“For waking them up, do you mean, or for some sort of sisterly vengeance?”
“Well, either,” Mina said as a few memories came back to her. “Though I was never much for pranks myself. That was Alice, and George, when he was younger.”
“You don’t seem like the sort to take that meekly,” Stephen said.
“I wasn’t. I had a good memory, and I was better at saving my pocket money. So I’d buy sweets and eat them in front of the other two when they made me angry. I was,” Mina added, on further reflection, “a horribly smug sort of little girl. Probably deserved at least some of what I got, although I still think cutting off my braids was going too far, and so did Mum.”
“I cut Judith’s hair off once,” Stephen admitted. “But then, she’d asked me to. It was too hot in summer, she said. That didn’t save me from my mother, though.” He winced.
“Strict sort of woman, was she?”
“Fierce, I’d say. But she had to be, I’d think, to live among the rest of us and have begun as a mortal.”
“Begun?” Mina asked, pretending that her heart hadn’t speeded up.
Stephen hesitated a moment, standing in the doorway with his hands in his pockets. Then he shrugged, stepped in, and closed the door behind him. “It changes wi’ the first child,” he said and looked toward the window. “It’s to do with shared blood, perhaps. A mortal either gains longer life or…well, or doesna’ survive, generally. The child does sometimes, even if she dies. A cousin of mine did.”
“Brave women,” Mina said, after swallowing past a sudden thickness in her throat. She wasn’t sure what else to think. She wasn’t sure it was her business to think anything about that particular subject. She dropped her gaze from Stephen’s face, down to the letter she’d been writing, and when she looked up again, she couldn’t meet his eyes. “Though life was more dangerous back then for everyone, I’d think.”
“In many ways, aye,” he said. “I think back sometimes—even to what I can remember, which isn’t nearly so far—and I wonder at how we ever managed.” A quick smile lightened his face. “But then, perhaps every man thinks so about his youth.”
Mina laughed, taking the chance to change topics away from birth and death. “I tend to wonder how I survived, but that’s mostly because of Alice and George. And me,” she admitted, thinking back. “Especially when I was old enough to get into real trouble.”
“You? I can’t imagine it,” said Stephen.
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, my lord,” Mina said and sniffed, hiding a smile.
“It wasn’t all sarcasm,” he said. “I consider myself a fair man, after all, and so I’m bound to admit that I’ve only seen you get yourself in trouble the once. And,” he added, taking one hand out of his pocket and stroking his chin slowly, “that was on someone else’s behalf. Rather admirable, in fact.”
Mina couldn’t hide her smile, and now it no longer came from amusement. “Thank you,” she said. “Professor Carter took a chance on me. It only seemed fair.”
“It’s not so common for women to be secretaries, not to men,” Stephen said slowly, calling up facts that had never been important to his mind and had never really left Mina’s.
“No. And even less common for girls from my part of London.” Even now, the memory of the first few letters of inquiry she’d sent out made Mina wince, and remembering her first interview made her mouth go dry. “So I owe him a lot, you see.”
Stephen nodded. “You pay your debts,” he said, still in the same thoughtful voice. His eyes met hers, searching, though Mina couldn’t tell for what. “And you don’t go back on a bargain. You said as much, didn’t you?”
“I did,” she said. “And I don’t.” Under Stephen’s gaze, she felt quite exposed. She folded her arms over her chest, putting up a barrier that was all the more necessary because she wouldn’t have minded a more literal sort of exposure. “Have you found anything more? Is that why you’re looking for your brother?”
“Not yet.” Stephen sighed, and while that broke the uncomfortable intensity, he looked weary enough to make Mina wince inside. “I’m hoping for a message any day now, but Mrs. O’Keefe’s man had little to say concerning when she’d return.”
“Little to say about anything, from what you told me,” said Mina, and shrugged. “Butlers are generally like that. Not that I know many of them, but that’s what Alice says. I tried to be the same way with Professor Carter’s visitors. You have to.”
