Page 58 of The Last Necromancer
She was followed by Fitzroy. I hadn't seen him since our return the night before. His eyes seemed a little tight as he regarded me from beneath half-lowered lashes. If he was annoyed, I doubted it could be because of me this time. I'd done exactly as he'd asked.
Lady Harcourt also seemed somewhat provoked as she greeted me with a brief smile. I suspected they'd argued about something. Me? Or perhaps Fitzroy's methods?
"It's a little warm for a fire," she said, glancing at the fireplace. She gasped when she saw what was burning in the grate. "Oh, Charlie! You didn't."
"It accidentally caught fire."
"How?"
"It somehow found itself in the grate among the kindling with a flame put to it."
She gave me a withering glare. "If you didn't want to wear the corset, you could have simply left it off when you dressed this morning. There was no need to burn it."
I begged to differ. I felt a very strong need to destroy the damned thing.
Fitzroy added a scoop of coal to the fire. "How do you find your new rooms?" he asked, straightening.
"Very nice. Thank you." While the bedroom and adjoining sitting room were better than the tower chamber, they weren't as spacious as his suite. My new abode was located down the hall from his and was comfortably furnished. It was better than I expected.
"Do you have everything you need?"
"Seth delivered the books earlier."
"You ought to sew," Lady Harcourt said. "Do you remember how?"
"I think so." I'd never been very good at sewing, always rushing my stitches, frustrating my mother. Her needlepoint had been particularly fine, but she'd had far more patience than me.
"When you come to live with me, I'll see that you're given something simple to begin with."
"Live with you! But I thought I was to remain here?" I glared at Fitzroy, but he was looking at Lady Harcourt.
"Julia," he intoned. "That's not how we agreed to approach this."
Lady Harcourt sighed and swanned further into the room. The sitting room was small enough that the presence of three people filled it. Fitzroy, in particular, looked much too large for the room. He stood near me, making me very aware of the power contained within his tall frame. For the first time since it happened, I thought of how he'd killed the man who'd accosted me beneath the bridge. Fitzroy had not given him a chance to beg forgiveness. He'd stabbed him as he would a sack of grain, and left his body there to be picked over by thieves and rats.
As glad as I'd been at the time, today I was struck by the brutality of it—the coldness. Yet, only moments later, he'd carried me gently away from the scene.
Lady Harcourt pressed a flat palm to her stomach and seemed to be gathering herself. "Very well," she said. "Charlie, I've come to ask you, once again, to live with me. Now that you have agreed to help, there is no need to lock you up."
"No, thank you. I have no desire to wear corsets and scrub your floors."
Her fingers splayed. "You don't have to be a servant. You may be my companion."
"What does a companion do?"
She shrugged. "We sit together, talk and walk together. You can pay calls with me."
"On who?"
"My friends."
It didn't sound like something I'd like to do, but I didn't want to offend her. "I prefer to remain here."
She opened her mouth to protest, but Fitzroy cut in. "Charlie has given her decision. You promised to abide by it."
"Yes, but I'm not sure she's thoroughly thought it through." Lady Harcourt turned a winning smile onto me. "What is there for a girl to do here?"
"Gamble and play cards," I told her.
