Something Strange and Deadly (Something Strange and Deadly #1)(5)

“Allie,” Clarence said wearily, “leave her alone.”

“No.” Allison straightened in her seat and planted her hands on her hips. “Why are you so dour? Be nice to me. It’s not my fault your brother didn’t come home.”

That was too far.

“Enough,” I hissed, grabbing at her. “Shut pan, Allison.”

She leaned out of my reach, but Clarence laid a gloved hand on her arm. “I think you’ve done sufficient harm for one evening, Allie. Go talk to Mother.” He tipped his head toward the other side of the room.

To my astonishment and relief, she actually obeyed. For a moment, the heavy plumes of depression cleared from my chest. I could breathe.

“I can’t believe she listened to you.” I turned a wide-eyed gaze on Clarence.

A grin tugged at his lips. “Yes, I imagine I’m the only person she’ll listen to.”

“Well, I’m impressed.” A warmth eased through my body. Despite his perfect features, he was not so difficult to talk to.

“No doubt you’d do the same with your brother.”

“Not precisely.” I smiled ruefully. “To be honest, I don’t take orders well.”

“Then I shall be sure I never give you any.” He winked before whipping out his pocket watch again and glancing at its face.

I arched my eyebrows, and my grin grew wider. “Are you bored?” I teased. “Or do you have some late-night appointment you can’t miss?”

He jerked his head up, and my breath caught. His pupils had grown until there was no iris left.

“Neither. Of course.” He dropped the watch back into his pocket and slouched leisurely against the sofa. He gave an unruffled smile. “So tell me, Miss Fitt, do you know when your brother will return?”

“No.” I wet my lips. “Do you know Elijah?”

He looked off to the right. “I know of your brother.”

“Oh?”

“Of course.” He folded his arms over his chest and returned his gaze to me. “Everyone knows of the Philadelphia Fitts. I even know of you.”

“You mean Allison told you about me.”

His lips twitched. “Certainly.”

I stroked my amethysts and made my expression passive. I didn’t care one whit about her gossip—though I did wish she wouldn’t talk about me to Clarence. I’d prefer if eligible young men learned my faults after meeting me.

He flashed his eyebrows playfully, as if knowing where my thoughts had gone. “You needn’t worry. She’s said nothing unkind. She finds you amusing—she likes to talk, you know?”

“I hadn’t noticed,” I said flatly. Saying Allison loved to gossip was like saying birds enjoyed flying. It was not so much a hobby as a part of her physiology.

Clarence’s smile expanded, and his eyes crinkled. “Apparently there was an insult you gave her a few days ago, though.... She had to ask me what it meant.”

My face warmed, and I looked away. “I believe I might have called her a spoiled Portia with no concept of mercy.”

He laughed and hit his knee. “That’s right. Portia’s speech on mercy in the final act of The Merchant of Venice. Allie had no idea what you meant.”

“In my defense, she was taunting me—”

“With no mercy?”

“Something like that,” I mumbled, embarrassed he’d heard about that.

“Oh, I have no doubt. One of Allie’s charms is her childish teasing.” He laughed again and shook his head. “Next time, though, I suggest you use less obscure insults. They might hit their mark better.”

I didn’t know if I ought to laugh with him or stammer apologies, but at that precise moment, the subject herself saved me from my confusion. Allison bustled up and glared down at us. “What’s so funny?” she demanded. Clarence only shrugged, putting his hand in his pocket, and shot me a conspiratorial wink.

“Fine,” she said. “Keep your secrets. I don’t care.” She lifted a perfect eyebrow. “Scoot over. I want to sit between you.”

“Take my seat, Allie.” Clarence rose and slung a smooth bow. “If you’ll excuse me.” Then he sauntered away.

“Where is he going?” Allison asked.

I didn’t answer. My attention was focused on Clarence’s hand, in which gleamed the golden pocket watch. He strolled through the parlor door and disappeared.

The minutes ticked past, and Clarence did not reappear. Either something at dinner had disagreed with his digestion or the man had sneaked off for some other purpose. But what?

When I was a child, Father used to say, “My daughter’s biggest vices are curiosity and a fondness for buttered toast.” He was right, of course, and that curiosity was now piqued to its fullest.

Clarence was up to something, and I intended to find out what.

I left Allison on the sofa and crossed to the window, where I slid the velvet curtain aside. The parlor lights glared on the window, so although I could make out a few hazy shapes in the garden—the old cherry tree to the left and the bench beside it—I could distinguish nothing more.

I let the curtain fall back. The séance would begin soon, but I still had enough time to peek outside. I casually strolled across the room, darted through the doorway, and softly closed the door behind me.