Her Majesty's Necromancer (The Ministry of Curiosities #2)(29)

"I'm glad to see you have a healthy appetite," I told him as I finally sat down with Cook for our own lunch. "I was worried about you, out in the rain the other night."

"That's kind of you, Charlie," he said, "but a bit o' rain never hurt no one."

I wasn't so sure about that. I'd seen children die from being out in the cold and wet too long. "Fitzroy explained everything that happened last night?"

"Aye. Seems you had an adventure." He accepted the bowl and dipped his spoon in. "You're braver than me, calling up the dead like that."

"Bravery has nothing to do with it. It was simply necessary. Did you see anyone who matched the captain's description at the cemetery?"

He shook his head. "Not a soul."

Lincoln joined us after Lady Harcourt departed and briefly questioned Gus too. Then he ordered me to join him in the parlor.

"I have to wash up," I told him.

"Later."

Once in the parlor, he shut the door and rounded on me. I had no difficulty deciphering his emotions on this occasion. He was definitely mad. All that was missing was the steam rising from his ears.

I gulped. "Have I done something wrong?" I tossed my head to counteract the pathetic smallness of my voice. I hadn't done anything to deserve his sudden coldness.

"You visited Lady Harcourt and asked her about Gurry."

I'd forgotten about that. "She told you?" The traitor! So much for thinking we had an understanding and she'd keep silent. I shouldn't have assumed.

He stepped closer to me so that we were mere inches apart. I could smell the scent of his soap, feel the vibrations of his anger. "Why did you go to her?"

"I needed to know who Mr. Gurry was and why you killed him."

"Needed to know?"

The force of his glare pushed me a step back. I gripped the wing of the nearby armchair and tried to muster a show of righteous defiance, but it wasn't easy when I didn't believe I was in the right. He had every reason to be angry with me but, in my defense, I had every reason to know the truth. "It's only fair that I know what the other people living here have done in the past."

"Is it?" he ground out.

I tilted my chin. "Yes. You murdered Mr. Gurry, Mr. Fitzroy. By all accounts, he begged you for mercy and you still killed him." With so many other things on my mind, I'd forgotten about Gurry, but now it all rushed back to me. Lincoln had done something so awful that I shouldn't have set it aside so easily, and yet I had. I'd closed my eyes to that side of him and only seen what I wanted to see—a good, if somewhat emotionless, man. But I knew that only a fool closed her eyes to such a heinous crime. I hated that I could be such a fool.

I took a step away from him and rubbed my cold arms.

"And has this knowledge helped you in any way?" he snapped.

"It's made me more aware of the man you are."

He went very still. Not even his chest moved with his breathing. "Do not presume that it tells you anything about me."

"I don't. Chiefly because I believe there must be a reason why you did what you did. Lady Harcourt didn't know what that reason was, however. She only told me that he was your tutor."

He searched my face. What did he hope to see in it? Whatever it was, he must have been disappointed, because he turned his back to me. "You should have come to me," he said in that quiet, calm voice that meant he'd reined in his temper, but only just. It was still simmering below the surface, ready to explode at any moment.

"Would you have told me? Will you tell me now?"

His broad shoulders rose and fell. "I…can't." He strode out of the parlor.

I sagged against the armchair, feeling battered and bruised by the encounter. While I felt sick for being found out, I only regretted trusting Lady Harcourt, not searching for answers. There had to be a good reason for Lincoln to have killed that man, Gurry. But if so, why wouldn't he tell me?

Or was I wrong, and the only explanation was that the tutor had brought out the violent monster inside Lincoln; the one he managed to keep well-hidden most of the time.





CHAPTER 7


I didn't see Lincoln again for the remainder of the afternoon. I dusted the entire house until Gus fetched me to train with him. Apparently Lincoln had given him instructions to do so. Seth was still out. The gloomy day promised rain so I suggested we use the ballroom again.

The exercise helped clear my head and distract me from the conversation with Lincoln. By the time we'd completed moves that were designed to strengthen me, I had completely set it aside. I rarely trained with anyone other than Lincoln, so it was good to go up against Gus. He was a scrappier fighter, his footwork not as polished as either Lincoln or Seth's, and that made him somewhat less effective. I was able to extricate myself from his headlock and send him crashing to the floor by the end of the session.

Cook applauded from where he sat on the covered table. "You made a bored man very happy, Charlie." He grinned at me. "I been wantin' to set him on his arse since I met him."

Gus got to his feet and dusted off his hands. "She would do it to you in half the time, you oversized slab of lard."

That only had Cook grinning wider. He hopped off the table. "Want to learn how to throw a knife so it always hit its target?"