These Vicious Masks: A Swoon Novel(22)

“You’ve told me your amusing story, now let’s—”

“It’s not a story.”

“It is, unless you have any shred of evidence.” I tried to move past him, but a tight grip on my hand twisted me back around. I drew in a sharp breath as a searing essence surged through my arm, prickling my veins from where his hand met mine, until a second later, his hand and the feeling were gone.

“Was that evidence enough?” he asked, voice hard as stone.

“You . . . did that?” I gasped, almost unable to speak.

“Did you think it was the flutterings of your heart?” He sneered, but I could see his lips tighten as he tried to control his own reaction. He resumed our course down the street.

I followed, maintaining my distance. “I think it’s another magic trick. A hidden device.”

“There’s no trick. I told you, I have a power—”

“The power of vexation?”

Stepping up another crumbling curb, he rubbed his neck and his jaw tightened. (I was surprised it could tighten any further.) “Believe what you wish. But either way, I need your help. I have a very sick friend—”

“No,” I replied with a sinking sensation. “Not another incurable condition.”

“Why? Is that what the large man at the ball told your sister?”

“It was. And you want me to cure this friend, I’m sure, but I cannot do that,” I said.

“Perhaps your sister, then?”

“She is unavailable.”

“I can help you find her,” he added with a steady sidelong glance.

Bloody hell. “Why would she possibly need finding? She is staying with my aunt and uncle.” I attempted a carefree laugh. Judging by his startled look, it came out more as a madwoman’s cackle.

“I see, yes, of course she’s safe with them,” he replied smugly. “Which is why her fiercely protective older sister came to me like a Fury yesterday, demanding to know what I had done after I showed an interest in Miss Rosamund at the ball. It also explains why the helpful attendant at the train station witnessed Miss Rosamund traveling to London with a distinctive man, and, oh yes, this older sister following with a ‘Mr. Kent’ by the day’s end. You might guard yourself better if you wish to keep this a secret. If I could unravel this so easily, anyone else may be able to, as well.”

He paused, savoring my defeat, before adding, “I gather it was not the right Mr. Cheval headlining the show?” A smile quirked on his lips.

I clutched my right hand at my skirts to keep it from flying at his cheek. “How do you know him?”

“I know him not as Felix Cheval but instead as Claude. And I know him because he is gifted with extraordinary strength. I am sorry for lying before. I needed to understand what was happening before I gave you even more cause to distrust me. Your absurd opinion that I fancy myself a gothic hero did not help.”

“My absurd opinion?” My appalled voice echoed through the streets. “And how exactly do you know Claude? Does everyone with a special little power gather at a club for weekly meetings?”

“That would make matters much easier, but no. I don’t know what Claude wants from your sister, but it must have something to do with these powers. There’s no other reason he would have sought her out. Believe what you will, Miss Wyndham, but if you agree to try and help my friend, I will find Miss Rosamund.”

“No. I cannot afford the time.”

“The police are not an option, I’m sure. How else do you expect to find her?”

“I—I have many plans. And my friend, Mr. Kent—”

“Trust me. I know this city far better than most, and I know whom to ask about gentlemen with secret powers.”

I did not know what to say. Against my best wishes, Mr. Braddock, in all his arrogance, had an answer for everything. But this insistence on those ridiculous powers . . . it bothered me that I could not guess his intentions for creating such a wild story.

He sighed at my silence. “Fine, ignore all I said about these powers. You were right. It was a jest, another false tale to make you fall madly in love with me.” He walked slowly ahead of me.

“Don’t mock me.”

“I’m making this simpler for you. You can trust that I know Claude and he knows me—you figured that out easily enough at the ball. And you know how quickly I found you, so you cannot doubt that skill. And at the very least, I know this city better than you. Those facts do not change, regardless of whether I believe in these powers, or if I believe the lost city of Atlantis is easily accessible via a magical octopus just south of the Royal Docks.”

“That sounds much more believable.”

“We can be of help to each other.”

“And when I am unable to help heal your friend with these nonexistent powers? What then?”

“You can try your medicines the way you usually do, and you’ll either succeed or fail. No matter what, I’ll help you. All I ask is that you give it one day.”

One day. One vital day. Was it worth it?

“I’ll even start the search tomorrow,” he offered, eyes gleaming. “This way, you won’t lose a day of searching—I’ll just be taking your place.”

The urge to refuse him was overwhelming, just aching to leave the tip of my tongue, but when I considered my plans for the search tomorrow and the hopeless questioning of more druggists and chemists, I found myself at an impasse. Rose. All that mattered was finding Rose. No matter how crazy, misguided, or deceptive Mr. Braddock was with this theory, if he truly had a sick friend, it was in his best interest to find my sister, so one of us would help find a cure.