A Study in Silks (9 page)

Tobias plunged on with the instincts of a fleeing fox.

Eventually, he dodged through a gap-toothed fence, emerging into a cobbled alley scented with stewing lamb. With a jolt of surprise, he realized this place was behind a restaurant he knew well. Directly above him, a curtain fluttered from an open window, the source of the enticing smell.

Tobias stopped, trying to listen past the heaving of his breath. The globes on the gaslights here were Keating Utility gold, indicating a much better neighborhood. He could
hear two men passing on the nearby street, amiably chatting about a whist party. A hackney went by in the other direction, drowning out their words. From above, a dull hum of conversation floated from the window, punctuated by the clatter of the kitchen.

No sound of pursuing feet. For the moment, he was safe. He wondered, with a wrench in his chest, if his friends were all right. There would be no way to know until morning.

Tobias shut his eyes, feeling the beat of his slowing heart.
We did it. I won the bet
.

Scandal. Soldiers. There was no way the event would fail to make the papers. Abercrombie had lost.
But was it worth it?

The question hung in the chill air, draining the energy from his limbs. Suddenly, Tobias was bone-tired. The destruction in the theater had been pointless. The whole wager had been a mindless lark. So much of his life was.

But he’d planned and executed a mission fraught with both scientific and logistical complexity. He’d
done
something.

Satisfaction bloomed in his chest like a small, private sun. It was a new and wondrous sensation.

His pleasure deflated just as quickly. The four friends had forgotten one detail. With the exception of Smythe, they hadn’t planned on splitting up. Now they couldn’t vouch for each other’s whereabouts. If they met someone they knew, their unfamiliar clothes would be hard to explain. In fact, the outfits would connect them with the invasion of the opera house.
Bad planning
.

It was clear that they weren’t very experienced criminals.

I need an alibi
.

Tobias stopped in his tracks and then, after a long moment of contemplation, turned right up a long, winding lane that seemed to have been lost in an earlier century. The street was uneven, the houses tall and narrow with wrought-iron fences guarding them from passersby. His feet found their way to the top of the lane, automatically stopping at a door painted a deep purple—violet for the Violet Queen,
who ruled the brothels with a fist of lace-clad steel. A brass lion’s head gleamed against the dark paint.

Tobias lifted the knocker and rapped softly, knowing there would be a servant listening for callers. As expected, it swung open at once, revealing a Negro boy in a turban and spangled garb that spoke more of theater than of tribal origins. The boy bowed deeply, recognizing a good customer.

“I’ve come to see Margaretha,” Tobias said.

The boy didn’t blink, but opened the door wide so that he could enter. It was no less than Tobias had expected—the employees of any of the Violet Queen’s houses could be counted on for silence, an alibi, or anything else that could be purchased for coin. So what if a gentleman at the door was wearing goggles and orange slime, not to mention what was starting to feel like a serious black eye? That would be the least shocking thing they were likely to see on any given night.

The boy closed the door and made another deep obeisance, causing the bright green feather in his turban to nod gracefully. He spoke in a soft, liquid accent. “Allow me to summon Madame Margaretha to attend you.”

With a sweep of his arm, he invited Tobias to enter the sitting room through a set of etched-glass doors and then disappeared up the stairs. Tobias strolled through the doorway and helped himself to the selection of brandies on a heavily carved sideboard. The room was unoccupied but for a statue of Venus draped in a net of minuscule lights—an eerie feature of the place. Tobias sank into a thickly cushioned chair opposite the statue and swirled the liquor in his glass, letting the fumes soak through his growing fatigue. Venus stared back, a remote look on her perfect face that reminded him oddly of his mother.

That wasn’t an encouraging thought. Nor was it helped by the realization that he didn’t particularly want a woman right then. If he could have had the option, he would have chosen someone with a clever wit, someone who could understand what he had just accomplished, and maybe someone who could tell him why his achievement felt so hollow.

Margaretha was lush and beautiful, but she wasn’t the woman he needed. The only one he knew with that quick mind and gentle heart—one who would listen without judgment—was Evelina Cooper. In some ways, Evelina was so much a part of the family that she had become like another sister—except that not all his thoughts about her had remained particularly brotherly. With every passing day, he was less certain how to approach her.

