These Vicious Masks: A Swoon Novel(68)

“Something did,” I said, and it was my turn to let everything out. The impatient morning hours, the disguise, the visit to the public house, the encounter on the roof, and the hospital.

When I had finished, silence settled between us, a rare moment when Mr. Kent found himself at a loss for words. He had a troubled look on his face that very much resembled Sebastian’s at the hospital.

“I don’t need another lecture,” I warned him.

“I wasn’t going to give you one. You can make your own decisions. I only regret storming off last night and abandoning you when I could have helped.”

“You had good reason to.”

“No, I only had this grand plan of disappearing into the perilous London night, and just as you feared I was dead, I’d dramatically return to you with the case solved.”

A bit of hope rushed through me. “And is it?”

“Not quite anymore. I can’t account for Dr. Beck’s power. He’ll always be expecting us. I’ll have to think on it. And you still must fear I’m dead at some point.”

I slumped back into my seat. It took a staggering amount of willpower to keep from continuing to the floor and melting through it.

“I’ll send for your trunk,” Mr. Kent said, rising and clasping his hands. “It’s been a long day—you should rest. I’ll have an idea in the morning.”

My discomfort shocked me to my feet, and I headed for the door. “No, I can’t possibly stay here. I must find another place to sleep.”

“What if I were to put a sign out front that declared you were not staying here?” he asked with a winning smile.

“As convincing as that sounds,” I said, making my way downstairs, “I must decline.”

“You’ll be back here when we meet tomorrow morning. And honestly, this wouldn’t be any more scandalous than the old bat’s accusations.”

“Ah, yes, since my reputation took a hit, I might as well just clobber it to death with a cane.”

He stopped me at the front door. “I would not be a hospitable host if I threw you out on the streets at this hour.”

I stared at him silently.

“You will thank me tomorrow morning—”

More staring.

“My God! Fine. You’ve made your point,” he said, opening the door in defeat.

He walked me outside, helped me fetch a cab, and handed me into the ride. “I highly recommend the Drumswell Inn. It’s close, and you are far less likely to run into someone who knows you. Its . . . comforts will take some getting used to, but by morning you’ll feel right at home.”

“Anything should feel like home after your stepmother’s welcome.”

Within ten minutes, though, I found myself taking that claim back as I inexpertly asked for an empty room at the inn. I ignored the stares and murmurs, paid for the night, and followed the innkeeper upstairs with a scruffy young footman in tow. The room boasted many luxurious perks: a narrow bed, a rotted writing table, a stained wall, and a warped looking glass dangling on a rusty hook. I wondered if Mr. Kent recommended this hellish place so I would hurry back to his home.

To make my decision seem final, I plopped onto the bed, which sank disturbingly low under my weight. The footman placed my trunk at the foot of the bed and waited for a tip. Scrounging around my reticule for a coin, I came across Sebastian’s crumpled card and remembered how drastically my plans had changed since I last spoke to him or Miss Grey. I had to let them know where I was staying and that we were to meet at Mr. Kent’s the next morning. I begged the footman to wait, dashed off two quick notes, and dropped them along with two coins into his hands. He scurried back downstairs.

I leaned back on the bed and suddenly opened my eyes to find the room darker, the candle a mere stub. Must have dozed off. I heaved myself off the sagging mattress and rummaged through my trunk for a clean nightgown, relieved that sleep was actually coming to me, even if it was in this Godforsaken place.

Just before I blew out the candle, a solid knock sounded on the door, startling me. I didn’t move an inch. Visions of a hulking man who broke doors and bones like twigs clouded my eyes and better judgment. I dove under the bed. It was dusty, the air rank, and the bed’s horse hair mattress poked into my back.

Another, louder knock rattled the door and rumbled the room. An eternal silence followed as I dared not breathe. Finally, some rustling, and a slip of paper slid under the door. The footsteps and the orange glow of the lamp slowly faded back down the stairs.

Ashamed, I crept out of my hiding place and snatched up the paper. A note from Miss Lodge? She had been made aware of my situation and was already on her way in a carriage to pick me up. She somehow knew I was here. My note to Sebastian. Damn him.

I pulled off the nightgown and stepped back into my crumpled day dress. Within a half hour, I received another knock, and the overly excited footman from earlier informed me that Miss Lodge was waiting downstairs. Besides a sleepy look in her eyes, she appeared to be in good health again and clasped me to her warmly.“Are your things ready, Miss Wyndham?” she asked.

“I am perfectly settled here. I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you at so late an hour, but truly, it is not necessary that you host me.”

Miss Lodge turned to the footman who had followed me downstairs and made some kind of sign to him. He nodded furiously, seemingly awed by the pretty young girl, and brushed by me upstairs.