Page 83 of Grave Expectations
"If he didn't tell me in the factory, he won't tell me now. He thinks that man is the only one who will remove the demon from me, and telling me who it is could ruin everything. He knows you'll hunt him down. I think we'll have more chance with the hired killer."
He shook his head. "It's likely he received anonymous instructions. It's how the man operated with the scientists."
I suddenly felt utterly drained. Instead of getting closer to learning who was killing the supernaturals, we seemed to be treading water. At least we knew about Lady Harcourt's involvement in my kidnapping now.
Lincoln strode past me to the door. Gus and Seth leapt aside to get out of his way.
"Where are you going?" I asked, hating the tired plea in my voice.
"To speak with Mrs. Drinkwater."
"We've told you everything she said. Lady Harcourt helped her."
He paused with one hand on the door handle and eyed me from beneath half-closed lids. He looked as exhausted as I felt. I ached to be with him, hold him and be held by him, but in his present mood there was no chance of that. It had not been the happy reunion I'd hoped for.
"Go and have your bath, Charlie. Doyle will bring up supper for you."
He might as well have ordered me to go to bed. His brusque, impersonal response certainly drove home the point that he didn't want to be with me. I had to hope that it was a result of his fury over my leaving the house and perhaps his disappointment in himself for not finding Mrs. Drinkwater first.
But a niggling doubt told me something else was wrong. Something that I couldn't quite put my finger on. Later, when I finally got him alone, I would find out what it was.
Ididn't wakeup until mid-morning. Despite my determination to confront Lincoln, I'd fallen asleep after eating supper in my rooms. I quickly dressed and hurried to his rooms, but he wasn't there.
Downstairs, I searched the library and parlor before going to the kitchen. Cook and Doyle were there alone. Doyle stood upon seeing me, and Cook glanced up from the pot he was stirring on the stove. Both glanced anxiously past me to the door. I turned, expecting to see Lincoln, but there was no one there.
"Good morning, miss," Doyle said. "May we prepare you something for breakfast?"
"Just an egg will do fine. Where is everyone?"
"Out," Cook said. "Feeling better?"
"Yes, thank you. Out where?"
"Seth and Gus be in the stables."
"And Mr. Fitzroy?"
"Riding."
"Riding where?"
Cook and Doyle busied themselves with their tasks. Something was definitely up.
"Where is he?" I pressed.
"Riding around the estate, I believe," Doyle said.
"That doesn't sound like something he would do."
"I overheard him tell Gus that he wanted to be nearby."
"Oh. To keep an eye on me, I suppose, to insure I don't leave again." I sat at the table and sighed. "It does seem odd that he would go riding for no particular reason, though." He rarely rode for pleasure or exercise. If he wanted to stay nearby but felt restless, why not simply exercise in his rooms like he usually did, or offer to take me through a training session?
The silence thickened as I ate my boiled egg, and I got the impression they weren't telling me everything. Instead of asking them, I went out to the stables. Gus and Seth greeted me with as much nervousness as Doyle and Cook had. Neither could hold my gaze for long.
"You should go back inside," Gus said as he cleaned out the empty stall. The stall belonged to my horse but she was nowhere to be seen. "It's freezin' out here."
I checked the next stall along for Lincoln's horse. It was also empty. "Who's riding Rosie?"
