With the seclusion of the booth to protect them, Seth pressed his body against hers, his warmth radiating through her gown. She couldn’t help but lean up against him, her stomach fluttering in response.
Phoebe ordered them food and drink and then gave Seth a sideways glance. “You have not told me what you think of this place. I’d be curious to know.” There was currently a risqué dance number up on the stage, and she couldn’t help but notice him glance up once and then quickly turn his attention back to her.
“Och, well—,” his accent had slipped with his embarrassment. “’Tis not something I’m quite used to seeing, especially out in the open, aye?”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you telling me you don’t approve, my love?” She took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze.
“No, no. ‘Tis not that I don’t approve; only that I’m not quite used to seeing it in such a manner, though it looks like I’m probably the only one here that hasn’t quite adjusted, aye?” He gave her a quick smile, before continuing. “You’ve a keen business sense, I’ll tell ye, and the place is gorgeous. ‘Tis only that I worry ‘bout the attention it must put on ye.”
The waitress arrived, pouring them each a glass of Viridis and leaving the bottle on the table before slipping away. Phoebe took a sip of the herbal before addressing Seth’s concerns. “Attention? Nothing too extreme, I assure you, and it’ll all die down soon enough. It’s only that this is still fairly new.”
He took a sip from his own glass, and then watched as the viscous green liquid slowly slipped back down the side of the glass, a frown marring his countenance.
“What is it, Seth?”
He glanced up at her, before returning his gaze to the glass, his fingers playing with the cut crystal. “Nothing really, love. ‘Tis only that I fear people may assume the wrong thing of you, and not see you for who you truly are.”
She back stiffened and her temper flared. “And why exactly would I give a damn as to what other people think or assume? As far as I’m concerned, they can think what they want. I’ve never worried about it before, and don’t plan on starting now.”
He placed his hand over hers, and gave it a squeeze. “I know, my love. ‘Tis only that I wish I could protect you, even from something as insignificant as their assumptions. Do ye forgive me?”
His touch and words extinguished her anger, and she managed a bit of a smile. “I’ll forgive you if you stop worrying so we can enjoy our meal and the show.”
“I think I can manage that for you.” He leaned in and nuzzled her cheek, before brushing his lips against hers in a whisper of kiss that held so much promise.
The Viridis pulsed in her veins, making her want to melt in his arms and kiss him in a most thorough and inappropriate manner, when the food was wheeled to their table, keeping her from taking her advances any further.
The beef bourguignon was hearty and satisfying, the cakes and puddings, light and sweet. Though Phoebe had seen the show a dozen times, it was different to watch it in Seth’s company. Looking around the theater, it was no wonder so many couples seemed to be flirting amorously with the forbidden.
Quite unlike most of the other talent playing in the London theaters, Phoebe had opted for a more eclectic and erotic mix. Though some of the shows were similar to those found in the trendier parts of Paris, most had a more exotic feel to them, the music carrying one off with images of Arabian nights and seductive tropics— a true escape from the grey dreariness of London.
Having had more than a few glasses of Viridis with their meal, she found herself unable to resist him. Her hand found its way to his thigh, so he leaned into her, his head bending to hers in response. No doubt the Viridis was having a similar effect on Seth.
Her hand drifted upwards under cover of the table. Finding her voice, she murmured, “Perhaps we should head home.”
He kissed her, his passion barely contained, before pulling away. His eyes held hers with a fierce intensity, kissing her once more before the table slid away and he gave her a hand out of her seat. “Home, then.”
Phoebe let Gabriel know she’d be leaving, and he waved her along as she bid him goodnight. Seth had already gone ahead to retrieve the steam coach, and would be waiting for her outside the back entrance. Heading to her office, she slipped on her coat, but before she could make her escape there was an insistent knock. Phoebe hadn’t even the chance to respond, when the door opened and Victor stepped through, closing the door behind him.
“Victor. I’m so sorry, but I was just leaving.” Phoebe instinctively took a step away from him, needing to put some distance between them. Never before had he let himself into her office and there was a tension in his body, a look in his eyes, that told her something was not quite right.
“Yes, I see that. Out with Mr. Elliott are you?” Victor’s gaze pinned her to the spot, a flame of controlled fury flickering in his eyes. He took a step toward her. “I really don’t see the attraction.”
“Victor—” She stopped when he held up his hand, her heart thudding against her chest. Her pulse, now erratic, threatened to leave her light headed. She had never seen him so angry, but with him standing between herself and the only door, blocking her escape, the last thing she wanted to do was anger him further.
“Is he the reason you’ve denied me? Me! All this time, and you’ve denied me for the sake of what? A tinkerer? I am sure if your father were still here, he’d have something to say about your activities— activities I am willing to overlook if you’ll stop this instance. Do you not know what society will call you if you continue this deplorable behavior? I suggest you accept my proposal, for I am not a man to be denied. Do you understand?”
He took another few steps towards her, forcing her up against the sofa. As scared as she was, she refused to be bullied.
