Viridis - A Steampunk Romance (12 page)

“What is it, Seth?”

He glanced up at her, before returning his gaze to
the glass, his fingers playing with the cut crystal. “Nothing
really, love. ‘Tis only that I fear people may assume the wrong
thing of you, and not see you for who you truly are.”

She back stiffened and her temper flared. “And why
exactly would I give a damn as to what other people think or
assume? As far as I’m concerned, they can think what they want.
I’ve never worried about it before, and don’t plan on starting
now.”

He placed his hand over hers, and gave it a squeeze.
“I know, my love. ‘Tis only that I wish I could protect you, even
from something as insignificant as their assumptions. Do ye forgive
me?”

His touch and words extinguished her anger, and she
managed a bit of a smile. “I’ll forgive you if you stop worrying so
we can enjoy our meal and the show.”

“I think I can manage that for you.” He leaned in
and nuzzled her cheek, before brushing his lips against hers in a
whisper of kiss that held so much promise.

The Viridis pulsed in her veins, making her want to
melt in his arms and kiss him in a most thorough and inappropriate
manner, when the food was wheeled to their table, keeping her from
taking her advances any further
.

The beef bourguignon was hearty and satisfying, the
cakes and puddings, light and sweet. Though Phoebe had seen the
show a dozen times, it was different to watch it in Seth’s company.
Looking around the theater, it was no wonder so many couples seemed
to be flirting amorously with the forbidden.

Quite unlike most of the other talent playing in the
London theaters, Phoebe had opted for a more eclectic and erotic
mix. Though some of the shows were similar to those found in the
trendier parts of Paris, most had a more exotic feel to them, the
music carrying one off with images of Arabian nights and seductive
tropics— a true escape from the grey dreariness of London.

Having had more than a few glasses of Viridis with
their meal, she found herself unable to resist him. Her hand found
its way to his thigh, so he leaned into her, his head bending to
hers in response. No doubt the Viridis was having a similar effect
on Seth.

Her hand drifted upwards under cover of the table.
Finding her voice, she murmured, “Perhaps we should head home.”

He kissed her, his passion barely contained, before
pulling away. His eyes held hers with a fierce intensity, kissing
her once more before the table slid away and he gave her a hand out
of her seat. “Home, then.”

Phoebe let Gabriel know she’d be leaving, and he
waved her along as she bid him goodnight. Seth had already gone
ahead to retrieve the steam coach, and would be waiting for her
outside the back entrance. Heading to her office, she slipped on
her coat, but before she could make her escape there was an
insistent knock. Phoebe hadn’t even the chance to respond, when the
door opened and Victor stepped through, closing the door behind
him.

“Victor. I’m so sorry, but I was just leaving.”
Phoebe instinctively took a step away from him, needing to put some
distance between them. Never before had he let himself into her
office and there was a tension in his body, a look in his eyes,
that told her something was not quite right.

“Yes, I see that. Out with Mr. Elliott are you?”
Victor’s gaze pinned her to the spot, a flame of controlled fury
flickering in his eyes. He took a step toward her. “I really don’t
see the attraction.”

“Victor—” She stopped when he held up his hand, her
heart thudding against her chest. Her pulse, now erratic,
threatened to leave her light headed. She had never seen him so
angry, but with him standing between herself and the only door,
blocking her escape, the last thing she wanted to do was anger him
further.

“Is
he
the reason you’ve denied me? Me! All
this time, and you’ve denied me for the sake of what? A
tinkerer
? I am sure if your father were still here, he’d
have something to say about your activities— activities I am
willing to overlook if you’ll stop this instance. Do you not know
what society will call you if you continue this deplorable
behavior? I suggest you accept my proposal, for I am not a man to
be denied. Do you understand?”

He took another few steps towards her, forcing her
up against the sofa. As scared as she was, she refused to be
bullied.

