Her Majesty's Necromancer (The Ministry of Curiosities #2)(37)

"Good thinking, Fitzroy." Marchbank nodded his approval. I liked the middle-aged nobleman on the whole, even though his visage was perhaps the most frightening of all the committee members with his scarred face, crooked nose and gruff manner. He certainly looked nothing like the soft Gillingham, yet of the two, I'd rather spend time in Marchbank's company.

Gus had already left the parlor and I'd lingered as long as I possibly could without raising suspicions. I went to walk out but Lincoln, standing near the door, caught my elbow.

"Stay," he said quietly. "This concerns you." He let me go and addressed the rest of the room. "Someone is trying to find Charlie's mother."

"Damn," Eastbrooke muttered. "I was afraid of this."

"How do you know?" Lady Harcourt asked.

"We became aware of it when we visited an orphanage. Someone had already been there and asked the same questions."

"We?" She arched her brows at him. "Have you been looking for her too? Together?"

"Yes," he lied.

I arched my brows at him too, but he ignored me.

"Damn," Eastbrooke said again. "I thought nobody except Holloway knew she was adopted."

Gillingham shook his head. "The threat should have been removed as soon as we learned of the adoption."

I gasped. "Removed? You would kill my—kill Holloway?" I looked to Lincoln but he was stony faced.

"What did you expect, girl?" Gillingham snapped.

"But what if he hasn't told anyone?"

"Who else could it have been? He is the only one living who knows you are a necromancer and adopted."

"Aside from all of you."

He half rose from his chair, his face turning a mottled red once more. "How dare you accuse us of betraying the ministry!"

"I'm not accusing you of betrayal, but of searching for my real mother without informing anyone."

"Be seated, Gilly," Eastbrooke snapped. "The girl is right. She hasn't accused anyone of anything. But I must inform you, miss, that everything of a supernatural nature must go through the ministry first. You and your mother are supernatural creatures, and as such, any investigation surrounding you both must be tabled at a meeting before Lincoln takes care of it."

"I am not a creature, sir." I had the feeling his little speech had been more for the party's benefit than mine specifically. Reminding them of their duty to not act without official sanction, perhaps?

"Of course you're not, Charlie," Lady Harcourt said. Her soft brown eyes settled on me. "The general was talking in broad strokes."

"We must learn who it is and how he knows about her," Marchbank said.

"Charlie and I will continue to search for her mother," Lincoln told him. "Hopefully we'll learn more about the other party as we do so."

"You'll be quite busy then. Can you manage, Fitzroy?"

"Of course. My staff will help."

Marchbank rocked out of the deep armchair and lurched to his feet. "Their household duties will suffer if you spread them too thin."

"We'll be sure not to let standards slip," I told him.

Marchbank grunted. "A house this size ought to have more staff. Have you considered employing some extras?"

"That would only cause complications," Lincoln said. "I don't need a large staff. Not all the rooms are in use."

"Pity," Lady Harcourt said, setting down her teacup and also rising. "I do wish to see the ballroom filled with music and dancing. It's quite a magnificent room."

"Are we done?" Marchbank asked. "I have to get ready for dinner. Lady Marchbank will expect me home to receive the guests."

General Eastbrooke chuckled. "Makes me glad I never married. The army was my wife and my children for so long, I don't think I could have adjusted to a domestic life in retirement. I like living alone."

No wife or children? But if that were the case, then which family had Lady Harcourt been referring to? I'd heard her tell Lincoln that he was protective of his family, yet it seemed he'd been brought up in General Eastbrooke's house, alone except for tutors. Surely there'd been someone there whom she called his family, even though they may not have been his natural ones. Could she mean the general's household staff? Lincoln certainly didn't treat us the way a gentleman ought to treat his servants, so perhaps that habit had begun in his childhood when he was close to the only people he saw regularly, the maids and footmen.

I wondered if he would tell me. So far he'd been close-lipped about Gurry, and only given me the bare facts about his upbringing when I asked. Perhaps I was asking the wrong questions. Lincoln had been brought up to be the ministry's leader, so his childhood was inextricably linked to the ministry itself. Perhaps if I asked about its history, I would learn something about his. If nothing else, I would gain an insight into the organization I now worked for—if he gave me answers.

"Fetch Gus to retrieve cloaks," Lincoln said to me. "Take the rest of the cake with you."

"I want another slice," Gillingham protested, holding out his empty plate to me.

Lincoln picked up the tray with the rest of the cake on it and handed it to me.

"I think it would be wise to leave now," Lady Harcourt warned Gillingham.