My Soul to Take Page 11

  His gaze slid to me. "You have a foul mouth for a gentlewoman."

  "That's because I haven't always been a gentlewoman. You should have heard the things I said when I was younger."

  His lips twitched into an almost-smile. Good. It seemed his anger was almost entirely gone. I slipped my hand into the crook of his arm and squeezed. Some of the tension in his body eased, but he continued to scan his surroundings as if nothing had changed. We were on Grosvenor Place, a busy thoroughfare used by the well-to-do heading in and out of Mayfair on horseback or in gleaming carriages. The day had clouded over and rain threatened to add to the pall that continuously hung over the city. I didn't particularly like the confines of London, with its endless grayness and overcrowded streets. Perhaps, when all this was over, I would move to the country. Somewhere close to Frakingham and my friends. And the portal.

  Unless I could get Quin here on a permanent basis.

  "Even if Mrs. Myer isn't in danger, she will have answers," he said.

  I nodded and pulled myself back to the present situation. "We must find her first."

  ***

  "I was on my way to see you, Cara," Samuel said when we met him out the front of his house. He'd been about to climb into his carriage when he spotted us. He nodded at Quin. "St. Clair. Good that you can join us again."

  Quin shook Samuel's offered hand. "We bring worrying news with us."

  I relayed my meeting with Alwyn and watched as Samuel's eyes grew dark and troubled. "Thank you for the warning. I'll go the school now and bring Charity here. Tommy too."

  "She can stay with me."

  He shook his head. "She stays where I can see her until the danger is removed."

  Removed? How did he plan on removing Alwyn? I didn't dare ask. Samuel was usually a gentle, calm soul; except for when Charity's safety or happiness was threatened.

  "We'll come with you," Quin said, holding the carriage door open for me to climb in after Samuel.

  "Wait." Samuel pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned out. "I almost forgot. The reason I was coming to see you is that I needed to tell you about Edith Myer's secret house."

  "Secret house?" I echoed. "If it's such a secret, how did you find out about it? Oh, yes, of course."

  His gaze slid to the footman standing a few feet away to check that he was out of earshot. "I hypnotized the Myers' driver. He's being paid extremely well to keep the knowledge to himself. The man is very loyal to her."

  "Loyal to her money, you mean."

  "A woman can own property without her husband's consent?" Quin asked. "Or am I being medieval again?" His anger with me must have dissolved completely if he was mocking himself.

  "Any property she owned before marriage is turned over to her husband's control upon their wedding day," I said. "But if he isn't aware of it, he can't do anything about it."

  Samuel gave us the address of the house in the suburb of Camden Town.

  "That's not a particularly good area," I told Quin. To Samuel I said, "Have you been there yet?"

  He shook his head. "I thought St. Clair should go. This is his affair."

  "And mine," I said, unable to keep indignation from my voice.

  Both men regarded me levelly.

  "Be careful," Samuel said. "The school!" he ordered the driver. "And quickly."

  We watched him go then set off toward the main road where we would find a hansom cab to take us to Camden Town. I needed to walk fast to keep up with Quin.

  "Don't you dare try to leave me behind," I told him.

  He slowed down. "I've come to realize that you're the type of woman who cannot be left behind." Was that a sigh at the end of his declaration?

  "Good. I'm glad you've modernized your thinking in that regard."

  "That doesn't mean I won't try, from time to time."

  I tilted my head to look up at him. Was he joking again? "Is this one of those times?"

  "If it were, I wouldn't tell you and give you the opportunity to sway me from my position."

  "Oh good."

  He slanted his gaze toward me. "Good?"

  "You've just admitted that I'm capable of swaying you. I'll keep that in mind for future reference."

  He forged ahead, but not before I managed to see the small smile tugging the corners of his mouth. He muttered something I couldn't quite hear, but sounded like "Imp." I smiled to myself and walked faster to keep up.

  ***

  "There are spirits here." I peered at the two ghosts lounging against the brick wall of a warehouse. They resembled figures from an artist's charcoal sketch, not merely because of their hazy ghostly form, but also because of their blackened, charred clothing and skin. "They must have died in a fire."