“Victor, I am sorry if you’re upset, however, my
father is long gone, and I answer to no one but myself for my
behavior. I am not looking to marry, and there must surely be a
lady better suited to you than I am. Quite frankly, I do not know
why you have any interest in pursuing this relationship when, as
you yourself just pointed out, my behavior is not one of which you
approve. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have company waiting. This
conversation is over.”

Mustering every ounce of courage she had, she pulled
herself up to her full five feet two inches and walked towards the
door, only to have him grab her arm and wrench her back, her escape
just feet away. He pressed his mouth to hers, his fury no longer
contained. The metallic taste of blood flooded her mouth as the
force of his kiss cut her lips. She pushed against his chest in a
futile attempt to get away from him, her heart racing.

Victor used his weight and height to his advantage,
pushing her up against the sofa once again until she lost her
balance, falling against the soft cushions. He was on top of her
before she could react. She struggled against him, rage and
indignation welling up inside of her. When Victor paused for a
moment, she seized the opportunity and slapped him. He recoiled in
shock, giving her just enough time to scramble out from under him
and to her feet.

Phoebe looked straight into his eyes, noting her
white handprint against the angry flush of red creeping across his
face.

“Whore!” The backhand to her face was so fast and
hard, her head snapped to the side and stars flashed before her
eyes.

“How dare you!” Her voice shook with fear and anger,
as she spoke through clenched teeth. “You leave this instant, and
never come back. Do you hear? Or I’ll make it known to all exactly
the type of man you are. Now get out!”

“You are a fool woman.” And with that Victor walked
out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

She sunk into the sofa, her legs no longer able to
support the weight of her shaky body. Absently, she straightened
out her clothing, her arm sore where he had grabbed her, her mouth
throbbing with pain. Her hand, still trembling, went to her lip,
which was already swelling where his ring had cut her. Her fingers
came away coated with blood, a curse escaping her lips.

No one had ever struck her before, and the potential
for it to have been far worse weighed heavily on her mind. It left
her more than a little shaken, and more than a little angry.
Unfortunately, she was all too aware of how society would deal with
such an attack, the woman almost always to blame.

Going to the mirror, she cleaned the cut on her lip.
Not much she could do for it now. She took several deep breaths
willing her nerves to settle, then smoothed out her skirt, pulled
up the collar on her coat as if against the cold, and walked out
towards the back door.

Seth. He’d be waiting for her. She could not tell
him what had just happened. No good could come of it, and it would
certainly lead to an ugly confrontation. It was dark out, and if
she could keep the cut on her lip hidden and feign illness, then
perhaps she could convince him to leave her at her door.

The steam coach stood in the street partially hidden
by a billowing cloud, the warm moisture from the back end of the
vehicle condensing in the frigid cold of night, a layer of frost on
the body of the vehicle. As she approached, Seth stepped out of the
coach and came to her side, holding her door open and giving her a
hand in.

Climbing in next to her, he said, “Shall we head to
your home or mine?” He worked the controls and gears, propelling
them forward with a slight start.

Phoebe’s mind would not work— she was still too
shaken. She could not look at Seth, hoping the dark of night masked
her bruised lips and disheveled hair.

“Phoebe?” Seth glanced over at her questioningly.
“It makes no difference to me, love. Wherever you’re more
comfortable is fine.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was hoarse. “I’m suddenly
feeling rather tired and have a terrible headache.” Keeping her
face tilted so as to hide the cut, she managed a small smile in his
direction, cringing as the pain shot through her mouth. Luck was
with her though and he had not noticed, his attention on the road
before him.

“Is everything all right?” He flicked another glance
in her direction.

“It was a long day is all. Perhaps I need some rest.
Would you mind putting off our evening?” She knew it was a drastic
change from her previously amorous attitude, but there was no help
for it. Her chest went tight with worry, for she did not know what
he’d do if he noticed her injury. Perhaps she could lie to him and
say it was an accident— she had bent down to pick up some fallen
papers by her desk and accidentally bumped into the corner. Her
mind now raced trying to find an excuse he might believe.

“I’m sorry to hear you are feeling unwell, my love.
To your home, then.”