“Victor, I am sorry if you’re upset, however, my father is long gone, and I answer to no one but myself for my behavior. I am not looking to marry, and there must surely be a lady better suited to you than I am. Quite frankly, I do not know why you have any interest in pursuing this relationship when, as you yourself just pointed out, my behavior is not one of which you approve. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have company waiting. This conversation is over.”
Mustering every ounce of courage she had, she pulled herself up to her full five feet two inches and walked towards the door, only to have him grab her arm and wrench her back, her escape just feet away. He pressed his mouth to hers, his fury no longer contained. The metallic taste of blood flooded her mouth as the force of his kiss cut her lips. She pushed against his chest in a futile attempt to get away from him, her heart racing.
Victor used his weight and height to his advantage, pushing her up against the sofa once again until she lost her balance, falling against the soft cushions. He was on top of her before she could react. She struggled against him, rage and indignation welling up inside of her. When Victor paused for a moment, she seized the opportunity and slapped him. He recoiled in shock, giving her just enough time to scramble out from under him and to her feet.
Phoebe looked straight into his eyes, noting her white handprint against the angry flush of red creeping across his face.
“Whore!” The backhand to her face was so fast and hard, her head snapped to the side and stars flashed before her eyes.
“How dare you!” Her voice shook with fear and anger, as she spoke through clenched teeth. “You leave this instant, and never come back. Do you hear? Or I’ll make it known to all exactly the type of man you are. Now get out!”
“You are a fool woman.” And with that Victor walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
She sunk into the sofa, her legs no longer able to support the weight of her shaky body. Absently, she straightened out her clothing, her arm sore where he had grabbed her, her mouth throbbing with pain. Her hand, still trembling, went to her lip, which was already swelling where his ring had cut her. Her fingers came away coated with blood, a curse escaping her lip
s.
No one had ever struck her before, and the potential for it to have been far worse weighed heavily on her mind. It left her more than a little shaken, and more than a little angry. Unfortunately, she was all too aware of how society would deal with such an attack, the woman almost always to blame.
Going to the mirror, she cleaned the cut on her lip. Not much she could do for it now. She took several deep breaths willing her nerves to settle, then smoothed out her skirt, pulled up the collar on her coat as if against the cold, and walked out towards the back door.
Seth. He’d be waiting for her. She could not tell him what had just happened. No good could come of it, and it would certainly lead to an ugly confrontation. It was dark out, and if she could keep the cut on her lip hidden and feign illness, then perhaps she could convince him to leave her at her door.
The steam coach stood in the street partially hidden by a billowing cloud, the warm moisture from the back end of the vehicle condensing in the frigid cold of night, a layer of frost on the body of the vehicle. As she approached, Seth stepped out of the coach and came to her side, holding her door open and giving her a hand in.
Climbing in next to her, he said, “Shall we head to your home or mine?” He worked the controls and gears, propelling them forward with a slight start.
Phoebe’s mind would not work— she was still too shaken. She could not look at Seth, hoping the dark of night masked her bruised lips and disheveled hair.
“Phoebe?” Seth glanced over at her questioningly. “It makes no difference to me, love. Wherever you’re more comfortable is fine.”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was hoarse. “I’m suddenly feeling rather tired and have a terrible headache.” Keeping her face tilted so as to hide the cut, she managed a small smile in his direction, cringing as the pain shot through her mouth. Luck was with her though and he had not noticed, his attention on the road before him.
“Is everything all right?” He flicked another glance in her direction.
“It was a long day is all. Perhaps I need some rest. Would you mind putting off our evening?” She knew it was a drastic change from her previously amorous attitude, but there was no help for it. Her chest went tight with worry, for she did not know what he’d do if he noticed her injury. Perhaps she could lie to him and say it was an accident— she had bent down to pick up some fallen papers by her desk and accidentally bumped into the corner. Her mind now raced trying to find an excuse he might believe.
“I’m sorry to hear you are feeling unwell, my love. To your home, then.”
Chapter Sixteen
William could not remember the last time it had been so cold. Luckily, Viridis was in a populated area and he easily found a coach to take him home.
The house had been a new purchase, enabled by his somewhat recent promotion to inspector. A comfortable enough home and in a decent area, it was modest and within his means, though large enough to accommodate a family if he decided to marry. A small garden sat around the back, currently looking rather neglected in the dead of winter, but would bloom nicely come spring.
William paid the coachman, then climbed the few steps to his front door, digging in his pockets, and pulling out his keys. He found the right one and placed it in the keyhole only to find the door unlocked— an oversight he’d never make. In all the years he’d been with the police, not once had anyone brought a threat to his home. His heart pounded a staccato as his hand automatically went to his fuse gun and he pulled it out of its leather sheath. In case there was someone still inside and looking for the case, he lowered it into the thick bushes by the steps, masking it well from view.
With his back to the wall and his gun at the ready, he eased the door open, and stepped into the entryway of his home, to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He moved down the hall, looking into the parlor as he passed. Without making any noise, he swept through the kitchen, his heart thudding against his chest. There was no sign of anyone, and nothing in the house was amiss, yet he could sense someone had invaded his home and may still be here.
