From The Ashes (The Ministry of Curiosities #6)(72)

I sighed. "Not really."

It was dark in the cabin, but I could swear he smiled.

"It's not about enjoyment," Lady Vickers declared. "It's about making connections, angling oneself into the right set. Seacombe is rich and spends most of his time traveling. His wife would be very comfortable here and able to be her own person without interference from a demanding husband. I happen to think that arrangement would suit Charlie well."

"Charlie wouldn't want it that way," Seth said.

"Charlie can decide for herself, thank you," I said, snippy.

Seth groaned and tipped his head back. "I should have drunk more. Then it would have been a good night."

"I have a suggestion," I said. "One that came to me as we sat in the drawing room waiting for the men to join us. You're not going to like it."

"In that case, the answer's no," Seth said.

"Agreed," Lincoln said. "We are not using you as bait."

Either he'd guessed or used his seer's powers.

"Bait?" Lady Vickers asked. "Does this have anything to do with Seacombe?"

"Seth will explain later," Lincoln told her.

Seth tilted his head forward. "I will?"

"Tell her everything."

Seth groaned. "This evening suddenly got worse."

"We need to do this," I said to Lincoln. "It's the only way and you know it."

"What are we doing?" Seth asked.

"Having a dinner party and inviting the committee members, Andrew Buchanan and Lord Harcourt. Tomorrow night."

Lady Vickers pulled a face. "What an interminably dull group. I think I'll be out tomorrow night, if that's all right with you."

"Good idea," Lincoln said darkly. "The evening might become too interesting."

I tugged the blanket higher. I hadn't expected him to agree. "It'll be all right, Lincoln. We'll be well prepared."

He turned to look out the window, even though nothing could be seen except his own reflection.



I helped Cook in the kitchen most of the next day. We rarely had guests to dinner and never so many at the one time. Cook, in his quest for perfection, became more dictatorial than General Eastbrooke. He issued Bella and Gus with a long list of ingredients to purchase, while Seth and I helped him with the tasks that could be started while we waited for the shoppers to return. Doyle spent the entire morning setting the table and considering wine options, although I suspected he was simply avoiding the kitchen. Even Lincoln joined us when Gus and Bella returned. Cook set him to chopping carrots, and he silently obliged, much to everyone's surprise. Only Lady Vickers stayed away.

"Have you issued invitations?" I asked Lincoln as I collected his pail of peel and scraps.

"Gus and Bella did, this morning," he said. "And they're not invitations. They're demands."

"That'll go well," Seth muttered.

Bella offered to take the pail outside for me, and I handed it to her. Once she was gone, I asked Seth, "How did your mother take the news of our…work?"

"She thought I was joking at first. I had the devil of a time convincing her I spoke the truth. I'm still not sure she believes me. That reminds me, Charlie, expect her to ask you to raise the spirit of my dead father."

"As proof?"

"And to blame him for leaving us in debt. She never had the chance before he died and she wants to do it face to face. I tried to tell her she won't be able to see him, unless you raise his body. That quickly put an end to the notion, but she still wants to speak with his spirit."

Cook tossed a potato at Seth and Seth only just managed to catch it. "Stop talking and either get to work or leave."

"You mean I have a choice?" Seth tossed the potato to Gus who juggled it before securing it in his broad hands.

Despite the frenzy of activity in the kitchen, the afternoon dragged interminably until it was time to dress for dinner. Bella helped me with my hair and dress, and was just about to leave when there was a soft knock on the door. She let Lincoln in, bobbed a curtsy, and left. She shut the door before I could think to ask her to leave it open.

Lincoln always managed to look handsome no matter what he wore, but a formal tail coat, white bow tie and black waistcoat added a layer of aloofness that more casual attire didn't. With his dark hair neatly tied back, it was easy to imagine him dining with the royal members of his family, if they ever invited him.

"I see you have the imp," he said, nodding at the amber orb around my neck.

I touched it, relieved to feel it throb. I hoped I wouldn't need to call on it tonight, but it was a comfort knowing it was there.

He cleared his throat and approached my dressing table where I sat. He held out a blue box. "For you, to wear tonight."

I stared at the box and a well of emotion threatened to consume me. Why would he continue to do this? Why was he making everything so…complicated? "Isn't the house enough?"

He lowered his hand and his gaze dropped too. His shoulders lost their rigidity.

I felt sick. There was no need for such ungratefulness. "I'm sorry, Lincoln. I spoke without thinking." I held out my hand. "If you're still offering it, I'd be pleased to accept it."