Page 84 of Her Majesty's Necromancer
I held my breath and walked slowly to the door. This was an exchange I wanted to hear.
"A guiding hand?" Mrs. Overton's voice had softened since Lincoln's arrival. When she'd been talking to her daughter, it had been strong, inflexible. Now, it took on a girlishness that sat awkwardly on her. "Would that be a feminine hand, Mr. Fitzroy?"
"That remains to be seen, Mrs. Overton. Miss Overton, did you enjoy yourself at the ball?"
"Very much," she said in a breathy voice. "I do enjoy balls, don't you?"
"I rarely attend."
"So we've noticed," said Mrs. Overton. "Where did you run off to at the end? Hettie and I looked everywhere for you."
"Then I must apologize. I hope I can make it up to you."
Hettie beamed at him and blinked those big eyes. It made her look even lovelier, if somewhat childlike. Mrs. Overton's smile was less overt. "You can. Come to my dinner party this Friday night."
Lincoln didn't answer straight away. He seemed to be caught, and I wondered if he'd unintentionally backed himself into a corner. It would seem his instincts had failed him on this occasion. If we'd been on better terms, I would have teased him about it later.
He suddenly turned to me, as if he'd just realized I was still there. "That will be all," he said. "You may go."
I bobbed a curtsy and hurried out. I didn't hear his response to Mrs. Overton's invitation.
"Well?" Seth said when I returned to the kitchen. "What happened?"
"I think he plans on getting more servants." I frowned. "Or a wife. Perhaps both."
Cook snorted. "Don't know why he be wantin' more servants or a wife. Both be trouble."
"Agreed," Seth said. "Surely the four of us is enough."
"Every gentleman needs a wife," I said quietly.
"True."
"And a wife would want more servants."
"Also true." Seth sighed. "I believe we have our answer. But I can't believe he would be seriously considering Hettie Overton as a candidate. She's not to his taste at all."
"Perhaps we don't know his taste in women."
Cook snorted.
Seth narrowed his gaze at me. "I think we do."
My situation had felt precarious enough last night; now it felt like I had my toes poking over the edge of the cliff. It only remained to be seen whether Lincoln pushed me off or I jumped.
I busied myself in the scullery until the Overtons left. Lincoln didn't come into the kitchen afterward, and I got the impression he was avoiding me. My frayed nerves were stretched so thin that I could no longer bear it. I had to do something, and there was only one thing in my power to do.
With a heavy heart, that wouldn't cease its hammering, I went in search of him. I found him in his rooms, exercising. He opened the door with a towel in hand, wiping away the sweat at his brow. It was the first time I'd seen him sweat during all the times he'd trained, either with me or alone.
I lowered my gaze. "I'm sorry to interrupt." I cleared my throat but the ball of panic that had lodged there wouldn't go away. Part of me couldn't believe I was doing this, but I knew I had to. Our situation was impossible, the tension unbearable. I had to end it.
"Yes?"
I cleared my throat again. "I…I need to talk to you."
"About?"
Hell. He was still furious with me. I'd hoped he would be past it, but I knew in my heart he wouldn't be. He never could be. I'd betrayed him, and he felt it keenly. His reaction helped me realize I'd come to the right decision, but it was no easier to voice it.