  Quin assessed the warehouse building as we drove past. "The brickwork is blackened above the top floor windows and the roof appears new."

  "Poor souls. I wonder if I ought to speak with them and help them cross."

  "You think you can do something for them?"

  "Perhaps."

  He didn't respond, and I thought the conversation at an end until he spoke as we drove around a bend into a residential street. "You have a good heart, Cara."

  The quiet earnestness in his voice surprised me. I blinked at him, but he was still looking out the window. "Thank you."

  "It draws you into trouble."

  "Sometimes." I thought it was more my unwillingness to give up and walk away that did that, but perhaps he was right. "Not always."

  He finally turned to face me. Small lines rimmed his eyes. He looked exhausted, and worried. He probably hadn't slept all night, keeping watch at Myer's house. "Promise me you won't place yourself in dangerous situations."

  "Does speaking to Mrs. Myer count?"

  His lips flattened, as if he didn't appreciate my attempt at humor. "I can protect you today. But after I'm gone—"

  "Don't." I turned my shoulder to him. "I don't wish to discuss that eventuality. It only ends in us arguing." And a sadness welling so deep inside me that it felt endless.

  He sighed, but didn't push the conversation. Besides, the driver was pulling to a stop outside a row of modest three-story brick houses; they had once probably been yellowish but were now stained gray thanks to decades of soot. The houses themselves were quite a good size, but from the many people wandering in and out of the doors, I wondered if they'd been subdivided into apartments. It was odd to think of one of London's richest women holed up in a poor tenement, grousing with her working class neighbors.

  "Any sign of de Mordaunt or Myer?" I asked.

  "None." He stepped onto the pavement and offered me his hand.

  I took it and allowed him to help me down the step. He paid the driver and he drove off. I wasn't sure if we should have let him go just yet.

  Several of the grim children's faces eyed us as we approached the door of Mrs. Myer's house. I smiled at them but they did not smile back until I handed them a shilling each. Quin knocked but there was no answer.

  "Is the lady who lives here home?" I asked a doe-eyed little boy with no boots and filthy feet.

  He shrugged. "Dunno, miss, but I can find out for you."

  "Can you? That would be a great help."

  He held out his hand and I placed another shilling in his palm. I expected him to go and ask his mother in one of the neighboring houses if she knew where Mrs. Myer was, but he simply walked up to the front window and tried to open it.

  "Locked," he said to me.

  "Aye," Quin said with a wry twist of his mouth.

  The boy held out his hand again.

  I arched my brow at him. "You want more money for telling us nothing of particular use?"

  "No, miss." He looked offended, but did not retract his hand. "I want another coin for breaking this glass and going inside to check."

  "No! You cannot break into someone's house!"

  The boy sighed and lowered his hand. "Suit yourself, miss."

  Quin gave the lad a coin from his pocket as he passed.


  "What was that for?" I hissed when the boy walked off, taking his friends with him.

  "Ingenuity and audacity. The child could go far if those traits are encouraged."

  "Or he could end up in jail."

  Quin's eyes merely gleamed with amusement and it softened my attitude a little. He would make a wonderful father. Would have, I corrected myself. It couldn't happen now.

  A blur at the edges of my vision caught my attention. I turned toward it and stared into the pale face of a ghostly little girl dressed in a nightshirt. Her damp hair was plastered to the sides of her face, her eyes and cheeks sunken. The legs sticking out from the nightgown were as thin as twigs. I guessed her to be about ten years old, but it was difficult to tell with children who had died of disease. She gasped when she realized I'd seen her and scurried backward on bare feet.

  "Wait," I called out.

  Quin straightened and stepped forward, perhaps thinking I'd seen Mrs. Myer. I placed an arm in front of him. The girl already looked frightened, and I didn't want him to scare her even more.

  "I can see you," I said more quietly, adding what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "I'm a spirit medium."

  When she stared at me blankly, I grew worried that she may not know she was dead. I was trying to think of a sensitive way to tell her when she spoke.

  "The lady in that house is out," she said, pointing a boney finger at Mrs. Myer's front door.

  "Oh. Thank you. Do you know her?"

