A Study in Silks (25 page)

The smile faded a little, a crease forming between his fair brows. “I remember the name from Vienna. He was a friend of my father’s once—I believe he was a mesmerist. I vaguely recall that he gave me a wooden horse for my birthday when I was still in the nursery.”

“What kind of a man is he?”

“I don’t know. I was a child.”

How old was Tobias? About twenty-three? Magnus barely looked old enough to be an adult mixing with ambassadors so many years ago. Then again, some men looked almost
the same between thirty and fifty. Perhaps Magnus was one of the lucky ones.

Tobias looked down at her. “What are you thinking? You have the most puzzled expression on your face.”

“There is a lot going on.”

“Including the murder of Grace Child?” His smile was completely gone now. “And then the grooms?”

Evelina hesitated, then decided there was no point in avoiding what she most wanted to know. “Did you talk to Grace just before she died?”

For a moment, he looked almost as stern as his father. “Yes.”

She studied him, thinking about their kiss and then about Grace and finally wondering what manner of man Tobias Roth really was. The only part of him she felt utterly sure of was his taste for pneumatics and magnetic currents. That seemed to be his one absolute truth.

Frustration itched along her nerves. She cursed inwardly, wishing she knew what hid behind those solemn gray eyes. He was so rarely still and never serious, always on his way out to a club or music hall or mistress. If they were alone, he seemed to smile from a point just out of her reach.

Her mouth had gone dry. “How did Grace seem?”

He shrugged, looking out the narrow window beside the clock. “What you’d expect. She had stayed out past curfew. She was afraid Bigelow would sack her. He locks all the doors at midnight. She wanted me to sneak her inside, so I did.”

“That’s all? She didn’t say anything else?”

“She didn’t name her murderer, if that’s what you’re asking. She muttered something about a Chinaman being idiotic or slow or something to that effect. I thought perhaps she’d been in the Limehouse area.”

She tried to weigh his tone and expression, wondering if he lied. She couldn’t tell. “Was Grace waiting outside or was she just arriving at the house when you met her?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “She was waiting. I think.”

“For long?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“Did you say anything to Inspector Lestrade about your conversation with Grace?”

“No. Then he would ask me where I had been, why I was out, and I have no intention of answering that question until I absolutely have to.”

“But—”

He put a finger over her lips, silencing her. “A man has to keep some secrets. And I swear to you it has nothing to do with Grace or the grooms.”

Where had he been that late? With whom and on how many occasions? If it had no bearing on the problem at hand, her uncle would declare it immaterial to the investigation, so she had to as well, even if the questions burned like red-hot coals.

Still, Evelina gave a mutinous glare, pulling away from his touch. She could taste his skin on her lips, bitter with tobacco. He smelled of cigar smoke. “A girl died, Tobias.”

“And I didn’t kill her. We talked, we went inside.”

“Did you lock the door again?”

“Yes.”

“Then the killer was already inside.”
Was that who passed me in the hall that night?

He froze, as if the import of her words just sank in. Then he shook himself. “I can’t believe that.”

“Do you have another theory?” she asked, unable to stifle a shudder.

The killer could still be inside, right then. Hiding or, worse, wearing a familiar face. The clock ticked, loud and slow, as if prompting them to continue.

All of a sudden, he looked startled, then worried, his eyes widening. He’d thought of something. She would have traded her best bonnet to know what was passing through his mind.

Then his face changed again, becoming soft as he reached out a hand. “Evelina, this isn’t something you should be getting involved in. Father assures me that there is no danger to the family, but I still think that it’s not safe for you to be asking all these questions.”

Not safe was balancing on a whisper of rope twenty feet from the ground. Not safe was being the maid carrying a
fortune in gems at midnight through dark alleys infested with street rats. All Evelina had to worry about was dodging half-truths, and she was fairly sure Tobias was feeding her some now.

No, her biggest danger was desire, because she wanted to believe that look of concern on his face. She took a small step back, putting another inch or two between them. “You wanted me to examine the body. Why stop me now?”

His gaze lingered on her face, working lower and lower a degree at a time. “Honestly, I’m afraid for you. You’re too important to me to take needless risks.”

She raised her eyebrows, unable to keep the sarcastic edge from her voice. “I’m important to you?”

“Of course.”

Long ago, lying in her narrow bed at the Wollaston Academy for Young Ladies, she’d daydreamed of Tobias Roth falling on his knees and declaring his love. Of course, her dream Tobias was an ideal—this man of flesh and blood was not. In her dreams he’d meant every word. Now she could not tell, and caution warred against her desire.

“Aren’t I important to you?” he asked softly, angling his body closer. “Please say that I am.”

“You are Imogen’s brother.” She had tried to make the words crisp, but they had come out far too breathy for comfort. He was standing too close again, the warmth of his breath brushing her cheek.

“No more than that?” His hand was on her waist. There were too many layers of clothes between them to feel the warmth, but she sensed the pressure of his caress. Was this how her mother had ended up eloping? A touch in a dark hallway?

The moment his arm was around her, Tobias lowered his lips to hers. Instinct urged her to run, but she ached to taste what he had to offer—and properly this time.

His mouth was soft, so soft and warm. Just like before, except now it was spiced with brandy. He smelled of wool and soap and smoke and just a faint undertone of machine oil. That made her smile against his mouth. Tobias was rich,
spoiled, and willful, but there was more to him. He had an artist’s urge to create that disarmed her.

Their noses bumped as they shifted, finding a better position. Her palms brushed the front of his jacket, feeling the soft, expensive fabric and the swell of firm, young muscle beneath. An ache throbbed deep in her body, blotting out common sense. A slow burn began low in her belly, tingling upward until she was sure she glowed with hot little sparkles of sinful sensation. Her stays suddenly felt too tight, too hot, too rough against her skin.

