Page 29 of From the Ashes
"Cool or wary? Perhaps he's trying to gauge your feelings first before he recommits."
I picked up his bowl and headed into the scullery. Seth may be right, but it didn't matter. Lincoln had betrayed me and I would not forgive him for it. Without forgiveness there could be no returning to what we had.
"You should have sold the ring," Gus called out. "A stone like that would fetch a pretty sum. Ow! What was that for?" he snapped.
"For being an fool," Seth growled.
"I'll do the dishes," Doyle said. I hadn't realized he'd followed me into the scullery. "You should take care of your hand."
I curled my fingers up into a fist to hide the welt still visible there. "You saw."
"A good butler sees everything. Including how tired his mistress looks."
I gave him a weak smile. "I'd rather be your friend. But thank you, Doyle. I think I'll retire early. It's been a long day. A good day, but a long one."
He picked up an empty pail by the door. "Everyone is glad you're back, Charlie. Everyone."
* * *
Lincoln requestedmy presence for a meeting in the library after breakfast, along with Seth and Gus. I had expected him to be out, but he claimed that all the London-based supernaturals had now been warned and it was up to them whether they heeded his warning or not.
"It's time to set our minds to catching the murderer," he said.
Ourminds, not his alone. It was a good sign that he wanted all of us involved in the endeavor. I think.
"How?" Seth asked. His cuts didn't look so bad after cleaning away the blood, but his mother had still fussed over his "roughened" appearance at breakfast. She'd made him wrap bandages soaked in a foul-smelling liquid around his bruised knuckles. The bandages were now steaming in the fireplace where he'd thrown them. "The only way I can see to move forward is to question Thomas Rampling." Seth gave me a dark look.
"Who is Thomas Rampling?" I asked.
"A dead man who may know the identity of the killer. Didn't you tell her, Fitzroy?"
"There hasn't been time." Lincoln stood by the fire while Seth, Gus and I sat in the armchairs ranged around the hearth. He looked tired. It didn't detract from his handsomeness.
I studied my clasped hands in my lap to keep my gaze averted from the distraction, and to hide my sore palm.
"You had the entire journey from York!"
"Seth," Gus hissed. "Shut it."
I could feel their gazes on me so I looked up and mustered some defiance. "Our compartment was full," I lied. "We had no opportunity to talk at length about the murders. And when we did…we had other things to discuss."
Lincoln shifted his stance from one foot to the other. I glanced at his face and caught him looking at me. A small crease connected his brows.
"Then you best get comfortable, Charlie," Gus said. "We've got quite a tale."
They told me about the circus strongman's murder, and how Lincoln's informant led them to a gunman named Jack Daley who'd pulled the trigger. Somehow they managed to get Daley to divulge the name of the man who'd hiredhim—Thomas James Rampling. I suspected Lincoln had employed his usual method of coercion to force Daley to talk, since he avoided answering my question about it. Unfortunately, Rampling had drowned before they could speak with him and it was his spirit they wished me to raise. Hopefully he could identify the mysterious man who'd hiredhim. All they knew was that he was a toff and had sent Rampling to pay gunmen to kill supernaturals whose powers could potentially be developed to bring the dead back to life, something that Victor Frankenstein had tried, and failed, to do with my necromancy.
Seth leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "Rampling's spirit is our only hope of finding the truth."
"What about Gillingham?" Gus said with a shrug. "You goin' to investigate him, sir?"
"It's unlikely that he's guilty," Lincoln said.
"What about Gillingham?" I asked. "Is he a suspect for any particular reason or simply because he's a turd not fit to grace the bottom of anyone's shoe?"
Seth smirked and Gus chuckled. I could swear the corners of Lincoln's lips twitched too. "Lady Gillingham is a shape-shifter," he said.
I sat back in the chair, the breath knocked out of me. "Bloody hell. You mean like the two girls I met at the school?"
