me understand how you feel."

  "I feel nothing toward Leisl. I told you that."

  "I don't believe you."

  His body rose and fell with a silent heave of breath. "Go before I say something I regret."

  Anger and frustration flared in the pit of my stomach, but I doused it. I wasn't going to win this battle today, and certainly not like this. I came up behind him and circled my arms around his shoulders. The engagement ring I'd flung back at him sat in its box, waiting for me to slip it on my finger. I'd promised him I would put it on when I'd decided to marry him. He must see it every day, a reminder of the mistake he'd made in sending me away.

  I kissed the top of his head. I wasn't prepared to apologize for pushing him to speak to Leisl, but I wanted him to know that I harbored no ill will toward him over his refusal.

  His body relaxed and he tipped his head back against my chest. "I don't want to fight with you," he murmured.

  How could I remain angry with him after such a plea? "We won't."

  "Promise you won't bring it up again."

  "I can't make that promise."

  He drew me around his side and sat me on his lap. He gave me an arched look. "Promise, Charlie."

  "I cannot."

  He regarded me closely. "What can I do or say to make you promise?"

  I pulled away from him and frowned. "You mean you want to bribe me?"

  "I wouldn't have put it like that, but yes."

  Well then. If he wanted to use underhanded methods, then so would I. I nibbled my bottom lip and undid the second top button on his shirt since the top was already undone.

  "There is something that I want, as it happens," I said in what I hoped was a seductive voice. "Something that you can give me to extract my promise." I popped open another button and kissed him lightly on the lips.

  He broke the kiss. "W
hat are you doing?"

  "Being bribed."

  I reached into the gap of his shirt and stroked the hard muscles of his chest. His heartbeat quickened against my palm. With my own pulse throbbing, I leaned closer and kissed his throat.

  He plucked me off his lap and stood suddenly. The chair tipped with his violent shove, thumping on the floor. "That's not fair," he growled, his voice ragged. "You know I won't."

  "And you've always played fair?"

  He raked his fingers through his loose hair. "You win, Charlie."

  "It's not about winning. It's about me not making a promise I can't keep." I went to do up one of his buttons, but he stepped to the side and did it up himself. Both of them.

  "You have to go before I decide I can't wait."

  I kissed my fingers then touched them to his cheek. "I'll leave you to your work."

  He grunted and saw me to the door. He shut it between us, but not before I saw him drag his hand through his hair again.

  We visited Lady Gillingham late in the afternoon. Lincoln had insisted on coming with me in case Lord Gillingham put up an argument. He sat beside me in the gently rocking coach, our shoulders bumping. He set a satchel on the other seat.

  "We can't force our way in to see her," I said. "It's his house, and she must do as he says. If he forbids us to speak to her then we have to abide by his rules." I shook my head. "Men like him are beasts. I wish the law didn't state that women had to obey their husbands when they're being turds."

  When Lincoln didn't respond, I glanced at him, only to see him watching me intently. "I would never forbid you to do or say anything, or to see anyone."

  "I know." I took his hand in mine and squeezed.

  "Then…?" He shook his head and looked out the window.

  "Why haven't I picked up the ring?"

  "You're not ready," he said. "I understand."

  Did he truly? Sometimes, I wasn't sure why I hadn't put the ring on either. I loved him and I knew he loved me. I wanted to marry him. But I didn't want to rush. No matter how much he said that nothing would change between us, I knew it would. Legally, I became his property. I'd been free and independent for so long, the step into marriage seemed enormous.

  Yet he'd already given me a cottage, in my name, and had it written into legal documents that no husband could take it from me. Were those legal documents binding? I felt stupid for not knowing. The property contract might as well have been written in Latin, it was so complicated, and I'd never even been into a bank, let alone had an account in one. A woman had to utterly trust that her future husband had her best interests at heart before she put his ring on her finger.

  "It's growing dark," he said.

  "Yes. So?"

  "If Gillingham forbids us to see his wife, we'll wait until it's completely dark and climb in through her window."

  I stared at him. "You're serious, aren't you?"

  "It's how I got in last time."

  "You expect me to go too?"

  "You're capable. I've seen you scale walls and climb trees no matter how you were dressed."

  "Yes, but I'd wager her rooms are not on the first floor, and probably not even the second, and a house is not a tree."

  "There are foot holds on the window frames and plumbing pipes. Your legs should reach them. I brought rope to tie you to me, just in case. If you slip, you won't fall far. But I don't think you'll slip."

  "You are serious." I laughed, despite my apprehension. "But my dress will get in the way."

  He handed me the satchel. "Your boys clothes are in there."

  I pulled out the trousers and shirt. "You're mad."

  He suddenly grinned. It made my stomach do a little somersault in delight. "I know you like to climb," he said.

  The prospect of climbing again did thrill me. I enjoyed being outdoors, up high, where no one bothered to look and the view took your breath away. "This is a strange way to bring us closer together," I said. "Most men go courting with flowers and tickets to the theater. You bring rope and trousers."

  "I'm not like most men."

  We asked the butler if Lady Gillingham was at home, and were met with guilty silence then a stumbling, "Er, well, she's indisposed at the moment. That is to say, she's out. Taking in the air, sir."