William crept up the stairs, avoiding the squeaky step half way up. His bedroom and office lay just ahead, and he paused to listen. He could have sworn he heard something, the slightest bump.
A flash hurled towards him as a fuse gun discharged, shattering the quiet of night. William ducked out of the way and returned fire in the darkness, when a body slammed into him and they fell down the stairs in a tangle of limbs. As soon as they hit the bottom of the steps, William pinned his assailant beneath him. When he brought his weapon to his opponent’s face, his brain registered something in the dark was not quite right— a softness of curves, a delicate body below his.
William shifted, allowing light from the streetlamps to fall on curls loosened in the fall. Curls the color of flames.
“Lilly?”
Ignoring her protests, William hauled her to her feet, locked the front door, and dragged her to the kitchen.
“Sit.” He pulled out a chair and dropped her in it, then fumbled with the gaslight. Still holding onto his fuse gun, he said, “Is there anyone else with you?”
“No, sir. I came alone, and if I’d known it were yerself, I wouldn’t have shot at ye, aye? I’m real sorry ‘bout that, and I hate to tell ye, but your arm is bleeding.”
Cursing, he looked down at the rent in his sleeve, the blood soaking through it— his good coat, too. With the energy of the fight still coursing through his veins, he hadn’t felt it. Carefully he removed his coat, and grabbed a cloth from a drawer to try and stench the flow.
“Here, let me.” She unbuttoned his sleeve and rolled it up past the cut, then took the cloth from him and tied it off above the wound. William glanced down at her and she gave him a crooked smile, her beauty and close proximity making him blush as she tended to him. Finishing her ministrations, she said, “It ain’t too deep, but ye’ll need to have it stitched. Could do it for ye, if ye like.”
“It can wait for now. Thank you.” He shifted and felt every bump and bruise from coming down those stairs in a tumble, his left arm now throbbing. “Are you hurt?”
“A few bumps and bruises, but nothing I didn’t deserve for shooting at ye.”
A hint of a smile crept across his face and he looked down momentarily to keep her from seeing it. She certainly seemed to have her own sense of fairness, at any rate.
Knowing he could not let her pretty face distract him from his work, he got started with his questioning. “Are you aware that you are wanted for questioning in connection to Lord Niles Hawthorne’s murder? Not to mention you have broken into my home, meaning I can now charge you with unlawful entry.”
William noted the crack in her composure as her eyes went wide and the color drained from her face so that her freckles stood out against the pallor of her skin. It was clear the severity of the charges were enough to make her worry. “I had nothing to do with Niles’s murder and I’ll be damned if yer going to pin that one on me. As for yer home, I’m real sorry.”
Not wanting to give her too much time to think, he continued on. “What was your relationship to Lord Hawthorne? You seem to have been awfully… close.”
Her eyes went wide at the implication. “I ain’t that type, if that’s what yer thinking. I might be poor, but I come about my living honest like, thank ye.”
William tilted his head in acknowledgement. “I had not meant to cause offense. My apologies if I did.”
When she smiled at him, her face lit up. “No worries, luv. I’m not saying I’m the blessed virgin, either. Only that my relationship with Niles was an honest one. I cared about him, ye know. He was a decent man and a good friend. But he weren’t more than that, and that’s the truth of it.”
“Are you saying you had no romantic or physical relationship?”
“Aye, that’s what I’m telling ye. But it don’t mean I miss him any less.” Her voice cracked and her eyes went glassy with threatening tears as she blinked them back to maintain her composure. Wil
liam thought it best to keep on with the questioning, knowing it would offer her a distraction.
“If you’re not involved in his murder, then why have you broken into my home? You’d do well to tell me the truth as I don’t care for lies and you’ve gotten yourself in a bit of a predicament here. I can help you, but only if you’re honest with me.” He pulled out a seat, and sat himself down to wait for her answer.
She worried the cloth of her skirt and bit her bottom lip, her eyes darting around and not quite focusing on any one thing. She was thinking so hard William could all but see the gears in her head turning as she ran through every possible scenario and its given consequence.
He’d have to admit Phoebe was right about Lilly’s appearance. With the flaming red hair, freckles on porcelain skin and a fair figure, she wasn’t a woman one would easily forget, nor one to fade into the background. But there was also a humor and honesty he hadn’t expected to find.
“Look, I’ll tell ye what I know, right? There ain’t no point in lying to ye, and I’d rather keep from dangling at the end of a hangman’s noose. I broke into yer home ‘cause I was hopin ye’d have that tinkering Niles always had with him. Thought it might have some information that would get whoever it is been following me off me back, ye see. He was always jotting down his notes in the thing and since it weren’t at his home, I figured ye might have it.”
“Do you know who’s been following you?” He was still worried the threat to her life could be real.
“Nah. It’s been just a feeling, like. But I know they’re there.”
William nodded in acknowledgment. He’d been doing this long enough to trust his own gut instinct, and Lilly had lived a difficult enough life to know when something didn’t feel right. “Who killed him, Lilly? I need to know what happened that night. Start at the beginning of your day and don’t leave out any details, since they might prove useful in the future, even if it does not seem like much now.”
Viridis - A Steampunk Romance Page 9
