Her Majesty's Necromancer (The Ministry of Curiosities #2)(7)

"Lady H just left."

He formed an O with his lips.

"He wants you to take tea up to his rooms." I removed the extra cup and saucer. "He has parents, I know that much."

"Does he?" Gus asked mildly. "Thought he was spawned by the devil."

"Or the Reaper." Cook grinned as he held out a plate with a scone on it. "That be why he's called Death."

Gus took the plate. "No it ain't. He's called Death because Seth and me saw him dressed in a dark hooded cloak one night, holding a bloody big knife."

"And because he killed a man with the knife," Seth added. "The fellow's head had been almost severed from his body."

I felt the color drain from my face. Seth took my elbow to steady me, but I waved him away. I knew Lincoln had killed people; there was no need for me to be shocked at hearing about another death he was responsible for.

"He knew the fellow," Gus said. He set the plate down gently on the tray yet the clink sounded loud in the silence. "Fitzroy called him Mr. Gurry."

"Who was he?" I whispered. Even Cook was listening intently now, the pot on the stove forgotten.

Seth shrugged. "We don't know. We didn't dare ask him."

"The fellow begged Fitzroy not to kill him," Gus said. "He pleaded for his life, but Fitzroy killed him anyway."

"I'll never forget the look on his face when he ordered us to remove the body," Seth went on. He and Gus exchanged bleak glances.

"Was he upset?" I asked, unable to imagine such an expression on Lincoln's face.

"No. He was satisfied."

Satisfied? After killing a man who begged for mercy? The notion left a sour taste in my mouth and set my mind reeling. Surely there had to be an explanation. Lincoln had a reason for everything he did. Didn't he?

Seth picked up the tray but I touched his arm. "I'll take it," I said.

"Are you sure?"

I nodded. "I need to tell him about something I learned at the cemetery."

"He'll probably be in a bad mood. He usually is after Lady H leaves.

I smirked. "He's always in a bad mood of late." I took the tray and steeled myself for an awkward meeting with my master. I had some questions that I wanted answered, and now was as good a time as any to ask them.

***

"I asked for one of the men to bring up tea." Lincoln blocked my entry to his rooms with his arms crossed over his chest. His shoulders and jaw were rigid. I was a fool to want to speak to him. I knew it, yet I couldn't help myself. I wanted to get a reaction from him. Anything was better than the way he'd been ignoring me of late.

"They're busy." I inched closer, and he had to step aside or risk touching me. He chose to step aside.

I set the tray down on one of the occasional tables near the deep armchair. There was no room to place it on his desk, between the papers, books and another tray laden with dirty dishes.

"Why haven't Seth or Gus collected these yet?" I asked, picking up the breakfast tray.

"They haven't been up."

The sunlight spearing through the window picked out the thin layer of dust on the sill. "They haven't dusted in some time either. And I see your bed hasn't been made."

He shut the door to his bedroom. "They've become lazier with their duties since you became maid. I'll have a word with them."

"Or you could allow me in here to clean."

"You already do enough."

"I don't mind the extra work."

"Seth and Gus will suffice."

"Clearly they don't want to do it. Let me clean for you, Linc—Mr. Fitzroy."

"No. Thank you for the tea. Send up Gus, when you see him."

I set the breakfast tray down again. "Why don't you want me in here? What are you afraid I'll find?"

His lips flattened. He crossed back to the exit and stood with his hand on the doorknob, waiting for me to leave.

I walked over to him and laid my hand over his. His nostrils flared then he quickly withdrew his hand, allowing me to shut the door. I stood in front of it, hands on hips, and regarded him. He stared levelly back.

"Why have you been ignoring me these last two months?" I asked.

"Ignoring you? Hardly."

"You've been pushing me away."

"I didn't want to overwhelm you. I thought it best if the men show you what needs to be done and you make the position your own. Your service has been admirable, Charlie."

His praise caught me off guard. "Thank you. Admirable is much better than adequate."

His eyes narrowed.

"Don't change the subject," I said. "You've been avoiding me for two months except during training, and even then we hardly talk."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"There is! And not only that, you don't join the men after dinner to play cards anymore."

"I rarely did before."

"Now you don't at all. Nor do you join them for tea, or breakfast, as you used to do on occasion. You're avoiding me, Mr. Fitzroy, and I want to know why."

I thought his jaw couldn't harden any more, but it seemed it could. The muscle bunched tight. I resisted the urge to stroke it until he relaxed again.