Her Majesty's Necromancer (The Ministry of Curiosities #2)(65)

I bobbed a curtsy and hurried out. I didn't hear his response to Mrs. Overton's invitation.

"Well?" Seth said when I returned to the kitchen. "What happened?"

"I think he plans on getting more servants." I frowned. "Or a wife. Perhaps both."

Cook snorted. "Don't know why he be wantin' more servants or a wife. Both be trouble."

"Agreed," Seth said. "Surely the four of us is enough."

"Every gentleman needs a wife," I said quietly.

"True."

"And a wife would want more servants."

"Also true." Seth sighed. "I believe we have our answer. But I can't believe he would be seriously considering Hettie Overton as a candidate. She's not to his taste at all."

"Perhaps we don't know his taste in women."

Cook snorted.

Seth narrowed his gaze at me. "I think we do."

My situation had felt precarious enough last night; now it felt like I had my toes poking over the edge of the cliff. It only remained to be seen whether Lincoln pushed me off or I jumped.

I busied myself in the scullery until the Overtons left. Lincoln didn't come into the kitchen afterward, and I got the impression he was avoiding me. My frayed nerves were stretched so thin that I could no longer bear it. I had to do something, and there was only one thing in my power to do.

With a heavy heart, that wouldn't cease its hammering, I went in search of him. I found him in his rooms, exercising. He opened the door with a towel in hand, wiping away the sweat at his brow. It was the first time I'd seen him sweat during all the times he'd trained, either with me or alone.

I lowered my gaze. "I'm sorry to interrupt." I cleared my throat but the ball of panic that had lodged there wouldn't go away. Part of me couldn't believe I was doing this, but I knew I had to. Our situation was impossible, the tension unbearable. I had to end it.

"Yes?"

I cleared my throat again. "I…I need to talk to you."

"About?"

Hell. He was still furious with me. I'd hoped he would be past it, but I knew in my heart he wouldn't be. He never could be. I'd betrayed him, and he felt it keenly. His reaction helped me realize I'd come to the right decision, but it was no easier to voice it.

"It seems that I can no longer work here," I said to our feet. "Things will never be right between us now, and I can't…" I closed my hands into fists and swallowed past the lump in my throat. "I have to go."

The long pause almost had me meeting his gaze, but then he finally spoke. "You can't," he said gruffly. "You have nowhere to go to." It was hardly a convincing argument to stay. It certainly didn't seem like he wanted me to stay.

Any hope I'd held that he would beg me not to go was dashed. It had been a foolish hope anyway. "I have some experience now and should be able to find work in another house as a maid."

"Don't be absurd."

"I'm quite good!" I said hotly.

He blew out a measured breath. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

A bubble of laughter escaped my throat. It held no humor. "I know no such thing. I can't begin to fathom what you're thinking, Mr. Fitzroy." I stretched my fingers and willed my heart to stop its wild beating. "I will only get another position if you give me a good reference, however. Without it…"

"This is because of yesterday. Because I shouted at you."

"You didn't shout at me." Far from it. I wished he had. Shouting might have got the anger out of his system. "You have every right to feel betrayed, sir, and we both know that a gentleman cannot have his servants betraying him."

"You can't go," he said quietly.

"I have to," I murmured into my chest. "It's for the best, for both of us, and don't try to tell me otherwise. You can never forgive me for what I did."

"You don't know that."

I shook my head and swiped the tear that trickled down my cheek. "Perhaps not, but while I see you every day, I know I can never forgive myself." I swiped my other cheek. "Please place the reference under my door, if you can bring yourself to write a favorable one." I turned and walked quickly down the corridor to my room.

But the flat of his hand against the door prevented me from opening it. He was so close behind me I could hear his ragged breathing, feel the strength of his presence. I closed my eyes, but it didn't shut off the tears, or stop my heart from crashing into my ribs.

"You're right," he said in that maddeningly calm way of his. "We can't go on like this. And we won't. I promise you, all will be well again."

"It can't be. It's not just my summoning of Mr. Gurry…it's everything!" I dared to look at him, to see if he understood my meaning.

If he did, it wasn't clear. His face was closed, the muscles tense as he fought to keep the mask in place. "It's still daylight," he said. "Go outside and get some fresh air. You've been cooped up too long. You'll think more clearly after a walk."

"And if I don't change my mind? If I still want the reference…will you give it to me?"

He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "We'll talk later. Not now. I'm…not in the right frame of mind." He slowly removed his hand from the door.