Page 36 of Til Death Duke Us Part
She knew Victor was about to speak when he pulled her closer to his side and wrinkled his nose.
“I do not like Manchester,” he said. A glamour covered his rumpled clothing but did not touch his face. His clothes appeared finely pressed and expensive, his face was handsome if a bit pinched, and his hair was tousled as if he’d just left a woman’s bed.
And he had. Her bed. This very morning.
She skipped. Just one little hop. Because she felt like it.
Heavens, was that what sparked such silliness in her? That she had been pleased and well and more than once?
By a scoundrel.
Not that her body cared.
“The air is too thick and dull,” Victor said.
“Yes. The factories make it difficult to breathe. But the city is breathing, always growing.”
“Excellent, as long as the city can breathe, I’m not worried about myself.”
“Come along. We’re almost to Mosley Street.” A brittle brown leaf blew across their path then swept up into the sky. Its fallen comrades followed after, and they stepped through the whirlwind together.
“And what is in this auspicious street?” he asked, pulling the collar of his greatcoat more tightly about his neck.
“The library right there.” She pointed to a large building with soaring Greek columns on the corner. “The Royal Manchester Institution, that way.” She pointed to her left. “Possibility. The future.” The final word produced an ominous cough, and a handkerchief appeared in front of her face.
“Use it,” Victor said, bouncing it up and down.
She held it against her nose and breathed through it, and he did the same with his sleeve. She broke away from him and rushed toward the library and those gathered round its entrance. As Morington joined her at the back of the crowd, she said, “This is the Portico Library. As long as I can remember, a crowd has gathered here every day to hear an alchemist speak.”
“Is that what they’re all waiting for?”
“Mm. Look! There he is.” A man appeared between two columns at the top of the steps.
“Who is he?”
“No idea. It’s a different man each day. And whomever he is, he’s always intent on selling the crowd on his newest invention. It’s a bit of a performance. I believe you’ll like it. Now shhh.” She nodded toward the steps, the man who now held a round device above his head.
Victor did as she said, his lips pursed to one side, his hands in his pockets, his legs set wide. He truly was a fine-looking man, and if she persuaded him well enough today, perhaps he might be as fine inside as he was outside.
She didn’t fear him. He wouldn’t hurt her. His brand of sin didn’t run to violence. In fact, his brand of sin rather… enticed her. If he weren’t intent of desecrating graves, she might even find him… appealing. Not just his body and face. A woman with eyes couldn’t deny those. But his wit. And—a little bit—his wicked soul. Naughty thought, that. Thankfully, he was set on stealing from cemeteries, so she was in no threat of falling for a man, a duke, she could never have.
She focused on the alchemist standing at the top of the library steps. He was tall and stooped and without a strand of hair on his head. He had the broad shoulders of all alchemists, and he held a small device aloft. It was a collection of circles one inside the other, each one smaller than the last. They were spinning in all directions all at once it seemed. And the alchemist was droning on about them. She could understand him, but he spoke so slow and so dully, she didn’t want to.
“He’s a boring fellow,” Victor said, leaning sideways to whisper in her ear. “And I can hardly understand what he’s talking about.”
“Hot air balloons. They were terribly popular ten, twenty years ago, but they have fallen out of fashion. Most transcendents believe that since they cannot be accurately controlled, they’re useless for travel. So they refuse to invest in them.”
“Sound thinking.”
“Yes, but this man is saying that his new device allows the captain of an air balloon to accurately control his direction and speed.”
“Fascinating.”
The way he said it made her whip around to look at him. Yes. His face was as rapt with attention as his voice, his body listing slightly forward, as if eager to get closer. He’d meant it. He was fascinated.
“But,” she said, still watching him, “as is the case with most alchemists, he lacks a showman’s flair and an ability to communicate the science, the magic behind the device to anyone but a fellow alchemist with a similar understanding.”
“That is a problem.” Victor stroked his jaw.
