Page 38 of Her Majesty's Necromancer
So much for keeping my head low. "It's shoe polish."
"That stuff is difficult to remove."
"Yes, thank you," I said tightly.
"How did you manage to get it on your nose?" Lincoln asked. His voice sounded light, almost amused.
"Seth did it."
His jaw hardened. If he had been amused, he certainly wasn't now.
Lady Harcourt arched her brows at him, and I half-expected her to say "See?" but she said nothing. No doubt she thought I was flirting with Seth and he with me. She'd not wanted me to live in a house full of men. Apparently she didn't trust them or me. I'd thought it presumptuous of her at first, but now that I'd had time to think about it, I'd decided it said more about her than us. Not that I would dare say so to her face. One did not accuse a lady of having loose morals.
I returned to the kitchen then delivered the soup to the dining room. Gus arrived home during the next course, and I served him up a steaming bowl. He gulped the soup down and asked for more before I'd had time to clear away the dishes in the dining room.
"I'm glad to see you have a healthy appetite," I told him as I finally sat down with Cook for our own lunch. "I was worried about you, out in the rain the other night."
"That's kind of you, Charlie," he said, "but a bit o' rain never hurt no one."
I wasn't so sure about that. I'd seen children die from being out in the cold and wet too long. "Fitzroy explained everything that happened last night?"
"Aye. Seems you had an adventure." He accepted the bowl and dipped his spoon in. "You're braver than me, calling up the dead like that."
"Bravery has nothing to do with it. It was simply necessary. Did you see anyone who matched the captain's description at the cemetery?"
He shook his head. "Not a soul."
Lincoln joined us after Lady Harcourt departed and briefly questioned Gus too. Then he ordered me to join him in the parlor.
"I have to wash up," I told him.
"Later."
Once in the parlor, he shut the door and rounded on me. I had no difficulty deciphering his emotions on this occasion. He was definitely mad. All that was missing was the steam rising from his ears.
I gulped. "Have I done something wrong?" I tossed my head to counteract the pathetic smallness of my voice. I hadn't done anything to deserve his sudden coldness.
"You visited Lady Harcourt and asked her about Gurry."
I'd forgotten about that. "She told you?" The traitor! So much for thinking we had an understanding and she'd keep silent. I shouldn't have assumed.
He stepped closer to me so that we were mere inches apart. I could smell the scent of his soap, feel the vibrations of his anger. "Why did you go to her?"
"I needed to know who Mr. Gurry was and why you killed him."
"Needed to know?"
The force of his glare pushed me a step back. I gripped the wing of the nearby armchair and tried to muster a show of righteous defiance, but it wasn't easy when I didn't believe I was in the right. He had every reason to be angry with me but, in my defense, I had every reason to know the truth. "It's only fair that I know what the other people living here have done in the past."
"Is it?" he ground out.
I tilted my chin. "Yes. You murdered Mr. Gurry, Mr. Fitzroy. By all accounts, he begged you for mercy and you still killed him." With so many other things on my mind, I'd forgotten about Gurry, but now it all rushed back to me. Lincoln had done something so awful that I shouldn't have set it aside so easily, and yet I had. I'd closed my eyes to that side of him and only seen what I wanted to see—a good, if somewhat emotionless, man. But I knew that only a fool closed her eyes to such a heinous crime. I hated that I could be such a fool.
I took a step away from him and rubbed my cold arms.
"And has this knowledge helped you in any way?" he snapped.
"It's made me more aware of the man you are."
