A Study in Darkness (15 page)

“Well enough, sir. I have spent the last several months with my grandmother in Devonshire.” In fact, it had been Keating’s suggestion that she leave London when the forgery debacle was exposed.

“So I had heard.” He considered her for a long moment, his gaze searching. “And you do not find it difficult to be here, in my daughter’s company?”

Evelina’s mouth went dry, her hands twitching with the urge to wrap her arms protectively over her chest, where her heart pretended to be ice. There was only one reason she’d find fault with Alice’s presence. How had Keating known there was anything between her and Tobias?

“Come now,” Keating said, his voice edged with impatience. “I concede you are a clever girl, so I beg you to return the compliment. I saw you together with young Mr. Roth, and I am not so old that I have forgotten the affections of youth.”

Then why crush them under your boot leather?
A flicker of anger gave her the strength to reply. “And your daughter is a charming hostess and, I hope, a friend. Tob—Mr. Roth is my best friend’s brother; that is all.”

“Excellent. I’m sure you understand how Alice’s happiness weighs heavily with me.”

“Of course.” She knew a warning when she heard it.

He gave her another long look while the silence grew awkward. “So what are your plans, Miss Cooper? You do not strike me as one to be contented with the usual social round.”

He knew that she had played a key role in breaking the forgery case, which had put her in his good graces, at least for the time being. “I wish to continue my education.”

“You are a true Holmes, then.”

“I hope to be worthy of the name.”

His expression grew almost coy. It was the look of a craftsman spotting a particularly well-made tool, but wishing to haggle over the price. “I have heard much of your scholarship and your skill with mechanics, and I am most impressed. Do not be a stranger to my door. I approve of bright young talent, male or female, and I am far from one to object to female scholars.”

Evelina nearly pointed out how inconsistent that was, given that he’d never taken his own daughter into the family business. But then Alice had a dynastic function to fulfill, not a workaday one. “I am flattered, sir.”

“Flattery is for lesser minds than yours. I would prefer that you were inspired to excel. I would be delighted to see you at my house when I gather together like minds for an evening of conversation.”

“Thank you, sir.” She’d never heard that Keating hosted any such events, but then no one in her circle—until Tobias—had come to the notice of the Gold King before. The invitation was intriguing, though she heartily wished it had come from anyone else.

Still, he must have seen that glimmer of interest, because his smile grew smug. “I understand that you have a certain talent for clockwork as well as solving mysteries.”

She felt a stab of caution. Only those who had the steam barons’ blessing were permitted to build any kind of machinery, however trivial. “I have a little skill. I learned it from my father’s father.”

Keating harrumphed. “A little skill, eh? That is the standard answer women are trained to give. Tell me the truth.”

Evelina bit her lip, her pride getting the better of her. “I trump Tobias when it comes to fine work.”

“Then I insist you come mingle with my other guests.”

“Very good, sir.” Outright refusal would only bring unpleasantness.

This was the man who had burned Crowleyton. This was the man who was after the casket and, by extension, Nick. This was the man who, with a word to the Lord Chamberlain, had erased her mother’s disgrace and secured Evelina’s presentation to the queen. He had an enormous amount of power.

“Then I hope to see you soon, Miss Cooper.”

Evelina curtsied, hating herself for the show of submission. A twist of anger caught her breath and pinked her cheeks. All she could do was hope he mistook her high color for a maidenly blush.

When Evelina looked up, Jasper Keating was gone. Lord Bancroft was staring at her from across the room, a mixture of pity and dislike furrowing his face. When their gazes crossed, he jerked his head away and left the hall.

For the moment, Evelina was alone, her only company the riot of voices in the other rooms of the house. She felt the sudden urge to run up to her bedroom and hide. Like a ruffled cat, she needed a minute or two to lick her fur back into place. But Uncle Sherlock was right. There was a great deal going on, and she needed to find out what it was. This wasn’t the time to mull over everything she learned—now was the time to act. She could think during the long, stifling hours of wedding talk and embroidery on the morrow.

