From The Ashes (Ministry of Curiosities Book 6)

by C. J. Archer

  Lady Vickers shot me another fierce glare that had me shutting my mouth before I rattled off the numerous slums I'd lived in before coming to Lichfield. It wasn't fair of me to thwart her efforts like this. It was important to her that I be accepted, and it would reflect badly on her if my true story got out. Her own reputation hung by a thread, and that thread could be chopped off if her peers knew she was championing a street rat who'd lived with boys for five years.

  "Down south," Seth said. "Charlie has distant cousins in Cornwall."

  Mrs. Overton eyeed me warily. "She doesn't have a Cornish accent."

  "That's because she also has cousins up north," Lady Vickers said, "and in the east. Not the west, though, thank God. Her accent has been smoothed out with all the to-ing and fro-ing, going between cousins. It was no life for her, so when my own dear cousin told me of her plight, I decided to have her sent to Lichfield where I knew Seth would see that she settled."

  Miss Yardly sniggered into her wine glass. One of the other girls colored. No doubt they were imagining all the ways Seth had helped me settle.

  "She became my ward," Lincoln told them, his cold-as-ice voice stopping all giggles and blushes. "Seth asked me to take her in, so I did. If anyone thinks there's anything unseemly in that arrangement, feel free to discuss it with me outside."

  Oh, Lincoln, resolving things with brute force again. To be fair, there was no way to avoid scandal. I was steeped in it. We all were. Lady Vickers was a fool to believe she could steer us clear of it. I hoped she wasn't too upset with how the evening was turning out. Seth had a female admirer on either side of him, and he seemed to be enjoying himself. She might salvage something from the disaster after all.

  "What a curiosity you are," Seacombe said, leaning much closer than necessary or polite. The smoldering gaze and slick smile told me precisely why he'd deigned to speak to me again. "I find you intriguing, Miss Holloway. Very much so. Perhaps I'll be permitted to call on you soon at your home."

  "Yes, of course, but you'll need to confer with both Lady Vickers and Mr. Fitzroy first. I must do as they both wish."

  He eyed Lincoln. Lincoln stared back, a wicked curl to his top lip.

  Seacombe gulped. "I'll check with my assistant to see when I'm free. I've got a busy schedule ahead."

  "I don't doubt it. You must be in demand to speak about your African adventures."

  That set him off again and he spent the rest of the dinner regaling me, and the woman on his other side, with stories.

  Dinner seemed to last an interminably long time. I was glad when the gentlemen and ladies finally separated, and hoped we could leave as soon as the gentlemen rejoined us in the drawing room. Unfortunately we did not. Lady Vickers appeared keen to stay and Lincoln made no motion to go. Even worse, Andrew Buchanan cornered me.

  "Where did you go while you were away?" He sprawled in the spindly-legged chair beside me, a glass at his lips. He looked as if he didn't have a care in the world, yet mere months ago, he'd needed rescuing from Bedlam. He'd been appreciative then. I preferred that fellow to this cocky bore.

  "North," I said.

  "Where, precisely?"

  "That is none of your affair, Mr. Buchanan."

  He grunted into his glass. "Very well, keep your secret. May I say what a pleasure it is to see you again. I hope you've resettled back at Lichfield."

  "I have, thank you." I looked around for a conversation to escape to, but Seth was talking to Seacombe, and Lincoln had been accosted by the Overtons. Buchanan seemed like the lesser of three evils.

  "There was quite a to-do while you were away," he went on. "The circus murder, for one thing. Do you know, Fitzroy thought I killed the strongman? Me! I haven't got a violent bone in my body."

  "He must have had his reasons." Lincoln had told me about the arrangement between Buchanan and the circus dancer who'd also been in a relationship with the murdered strongman. I would have suspected Buchanan too, given that knowledge.

  "It wasn't only that fellow's murder that set my household on edge. Julia has been dealt quite a blow too.

  "So I read. Lady Vickers pointed out the article in the newspaper. I imagine it's upsetting to be the object of gossip."

  "Devastating. You'd think the world was coming to an end any day now."

  "I suppose it is, in a way. Her world, that is."

