From The Ashes (The Ministry of Curiosities #6)(14)

"Charlie doesn't exaggerate," he said with ice-cold calm.

"Punish any of the other girls in such a manner, and we'll send the authorities here." I found it difficult to keep the triumph out of my voice. I'd wanted to experience this victory over her ever since my arrival.

Mrs. Denk's nose whistled with her heavy breaths, but she didn't say anything. I wondered if my threat or Lincoln's presence explained her stony silence. Behind her, several of the girls bit back smiles.

I climbed into the carriage with my reticule, Lincoln behind me. He closed the door and I waved at my friends through the window until we passed through the gatehouse and I could no longer see them.

"How did she punish you?" he asked.

"It no longer matters."

"It matters to me."

I couldn't look at him, so continued to stare at the barren winter scenery out the window. "I didn't like deportment class. Or French. Or being told what to do all the time."

"Were you harmed?"

"Not really." His pause compelled me to glance at him. His intense dark stare was as fathomless as a deep winter lake. "What made you change your mind?"

"I thought your life was in danger."

"How did you—? Oh. Your senses." I spread my gloved hands over my reticule on my lap. My engagement ring was inside. Had he noticed that it wasn't on my finger earlier? He must have. He noticed everything. "The situation resolved itself without anyone getting hurt. So why are you still collecting me if I am no longer in danger here? I was under the impression my presence at the school would be a permanent arrangement."

Weighty silence filled the cabin for several beats. I thought he wouldn't answer, then he said, "I want you back at Lichfield."

I didn't suspect for a moment that he'd missed me, or loved me. Perhaps he was capable of feeling guilt, however, or his strong sense of duty meant he felt obliged to keep me safe personally. He'd told me the murderer hadn't yet been found, and we both knew the killer would seek me out sooner or later, even here.

I broke the gaze and returned to looking out the window. Low stone walls clung to the barren hills in the distance, with the occasional tree standing sentinel near a barn. The muddy, pitted roads slowed our pace, and made the cabin rock relentlessly. I had a devil of a time keeping my knees from bumping Lincoln's. The space was far too small.

"Tell me what happened to endanger you," he said in a rumbling, rich voice.

"No," I said to my reflection. "I don't feel like talking to you."

That ended any discussion between us all the way to York. I even managed not to meet his gaze again. If he was looking at me, I couldn't tell. The only time we acknowledged one another was when he drew out a blanket from the storage compartment beneath his seat. He handed it to me and I laid it across my lap, politely thanking him.

He'd taken rooms in a hotel near a railway station. My room had its own small sitting room where I informed him I would eat supper. He didn't ask to join me and I didn't invite him.

"Goodnight, Charlie," he said stiffly at the door. The porter had gone inside with my luggage. "If there's anything you need, my room is next to yours."

"There is something, as it happens." I opened my reticule and felt inside. "I need to give this back to you."

I held out the ring. He kept his hands behind his back but his shoulders stiffened. "Keep it."

"No." When he didn't move, I went to slip the ring into his coat pocket.

His hand whipped out and caught my wrist. His grip was firm but not bruising. I could have pulled free, but didn't. His gaze pinned me. "It's yours," he said quietly.

The porter emerged from my room. He cleared his throat and skirted around us. Lincoln let me go.

"I don't want the bloody ring," I said through gritted teeth, loud enough for the retreating porter to hear. "I don't even want to look it at. It was a symbol of our engagement and we are no longer engaged." I slipped the ring into Lincoln's pocket. He didn't try to stop me. "Goodnight."

I stepped into my room and kicked the door closed. The fire in the sitting room burned low. I added more coals and stoked it up before flopping onto a chair with an enormous sigh. It had been a long, trying afternoon, and I felt exhausted. Keeping my emotions in check had been tiring, but now that I was alone, I let my tears out. When that didn't make me feel better, I threw a cushion at the wall. It did nothing to relieve my anger. I thought I'd set the hurt and anger behind me, but seeing him again had brought it all back to the surface again.

Yet overriding all that was sheer relief at the thought of going to London again, and Lichfield in particular. I couldn't wait to see Seth, Gus and Cook. I wanted to ride my horse, sleep in my own bed, roam the estate and see what changes appeared in the winter garden. Being near Lincoln once again was a large part of it, but not all. I doubted I could ever feel the blind adoration I'd felt for him before. His actions had cured me of that.

I was still a little exhausted from my dungeon ordeal, so I went to bed early. I slept better than I had in days. A porter came in the morning to help me with my luggage. Lincoln waited in the foyer, a small brown suitcase at his feet. He picked it up and took mine from the porter.

"Good morning," he said, eyeing me closely. I looked away. "Did you sleep well?"