Chapter Sixteen

William could not remember the last time it had been
so cold. Luckily, Viridis was in a populated area and he easily
found a coach to take him home.

The house had been a new purchase, enabled by his
somewhat recent promotion to inspector. A comfortable enough home
and in a decent area, it was modest and within his means, though
large enough to accommodate a family if he decided to marry. A
small garden sat around the back, currently looking rather
neglected in the dead of winter, but would bloom nicely come
spring.

William paid the coachman, then climbed the few
steps to his front door, digging in his pockets, and pulling out
his keys. He found the right one and placed it in the keyhole only
to find the door unlocked— an oversight he’d never make. In all the
years he’d been with the police, not once had anyone brought a
threat to his home. His heart pounded a staccato as his hand
automatically went to his fuse gun and he pulled it out of its
leather sheath. In case there was someone still inside and looking
for the case, he lowered it into the thick bushes by the steps,
masking it well from view.

With his back to the wall and his gun at the ready,
he eased the door open, and stepped into the entryway of his home,
to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He moved down the
hall, looking into the parlor as he passed. Without making any
noise, he swept through the kitchen, his heart thudding against his
chest. There was no sign of anyone, and nothing in the house was
amiss, yet he could sense someone had invaded his home and may
still be here.

William crept up the stairs, avoiding the squeaky
step half way up. His bedroom and office lay just ahead, and he
paused to listen. He could have sworn he heard something, the
slightest bump.

A flash hurled towards him as a fuse gun discharged,
shattering the quiet of night. William ducked out of the way and
returned fire in the darkness, when a body slammed into him and
they fell down the stairs in a tangle of limbs. As soon as they hit
the bottom of the steps, William pinned his assailant beneath him.
When he brought his weapon to his opponent’s face, his brain
registered something in the dark was not quite right— a softness of
curves, a delicate body below his.

William shifted, allowing light from the streetlamps
to fall on curls loosened in the fall. Curls the color of
flames.

“
Lilly?
”

Ignoring her protests, William hauled her to her
feet, locked the front door, and dragged her to the kitchen.

“Sit.” He pulled out a chair and dropped her in it,
then fumbled with the gaslight. Still holding onto his fuse gun, he
said, “Is there anyone else with you?”

“No, sir. I came alone, and if I’d known it were
yerself, I wouldn’t have shot at ye, aye? I’m real sorry ‘bout
that, and I hate to tell ye, but your arm is bleeding.”

Cursing, he looked down at the rent in his sleeve,
the blood soaking through it— his good coat, too. With the energy
of the fight still coursing through his veins, he hadn’t felt it.
Carefully he removed his coat, and grabbed a cloth from a drawer to
try and stench the flow.

“Here, let me.” She unbuttoned his sleeve and rolled
it up past the cut, then took the cloth from him and tied it off
above the wound. William glanced down at her and she gave him a
crooked smile, her beauty and close proximity making him blush as
she tended to him. Finishing her ministrations, she said, “It ain’t
too deep, but ye’ll need to have it stitched. Could do it for ye,
if ye like.”

“It can wait for now. Thank you.” He shifted and
felt every bump and bruise from coming down those stairs in a
tumble, his left arm now throbbing. “Are you hurt?”

“A few bumps and bruises, but nothing I didn’t
deserve for shooting at ye.”

A hint of a smile crept across his face and he
looked down momentarily to keep her from seeing it. She certainly
seemed to have her own sense of fairness, at any rate.

Knowing he could not let her pretty face distract
him from his work, he got started with his questioning. “Are you
aware that you are wanted for questioning in connection to Lord
Niles Hawthorne’s murder? Not to mention you have broken into my
home, meaning I can now charge you with unlawful entry.”

William noted the crack in her composure as her eyes
went wide and the color drained from her face so that her freckles
stood out against the pallor of her skin. It was clear the severity
of the charges were enough to make her worry. “I had nothing to do
with Niles’s murder and I’ll be damned if yer going to pin that one
on me. As for yer home, I’m real sorry.”