  He sipped thoughtfully. I expected him to mock his stepmother's situation, to take the opportunity to grind his heel in now that she was laid low. This pensive quietness was unlike Buchanan, and certainly out of character for their relationship. They'd always been so bitter toward one another in my presence, as if they were locked in some kind of battle. Yet he seemed almost sympathetic.

  "It's interesting," he said to his glass.

  "What is?"

  "The change in her."

  I wasn't sure interesting was the word I'd use.

  "It's good for her to be reminded of where she came from," he went on. "Her horse had become a little too high. I warned her that she'd be thrown off it one day, and now that day has finally arrived." He drank the contents of his glass in a single gulp. "Definitely interesting."

  Could he have been the one to inform the newspaper of her past? It was difficult to tell from his response, yet I could see him betraying her as revenge for her rejecting his advances in favor of his rich, titled father.

  Lincoln joined us and announced it was time to leave.

  "So soon?" Mrs. Overton pouted. "What a shame. Isn't it, my dear?" she said to her daughter.

  "Such a shame," Miss Overton repeated without an ounce of sincerity. It would seem she no longer considered him a prospect, although her mother still did. Perhaps the conversation with him had cured Miss Overton of any tender feelings she once held. Knowing Lincoln, he would have made conversing difficult. Idle conversation wasn't his strong suit.

  "Do come again," Mrs. Overton said to Lincoln as we made to leave. "Your presence is always welcome here, sir. As is your ward's," she added as an afterthought.

  Lincoln and I thanked her.

  Mrs. Overton elbowed her daughter. Miss Overton cleared her throat. "I've enjoyed your conversation tonight, Mr. Fitzroy."

  "And I yours," he intoned.

  Gus brought our carriage around and we piled inside, snuggling into our fur coats and the blankets set out for us.

  "Poor Gus, out there in the cold," I said.

  "Poor Gus!" Seth patted the blanket around his lap. "He's been having a right old lark in the mews, lucky prick. He hasn't had to listen to bloody Seacombe go on about his dead lions. I don't remember him being such a bore."

  "I do," his mother said.

  "Then why did you want Charlie to sit with him?" Seth asked. "I heard you pester the Overton woman to change the arrangements."

  She sniffed. "Reasons, dear boy, reasons."

  "Did you enjoy yourself?" Lincoln asked me.

  I sighed. "Not really."

  It was dark in the cabin, but I could swear he smiled.

  "It's not about enjoyment," Lady Vickers declared. "It's about making connections, angling oneself into the right set. Seacombe is rich and spends most of his time traveling. His wife would be very comfortable here and able to be her own person without interference from a demanding husband. I happen to think that arrangement would suit Charlie well."

  "Charlie wouldn't want it that way," Seth said.

  "Charlie can decide for herself, thank you," I said, snippy.

  Seth groaned and tipped his head back. "I should have drunk more. Then it would have been a good night."

  "I have a suggestion," I said. "One that came to me as we sat in the drawing room waiting for the men to join us. You're not going to like it."

  "In that case, the answer's no," Seth said.

  "Agreed," Lincoln said. "We are not using you as bait."

  Either he'd guessed or used his seer's powers.

  "Bait?" Lady Vickers asked. "Does this have anything to do with Seacombe?"

  "S
eth will explain later," Lincoln told her.

  Seth tilted his head forward. "I will?"

  "Tell her everything."

  Seth groaned. "This evening suddenly got worse."

  "We need to do this," I said to Lincoln. "It's the only way and you know it."

  "What are we doing?" Seth asked.

  "Having a dinner party and inviting the committee members, Andrew Buchanan and Lord Harcourt. Tomorrow night."

  Lady Vickers pulled a face. "What an interminably dull group. I think I'll be out tomorrow night, if that's all right with you."

  "Good idea," Lincoln said darkly. "The evening might become too interesting."

  I tugged the blanket higher. I hadn't expected him to agree. "It'll be all right, Lincoln. We'll be well prepared."

  He turned to look out the window, even though nothing could be seen except his own reflection.

