Page 62 of Of Fate and Phantoms
"I suppose."
"Do you want me to talk to him?"
"If you like, but I don't want him to think that it makes me interested in him inthatway."
"I'll try to word it so he understands."
"It's just that I don't know him yet, not the real him without the act. So how can I tell if I will like him inthatway?"
"Noted." Good lord, I sounded like Lincoln. "I'll speak with him tomorrow. Now, I'm starved. Do you want some supper?"
"Good idea."
"Ring for Doyle while I get changed. I don't want to send Mrs. Cotchin into a spin if she sees me dressed like this."
"You're remarkably calm considering Lincoln and the others are heading into Whitechapel at night."
"They can take care of themselves. All joking aside, they're very capable."
"Yes, but…" She sighed. "Sorry, I'm simply thinking the worst."
"Try not to." I gave her a flat smile, but as I headed up to my rooms, the familiar icy fingers of dread curled around my bones.
Instead of going straight to my rooms, I stood in the corridor outside Lincoln's. He emerged almost immediately, having probably sensed my presence. He'd already changed into coarse flannel trousers and a graying shirt. His feet were bare and he held a yellow neckerchief with frayed ends in one hand. His hair was still tied back. I knew from previous excursions into the East End that he'd untie it and ruffle it up a little.
He handed me the neckerchief. "Would you mind?"
I took the scrap of fabric and fixed it around his neck. Then I reached behind his head and untied his hair. It fell to his nape, but didn't have the desired crumpled effect, so I dug my fingers through it, scrunching and tangling it. We stood very close; closer than was decent for an unmarried couple. I tilted my face up to see him better, only to notice him already watching me. Heat smoldered in his half-closed eyes. He lowered his face to mine and my heart did a little somersault in anticipation of his kiss.
Then he suddenly pulled away and clutched my arms, holding me at bay. "I must finish getting ready," he said, his voice a low hum.
I cleared my throat. "I'll see you when you get back."
"There's no need to wait up."
I gave him an arched look. "I won't be able to sleep until I know you're home safely."
He nodded. "I'll see you then."
"Be careful, Lincoln."
"I'll do my best."
It was hardly a reassuring answer. He wasn't one for caring much about his personal safety, but I knew he couldn't promise me anything more. I might accept that fact, but I didn't have to like it. I wouldn't sleep until I saw him home, safe and sound, and Gus and Seth too.
* * *
Supper with Alicewas interrupted by Doyle.
"You have a caller, miss," he intoned. "Mr. Buchanan."
I groaned. "At this hour?" It was late for callers, but nottoolate, particularly for a cad like Andrew Buchanan. He slept until noon most days and stayed up most nights, gambling, attending parties, and probably making a general nuisance of himself.
"If the fire's still burning in the parlor, I'll receive him in there," I told Doyle. "Will you serve drinks, please."
"Of course. Would you also like me to stay?"
"I'd appreciate it."
