A Study in Silks (58 page)

Tobias recovered himself, affecting a semblance of his usual manner. “Have you any openings left on your card? If there are, I will have them all. And I
will
have the waltz.”

Her heart skittered beneath the lace-covered sheath of her bodice, stopped midbeat by the seriousness in his gray eyes. The effect was more striking than mere mischief. In an eye blink, Tobias had introduced a new element: what was between them hadn’t been a game for a while, but the stakes had somehow been raised.

Evelina stood pinned by his gaze, unsure of herself and
yet desperately certain she wanted him. She wanted to believe that desire so plain on his face.
He promised that he was being honest
.

She cleared her throat, reaching for the lemonade. “I’m afraid Captain Smythe has already claimed the waltz,” she said.

His finely sculpted mouth turned down. “I shall have to call him out for pistols at dawn. I am a crack shot, you know.”

“Is that a wise plan, Mr. Roth? Crack shot or no, I should remind you that he is a military man.”

“Mr. Roth? So formal? You cut me to the quick.”

“I think an element of formality is called for when a man proposes to get himself killed in such a harebrained fashion.”

He lifted a brow. “You call the field of honor harebrained?”

“Yes, I do when the cause of the fight is three minutes of Johann Strauss at his most relentlessly cheerful.”

He plucked the dance card from her wrist. “Then what time do you have left for me, Evelina?”

For a moment, a flutter in her stomach interfered with her wits. Then she snapped herself back to reality. There were dark circles under his eyes, strain around his mouth. Tobias sometimes looked ragged from carousing all night, but this went much, much deeper. The events of the last week were telling on him, too. He needed a night of light and laughter as much as she did. The least she could do was be entertaining.

She tilted her head. “What time do I have? I think it is received wisdom not to use words like
anytime
and
always
with young men. Absolutes terrify them.”

His mouth quirked. “Speaking as a young man, allow me to correct you. Absolutes have a dread fascination. The question of how much dread and how much fascination depends entirely on the speaker.”

He carefully penciled his name against the remaining dances and ceremoniously slipped the ribbon loop over her glove. Her heart began to speed. It was not the Done Thing
for a young man to ask for so many dances in a night, much less write his name over another’s. It was rude, unheard of, and coming from Tobias, the next best thing to a proposal.

Through the soft fabric, she could feel the strength in his long, clever fingers as he replaced the card. Then he raised her hand to his lips, his gaze never leaving hers. “Let’s test the absolutes of anytime and always.”

Her pulse raced like an overwound clock. She touched the icy glass of lemonade to her cheek to cool her flaming skin. “You are being selfish, Mr. Roth. I see Alice Keating, for one, casting a longing look your way.”

“I don’t want anyone but you. You are light and life, and I have been in a very dark place.” He took the glass from her hand and set it on the side table as the orchestra began a medley of Chopin’s waltzes. “Shall we?”

Evelina floated to the dance floor beside him, conscious that she was fulfilling all those fantasies she had nursed since first meeting Imogen’s handsome brother years ago. Back then, Tobias had seemed more an untouchable godling than a real young man. All that awe came flooding back to her, giving the moment a solemnity that far outweighed the reality of a simple dance. She let him take her in his arms, and gave herself over to the sensual pull of the music. When his body commanded hers to lean into the first turn, for the first time in her life she was tempted to swoon. It was quite delightful. Evelina Cooper never had the luxury of being giddy, and she rode the feeling for all it was worth.

But of course, she didn’t faint dead away in his arms. Nor did she curse when the last cadence rose like mist into the torrid ballroom air, though she was sorely tempted. It was intermission, and Tobias went in search of something cold for them to drink. A mechanical orchestra started up, filling the place of the live musicians with a pitch-perfect but utterly lifeless Gilbert and Sullivan pastiche. No one even tried to dance to it.

The dreadful music brought her back to reality, and her extravagant happiness abated a little. She wasn’t sure what had got into Tobias, but she was going to have to restore her dance card to good order. The Duchess of Westlake wouldn’t
thank her for precipitating a scandal at her ball.
I owe it to Tobias to behave properly. I owe it to myself
.