  I helped Cook in the kitchen most of the next day. We rarely had guests to dinner and never so many at the one time. Cook, in his quest for perfection, became more dictatorial than General Eastbrooke. He issued Bella and Gus with a long list of ingredients to purchase, while Seth and I helped him with the tasks that could be started while we waited for the shoppers to return. Doyle spent the entire morning setting the table and considering wine options, although I suspected he was simply avoiding the kitchen. Even Lincoln joined us when Gus and Bella returned. Cook set him to chopping carrots, and he silently obliged, much to everyone's surprise. Only Lady Vickers stayed away.

  "Have you issued invitations?" I asked Lincoln as I collected his pail of peel and scraps.

  "Gus and Bella did, this morning," he said. "And they're not invitations. They're demands."

  "That'll go well," Seth muttered.

  Bella offered to take the pail outside for me, and I handed it to her. Once she was gone, I asked Seth, "How did your mother take the news of our…work?"

  "She thought I was joking at first. I had the devil of a time convincing her I spoke the truth. I'm still not sure she believes me. That reminds me, Charlie, expect her to ask you to raise the spirit of my dead father."

  "As proof?"

  "And to blame him for leaving us in debt. She never had the chance before he died and she wants to do it face to face. I tried to tell her she won't be able to see him, unless you raise his body. That quickly put an end to the notion, but she still wants to speak with his spirit."

  Cook tossed a potato at Seth and Seth only just managed to catch it. "Stop talking and either get to work or leave."

  "You mean I have a choice?" Seth tossed the potato to Gus who juggled it before securing it in his broad hands.

  Despite the frenzy of activity in the kitchen, the afternoon dragged interminably until it was time to dress for dinner. Bella helped me with my hair and dress, and was just about to leave when there was a soft knock on the door. She let Lincoln in, bobbed a curtsy, and left. She shut the door before I could think to ask her to leave it open.

  Lincoln always managed to look handsome no matter what he wore, but a formal tail coat, white bow tie and black waistcoat added a layer of aloofness that more casual attire didn't. With his dark hair neatly tied back, it was easy to imagine him dining with the royal members of his family, if they ever invited him.

  "I see you have the imp," he said, nodding at the amber orb around my neck.

  I touched it, relieved to feel it throb. I hoped I wouldn't need to call on it tonight, but it was a comfort knowing it was there.

  He cleared his throat and approached my dressing table where I sat. He held out a blue box. "For you, to wear tonight."

  I stared at the box and a well of emotion threatened to consume me. Why would he continue to do this? Why was he making everything so…complicated? "Isn't the house enough?"

  He lowered his hand and his gaze dropped too. His shoulders lost their rigidity.

  I felt sick. There was no need for such ungratefulness. "I'm sorry, Lincoln. I spoke without thinking." I held out my hand. "If you're still offering it, I'd be pleased to accept it."

  He handed me the box and I opened it. A bracelet nestled against the blue velvet bed, a dozen circular amber gems positioned all the way around. They were the same shade as the orb in my necklace.

  "It's beautiful." I held it up to the light and laughed quietly. "No imps?"

  "I couldn't find a jeweler who sold them. I'll keep looking."

  "Thank you, Lincoln. I like it." Very much, I could have added. It was lovely, and thoughtful too, matching it to the necklace I had to wear tonight. Damn him for being so considerate.

  He bowed and turned to go.

  "We haven't discussed how to draw out the killer," I said. "Do you have a plan?"

  "No. Do you?"

  "I could claim to have an upset stomach and leave the dining room. Hopefully the killer will follow, then you can follow him."

  "It's a good plan."

  "You're flattering me," I said with a shake of my head. "It's a terrible plan."

  "It's the only one we have."

  "But what if the killer doesn't follow? What if he produces a gun and I can't call the imp quickly enough?"

  "I doubt he'll have a gun. If he tries to kill you, it'll be in such a way that can't be blamed on him. Watch your drinks and your food at all times. Poisoning is a very likely possibility."

  I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was right, but it didn't help settle my stomach. I doubted I could eat anything anyway.

  He crouched before me and clasped my hand in both of his. "Don't worry, Charlie. I won't let anything happen to you."

  I nodded and withdrew my hand. "Will you help me put the bracelet on?"

