Page 23 of The Devil in Oxford
His expression shifted and he stood slowly with a soft sigh. “Very well. I will not push you. I am staying at the Randolph for the next few days.” He paused, pulling a slip of paper from his card case and scratching out a room number on the back in pencil before sliding it to me. “If you change your mind, let me know. I fear she will not leave you alone until you speak with her—and it is my experience that it’s best to handle such things on your own terms rather than allowing the aggressor command of the field.”
My mouth dried and I squeezed my eyes shut. He was right and yet I could not bring myself to agree to do this thing—to rend open that old wound—when it waspreciselywhat needed to be done.
“Hari…”
“Ruby?” His tone matched mine.
“What if I can’t do it?” The words came out as weak and broken as I felt.
“Then I will be here for you, as I have been since the day you saved me back in France.”
I furrowed my brow in confusion. “I didn’t save you. I simply drove you back from the front. The surgeon saved you when he took your leg.”
He gave me a faint smile, his eyes sad. “I beg to differ.” And with that, he stood and turned, walking out of the tearoom, leaving me with the most uncomfortable of thoughts. I sat there staring at the paper in my hands, with only one question on my mind—What if she’s not an imposter?
CHAPTERTENA Curious Museum
“AREyou meaning to tell me that you’re actuallyinvestigatingthis murder?” Ruan’s voice came out scarcely over a whisper. I drew in a breath through my nose, waiting for him to continue with his objections to my plan for the evening.
Mrs. Penrose had long ago retreated to the hall beyond the closed kitchen door with Mr. Owen, carrying on their own conversation in hushed tones—one also focused upon me and my ill-advised plans.
“Was it not thisverymorning, in thisvery kitchen”—I poked a finger at Ruan’s stomach—“when you said things were suspicious and that we had another mystery to solve?”
He bit into an apple, chewing slowly, unperturbed by my words. My eyes remained fixed on his lower lip as he sucked a bit of juice from it. “What I say when roused from my bed at four in the morning should not be considered an agreement to commit larceny.”
“It’s not larceny, I’m simply going to look around—I’m notstealinganything.” I sniffed, fiddling with the button on my sleeve. “It doesn’t matter, because I’m going whether you wish to join me or not.”
Ruan glanced out the darkened window then back to me. “Whether Iwishto come with you is immaterial. There is a murderer loose on the streets of Oxford, andyouhave a habit of getting yourself into trouble. I don’t see as I have a choice about going along with you, if only for your own sake.”
He wasn’t entirely wrong.
“I know I’m not. What in the gods’ names even possessed you to walk into the police station today? You are lucky they let you walk out with only a tongue lashing and didn’t arrest you for interference.”
“Stop eavesdropping!” I snapped. It was hard enough to think around him, let alone guard my thoughts from him as well.
“Stop thinking so loudly and maybe I’ll try?”
I rolled my eyes and started up the stairs. “Stay put, would you? I’ll be right back.”
I could have sworn the ghost of a smile crossed his face as I walked past him. Oh, he could pretend to be exasperated with me all he wanted, but I knew good and well that Ruan Kivell enjoyed these investigations nearly as much as I did. He’d grown weary of his country life in Lothlel Green, and despite any protestations to the contrary, the man would follow me to the ends of the earth if required of him. Not required—he would come at my request—regardless of whether he liked me very much at present. The pair of us were bound together by something stronger than either of us could possibly comprehend. The connection was frustrating, yes—but it was there whether we willed it or not.
After retrieving my roll of lockpicks, I met Ruan in the kitchen and the pair of us slipped out into the darkened streets of Oxford.
No one paid us any mind as we hurried through the narrow streets in the pitch of night. Our path was illuminated by the gaslights dotting the streets, unaided by the meager light reflected from the fingernail moon. The rain from earlier had stopped hours ago, but even still hardly anyone was about.
It was strange how unsettling night in the city could be. In the countryside there was always something awake and with you. A bird. A fox. Insects. Sounds to remind you that you were never alone. There was a comfort in that anonymous companionship—for you could trust the birds to quiet before a predator struck. Their silence a warning to all. But in a city—a space where man had slowly strangled nature into submission—in man’s absence grew an unsettling stillness far more frightening than anything nature could dream up.
At least I had Ruan with me tonight. I kept my head down, scarf pulled high around my chin as a bulwark against the winter wind. Dressed as I was, in a pair of trousers and my thick shapeless coat, passersby would assume we were a pair of lads off for a pint after work.
“Do you recall the first time we burgled together?” I asked, my fingernail catching on the smallest of my lockpicks. I nervously flicked the tip. Harker’s Curiosity Museum was just ahead. It was smaller than the two university buildings flanking it, like a young child lovingly nestled between two parents. Had Julius Harker intended that when he leased the space? To sit there as a thorn in the side of the place that had thrown him out?
It surely could not be a coincidence. I hurried ahead of Ruan, not waiting on his answer, and opened the narrow iron gate before slipping into the alley in search of the back entrance.
Ruan made a low sound in his throat, his body blocking my view of the street beyond. “I do recall the first time you pulled me along on one of your schemes, yes. And I pray to the gods there’s not another dead baronet on the other side of this door like there was that time.” He inclined his chin to the small entrance at the bottom of a narrow set of steps. I turned to him, spotting the faintest glimmer of humor in his eyes before it disappeared entirely.
I took three steps down toward the door and sat my rump on the icy middle stone stair, eye level with the lock. The dampnesssoaked through my trousers and then my drawers, sending the cold straight through me.
Lovely. Just lovely.