  "She's gone for a walk?" I inquired, all innocence.

  "Yes. Hyde Park."

  "Excellent. Perhaps we can join her."

  His eyes widened. "No!"

  "Why not?"

  "I just remembered, she's not at Hyde Park." The butler chewed the inside of his bottom lip until I urged him to go on with a nod. "Her ladyship is…somewhere else. She didn't tell me where she was going."

  "Is Lord Gillingham at home?" Lincoln asked.

  Why did he want to speak to that horrid man? I thought we wanted to avoid him.

  "His lordship is in his study, sir," the butler said, relief flooding his face. "Would you like me to announce you?"

  "No." Lincoln turned away and waited for me to go before him down the steps.

  "Why did you ask after Gillingham?" I said as he opened the coach door. "Did you simply want to know if he was there?"

  He nodded. "Gus, drive somewhere until it's dark then bring us back, but not here. A street or two away will be sufficient. Charlie and I can walk from there."

  "A half hour ought to do it," Gus said with a glance at the sky.

  "I'll turn my back while you change," Lincoln said as we drove off.

  "You expect to be climbing to her room after all?" I asked.

  "I do. The butler was lying. She's at home."

  "I know. But what if she goes out for the evening?"

  "Then we'll wait for her return in her room."

  "But a maid might see us in the meantime."

  "If you don't wish to go, I can do it alone."

  "And sit with Gus in the cold carriage and wait for you? No thanks. I'm coming."

  He gave me a satisfied smirk. He'd known all along that I wouldn't allow him to go without me.

  He turned his back and I changed into the boys' trousers and shirt. In the confines of a moving carriage, it wasn't the smoothest change I'd done, or the quickest, but I managed.

  "You can look now," I said, doing up the top button of my shirt. "Help me on with the jacket."

  I lifted my hair and he slipped the jacket around my shoulders. His fingers skimmed my bare skin. The touch was fleeting and impersonal, thanks in part to his gloves. I sighed inwardly, wishing for more.

  I slid across the seat until my back rested against his chest. I grasped his arm and positioned it around my waist. He tensed and his fingers hovered above my hip, not touching.

  After a moment, I felt his body relax, as if he'd given up the fight to remain unaffected by our closeness. He kissed the top of my head.

  "Will you leave your hair up?" he asked.

  "Down, I think. I could tuck it into my clothing." I reached up and began plucking out pins. "The darkness will hide its length, and hopefully my feminine curves."

  The vibrations from his chuckle rippled through me. "Sometimes I wonder how you fooled me back then. I had no inkling. I must have been blind."

  "I was as thin as a rake with no feminine curves to speak of. You weren't blind, you simply didn't expect a girl so you didn't see one."

  "Julia suspected."

  I knew she'd been the one to first put it to him that I might not be a boy. I'd hated her for it then. Sometimes, I still hated her but for different reasons. But that hatred was no longer as strong as it had been. Perhaps because she held no hold over Lincoln, or perhaps because I felt a little sorry for her nowadays.

  "Whatever her faults," I said, "she is very astute when it comes to understanding people."

  "Not all people. She has underestimated someone badly." He meant the person who'd gone to the newspapers with the story of Lady H's past as a dancer.

  I collected the hairpins and tipped them into my reticule. Lincoln removed his gloves and set them on the sea
t beside me.

  "What are you doing?" I asked.

  He responded by raking his fingers gently through my hair. "It's so long now," he murmured, fascination edging his tone. "Much longer than mine."

  "You had a trim only last week."

  "I might cut it off altogether."

  "No!"

  I felt his grin against the top of my head. "You need time to get used to the idea."

  "A lot of time. I like it the way it is."

  He massaged my scalp. I closed my eyes and sighed. We sat like that for a long time, not speaking. I didn't feel the need to fill the silence, and it seemed he didn't either. When the coach jerked forward, I opened my eyes.

  "We're moving," I said, reluctantly breaking contact.

  His eyes, half hidden beneath hooded lids, followed me as I slid along the seat away from him. "Are you ready?"

  "Of course. I'm looking forward to it."

  We stopped again in a street I didn't recognize but had townhouses similar to those in Mayfair and Belgravia. Lincoln alighted first and did not lower the step or assist me down. I jumped.

  "Come on then." I skipped off, beckoning for him to follow.

  He caught up to me, the satchel slung over his shoulder. "You need some practice first," he said.

  "You want me to scale one of these walls as practice?" I asked, waving at the nearest house.

  "Not quite." He led me down a lane and then into a yard surrounded by stables. "Climb that far wall."

  I looked at the wall. It was well above my height but the three crates stacked nearby told me we weren't the first to climb over it. It was dark now and we were alone in the courtyard, except for a horse snuffling in one of the nearby stalls. I arranged the crates and scrambled up. I could just reach the top of the wall with my fingertips if I stood on my toes. Using my shoes for grip against the brickwork, I hauled myself up.

  It was a lot harder than the last time I scaled a wall. I was heavier, for one thing, and the muscles in my fingers were out of practice. It took me three attempts.

  I dropped silently to the other side. Lincoln landed beside me a moment later. He got over the wall with his first try.

  "Good," he said simply. "A fair effort."

  "Fair? It was bloody good," I said, slipping into my street cant.