From The Ashes (The Ministry of Curiosities #6)(17)

Lincoln emerged from his rooms, already changed into dry clothes. His damp hair hung in tangled waves to the nape of his neck. He carried his jacket and tie and the top button of his shirt was undone. My heart skipped at the sight.

He spotted me before I could duck into my old rooms and pretend I hadn't seen him. His pace slowed, as if he was surprised to see me. Or perhaps he didn't want to get too close. "I know this is awkward for you," he said, as he drew near, "but I hope you can bear it."

I squared my shoulders. "It's not awkward for you?"

His hand settled on the door handle, blocking my exit. "I…don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

His Adam's apple bobbed and his knuckles went white. "I feel a lot of things right now, but I can't separate them. They're jumbled together. Like the mixture for one of Cook's cakes." His gaze dipped, as if he could no longer meet mine. He opened the door. "I'll be scarce in the near future as I warn the supernaturals and continue with the investigation."

I wondered how hard it had been for him to tell me about his feelings. He wasn't a man who liked to discuss emotions. Sometimes, I wasn't sure he had the same emotional range as the rest of us. I was beginning to think that his regimented and lonely childhood didn't completely explain his lack of empathy, and it was more probably that he lacked a piece in his heart that the rest of us possessed.

"The committee won't be told of your return," he said. "Nor anyone else. That should give you some freedom for the time being."

"You're not ordering me to remain here?"

"Ordering you hasn't worked before, I see no reason why it'll work this time."

"If I do go out, I'll be careful."

He inclined his head in a nod and walked off.

"You're limping," I said before he'd gone too far.

His step changed to his normal one. "You're mistaken."

Liar. He'd definitely been limping. I resisted the urge to go after him and retreated to my rooms instead. I didn't care if he limped. I didn't care if his entire leg fell off. He could go to hell and stay there for all I cared. I would never again worry about his wellbeing. He certainly didn't worry about mine.



I returned to the kitchen via the service stairs again. It was easier to avoid Lady Vickers that way. I had not, however, anticipated running into her maid.

"Who are you?" I blurted upon seeing the pretty woman carrying a tray up the stairs.

"Bella Briggs, miss." She bobbed an awkward curtsey that almost saw the covered plate slide off the tray. She caught it just in time, only to over correct the tray. "Bloody hell!"

I grasped the tray's edge and helped her right everything on it before a disaster occurred.

She giggled. "Sorry, miss. Forgot myself there. You won't tell her ladyship, will you?"

"I won't if you won't. You're Lady Vickers' maid?"

"At your service."

"Don't curtsey!"

She giggled again. There appeared to be no malice in her, but I was still wary. We'd been duped before. The last woman we'd employed had ended up kidnapping me. While Bella seemed utterly guileless, it was best to be cautious.

"Mr. Fitzroy oversaw your employment himself, did he?" I asked.

"Seth did." She thrust out a hip and her full lips curved into a seductive smile. No need to ask how she'd got the position. It was unlikely to be for her skill at balancing a full tray, and more likely to be her skill at pleasing Seth in bed. I wondered if his mother knew. "D'you know when he'll be back?"

"Hopefully soon." I nodded at the tray. "Can you manage that up the stairs?"

"Course." She headed past me without a backward glance, which was probably just as well.

I continued to the kitchen and tucked into the biscuits Cook had made. They were still warm. Doyle poured me a cup of tea from the pot by the stove.

"You still got your pet?" Cook whispered when Doyle went to fetch a bottle of wine from the cellar.

I touched the amber orb beneath my clothing. "Still got it and I didn't have to use it once. Well, almost that one time when the Queen of Hearts' soldiers attacked."

If he'd had eyebrows they would have shot up his forehead. Doyle returned before I had a chance to explain. I wasn't yet sure what the butler knew, and since Cook didn't ask any questions about the soldiers, I assumed Doyle was still in the dark about the ministry's true purpose. I couldn't imagine his ignorance would last much longer with the oddities we frequently encountered.

"Mr. Fitzroy is limping," I said to them both. "Did something happen to him while I was away?"

"A circus strongman were murdered," Cook said with a shake of his bald head. "Death investigated, but I don't recall him getting injured." He looked to Doyle.

Doyle spent a long time reading the wine bottle label.

"Doyle?" I prompted. "What is it? What happened?"

The butler cleared his throat. "It would be ill-advised for me to mention something that Mr. Fitzroy wouldn't want you to know." He didn't look entirely convinced by his own words, however, and I didn't think it would take much to get him to tell me.