“I rather guessed as much,” said Stephen, and Mina was glad to see a smile return to his face. “Perhaps you should speak with Mrs. O’Keefe’s man—I’d match you against him any day.”
“Now I feel like a prizefighter,” said Mina. “Be off, will you, before you make the spiders angry?”
“I believe I can defend you from those,” said Stephen, “but I’d best find Colin and perhaps wring a sponge out over him.”
“I’ll see who has the black eye next time we meet.”
Laughing, Stephen left, and Mina stared at the closed door behind him for longer than she meant to, a fact she only noticed when she shook herself and turned her attention back to her letter.
I look forward to seeing you again, and to—
Life after dealing with Ward held bright enough prospects, if Mina went after them—and she knew she would. The real problem, the one she’d been trying to hide from herself, was how much she’d miss the life she had now.
Twenty-six
“Six weeks?” Colin leaned back in his chair and laughed. “She’s a remarkably patient girl, then. I’d have been climbing the walls.”
“You’d have been climbing the walls after two days,” said Stephen. “Even if you’d wanted to stay inside before. Contrary-minded little devil,” he added.
“Prig,” Colin replied amiably. “She must be a torment to you in turn, though.”
Stephen quickly stifled the reaction that went through him. Torment, yes, but not the sort he wanted to discuss with his brother. “How do you mean?”
“She doesn’t seem the sort to follow orders meekly.”
“You make me sound like quite the tyrant,” said Stephen, because he couldn’t deny Colin’s statement. “I’ve not had any complaints. Not from most people,” he added, “and Mi—Miss Seymour doesn’t truly complain. She’s been quite adaptable.”
“Has she, now?”
“Not like that,” said Stephen, glaring even as he repressed more memories. “We’ve strictly a business arrangement, and only for as long as Ward’s a threat.”
Early afternoon had found them in the drawing room again. Rather, Colin had found Stephen there reading, and now stood by the fireplace and toyed idly with the music box there while he spoke. “Pity,” he said, “I’d imagine you could use a good secretary.”
“Perhaps I could,” said Stephen, “but she’ll be employed elsewhere.”
Even if he made the offer, he knew that Mina would refuse and be absolutely right in doing so. He wasn’t going to make the offer, of course. Foolish idea.
“Where is the girl in question, exactly?”
“Probably the library,” said Stephen, who had avoided that door. He and Mina had talked at breakfast. They would dine with Colin again, and he had no need to see her any more, even if he wanted to. Especially if he wanted to. “She’s going through the books there, and it’s about time someone did.”
“Not surprising. Father wasn’t much for cataloguing.”
“Father rather lost track of this place,” Stephen said, thinking of the papers he’d gone through. “Came up for a day or four at a time, since Mother passed onward, but never more, and that maybe every few years.”
“I hadn’t known,” said Colin. “Well, I hadn’t been home so very often, had I? But I might have suspected it, if I’d thought. Cities were never his glory, and this one’s grown so. Did he leave things in a very bad state?”
“I wouldn’t say bad. We’re hardly short on funds. Only confused, and this business with Ward ha
sn’t helped my progress any.” Stephen sighed. “I’m not Father—I enjoyed London the last time I was here. I think I could again, would events let me.”
“Oh, they will in time,” said Colin. He put down the music box. “Even the most tangled of accounts end, and if you’re really tired of Ward, you could simply go away. He’ll die in a few decades.”
“He might,” said Stephen, “but he hasn’t so far, and he has the resources to put it off, or to turn his rage on those with fewer defenses than I have. I hadn’t known that he’d found more magical tutors, or I’d have hunted him down after Bavaria, whether he came for me or no.”
“You’re remarkably puny to try and be Atlas,” said Colin. “Nobody here is in your charge, you know.”
“There’s a wider charge,” said Stephen. “And you can’t tell me you’d leave them to be set upon by demons. Not seriously.”