He swallowed the last of the brandy, feeling the heat of it flow into his veins. What was he to do about Evelina? Women usually made him lusty, bored, or annoyed—and in that order. The Cooper girl just confused him, but he enjoyed every moment of it—which was simply perverse and inconvenient and intriguing.

The door swung open, the Negro boy stepping forward with an obsequious bow. “Margaretha will join you momentarily.”

To his surprise, Tobias found himself shaking his head. “I’m going to sit here awhile. Bring me a cold supper instead.”

This time, there was the faintest trace of curiosity on the boy’s face as he withdrew. Tobias was glad he didn’t owe anyone under this roof an explanation, because there was no good way to explain himself. He was starting to want a girl he had no business even thinking about, and he wanted her badly enough that it was putting him off his game.

TOBIAS LEFT THE
establishment with the violet door hours later. Margaretha and the boy received a generous sum to say that he had paid an unremarkable visit that had begun at seven o’clock that night. The next steps were up to him. Absolutely no one could see him sneaking into the house. He had to be careful—with the fashion for lights everywhere, it was extremely hard to find a shadow to skulk in.

Tobias rounded the corner, hurrying past a dark, shuttered house that stood a street away from Beaulieu Square. It had been Disconnected for a year and squatted like an inky blot beside its brightly lit neighbors. It was odd, but he
couldn’t actually remember the names of the family that had lived there. He was almost sure that he’d seen people coming and going until a few months ago. It was true—once the barons cut you off, you disappeared.

With relief, he saw the bright outline of Hilliard House come into view. He knew there would likely be a servant or two still up in the kitchen, cleaning up the last of the day’s pots and pans, but the kitchens were at the back. His best bet was the side door. He had a key for that. It would be a quick trip up the stairs, into fresh clothes, and then out again to get rid of the brown coat he still wore.

Tobias began crossing the street at an angle, trying to aim for the house without looking as if that were his destination.

“Mr. Roth.”

He wheeled, his stomach knotting. A young girl in shabby clothes was standing a few feet away, looking hesitant. One of the kitchen girls.
Damn it all to hell
.

“Gracie,” he said, forcing his voice into pleasant tones. He knew the girl from the kitchen, where he’d sometimes roam in search of a bite to eat after everyone else had retired. She’d be there late, and up to her elbows in soap suds—something he’d found oddly fetching.

Surprise turned to simmering irritation. He didn’t find her presence fetching now. It was damned inconvenient. The last thing he needed was a witness. Nevertheless, he’d have to make the best of it. There was nothing else he could do.

“Good evening, sir,” she said, bobbing a curtsey. “Seems we’re both out late tonight. Mr. Bigelow’s gone and bolted the door. I meant to be here on time, sir, really I did, but the Chinaman was so slow and I had to run a long, long way.”

He wondered vaguely who the Chinaman was, but then dismissed the thought. Excuses didn’t matter. The butler locked up at midnight sharp. Any servant out past curfew was not only barred from the dubious comfort of their tiny bedrooms, but would be disciplined in the morning. Tobias felt sorry for the girl, and then relieved. It wouldn’t be hard to convince her to keep quiet about his presence here since he was the one with a door key.

He gave her a smile. It made the flesh around his eye
throb, and he touched it gingerly. The hot ache told him he would have a black eye by morning.
Damn that baritone
.

“You’ve been in a scrap,” she said, drawing a little closer.

“I’m afraid so.”

“You need to put something cold on it.” She reached up, barely touching his cheek with the fingertips of her shabby gloves. She had the most beautiful eyes, huge and long-lashed. The darkness muted the color and he couldn’t tell if they were gray or blue, but their almond shape was exotic, tilted upward at the corners. “It won’t swell up if you keep it cold.”

“Then I’d better let you in so that you can find me some ice,” he said.

“I’d be happy to, sir,” she said with obvious relief. “Especially if it means dodging Mr. Bigelow’s scolding in the morning when he finds me out here instead of peeling the potatoes.”

