Page 3 of Beyond the Grave
"Perhaps, if you ask nicely, she'll use her sultry voice." My teasing sent Cook into a fit of chuckles that shook his belly. "And?" I prompted Gus.
"And that's all I heard." He shrugged and lowered himself onto a chair with a groan. I felt sorry for him. He and Seth had been working extra hard ever since I'd incurred my injury. Although they'd done all the housework before my arrival at Lichfield Towers, my standards were higher than Lincoln's, and they'd tried to maintain them.
The meeting had been called by Lady Harcourt when her stepson, Andrew Buchanan, disappeared. While it wasn't unusual for the dissolute rake to spend all night gambling and doing whatever it was dissolute rakes did, it wasn't normal for him not to return for three daysandhave books on the occult in his rooms. The rest of the committee had finally agreed to look into it after Lady Harcourt's constant petitioning had worn them down. To be fair, she did seem quite upset by his disappearance, which surprised me. Their relationship had appeared to be a rocky one, on the brief occasion I'd seen them together, and I thought she'd be glad to be rid of him.
Then again, he was family, and if he was as good at getting himself into trouble as she suggested, and as hopeless at getting himself out of it, then perhaps he was in real danger.
Thirty minutes later, Gus disappeared again when the bell for the library tinkled. I could just make out sounds of the guests leaving. It wasn't until Seth and Gus came in to fetch trays and announced that all visitors had gone that I finally relaxed. I hadn't realized how anxious I'd been about seeing them again, particularly Lord Gillingham and Lady Harcourt. Gillingham because he was a toad with a mean streak, and Lady H because the last time I'd met with her she'd blackmailed me into raising the spirit of Lincoln's tutor, Mr. Gurry, to ferret out Lincoln's secrets. He'd walked in on the event and Lady Harcourt had blamed me for the entire thing. She didn't yet know that Lincoln was aware she'd put me up to it.
"Is Fitzroy still about?" I asked them as they returned once again carrying the trays laden with dirty dishes.
"He left with Lady Harcourt," Seth said.
"Oh." I pulled hard on the thread, breaking it. "Damn."
"Only to investigate Buchanan's rooms for himself. She assured him she hasn't touched a thing."
The journey in a closed carriage back to her Mayfair house gave her an opportunity to speak ill of me to Lincoln and to use her feminine charms on him. It was one distinct advantage she had over me. My charms were insignificant compared to her curvaceous ones. She might even close the curtains and use the gentle rocking of the cabin as an excuse to rub those ample charms all over him.
I dumped the sewing in the basket and hauled myself to my feet. Being inert for so long allowed my imagination to run rampant. I grabbed my crutches and followed them into the adjoining scullery. "Does she have any clue as to what Buchanan might be up to or where he has gone?"
"None," Seth said. "Charlie, should you—"
"Yes," I snapped. "I'm going mad with boredom in that corner, with nothing to do but sew. If I don't do something else, I'll make everyone miserable. Gus, fetch me some water."
He hurried out of the scullery, and I apologized as soon as he returned with a pail full of warm water. "Just ignore me when I turn into a curmudgeon. I'm feeling somewhat frustrated at the moment."
"The sooner you're healed, the better for us all." He poured the water into the washing tub and set the pail down. "If it is your injury that's makin' you frustrated."
Seth cleared his throat pointedly as he piled up the dirty cups beside me. I rolled my eyes. As if I hadn't detected the innuendo in Gus's tone.
"Lady H wanted to speak with you, but Fitzroy said you were still recovering from your injuries and weren't up to it," Seth said.
"He did?" It seemed he'd read my mind on the matter of avoiding her. I wondered if that was simply because he'd come to know me well enough to know my thoughts, or if he'd used his nominal seer's instincts.
Lincoln was gone for the rest of the day and into the evening. He sent word back that he would be dining out after it had already grown dark.
"But he isn't wearing his dinner suit," I protested upon reading the missive delivered by one of Harcourt's footmen.
"Perhaps he doesn't need a suit where he's dining," Seth said.
That only conjured up images of Lincoln dining off Lady Harcourt's naked belly in her bed.
I lost my appetite and ate little. The men asked me to join them for cards after dinner, and we played a few rounds before we heard the front door open and close. Seth went to investigate and returned alone.
"He's home," was all he said, rejoining us.
"Did Lady H's coach bring him back?" I asked.
He shook his head. "Hackney."
"Then he didn't come directly from her house?"
He shrugged. "Why not ask him yourself?"
I eyed the door. "He's not coming down?"
"He said goodnight, so I assume not."