Still feeling shaken, she started toward the ballroom, but then trailed to a halt. There were other parts of the house she hadn’t explored. Tonight, everyone was at the party. At any other time, guests and servants would be scattered throughout the house, making exploration impossible, and there were places she needed to go. Of particular interest was Keating’s study on the floor above, with its mahogany desk and locked correspondence box. She’d been aching to try
her hand at that lock since she’d glanced through the doorway that afternoon.
Yes, that’s where I’ll begin
. Finally feeling like she had a plan, Evelina started toward the staircase.

And she almost made it, but chance—or some devil—made her peer into the modest library next to the stairs. It had grown dark outside, but no lamps dimmed the soft moonlight seeping through the many-paned windows. She stopped to look simply because it was pretty and the cooler air, away from everyone else, soothed her skin and her temper.

Then a movement caught her eye. There was someone standing to the right, a man’s figure black against the diamond-shaped leading of the window. Evelina stopped, feeling as if she were the one caught hiding, and not the other way around. Slowly, almost reluctantly, her blood began to tingle with recognition.

“Tobias?” she whispered. “Is that you?”

The figure slipped to the right, disappearing into the shadow cast by the bookcases. All that remained was the moonlight floating through the diamond-paned glass and stealing the color from the thick Persian carpet that muted the figure’s footfall.

Had she imagined him? Her breath escaped in a disappointed huff. Then she chewed her lip, thinking maybe she should back away and get on with her plan. But before she knew what her feet were doing they had taken her to the embrasure where the figure had been.

Through the window, she could see the rolling expanse of fields bordered here and there with shaggy pines. An owl flitted over the lawn, sweeping down to strike something on the grass. Then it vanished into the trees, a body clutched in its talons.

The sudden, economical violence broke her dreamlike mood. She turned, her gaze probing the shadows of the room. “Tobias?” She heard movement, a rustle of garments, and the scuff of feet against the carpet.

“Evelina,” Tobias replied, turning up the gaslight and flooding the room with a soft glow.

For a moment, she was tongue-tied. She’d always thought
him handsome, but she’d forgotten just how deeply that could shake her resolve. Or maybe it was the memory of his “I love you” that trampled her good sense. Whatever it was, the sight of him caught her off guard.

Tobias looked rumpled, as if he’d been traveling. Like Imogen, he was tall and fair, his eyes a changeable gray. He’d always made her think of a fallen angel, as tantalizingly wicked as he was beautiful, but something had changed. Where he had once radiated a playful suggestion of sin, now he seemed merely weary.

Evelina swallowed, her mouth achingly dry. “I didn’t think you were going to be here.”

“I wasn’t, but then I heard you would be. And I wanted to see you dance one last time.”

The simple statement stunned her. “Why?” But in a month’s time he would be married, and nothing would be the same.

She should have walked away the moment she suspected he was in the library, but for an instant she had forgotten herself. Now she recovered her wits, too aware of her own weakness where he was concerned. “I should go.”

“Don’t.” He caught her arm. “Let me look at you for a moment.”

“Why?” The question nearly burned her tongue. Now painful memories came flooding back—his last cruel words, the fact that they had barely parted when he must have started wooing Alice Keating to his bed. “What do you hope to see?”

“What I’ve lost.” His eyebrows lifted sardonically, every line in his body sharp with mockery. “Maybe understanding, if not forgiveness.”

The sound of his voice, so very familiar, made her chest ache. Her mouth worked for a moment, grief and anger tangling her tongue. “You made your pact with Keating. Leave it at that.”

“But as you can see, the bargain worked. My father is not in jail and my mother is in a fetching new gown. Imogen and Poppy have their dowries. Our future is intact.”

And the sacrifice, judging by the lines that pulled at his
face, was almost more than he could bear. The sight of his misery made it hard to cling to her anger, for all she gripped it like a drowning woman. She’d carefully skirted this abyss of sadness all summer, but his sudden appearance had thrown her right over the brink.

“I understand,” she said softly, thinking of her own encounter with the Gold King that night. It made her shudder. She would need her uncle’s advice on how to escape that noose—and that was exactly the kind of support Tobias had never had.

