The Dark Matters Quartet

by Claire Robyns

“His Lordship said barely nothing at all, he was that upset.” Eyes turned down, William shuffled his feet. “I feel bad about what we did to him.”

  “We didn’t do anything, William.” She placed a hand on his arm and looked at him until he brought his head up. “I did. Only me. You were following my orders.”

  “I’m not saying what you did was bad, Lady Eve, trying to help Jean, just that I feel bad for what it led to.”

  “So do I, William,” she said, releasing his arm.

  “I don’t want to let you down.” He was back to shuffling his feet, although his gaze remained steady on her. “If you want, I’ll stay until you find a replacement to accompany you to your sporting activities.”

  She rather thought her days of risqué sport were well and truly over. She wondered if she should try harder to encourage him to stay, then she remembered he’d been with them on the viewing deck last night. He’d witnessed Lady Ostrich and her immense powers. He’d watched a demon at play. She wouldn’t blame him if he ran all the way back to Ireland. “You’ll get two months advance pay, I insist on it. And references, naturally. I can arrange a new position for you, if you wish? There’s always someone on the lookout for a reliable driver.”

  “That’s not necessary, Lady Eve, but thank you all the same. Greyston has offered me a place on his crew, for proper this time.”

  There went her theory on his running from the demons. “Is that really what you want?”

  His eyes lit up and she almost laughed out loud. William was an adventurous soul. Of course joining Greyston’s nefarious crew appealed over tooling a carriage around London until he went on pension.

  “If you need anything,” she said as they left the room and started across the foyer, “anything at all, you know where to…” Her throat went dry as she saw Devon coming through the French Doors that opened onto the courtyard behind the house. Their eyes met, only it felt like a collision more than a meeting, and Evelyn instinctively retreated into the parlour, all the way to the bay window.

  Four upholstered wingback chairs arranged around a cherry wood pedestal table filled the room, it was so small, and it seemed to shrink to half that size when Devon stepped inside and closed the door.

  A host of apologies, excuses and explanations rose up her throat as he drew closer, not a single one adequate for the haunted, sunken look on his face. “I never meant to hurt you, Devon, not like that,” she said hoarsely.

  “I wouldn’t still be here if I thought you had.” He stopped behind one of the chairs and braced his hands on the gilt framed back. “Your heart was in the right place, if not your head.”

  She winced at the insult. It was also the truth.

  “When I received word my wife was in a critical condition and I should make all haste to Edinburgh, I believed that was the worst moment of my life. I was wrong.” His voice held no inflection of any emotion, and yet Evelyn heard the pain. His blue gaze, cold and distant, drifted past her to the gurgling fountain beyond the window. And yet she saw the grief that lingered there. “I commandeered a dirigible from the Customs Office and that five hour journey was the longest I’ve ever endured. Were you suffering? Were you still alive? That, I knew with all my being, was the lowest ebb of my life. I was wrong.”

  Evelyn’s heart ached. She wanted to reach out to him, to stroke the tension from his jaw, to cradle his head to her breast and beg forgiveness. How could she not have considered the consequences before making such a stupid, brash, awful decision?

  “The Surgeon Chief took it upon himself to meet me at the Dirigible Docking Yard with the news that I was too l-late.” He swallowed hard and the silence stretched, thickening the air until she could barely draw a breath. “Thirty-five minutes. I was a widow, Evelyn, for thirty-five minutes.”

  “I am so, so very sorry, darling.” Her knees turned to jelly. She propped herself upon the wide ledge of the bay window. “I feel terrible. There’s nothing I can say or do to change what you went through, but please believe me, if there was, if I could…”

  “A mistake, stupid, but still a mistake. I’m not trying to make you feel worse than you already do. That’s not what I need you to understand.” He pushed his hands through his hair as he brought his gaze from the window to her. “What the hell happened on that ship?”

  Evelyn gulped and backed down. She wanted to confide in him, more than anything. A part of her even wanted him to laugh off this demon nonsense as utter foolishness, demand she never mention such blasphemous rubbish again, convince her that she was delusional.