“I tell you as little as possible seriously.” Colin sighed and shifted his weight, leaning against the fireplace now. “Ah, well. If you’re going to take this on, and I knew you would, I might as well help. Have you tried—”
Whatever his suggestion was going to be, it died before it reached the air, killed off by a knock at the door. Polly entered at Stephen’s request, with a sealed letter in her hand.
“This came by the last post, sir,” she said and handed it to Stephen.
The man you seek calls himself Mr. Green. His address follows. I’ve informed him of your interest. He may speak with you, if he chooses to do so.
Selina O’Keefe
“Not an invitation to a garden party, I suppose,” said Colin.
“The lady I’d mentioned before. She’s back in town, and it seems she doesn’t want to meet with me personally.” Stephen eyed the gracefully written lines, wishing they’d contained more. “She doesn’t sound like she’s at all easy about the whole business.”
“Would you be?”
“I’m not.”
“Shall I come along? I do enjoy meeting new people.”
“New women, which I doubt you’ll find at Green’s,” said Stephen, “and no. I’d rather keep you in reserve.”
Colin shrugged. “Very well. I’ll use the time to inspect your defenses.”
“Don’t inspect too closely,” said Stephen. “I don’t have many servants left as it is.”
“Oh, now,” Colin said, laughing, “I’ve never been the sort to make a girl give notice. You know that.”
“I know if I get back and you’ve a palm print on your face, I’ll use it for a target myself.” Stephen slipped the note into his pocket and headed for the hallway. “Have Baldwin get me a carriage, will you?”
“Wounded as I am, I’ll still leap to carry out your request,” Colin said with a mock bow, “being the noble, gentlemanly sort that I am.”
“Today would be good,” said Stephen. “Preferably before nightfall.”
He went to find Mina, reasoning to himself that it was prudent to let her know the situation, particularly as it involved her finding herself alone with Colin. Of course, his brother was a gentleman or an approximation thereof, teasing to the contrary, but she didn’t know that. Consideration alone demanded that Stephen pay her a brief visit.
Stephen told himself that and also that his heart should stay absolutely still, except for the necessary blood-pumping activities, when he stood at the door to the library and watched Mina returning a book to the shelves. Even that simple action had a purposeful sort of grace to it, and when she turned, her dress shifted to outline the firm curves of her body. Stephen caught his breath.
“Oh!” She saw him and jumped a little. “I—didn’t know you were there.”
“I won’t be. Er, I’m going out. There’s a message.”
“Progress?” She didn’t move toward Stephen, but when she met his eyes, the distance between the two of them felt much shorter regardless.
He nodded, ignoring—or trying to ignore—the urge to reach out and draw Mina to him. “I shouldn’t be gone long. If I am—” The thought of ambush had occurred to him. “If I don’t return in an hour’s time, assume something’s happened. Get yourself to safety. And the others.”
“I will,” she said, and her full lips frowned. “But you take care. Do you have to go alone?”
“So the message says. Er—” He coughed. “You can trust Colin.”
“If there’s trouble?”
“As a general rule. He’s a good enough man, whatever he pretends. I didn’t want you to worry.”
“I didn’t,” said Mina, blinking, “but thank you for telling me. How dangerous do you think this will be?”
“Not very, I should think,” said Stephen, and hoped he was right. “It’s only a meeting. I’d just…I’d wanted to be sure you knew the situation.”
Mina smiled, puzzled but touched, and not kissing her then was one of the harder things Stephen had done lately. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll…well, I’ll be here.”
He left her standing in a pool of lamplight, looking very small in the middle of the hallway. The image stayed with him through the slow carriage ride—it seemed that every hack in London was out that night—and onto “Mr. Green’s” doorstep. A feeling of deep unease went with him too. He felt like a man watching clouds grow dark in the west and waiting to hear the first rumble of thunder.