His mouth moved against hers, his tongue parting her lips. Evelina’s knees were melting. In a moment, she’d sag against him, helpless and pliable as putty. She was losing. This was how reason drowned in the arms of a pretty young man. A moment’s weakness, and she had forgotten everything: her caution, his half-truths, and—oh, yes—a killer in their midst.

Evelina backed away, nearly crashing into the clock. Her heart was pounding almost painfully hard. “You’re Imogen’s brother. You can’t be more than that to me, and you know it.”

His brows bunched with irritation. “Why not?”

She cleared her throat, forcing herself to feel the floor under her feet instead of billowing clouds of wishful thinking. “You’re not a man I can marry, and I’m not a woman who can afford to take a lover.”

Her frankness clearly startled him. “Why can’t we marry? You’re not a nobody, Evelina. You’re being presented. You’re getting a Season.”

Her mouth twisted, hating that she had to explain. “Don’t toy with me. Your father would never countenance it. He has ambitions for your family, and you’re his heir. I’m neither rich nor titled.”

Now he looked angry. “So?”

A flash of temper rescued her. “I’m not a tart, either. I can’t afford you, Tobias.”

The look he gave was filled with hurt confusion. Apparently the great oaf had never thought any of this through. And his eyes smoked with need. It was plain on his face:
Tobias Roth had just realized he wanted her, quite possibly because she’d just said no.

Oh, dear God
. This was far too complicated. Evelina stepped around him cautiously, careful that not even her skirts brushed his leg.

“Evelina?” The one-word query held volumes of other questions.

“Good night, Tobias,” she said quickly, and fled to her room. She’d completely forgotten to ask him about the automatons.

DESPITE THE CLOCK’S DIRE PREDICTIONS, THERE WASN’T A
storm cloud in the sky. At least, not the literal kind. The walled garden behind Hilliard House sheltered the genteel gaiety of Lady Bancroft’s birthday party. And although the April wind was still cool, bright sun and puffs of flowering cherry and plum trees made up for the sometimes brisk air.

Tobias looked wistfully at the table where the guests were served brandy and soda, and accepted a cup of tea instead. Spirituous liquors would help his mood but not his etiquette, and that sort of thing mattered to his mother.

The weather was perfection. Servants had moved the dining table and second-best Turkish carpets onto the lawn, so the ladies’ kid slippers remained free of grass stains. An automatic samovar puffed dainty gusts of steam as it brewed individual cups of tea, dispensing razor-thin slices of lemon when one pushed the correct cloisonné knob. A small wind ensemble occupied one corner, spinning out Mozart divertimenti like so much musical frosting.

One would never have known a servant had been slaughtered just nights ago, and only a dozen yards away. Tobias couldn’t drive the shadow of Grace Child from his soul. It seemed to cling to every bonnet, every macaroon, making the frothy cheer of the party feel obscene. The only thing worse was pretending that it had never happened—but his father
had threatened to sack any of the help who breathed a word of it.

Grace’s eyes had been lovely. They were the only part of her face Tobias really remembered. He hadn’t even stopped to take a proper look at her. Not at first. He’d been thinking about the idiot prank he’d pulled at the Charlotte, and whether he’d be caught.

He took a swallow of the tea and nodded and smiled at the pretty copper-haired girl someone had introduced as the Gold King’s daughter. He thought he might have met her before. What was her name? Alice? Did he care? Whatever the case, he gave her the full force of his insincere charm. She dimpled sweetly, reminding him of an insipid china doll.

She wasn’t Evelina.
No, don’t think about that
. Even the memory of the debacle by the clock made him cringe. Seduce her, said his father. Somehow, in the moment, she had seduced him instead—and then slapped him in the face.

But he had his pick of women, and he knew himself too well. He was fickle. He was over Evelina now.

Unfortunately, the idea of wooing her in earnest came and went like a fever. One of those nasty recurring ones. Ten minutes hence, he might be shaking with the dread sickness again. Only keeping his distance from her seemed to make things easier. He never stayed in lust long—at least that fact gave him something to hope for.

Unless he really meant to lay his heart at her feet? Tobias pondered for a moment. His father would hate it, which was a plus, but he actually cared about Evelina. He worried about her safety. He might be a bit of a rake, but he wasn’t without some scruples. Still, what could a bit of dalliance hurt?

Maybe more than he had assumed. She was more than some demimondaine who knew the rules of the game better than he did. Those women never raised the question of marriage. She’d slapped it down before him like a gauntlet.

And what exactly had Evelina meant when she said she couldn’t
afford
him? That made him sound like an overpriced pair of shoes.
Just admit it. She showed you how confused
you are. You’re a callous idiot and don’t really know what you want
.

He strolled through the crowd, nodding and smiling and utterly revolted with himself. The only thing he’d done right was keep Grace’s secret. The word about the baby was out—there was nothing he could do about that—but not about her involvement in some sort of shady activity. It helped that his job was to keep Evelina from investigating, because he’d been able to keep his conversation with Grace private.

Nevertheless, if it hadn’t been for the squid business—and he didn’t want to trust his alibi at the brothel until he absolutely had to—he wasn’t sure he’d have kept Grace’s fears from the police. The longer he thought about his exchange with the maid, the more uneasy he became. The safety of the family was paramount, but he wasn’t sure that silence was the best way to get it, whatever the pater said. Nevertheless, his father had a lot more experience of the world and had spent decades striking deals with emperors and kings. All Tobias knew was how to get a good table at a fashionable restaurant.