She then realized Mouse hadn’t reappeared since her arrival. She looked around anxiously, searching the floor for the familiar gray shape.

“Is something the matter, Miss Cooper?” asked Michael Edgerton, who was passing by.

Evelina started. “I, er, believe I dropped a button.”

“What color is it?” he asked helpfully, staring at the floor intently.

Bother
. She couldn’t blame the lanky young man for helping, but she wished him speedily away. “Oh, I think I must be mistaken. Look, my glove has all its buttons after all.” She held up her arm, proving her point.

“All right then,” he said dubiously. “As long as you’re sure.”

“Absolutely,” she said brightly. “Thanks so much.”

Edgerton took his leave with a slight shake of his head. She’d handled that badly, and heaven knew what he was thinking, but Evelina was too uneasy about Mouse to care. A twinge in her stomach said something was amiss.

She looked around for Tobias, who was still in search of refreshments. The room where they were set out would be mobbed—he wouldn’t be back soon. That gave her time to hunt for Mouse. With a last glance at the floor, she slipped through the door that led away from the dancing and toward the games room, where fortunes were lost and regained in an evening by the turn of a card or a toss of the dice. She could just see the doorway to that chamber, and the corner of a table with three or four young men clustered around. Halfway down the passage, she passed a room where men lounged around a low table, drinking and laughing. Some had cigars, and tiny clockwork hummingbirds whirred around the room, driving the smoke toward an automatic ventilation unit. Then came a room where two young girls, giggling and groaning in equal parts because they had danced so much that night, had taken off their shoes to wiggle their toes. They were so much like Evelina and Imogen, she stared for a bit, jealously wondering why they weren’t
sharing a similar moment. Life had become too serious all of a sudden.

She shook off the thought and kept moving. Other doorways, most standing open, led to rooms with less defined uses. Evelina began to walk past the doorways, searching for Mouse with her senses as well as her eyes. She was sure the little creature was somewhere nearby, and the feeling grew stronger as she moved farther from the dancing. It was there, a bright spark ahead and to her left, but there was something in the way, like a line along the floor that Mouse could not cross to get to her.

Then she knew what room she wanted—the room set aside for ladies to rest and refresh themselves in private. It was empty, the force that was keeping Mouse inside no doubt keeping everyone else out. Evelina swallowed hard and peered through the doorway.

The room was lit by a pair of branching gas sconces reflected by gold-framed mirrors hung on the opposite wall so the light bounced back and magnified the brightness. There was a painted Japanese screen, a few low couches, and a steam trolley piled with cakes and lemonade for the ladies’ refreshment. Evelina stepped inside, feeling Mouse’s presence like a piece of herself that had wandered astray.

The moment she did, the barrier she had sensed disappeared, and she felt a light tugging on her hem. She looked down to see Mouse pulling at her dress with its tiny fore-paws. On the pretext of adjusting her slipper, she bent and scooped it into her reticule.
Dr. Magnus is right behind you
, said the little creature.

She whirled around, feeling Mouse squirm as the reticule swung with her movement. Mouse was right. Dr. Magnus gave a small bow, resplendent in his black and white formal attire.

“You are a vision, Miss Cooper.”

And he was an apparition. An emerald stickpin skewered his lapel like a glittering eye. “Dr. Magnus,” she replied with a stiff curtsey, uncomfortably aware that they were in the room alone.

“Pardon my methods of getting your attention. I would
speak with you, but we meet in an inauspicious location for any conversation of substance.”

Evelina bristled. “I have no wish to speak with you.”

“But I have much to impart.” He gave her a significant look. “As I said before, you possess a talent that interests me greatly. I have been studying the infusion of spirit into machine for a great many years, struggling to accomplish the task at even a primitive level. Yet you, as in the case of your bird and of the little mouse you even now carry in your bag, are able to achieve this effortlessly. I would teach you all I know if you would return the favor.”

Evelina started as if shocked by Jasper Keating’s machine. The last thing she needed was someone to overhear them. “Dr. Magnus! Have a care what you say. We might be alone, but there is every chance someone might chance by.”