Colin would look after everyone, Stephen reminded himself. Colin was no slouch in a fight and not half bad with magic, either, dilettante though he was. He certainly wouldn’t make trouble for the staff. Baldwin and his wife knew him of old, and as for the others, Colin had always been rather engaging.
Half the dairymaids at Loch Arach had been in love with him by the time he was eighteen, in fact, and more than a few of the farmers’ daughters.
That was Loch Arach, of course. London girls were more sophisticated and far more cynical. Neither Polly nor Emily seemed the type to moon about after a gentleman, no matter how charming, and Mina—well, no. Mina had a mind like a scalpel and the will of a particularly stubborn mule. Colin would stand no chance with her.
Certainly not.
The possibility wasn’t even worth thinking about.
Twenty-seven
Dragons, Mina was rapidly learning, could be as boring as anyone else.
She was a quarter of the way into the journal she was reading, was reasonably sure that the author was a dragon—he made frequent mentions of “transformation” and of flying—and had spent half her time almost pinching herself to stay awake. The man had done half of his estate records in his journal, for one thing, and had also apparently had very decided opinions about his nearest neighbor.
In between sheep and hounds, Mina had found a few interesting bits: a paragraph about what seemed very coldly cordial relations with the “Great Ones of the East” (or, the way he spelled it, “ye Great Ones of the Eaft”) and a mention of sending his priest to “settle” a haunted house.
Like half-buried gems, those few sentences kept her digging.
Eleanor arrived today from France,
the latest entry began,
and brought with her the children, who are growing well. She wishes to add to their number, and I have no objection, but I would wait a while before the rite, so as to ensure that our youngest may be born in the spring. Meanwhile, as I’ve observed before, it does no harm to practice the mortal portion of the marital act.
Mina stared.
The writing, though old, was very proper. The author hadn’t yet in her reading been vulgar or even profane, which had come as a bit of a surprise to Mina in the first place. Just when she’d gotten used to a nobleman apparently fitting the image of the kindly and proper lord in children’s books, he was writing about the “marital act,” which apparently had extra aspects if you were a dragon and wanted to achieve the traditional result.
She knew that a number of human rituals concerned themselves with that part of life. She’d read a few books she wasn’t supposed to read, and she’d typed a few pages of
notes that Professor Carter had harrumphingly warned her about beforehand. From a scholarly perspective, mentions of “the rite” were quite interesting and not at all surprising.
What the journal writer meant, unless Mina was very wrong, was that if a dragon-man and a human simply had a bit of fun—as they might have said back home when they were being polite—then the lady wouldn’t end up in a fix for it. At least, that seemed to be the case.
For example, if she and Stephen—
Of course, that was when the door opened.
Mina was up from her seat before she knew what she was doing, putting her back to the wall and wishing she had a better weapon than a fountain pen.
“Easy, lass,” said Colin MacAlasdair, laughing and leaning against the doorway. “I promise I’ve not come to muck up your filing, nor yet to steal a book.”
“They’re your books,” said Mina. She dropped the letter opener back on her desk. “I’m sorry. I’m a bundle of nerves today, it seems.”
“Spending as long as you have here, I’m surprised you’ve not tried to kill anyone yet. Though I’d prefer it not be me you target when your mind does snap. You’d break the hearts of so many women.”
“God forbid,” said Mina. On a whim, she closed the book and handed it over to Colin. “Do you know who might’ve written this? Stephen didn’t, but—”
A second too late to catch herself, she heard Stephen’s Christian name come from her lips. Done was done; flinching or correcting herself would only call more attention to what she’d said.
“He’s foisted himself on fewer of our relatives than I have,” Colin said, as if he’d heard nothing out of the usual. After a few minutes flipping through the book, he laughed and shook his head.
“You don’t know?”
“Oh, I do. I was just feeling sorry for you reading it,” said Colin, “and a bit for my cousins, living with the man. It’s my Uncle Georgie, and a man more fond of speeches you never met. Though he was a good sort, at that.”
Legend Of The Highland Dragon Page 16