  He hesitated before picking up the bracelet. I held out my wrist and instantly realized the mistake I'd made. The touch of his fingers sent my already shaky nerves into a spin. His warmth, the smell of his spicy soap, the sheer closeness of him played havoc with every piece of me. I forgot my conviction. I forgot to listen to my head, and instead could only hear my heart telling me to forgive him, to stop punishing him. And to kiss him.

  Chapter 18

  "Charlie," he said, rocking back on his heels and studying me with a thoughtful frown. "What Seth and Gus told Lady Vickers yesterday…about homes and you not having one for so long until now…I never understood. Not really."

  "How could you not understand, Lincoln? You're not completely devoid of emotion or empathy. I know you're not. So how could you not see what this place meant to me?"

  "I've only ever lived here and at the general's house before that." He glanced to the ceiling, the walls, the fireplace behind me. "Both places are nothing more than bricks, wood and glass to me. When I'm absent, I've never felt a longing to be back. Not to the building itself." His gaze rested on mine. It was the softest I'd ever seen his eyes, the most guileless. For once, I didn't feel as if he were trying to compel or convince me, just speak to me with honesty. "When I do want to come home, it's because there's someone there I want to see."

  My throat tightened. He didn't need to say as much, but I knew he meant me. It was all there in his eyes.

  The knock on the door made him turn away, giving me an opportunity to dab at the corner of my damp eyes with my little finger.

  Seth gave us both a grim nod from the doorway. "They're beginning to arrive."

  Lincoln drew in a deep breath before turning back to me. "Ready?"

  I pulled on my long gloves and stood. "Ready."

  He held out his arm and I took it. He must have felt my hand shaking because he placed his hand reassuringly over it. "You look beautiful, by the way. You always do."

  The general was the first to arrive. He marched into the drawing room, and shook Lincoln's hand. "Glad to see you've come to your senses. Don't worry about the others. Between us, we can talk 'em round."

  "I'm not resuming my role as leader," Lincoln told him.

  Lord Gillingham's entrance distracted me from Eastbrooke's gruff response. "Why are we here?" Gillingh
am demanded, leaning heavily on his walking stick. "What's the meaning of this, Fitzroy?"

  "I wanted to clear the air," Lincoln said. "To show you I don't regret your decision and am at peace with it. Dinner is purely social."

  "You don't have to accept the decision," Eastbrooke said.

  "Do be quiet, General," Gillingham muttered. "You lost this one. Accept defeat graciously for once instead of stewing over it."

  The general stormed past Doyle, almost knocking him off his feet. The tray he held wobbled dangerously, but he managed to avoid any of the drinks on it from spilling. Eastbrooke towered over Gillingham. He might be older, but he was far more physically imposing than the smaller man.

  Gillingham backed up a step and gripped his walking stick hard. I would never forget how he'd used it on me as a weapon. Would he dare try to use it on Eastbrooke?

  "You're a coward, Gilly," Eastbrooke sneered. "Weak. A man never accepts defeat."

  Lincoln stepped between them just as Lady Harcourt and her two stepsons appeared. "Not in front of the ladies," Lincoln said.

  Eastbrooke stepped down but continued to glare at Gillingham from across the room.

  Lincoln repeated his explanation for the dinner invitation for the benefit of the newcomers, and finally for Lord Marchbank, the last to arrive. "I hope your wives aren't offended," he said to Marchbank and Gillingham, "but I didn't want to alarm them with any talk of the supernatural, if it should arise."

  Gillingham tried to hide his blush behind his glass, downing the contents in a single gulp.

  Lord Harcourt checked his watch, frowned, then slipped it back into his waistcoat pocket. Yes, I wanted to tell him, it's going to be a long night.

  "So you're now a gentleman of leisure," Andrew Buchanan said, raising his glass to Lincoln. "Congratulations. All the best fellows are. You ought to join me at the club. Or come with me to the races. It would be a lark. Bring Charlie." He winked at me.

  Ugh. Perhaps he'd arrived drunk. His eyes certainly seemed glassy and he hadn't even finished his first sherry.

  "Shut up, Buchanan," Seth snapped. "Nobody wants to go anywhere with you."

  Buchanan's nose wrinkled. "You've become an egalitarian, Fitzroy. Allowing the help to dine with the honored guests, now, eh?"