She spoke carefully, as if trying to erase the accent that marked her as a girl from the East End. It fit with everything else about her—the carefully mended clothes, her tidy hair, the neat, dainty way she walked. She might only have been a scullery maid, but she was trying to move up in the world. The last thing she needed was to be dismissed from her post.

Tobias wasn’t going to be the one to ruin her chances. “I won’t tell Bigelow, but only if you promise never to say you saw me out here tonight.”

She drew her hand away. “You sound deadly serious about that!”

“I am. So can we keep secrets?”

She looked up from under her lashes, a gesture that must have broken a good many hearts. “To be sure!” She had a triangular face with a tiny, bowed mouth and turned-up nose. With those eyes, she looked feline—and beautiful, even by the standards of the Mayfair courtesans. The figure under her shabby clothes was rounded and lush. Tobias felt his body stir. He never poached the servant girls, but that didn’t mean he was blind to their charms. “I’ll keep mum, Mr. Roth.”

“Good girl.” He began hunting in his pockets for his keys. “So what were you doing tonight? Making merry?”

She didn’t answer at once, and he didn’t push. It wasn’t really any of his business. But just as the key turned in the lock, she caught his arm. “Mr. Roth?”

“What is it?”

Her voice came in a quaver. “You’ve always been a good sort. A kind man. That’s what they say below stairs. Not too high and mighty to care what happens to the likes of us.”

He felt a stirring of pride, but pushed it down at once. It was true that he did what he could for the people who worked at Hilliard House, but servants flattered when they wanted something. It was one of the few tools they had. “I’m glad you believe so, but why does that matter right now?”

Grace tightened her grip, as if he were a handhold against a raging wind. “I’m in terrible trouble, you see.”

She’s pregnant and needs money
. Or at least, that was the most probable calamity to befall a young and pretty girl with no future. “A child?”

She gave a faint nod, as if that admission cost far more than he could guess.

“Oh, Grace,” he said softly. There was no need to tell her she had been foolish. That painful awareness was written in every line of her body.

“That’s not the half of it, Mr. Roth.” Tears were starting to trickle down her face. Those beautiful eyes crumpled shut, as if holding her misery in. “I’m afraid.”

Tobias caught her hand and squeezed it. “Of what?”

“Not just for me, but for my poor baby, too.” She squeezed back so hard that his fingers ached. This was no dainty miss, but a hardworking girl.

Now he was alarmed, forgetting his own troubles as she started to weep in earnest. “Whatever for?”

She lifted her chin, forcing her eyes open. Tears shone on her cheeks, reflecting back the distant streetlights. It made her look as if her tiny, pointed features were washed in liquid silver. “Us girls got to takes their chances where they find them.”

“What?” Tobias felt like an idiot, unable to put the pieces together.

Suddenly, she was sobbing. “I agreed to do something for some bad men. I didn’t hurt anyone, I promise, but it was wrong. I didn’t know it at first, I just went back and forth for them, but I saw what they were doing tonight! And now I know why he wanted me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can’t stop, or they’ll hurt me. I can’t keep on with it, because sooner or later, I’ll be caught. And now there’s a baby to think of!”

Tobias was losing the thread of the conversation. “Why did you do—whatever it was—at all?”

“I loved him, I did. What a foolish, foolish girl I am.” She pressed her knuckles to her mouth, her shoulder shaking in silent grief.

He could feel it all the way to his guts. “You need to go far away from here.”

She nodded, eyes wet. “But I’ve never been more than a few miles from home.”

“Are you brave enough to try?” he asked. “For the baby?”

She nodded.

The Penners had an estate up in Yorkshire. If he asked, Bucky would find her a place up there—somewhere to be until the child was born, and then a position on their household staff. There were any number of young widows with babies in the world. Who was to say Grace wasn’t one of them? “I’ll get you away from here. Someplace good and safe.”

“Do you really mean that?” She sounded like a small child herself. In truth, she was barely older than Poppy, who was still in the schoolroom. He tried to imagine his youngest sister with child, and his stomach turned.

He managed a smile. “I might be a rascal, but I’m not a liar. Now come inside and get to bed.”