  Except this was Devon and he wouldn’t stop there. He’d likely declare everyone involved, including Lily, detrimental to the stability of her mind and she didn’t think her marriage could bear the strain of another ultimatum.

  “An awful, freak accident. The Red Hawk was struck by lightening.”

  “Is that a fact?” His eyes were no longer cold and distant. They were on fire and burning into her. “William claims it was an angel of wrath wielding a sword of flames.” His lips curled down in a way that left her in no doubt as to his personal view on that.

  “William was petrified of the storm,” she improvised. “He hunkered below deck at the first roll of thunder and anything he saw of angels and swords must have been a figment of his tortured mind.”

  Devon left his position behind the chair to take a step in her direction. “Lord Perth was of the opinion that the ship’s engine had malfunctioned, causing the steam pressure to build until the pipes erupted.”

  Evelyn cursed inwardly. Honestly, why hadn’t the lot of them thought to correlate their stories or, failing that, kept their opinions to themselves. She decided it wasn’t too late to bat her lashes and pretend ignorance. “I suppose the engine might have sustained damage during the storm, Devon, I never asked. Does it really matter?”

  “It wouldn’t matter if you’d been at home.” His jaw clenched so tightly, she fancied she could hear his teeth grinding. “You were on that ship, Evelyn. The woman lying dead in that hospital bed was a stranger, but it could have been you.”

  “But it wasn’t.” Then she realised what he was accusing her of and anger fed her weakened limbs. She pushed away from the window ledge. “I didn’t deliberately place myself in danger. It was a freak accident. You can’t keep me locked up in a padded room, just in case.”

  “And it wouldn’t matter,” he went on seamlessly, as if she hadn’t spoken, “if you hadn’t run off without so much as a note.”

  “You humiliated me in front of my friends, in front of everyone. You hauled me from the sports field as if I were a child caught out at playing truant.” She inched forward, fists bunched at her side, nails digging into fleshy palm. The haunted hollows below his cheekbones lost some of that grey pallor to the colour of anger. Excellent. She’d made a gross mistake, she had many sins to account for, but this wasn’t one of them.

  Her eyes flashed her own anger directly into his narrowed stare. “You bundled me into your carriage and proceeded to lecture me the entire journey on what a selfish, wilful, spoilt brat I was.” The loss of respect she’d felt, the loss of love, laced her blood until she had to lash out or cry. She refused to cry. She brought one hand up and slammed her palm at his chest. He didn’t seem to notice. “And then you kicked me out.”

  “That’s an outright lie,” he said, his voice dry and quiet. His eyes dipped to where her hand was still splayed over his chest, but he made no move to fling it away.

  “You said William goes or you do.” The familiar ridges beneath her fingers served as a reminder of all she’d lost. Suddenly the intimacy was too much. She jerked her hand away and folded her arms as a barrier. “You weren’t threatening to chase yourself off your own estates, Devon. What did you think that ultimatum meant?”

  “Obviously, I didn’t think it through that far. If I thought you’d choose William over me—”

  “I didn’t choose William,” she snapped. “I chose to not succumb to your ultimatum.”

 
“You are my wife.” The arrogance of the entire Harchings Ducal ancestry was stamped upon his tone. “I will not have you risking your life for the sheer fun of it. If you’re too reckless and foolish to make that decision for yourself, then it’s my duty to make it for you.”

  Red mist clouded her eyes. They’d already been around this circle twice and his views remained stoically archaic. She spun from him, closing her eyes on a deep breath. Why couldn’t she just accept his will as a wife was supposed to? What if he was right and there was something fundamentally wrong with her? Perhaps she wasn’t meant to feel so deeply, love him so very much. Then she wouldn’t feel quite so betrayed.

  “The day we met,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “I was racing the Clarendon brothers around the mill pond.”

