Page 12 of Beyond the Grave
"But you can't know that for certain," I said.
"Instinct tells me otherwise."
"Instinct?"
"It rarely fails me."
I hobbled away on my crutches. "How fortunate for you."
"Charlie."
His quiet command set my nerves jangling again. I stopped. "Yes?"
He approached, but did not come too close, and stood with his hands behind his back. The distance was more of an indication of how he felt than his closed face and hooded eyes. "I need to apologize for my earlier behavior. I should never have allowed anger to rule me. If I scared you then I'm sorry. If I offended or wounded you, then I'm doubly sorry. I'm usually not in the habit of allowing my temper to get the better of me, but lately…" He shook his head, as if he couldn't quite understand how it had happened.
"It seems I bring out your temper," I mumbled.
"The fault is entirely mine, not yours. Forgive me." He offered a brief bow then moved past me and strode away.
I stared at his back, grateful that he had broken the ice and apologized, yet uncertain how we could ever be comfortable around one another again.
With a sigh, I headed into the kitchen. By the time I reached it, I'd decided to find something to do to keep my mind off Lincoln. Housework wasn't enough. It allowed far too much thinking time. What I needed was a puzzle. Aside from searching for Andrew Buchanan, the biggest puzzle I knew was finding out what Lord Harcourt had been up to at The Alhambra, and how Miss D.D. had been replaced by the future Lady Harcourt.
Chapter 3
It wasanother three days until the doctor returned and declared I could dispense with the crutches, as long as I didn't put too much weight on my cut foot. He suggested using a walking stick, and Gus went to fetch one from the attic. It had been left by the previous owner of Lichfield Towers, a gentleman of advanced years, and sported the carved wooden head of a mastiff. It was quite ugly and not at all feminine. It went against Seth's fashionable sensibilities to allow me to leave the house with it until I told him I'd leave the house anyway, with or without the stick.
"Why won't you tell us where you're going?" he asked, as I put on my warmest cloak, the one Lincoln had given me only a few weeks before. His question made me wonder if his reluctance to let me go had more to do with his concern for my safety than the stick's ugliness.
"Because you won't approve."
"Better go with her," Gus said with a grim set to his mouth.
"You can't," I said. "Neither of you can. You're about to head out yourselves." They were going with Lincoln to a gambling den in the east end that gossip suggested Andrew Buchanan liked to frequent. So far, their search had not produced anything more substantial than rumor and innuendo. Several of Buchanan's acquaintances had suggested he was being held prisoner by someone he owed money to, had offended, or ruined. Apparently they'd laughed themselves into fits at the prospect.
"At least tell us what you're up to," Seth said as he slid a dagger up his sleeve. "It'll ease my conscience if I know where you are."
I sighed. "It's like having two overbearing big brothers."
"Three," Cook chimed in with a wave of his vegetable knife.
I smiled. In truth, I quite liked the idea of having brothers. They weren't yet stifling me, but I did wonder if the novelty would wear off if I had to report on my whereabouts every day. "The Alhambra."
All three stopped what they were doing to stare at me.
"It's broad daylight, there will be no disreputable gentlemen about, and not a chance that I'll be mistaken for a doxy in my maid's uniform or this cloak." Hand on hip, I dared them to gainsay me.
"Does he know you're going out?" was all Seth asked.
There was no need to mention names. We all knew who he meant. "I was just about to inform him." Right on cue, Lincoln strolled in, looking magnificent in full-length coachman's cape and leather gloves, his hair neatly tied back, and his black boots gleaming. He would cut quite an imposing figure on the driver's seat, particularly if he drove at his usual breakneck speed through the city wearing that scowl.
"Tell me what?"
"I'm going to The Alhambra Theater. Hear me out," I said before he could order me to stay at home. "I know you don't think Lord Harcourt's meetings with Lady Harcourt are of importance to the investigation, but it seems to me you've come up empty handed so far. It can't hurt to at least cross it off as a possible reason for Buchanan's disappearance."
He considered me in silence for a moment then inclined his head in a nod. "I'll drive you. Be sure to take the walking stick and hire a hackney for the journey home." He fished some coins out of his pocket and handed them to me. "And take an umbrella. Dark clouds are approaching."
I accepted the coins in silence, too dumbfounded by how easily he'd acquiesced. Gus fetched an umbrella from the hallstand and I decided to use it instead of a walking stick. Taking both was too cumbersome.