His sarcastic air faded. “I had to let you go. I would have dragged you down with me, and that wouldn’t have helped anyone.”

“So now you make bombs.”

“What?” He sounded confused.

“I recognized your handiwork. A remote detonation device.”

“When were you looking at bombs?”

She didn’t answer, so eventually Tobias shook his head. “I just designed those detonators. I don’t make individual devices. And I’ve designed things for Keating I pray will never be built. Imogen isn’t the only one with nightmares.”

Part of her had wanted him to grow angry, to protest his innocence. But he didn’t even know what she was talking about. He wasn’t the one who had built the Baker Street bomb.

“The work isn’t what you thought?” she asked, aiming for safe territory.

“When is anything what we think it’s going to be?” he asked wearily.

She could summon no words, either to agree or to object. Oh, there were things she wanted to say—should have said—about Alice, about the detonator, about her uncle and a thousand other scraps of unfinished business, but it all fell away like so much ash. Conversation implied a future they didn’t have.

He buried his face in his hands. Gas jets flickered from the light overhead, but they had been turned so low he seemed wreathed in shadows. Then he pulled his hands
away and drew in a harsh breath. “I’m not like you, Evelina. You’re stronger than I am. I don’t want to let you go. Do you blame me for coming tonight? For one last moment?”

Last moment
. He’d given up the fight to keep her. If there was any hope left alive, its wings finally stilled. Tears blurred her vision, her ribs aching with an unbearable feeling of loss. It was as if her heart had melted, leaving nothing but an empty cavern at her core.
I can’t afford to cry. If I do, I’m lost
. Emotions were a fatal quicksand.

“Yes.” She groped for something concrete, something factual to argue with, because—but she had nothing left to hold on to. “No.”

Tobias closed the distance between them, taking her hands. His touch was warm, his fingers long and a little rough from handling tools. “I’m so sorry.”

The finality of it stabbed deep. Evelina squeezed her eyes closed, clamping her jaw to keep her chin from wobbling. The least she could do was carry herself with dignity. She dragged in a shaking breath, summoning the composure to make her good-byes.
Oh, please, no!

“Don’t cry,” he whispered. “I can’t bear it.”

She opened her eyes and Tobias was a blur of light and shadows, but in the next instant he was kissing her, his mouth hot and greedy. And yet he still held back, as if only his mouth had full permission to touch her. His fingers cupped her face as gently as if she were spun glass.

The last of her restraint shattered. Every fiber of her body refused this defeat. She wound her arms around his neck, a noise of encouragement escaping her throat. The effect was instant. As if memorizing her form, his hands skimmed down her ribs, over the flare of her hips, lingering in places that brought heat low in her belly. She made the noise again, pleading without words.

And he pulled her close, teasing her mouth open to deepen the kiss. Yes, this felt right. Evelina’s stomach fluttered as excitement and desire raced through her blood. She ran her palms up the soft fabric of his shirt, feeling his heart pound beneath her touch. And then her fingers curled around the edges of the garment, finding the sudden heat of bare skin.
New information flooded her—the silkiness of his tongue, the faint rasp of stubble on his chin, the feel of his chest under her hands. He pushed closer, and she shifted her feet, bracing herself against the force of his need.

Giddiness swamped her, sweeping reason aside like so much crockery. Her own desire awakened, stretching and clawing at her insides, leaving her achy and restless. She met the force of his kiss, body to body.

If only he’d stay with me, I’d give him everything
. But the moment the thought formed, she knew she’d still lost. He had already chosen his family over her. Despite this moment of passion, that wasn’t going to change. To expect anything else was folly, because the fact that he would take care of his own was one of the very things that made her admire him.
This is wrong!

Her heart squeezed at the realization, the shock of it deep because it was inarguably true. She broke the kiss, sucking in a breath of air that was almost painful. A look of surprise had barely touched his eyes when a voice ripped through the room.

“Mr. Roth!”

Evelina sprang away from him, her cry of dismay marking her guilt as nothing else could have. As one, they whirled to face the door they had foolishly left open.