From The Ashes (The Ministry of Curiosities #6)(73)

He handed me the box and I opened it. A bracelet nestled against the blue velvet bed, a dozen circular amber gems positioned all the way around. They were the same shade as the orb in my necklace.

"It's beautiful." I held it up to the light and laughed quietly. "No imps?"

"I couldn't find a jeweler who sold them. I'll keep looking."

"Thank you, Lincoln. I like it." Very much, I could have added. It was lovely, and thoughtful too, matching it to the necklace I had to wear tonight. Damn him for being so considerate.

He bowed and turned to go.

"We haven't discussed how to draw out the killer," I said. "Do you have a plan?"

"No. Do you?"

"I could claim to have an upset stomach and leave the dining room. Hopefully the killer will follow, then you can follow him."

"It's a good plan."

"You're flattering me," I said with a shake of my head. "It's a terrible plan."

"It's the only one we have."

"But what if the killer doesn't follow? What if he produces a gun and I can't call the imp quickly enough?"

"I doubt he'll have a gun. If he tries to kill you, it'll be in such a way that can't be blamed on him. Watch your drinks and your food at all times. Poisoning is a very likely possibility."

I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was right, but it didn't help settle my stomach. I doubted I could eat anything anyway.

He crouched before me and clasped my hand in both of his. "Don't worry, Charlie. I won't let anything happen to you."

I nodded and withdrew my hand. "Will you help me put the bracelet on?"

He hesitated before picking up the bracelet. I held out my wrist and instantly realized the mistake I'd made. The touch of his fingers sent my already shaky nerves into a spin. His warmth, the smell of his spicy soap, the sheer closeness of him played havoc with every piece of me. I forgot my conviction. I forgot to listen to my head, and instead could only hear my heart telling me to forgive him, to stop punishing him. And to kiss him.





Chapter 18





"Charlie," he said, rocking back on his heels and studying me with a thoughtful frown. "What Seth and Gus told Lady Vickers yesterday…about homes and you not having one for so long until now…I never understood. Not really."

"How could you not understand, Lincoln? You're not completely devoid of emotion or empathy. I know you're not. So how could you not see what this place meant to me?"

"I've only ever lived here and at the general's house before that." He glanced to the ceiling, the walls, the fireplace behind me. "Both places are nothing more than bricks, wood and glass to me. When I'm absent, I've never felt a longing to be back. Not to the building itself." His gaze rested on mine. It was the softest I'd ever seen his eyes, the most guileless. For once, I didn't feel as if he were trying to compel or convince me, just speak to me with honesty. "When I do want to come home, it's because there's someone there I want to see."

My throat tightened. He didn't need to say as much, but I knew he meant me. It was all there in his eyes.

The knock on the door made him turn away, giving me an opportunity to dab at the corner of my damp eyes with my little finger.

Seth gave us both a grim nod from the doorway. "They're beginning to arrive."

Lincoln drew in a deep breath before turning back to me. "Ready?"

I pulled on my long gloves and stood. "Ready."

He held out his arm and I took it. He must have felt my hand shaking because he placed his hand reassuringly over it. "You look beautiful, by the way. You always do."



The general was the first to arrive. He marched into the drawing room, and shook Lincoln's hand. "Glad to see you've come to your senses. Don't worry about the others. Between us, we can talk 'em round."

"I'm not resuming my role as leader," Lincoln told him.

Lord Gillingham's entrance distracted me from Eastbrooke's gruff response. "Why are we here?" Gillingham demanded, leaning heavily on his walking stick. "What's the meaning of this, Fitzroy?"

"I wanted to clear the air," Lincoln said. "To show you I don't regret your decision and am at peace with it. Dinner is purely social."

"You don't have to accept the decision," Eastbrooke said.

"Do be quiet, General," Gillingham muttered. "You lost this one. Accept defeat graciously for once instead of stewing over it."

The general stormed past Doyle, almost knocking him off his feet. The tray he held wobbled dangerously, but he managed to avoid any of the drinks on it from spilling. Eastbrooke towered over Gillingham. He might be older, but he was far more physically imposing than the smaller man.

Gillingham backed up a step and gripped his walking stick hard. I would never forget how he'd used it on me as a weapon. Would he dare try to use it on Eastbrooke?

"You're a coward, Gilly," Eastbrooke sneered. "Weak. A man never accepts defeat."

Lincoln stepped between them just as Lady Harcourt and her two stepsons appeared. "Not in front of the ladies," Lincoln said.

Eastbrooke stepped down but continued to glare at Gillingham from across the room.