These Vicious Masks: A Swoon Novel(71)

Mr. Kent bowed and reached out his hand, and Miss Grey let him take it, though she appeared pained.

“Mr. Kent. Have we—” Miss Grey raised her eyebrows and spoke tautly. “Oh. Yes. Excuse me, Mr. Kent. Evelyn, perhaps we might speak in private?”

“At this very moment?” I asked.

“It is urgent.”

Mr. Kent nodded politely, retracting his hand to gesture down his narrow hallway. Miss Grey shuffled me into a small parlor, oddly decorated with all sorts of artwork of maritime disasters, before shutting the door behind her.

“How well do you know this man?” she whispered.

“Fairly well . . . I met him during the last season. Why do you ask?”

Her eyes flitted about the room, as if she were checking for eavesdroppers. “I’ve seen him in my dreams.”

“Your dreams? Then . . .”

No. That couldn’t be true.

Miss Grey tightened her lips and nodded.

“So . . . he has an ability, too?” I asked in a daze.

“A talent for learning the truth. Any question he asks will receive an honest response. One is simply compelled to answer him. I’ve never seen anyone resist.”

I was thunderstruck. The memories hit me by degrees. The search, the ball, the entire blasted season! I had been candid in every conversation with him, believing I couldn’t hold my tongue or that he was trustworthy. But it had been a power—his awful, intrusive power.

I tightened my fists and threw open the door, ready to accuse him. One angry step forward was all I could manage before Miss Grey seized my shoulder. “Evelyn, wait! Now is not the time.”

“He manipulated me!” I whispered in a fury. “All of us! With his every word!”

“Yet his assistance is extremely valuable. You can trust his plan if he can retrieve information from anyone who may have clues, whether they want to or not.”

She was right. I stepped back into the parlor to quell my anger with distractions. Cracked ships in glass bottles. Broken compasses. A Turner print of a shipwreck on raging seas. I was almost glad it had wrecked.

I couldn’t take any more of this. The stories and secrets. The facades and frauds. I missed my life from a week ago, when my biggest complaints were about the poor personalities of Englishmen. At least I knew what they were. I was sick of putting my trust in Mr. Kent and Sebastian and constantly being wrong. Camille was completely mad—there was nothing fun about peeling off layers, constantly finding you believed in someone who did not exist. I wanted to see behind the masks and see their true expressions, their true beliefs, their true selves. Not just endless lies.

“Are you all right?” Miss Grey asked.

“Yes, I just—there have been too many surprises this past week. It all seems so absurd. Do I know anyone who does not have an ability?”

“I have wondered that, too. There must be something that draws us together, an instinctive knowledge—”

The doorbell rang across the house and cut our conversation short. We hurried back to the entrance hall to find Sebastian, Robert, and Mr. Kent locked in an awkward three-way standoff.

“Evelyn, what is the meaning of this?” Robert exclaimed. “Why is he here?”

“A fine welcome, Robert,” I said. “As you can see, he hasn’t run off with Rose. He’s been incredibly helpful with the search.”

I turned to Sebastian, and Miss Lodge’s words pounded in my head. I had to remain cordial and polite, nothing more. He just wants to settle his debt to me and then go off to be with her.

“I’m sorry for the trouble,” I said to him, trying to rest my gaze on his most innocuous part, which seemed to be his left earlobe. “That is the exceedingly polite Robert Elliot, this is my former governess, Miss Alice Grey, and you’ve already been acquainted with Mr. Kent.”

He swiftly bowed to greet them, while Robert persisted. “So she’s run off with this Dr. Beck, then? My God!”

“She’s run off with no one,” I snapped.

Mr. Kent smiled smarmily and crossed his arms with a commanding air. “First, I want to ask Mr. Braddock a few questions. Do you have any good ideas where Dr. Beck might now be?”

“No,” he muttered.

“And do you know how we might combat his ability to see the future?”

“No, I’m sorry, I do not.”

Mr. Kent looked pleased by Sebastian’s shortcomings.

Robert still remained clueless. “This is absurd. I must go to the police. You’re all mad!” he exclaimed.

“We can trust Mr. Braddock,” Miss Grey replied, looking pointedly at Mr. Kent. “At the very least, you know he is telling the truth.”

“Evelyn, was Miss Grey not dismissed from your house hold for losing her wits?” Robert asked.

“Enough!” I yelled. The sound echoed across the room, up the stairs, and through the entire household. Everyone fell silent. “Robert, it might help to actually listen and consider the possibility of these abilities. Otherwise, you will find yourself in the minority.”

“Of course. Because it’s so easy to believe in something so ridiculous,” he said, looking around the room for agreement.

I gave him a glare. “You can either remain quiet and help, or perhaps you might want to just return to that public house, drown your sorrows, and share your drawings with those other useless lumps. Actually, send one of them back here—they will be of far more use to us.”