Page 49 of Grave Expectations
I believed him. I couldn't see him even knowing a woman like Mrs. Drinkwater, let alone collaborating with her. Helping her was of no benefit to him.
"I have something for you." Buchanan produced a small package that he'd been holding behind his back. It was tied with a red bow.
"What's this?"
"Open it and see."
I didn't take it. "Is this a gift, Mr. Buchanan?"
His smile became strained. "Yes. Hence the bow."
"I can't accept it."
"You must. I owe you."
"You don't. Besides, you've already thanked us."
"I wanted to give you something that truly showed my appreciation for your efforts. I might still be in Bedlam, if it weren't for you."
"Then perhaps you ought to give Mr. Fitzroy a gift too, as well as Seth and Gus. We all worked together to free you."
He shifted his weight and the color rose in his cheeks. He cleared his throat. "You see, the thing is, I never treated them the way I treated you. Once I realized that I ignored you upon our first meeting, I…I felt terrible. I wanted to make up for it and show you that I've turned over a new leaf."
"Have you?"
"Most assuredly." He puffed out his chest. "I'm a new man. No more gambling for me."
There was another snort from the men, and this time I was sure it was Gus. Buchanan's nostrils flared.
"I'm glad to hear it," I said quickly.
He held out the package again. "I know you're engaged to Fitzroy, but I don't think he'll mind. Please take it, Miss Holloway."
I accepted the gift, not because I wanted to appease him, but because I wanted him to stay and talk to me. At least until I managed to get some answers out of him.
I sat and asked Doyle to bring tea. Gus and Seth craned their necks to watch as I untied the ribbon and unwrapped the gift. It was a book of poems by Wordsworth. "Thank you."
"Julia said you like to read."
"I do. And it's a very handsome book." The pages were thick and edged with gold, the cover a deep red leather stamped with the title, also in gold.
He smiled that lazy, charming smile of his again. I could well believe he'd turned over a new leaf. Gone was the sneering lift of his lip, the half-closed eyes, as if he couldn't be bothered to open them fully. He sat straight and tall in the chair opposite, whereas I expected him to sprawl. He seemed so changed that I hated to tell him that, while I liked to read novels, I didn't particularly like poetry.
I set the book on the table and tried to think of something to say. I couldn't. The way he stared at me unnerved me. The book was most likely a ruse, but why this sudden interest? Was he interested in me or my necromancy?
"Forgive me for being a little flustered this morning," I said, "I've recently returned from my own ordeal."
"Oh? Nothing too awful, I hope."
I decided to tell him the truth, or some of it. If I wanted to know if he was involved, then I needed to be direct. "I was kidnapped, as it happens."
"Good lord. Were you harmed?" He did seem quite surprised; concerned, too.
"I'm all right now, thank you. Lady Harcourt didn't mention it?"
"She did not. Was this related to your ministry?"
"Most likely, but it's difficult to know for sure," I lied. "I'm surprised she didn't speak about it."
