From The Ashes (The Ministry of Curiosities #6)(20)

"He did leave in something of a lather over Mr. Fitzroy's treatment of you." Her lips flattened, but I couldn't discern what she thought of that.

"It's settled then. Will you send word to Seth tonight or wait for tomorrow?"

She frowned. "Charlie, you don't seem to understand. I don't know where he is."

"He didn't tell you? His own mother?"

"He doesn't think our relationship requires me to know where he is all of the time," she said tightly.

"He ought to at least tell you where he's living."

"Quite." She sighed. "I was hoping you could find him for me. Perhaps the cook knows."

"You didn't ask him?"

She wrinkled her nose. "I thought you could."

"I've already asked, and he doesn't know, but I have an inkling. Gus is close to his great aunt. He probably told her his movements. I suspect if we find Gus, we'll find Seth. I'll send word to her in the morning."

"No, no, no. We must fetch him back tonight. Goodness knows where he's living. I hate to think of him spending a freezing night out there alone. He ought to be here."

I doubted Seth was either cold or alone. Most likely he was in the warm bed of one of his mistresses. I just hoped it wasn't Lady Harcourt. While he'd finally seen what a viper she could be, he was still vulnerable when a pretty face and lush figure were thrust in his face.

"You wish me to send word tonight? I suppose Doyle can take a message."

She shook her head. "Let's go in person. It'll be faster."

"You wish us both to go?" It wasn't safe out there for me with the murderer on the loose.

But no one knew I was back. The murderer wouldn't be waiting for me at the gate. Even Lincoln had given me permission to leave, in a way.

"I'll gather my coat and gloves," I said, rising. "And I'd best tell Cook to pass on a message to Lincoln in case he returns and we're not here." It wouldn't be wise to pull the dragon's tail by failing to keep him informed of my movements.



I made sure to lie as flat as I could across the coach's seat so that only Lady Vickers, sitting opposite, would be visible to anyone watching. I added 'hiding in conveyances' to my list of reasons for not wearing corsets and waited for her to declare it safe to rise before sitting up. Dusk muted what little color the city could muster—the red and green of a holly bush, the blue of a woman's hat ribbon—but at least it wasn't raining. The versatile Doyle wouldn't get wet driving us to Gus's great-aunt's home on Broker Row near the Seven Dials district.

Bella Briggs had fixed Lady Vickers' hair and fastened a perky black hat on top, but the hat had already begun to slip and the hairstyle resembled sagging sails around her ears. Clearly hair wasn't one of Bella's talents. Lady Vickers remained vigilant, having taken it upon herself to keep watch for ne'er do wells as we approached the bleaker areas of the city. I wasn't sure if she was protecting me from the murderer or simply looking out for thieves. I didn't tell her that I used to live near Broker Row with a gang of boys when I'd been about fifteen. She looked horrified enough by the grimy faces and ragged children.

"Wait here," I said as Doyle slowed the coach. "I'll see what I can learn from Mrs. Sullivan."

"You can't go out there alone!" Lady Vickers said.

I thrust my arm across the door, blocking her exit. "I'll be fine. It's best if you stay here and keep an eye on the coach."

She clasped her coat closed at her throat. "You're right. Doyle can't manage on his own. But will you be all right, my dear?"

"Of course. I'm used to places like this. Besides, it's not yet dark." Darkness brought out the real dangers. Few respectable people ventured outside on a cold night near Seven Dials, but many disreputable ones went in search of mischief.

The frosty air nipped at my nose and cheeks as I stepped down onto the pavement. I nodded at Doyle but he was too busy surveying the street for dangers to notice. Mrs. Sullivan lived in a narrow tenement lit by a hissing lamp that would fail to penetrate the darkness in another hour. I quickly knocked and was glad when the door was just as quickly opened by the broad-faced charwoman herself. She greeted me eagerly and asked me to join her and the girls—young, homeless women she took in from time to time—but I politely refused.

Moments later I recited an address to Doyle and climbed back into the coach. We lurched forward before I'd completely shut the door.

"Did she say if Seth is there too?" Lady Vickers asked.

"No. If he's not, Gus will know where to find him."

Gus had taken a room in an old house in Clerkenwell that must have once been home to gentry but now looked out of place among the modern tenements on either side of it. Where they stood strong and upright, the house leaned to the right and seemed to be clinging to its patch through sheer luck. It took some moments for the door to be opened, and by Gus himself, no less.

"Charlie!" He blinked rapidly, as if he assumed his eyes were playing tricks, then drew me into a warm hug. "Bloody hell! You escaped! Blimey, you'd better come in. Once word gets out, he'll be after you."

I laughed. "I didn't escape. Lincoln fetched me. Apparently he changed his mind."