  She’d noticed the dashing stranger watching them from the porch, had imagined his gaze burned into her, had felt an irresistible pull to canter in that direction on the way back to the stables behind the house. She’d slowed to a trot, watching him from beneath lowered lids and she’d been right. His gaze had been fixated, appraising her from head to toe. She knew she made a wild, striking figure—her hair tumbling loose from the few pins that still remained, her cheeks as pale as the snow that blanketed the fields, the stark contrast of the midnight black stallion she sat upon—and she’d revelled in his wicked grin.

  “My lips were berry red from cold and passion sparked my eyes. I know, because you told me. You said my beauty eclipsed the winter wonderland surrounding me and declared my spirit as bold as the stallion between my legs. A week later, when you took my hand in yours and swore your heart was mine to take or break and you wouldn’t accept no for an answer, you said that was the very moment you fell instantly and irrevocably in love with me.” She turned, notched her chin for courage and looked him the eye. “And ever since, you’ve done your utmost to smother that part of me. You swore to love me until your heart stopped beating, but did you fall in love with me or the image of the duchess you intended to mould me into? Did you ever really see me?”

  His brows creased and the stiffness fled his jaw. “I see you.”

  “I’m strong enough, I love you enough, to forge breathing space for myself beneath the thumb of your autonomous authority.” Her legs wooden, her heart heavy, she skirted the walls of the room on her way to the door. “But if you succeed in crushing me completely, there’ll be nothing left of me to take up that fight.” There may not even be enough left of her to love him and not loving Devon scared her more than anything else.

  “Evelyn,” he growled after her as she fled the parlour, but she couldn’t stop now. She’d only end up convincing him that he’d never loved her to begin with. While her head suspected that might be true, her heart wasn’t ready to accept defeat. Not today.

  She made it across the foyer, turned down the passage leading to the main wing and barrelled straight into Armand.

  “I was on my way to find you, m’lady. I’ve fit Ana with her new life cell and restored your automaton.” He looked inordinately pleased with himself as he delivered Puppy into her arms. “There were several wires connected incorrectly, causing the motor functions to bypass the vocal operation unit.”

  She cradled the silent, lifeless machine against her breast and all at once it was too much. Tears swelled in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks.

  Armand’s smile dried up. “I repaired it.”

  “He wasn’t broken, not to me,” she said through the tightness in her throat. “He was simply different.” She stumbled back and into a set of powerful, familiar arms.

  “What the hell have you done to upset my wife?” Keeping one arm around her waist, Devon pried Puppy loose from her grip and handed him to Armand. “I suggest you fix this immediately.”

  “That’s exactly what I did.”

  “Then un-fix it,” Devon commanded.

  With a confounded scowl for Devon, and then one for her, Armand headed back in the direction he’d come from.

  Devon turned her around and folded her into a warm embrace, her wet cheek pressed to his chest.

  “I see you, darling, I always have. I haven’t been trying to fix you and I’m sorry if I made you feel as if I have.” He held her to him, his chin resting on the top of her head. “You are right and I’ve been wrong. I see you, every day I see you, and I love you more. I’m wholly unprepared for the overwhelming helplessness of it all. I would gladly keep you locked away from all and any harm and if that means there’s only half of you to love, that’s still enough for me.”

  Evelyn pushed out of his arms, already missing his warmth but needing to look into his eyes. “I don’t have a death wish, Devon, I would never do anything dangerously reckless. I may enjoy life to the fullest but I respect my life, I respect you, and I respect our love too much to do so irresponsibly.”

  “I know.” He slid his hand beneath her hair, cupping the base of her skull, his thumb rubbing gently. “I can’t promise to always act reasonably when it comes to loving you, but never doubt that I love all that you are. Never doubt that I see you.”

  Her heart released that crippling fear.

  He leaned in, brushing his lips over hers. “And if I’m ever foolish enough to issue another ultimatum, you have my permission to shove it down my throat.” His other hand came around her waist as he deepened the kiss.

  She opened for him and he slipped his tongue inside, claiming her mouth. Heat rushed through her veins and set her blood on fire with desire and unbound love.

