A Passion for Pleasure(25)

“He won’t like the reason for it,” Darius said.

“The cipher machine plans?”

“Among other things,” Darius replied. He went to the tray and poured a cup of now-cold coffee. “Have you found them?”

“Not yet.” Unease tightened Sebastian’s chest over the vagueness of his brother’s response. “Why couldn’t you look for them yourself?”

“Because I haven’t been in London for almost four years,” Darius replied, his voice touched with impatience. “And I was certain you would know how best to approach Granville Blake or Clara Winter.”

Sebastian curled his left hand into a fist. “How do you know about Mrs. Winter?”

“From Jacques Dupree’s wife, actually,” Darius said. “She is quite fond of Mrs. Winter.”

“When did you meet Madame Dupree?”

“Last spring the Duprees came to St. Petersburg at the behest of the governor, who wanted to commission a clock as a present for his daughter,” Darius explained. “I met them at a dinner party and told Dupree I was interested in learning more about his inventions. He was agreeable, and we began a lengthy correspondence.

“Once I’d apparently gained his trust, he revealed his plans for the cipher machine, but warned me that he did not want it to end up in Russian hands. After he fell ill, his wife wrote to me and explained that he had sent many of his belongings, including the plans, to Granville Blake. She told me about Mrs. Winter as well, and that she’d recently come to live at the museum and assist her uncle.”

Darius sipped his cold coffee, grimaced, and set the cup aside.

“I understand Mrs. Winter is quite lovely,” he continued. “Perhaps now that I am in London, I ought to free you from your promise and pursue the plans myself.”

Possessive anger filled Sebastian’s chest at the idea of his brother approaching Clara and interacting with her. His suspicion flared anew. Darius was not the sort of man to openly reveal his interest in a woman, so for him to speak of Clara—

Sebastian’s fists clenched as his gaze clashed with his brother’s. Though Darius’s expression remained impassive, a faint smile tugged at his mouth.

The breath escaped Sebastian’s lungs in a hard rush.

“Asshead,” he muttered, forcing his fingers to relax.

Darius’s smile widened. “I’d wager ten guineas you didn’t anticipate encountering someone like her when you agreed to my offer.”

“She’s a means to an end,” Sebastian said, painfully aware of the hollow tone to his words. “Nothing more.”

“Are you certain of that?”

Sebastian glowered, disliking the reminder that his brother perceived so much more than Sebastian wanted to reveal. It made Sebastian wonder what other secrets Darius might detect. Secrets he needed to keep concealed.

He shoved his right hand into his pocket and paced to the window. Frustration tightened his chest.

He spun on his heel and gave his brother a defiant glare.

“I told Mrs. Winter what I was looking for,” he said.

Darius blinked, and for an instant Sebastian thought he’d succeeded in rousing his brother’s annoyance. But then Darius merely lifted an eyebrow.

“And what did she say?” he asked.

“You specifically instructed me not to tell anyone.”

“Yes, but I did not expect you to find the plans yourself or steal them,” Darius replied. “I assumed you would have to discuss the matter with Mr. Blake or Mrs. Winter. Must admit I’d have chosen Mrs. Winter as my confidante as well.”

Chosen. The word struck Sebastian hard, overshadowing his irritation. Had that been what he had done? Had he chosen Clara?

After so many months of feeling as if circumstances had been forced upon him—the infirmity and resignation, the failure of the surgery, the position with the Patent Office, Rushton’s ultimatum—Sebastian welcomed the idea that he had chosen to confide in Clara.

“She has no idea where the plans are,” he told Darius. “Or even if her uncle has them.”

“Yet it won’t be a hardship for you to continue searching.” Darius removed a folded note from his pocket. “Contact me here when you find them. I’ll need them by the middle of next week, and I promise to compensate you handsomely.”

“Why next week?”

“The Home Office has already appointed members for a select committee on wartime correspondence,” Darius explained. “If I can secure the funds, I want to construct the machine before their next meeting. First, however, I need to analyze the plans and determine if construction is even possible.” He extended the note to Sebastian. “It’s an important machine, Bastian, one that might prove extraordinarily effective in both war and as part of telegraph and railway systems. That is precisely why Jacques Dupree wanted to ensure its secrecy.”