He gave a meaningful nod. “As I said, this is an inauspicious location. It would be far better if we met in private. Perhaps at my rooms on Pemberton Row?”

“I’m not a fool!” she whispered. She always ended up whispering to the man. “Why should I trust you, here or anywhere else?”

“Shall I give you an earnest of my intentions?”

“What do you mean?”

“It is obvious to me that you pursue an answer to what has swept your corner of creation into such sad disarray. I will put you a step closer to your goal.”

Evelina frowned, wary of anything the man might say. “My lord, your meaning is far from clear.”

“That tends to be the case with random puzzle pieces.” He waved an airy hand, all grace and elegance. “Attend. You are not the only avenue to learning, and I am not a man to neglect an opportunity. In addition to you, my living example of a rare talent, there is also an ancient artifact called Athena’s Casket that forms part of the archaeological exhibit Jasper Keating has acquired from Greece. I would very much like to study the casket, but Keating claims that he does not have it.”

Evelina narrowed her eyes. Nick had said Magnus was after an object of power, and he was trying to force Lord
Bancroft to help him get it from the Gold King. That object had to be the casket—and if it was from Greece, what about the crates she had seen with strange writing on them? She took a wild gamble.

“And he stored that exhibit in a warehouse?” Evelina’s neck ached from the tension in her body. She kept her face utterly blank, hoping he would give up and leave her alone. Instead, he assumed his most charming smile. If she didn’t know better, she would have found it devastating.

“Yes, the warehouse you so neatly exorcised. Well done, Evelina.”

“How do you know that?”

“I visited the place after you. With all the metal in the vicinity, it stank of your battle with the guardian. You need to have a care, throwing your magic about like that. You leave a wide trail for those who can read it.”

Evelina flushed, but refused to be baited. This was the man who had done his best to lure her to become his student in the dark arts. He had hurt Nick, and he was the one who had tricked her into this room tonight. She should have been fighting her way from the room.

Instead, she seized the opportunity to ask questions. That was the problem with Dr. Magnus—as much as she loathed him, he was the only person she knew who understood magic better than she did. It was an insidious attraction. “What went on in that warehouse? I heard something about Chinese workers connected to the place.” Their deaths had finally made it into the papers. “And Mr. Markham, the shopkeeper, uses Chinese tailors.”

Dr. Magnus shrugged. “Markham’s men may well be honest tailors, merely plying their trade, or they might be lookouts. I don’t know. The only concrete fact I have is that I discovered living quarters beneath the floor of the warehouse.”

Evelina’s eyes widened. She’d missed that—but then again, she’d been running from the guardian. “There was blood on the floor,” she added. “Bodies were found in the Thames.”

“Then the Chinese who worked for Harriman were killed.”

The scraps and bits of information she had gathered were suddenly forming a pattern. “How unbelievably horrific.”

“I agree.” Magnus frowned. “But I think you have your answer. The warehouse is empty. No traces have been left of what went on there.” He folded his arms, his face dark with displeasure. “There were workbenches beneath the warehouse, and signs that equipment had been in place, but what they were actually doing there remains a blank to me. I do not like that.”

That at least was something Evelina could agree with him about.

His mouth twitched irritably. “I am not convinced the casket is missing.”

That logic puzzled her. “Why don’t you know?” He seemed to know everything about everything. The fact that he was unclear about this point was odd.

He gave her a disgusted look. “I have tendrils everywhere, but I am not
quite
omniscient.”

“I still don’t understand why Keating would say he doesn’t have it if he does. Won’t it form part of his exhibition anyhow?”

“Perhaps he means merely to keep it from seekers such as I am. Perhaps, like so many collectors, he cannot bear to share that which he has made part of his private hoard. The potential reasons are many. I simply know the man is lying to me, and must draw my conclusions from that.”

“Of course,” she said slowly, fascinated but horrified. So much was sliding together—Nick’s half-understood account of Magnus’s conversation with Bancroft, what she had seen in the warehouse, Magnus’s interest in her bird. More questions exploded in her mind like a flock of startled pigeons, but the doctor spoke again before she could grab even one.