  SEVENTEEN

  Greyston couldn’t shake the feeling of death following at his back, ghostly trails dancing two steps out of reach. Liquid fingers seeping from the shadows, jabbing accusations at him, snatching at his ankles, trying to reel him in.

  Well, death could do its damndest. He’d been living on borrowed time most of his life and he was still here. The accusations, however, yet another death left in his wake, were less easy to shrug off. His mood deteriorated as the day grew long and it turned downright surly when he entered the kitchen anteroom and saw Kelan and Lily bent over a desk with their heads together. It should have helped that Ana was standing right beside the cosy pair, acting chaperone. It didn’t.

  He didn’t trust Kelan, not when it came to Lily. The man manipulated her emotions to the point that she was already half-smitten with the McAllister cause. And now he had to leave her to Kelan’s sole ministrations while he settled his affairs. Jean was to be laid to rest beside her husband. Paisley had agreed to stay at Es Vedra for the time being and he wanted to install her there sooner rather than later. He’d be gone for three days at the very least.

  The irony ate at him. Cragloden was the safest place for Lily right now, and the most dangerous in the longer term.

  He cleared his throat loudly. “Am I interrupting?”

  Lily’s head bobbed up. “Greyston, there you are.”

  She took a precise step away from Kelan, as if suddenly reminded of whichever rule required exactly however many inches between a lady and a gentleman. He wasn’t sure what irritated him more, that Kelan was responsible for that lapse or that it was the sight of him that had reminded her.

  “Kelan’s been demonstrating the automated butler to us.” Lily stepped further aside and waved a hand over the black contraption on the desk. “Instead of a bell in each room, there’s a speaking horn. Did you know the technology that translates speech to the ink needle that records the message originates from the mechanism Duncan McAllister invented for our celludrones? And the entire concept of Aether Messaging wouldn’t have been possible without the basic science of that design either,” she declared. “Isn’t it fascinating?”

  He did indeed find it interesting, but only in as much as it suggested the McAllister wealth and power extended much further than he’d imagined. They didn’t only have their fingers in all the most important pies, it seemed they held the patent to the bloody recipe.

  “My uncle’s vocal and optical translation design was revolu
tionary,” Kelan said.

  Not about to give praise, even if it was due, Greyston looked at Ana. She wore a grey dress identical to Lily’s, borrowed from the maid’s linen closet. Without her usual white-laced bonnet, her hair fell to her shoulders in a natural wave of thick, silky blonde. “It’s good to see you up and about.”

  She smiled at him. “Thank you, Grey.”

  Not that he minded the casual familiarity, but his brows shot up at Lily. The impropriety must be itching her teeth.

  “Not everything is entirely back to normal,” Lily said, without so much as a flinch.

  “Her life cell was at a critical low when Armand opened her,” Kelan explained, “reducing the flow of her memory sap below optimal momentum. Some memories may be lost, others jumbled.”

  “Nothing that cannot be re-learned,” Lily said. “When I get around to it.”

  So, maybe her teeth weren’t itching quite that much. His eyes went to the plump curve of her mouth and his body reacted to the possibilities of a less prim and proper Lily. “Yes, well…” He forced his gaze off that temptation. “We’ll be leaving shortly. That’s why I came to find you.”

  “So soon?” Lily turned to Ana. “There’s a letter on my nightstand, addressed to my aunt. Will you please fetch it?” As Ana hurried past him to do as she was bid, Lily made her way over to him. “Is Paisley up, then?”

  “I sent Evelyn to wake her. They’ll miss the last London-bound train out of Edinburgh this afternoon if we wait much longer.”

  “I’ll be up in a minute,” Kelan issued when she glanced back at him.

  Standing there with his arms folded, his eyes sliding between the two of them, he didn’t appear to have any pressing matter requiring his immediate attention.

  Then Greyston realised he was deliberately giving them a few moments to say their goodbyes in private and didn’t give the man a chance to change his mind. He cupped his hand beneath Lily’s elbow and swept her from the room. “Promise me you’ll take care when it comes to Kelan,” he said in a low voice. “Don’t blindly put your trust in everything he says.”