  She seemed to consider this question, then gave a shrug. "A little. I live there." She pointed at the adjoining house, her gaze turning wistful. Through the open window, I could see a woman bent over a baby's crib, another three children gathered around her skirts, all younger than the ghost. The girl's family.

  "When did you last see her?" I asked.

  "Today. I think." Another shrug. "She's a strange one, my ma says."

  "Strange? In what way?"

  "She's uncommonly strong."

  That almost had my eyebrows shooting off the top of my head. I hadn't expected such a description. "Strong?"

  "Ma saw her fight a man."

  I blinked at her. "A man?"

  She nodded. "I heard her tell Da when they thought I was asleep. The lady came here at night, just walking with no light, Ma said. The thief attacked her with a knife." She indicated the pavement at her bare feet. "Right here, it was. She got away, real easy. Too easy for a mere woman, Ma reckoned."

  Could the spirit possessing Mrs. Myer be that of a man? But if that were so, he would still be limited by the body he occupied. A woman's weaker body couldn't suddenly become strong, even if she were possessed by the best pugilist in the country. Could Mrs. Myer simply be a woman with uncommon strength, as the girl said? She was a tall woman, with a broad, unfeminine figure, so it was possible she was stronger than average. But to fight an armed thief with nothing but her fists was quite a stretch.

  "Thank you," I said to the little girl as her ghostly form fizzled like a faulty gas lamp. "That was very helpful. Is there something I can do for you? Do you wish me to tell your mother that you're content?"

  She didn't look content. She looked anxious as she glanced toward the open window of her house. "Lady…"

  "Yes, child?"

  "Will you tell me what to do now?"

  Her question surprised me. Hadn't she already been to the waiting area and talked to the administrators? Surely they had informed her of her options. "You should go to that bright place, the waiting area, and they will take care of you. They're very nice and will see that you're well looked after."

  She shook her head. The solemnity in her eyes worried me. "I can't. They told me to wait here, but I don't know if I'm supposed to go inside or stay outside."

  I glanced at the house. "Why are you supposed to wait?"

  "To collect my baby brother."

  I stared at her as all manner of things went through my head, until I realized she wasn't here to bring harm to her brother, but collect his soul. Sorrow punched me in the chest and tears welled and hovered on my eyelids. The baby in the crib was about to die and his big sister, also recently deceased, had been sent to help the little one.

  I bit down hard on my wobbly lip, but it was several moments before I'd composed myself enough to speak. Quin came to stand beside me, his arm at my back, his hand resting on my hip. He didn't know what had made me sad, but he knew that I needed his solid, silent support at that moment.

  I was about to tell the girl she could choose to wait wherever she wanted, when the baby's faint, wispy spirit floated out the window and into her arms. While I battled my tears, the little girl gave him a smile as he gurgled up at her. They were gone before I could gather myself enough to speak.

  The mother's quiet sobbing stretched my frayed nerves further, and I could no longer hold in my tears. I watched her shuddering shoulders before I thought of something to do; perhaps the only real thing in my power to do, as a stranger.

  I removed the purse from my reticule and sneaked up to the open window. I set the purse down quietly on the inside ledge, just out of view of the street while the little family still had their backs to me. It contained fifteen or so pounds, enough to cover the costs of two funerals, with a good sum left over to keep the family out of poverty for a while. It was my entire allowance for the month from Jacob, but I was glad to give it. It wouldn't ease the mother's sorrow, but it would hopefully ease the financial burden.

  I rejoined Quin and took his offered hand. "She's not home," I told him, switching back to the task we'd set out to accomplish. "But there's something interesting you should know."

  "The only thing I want to know this moment is if you are all right." His thumb stroked my knuckles and his eyes searched mine.

  I nodded and squeezed his hand. "I will be."

  "Come," he said, gently. "We'll talk over there in the shadows." He led me by the hand across the road and into an empty lane. The stench of urine assaulted my nostrils and I breathed through my mouth. Quin directed me to stand against the wall and I angled myself so that my shoulder propped me up rather than my back. My bustle was too big to make that position comfortable.

  He cupped my jaw and circled his other hand around my waist, splaying his fingers at my back. His eyelids lowered and he leaned in. The delicious scent of him replaced all foul ones. His breath brushed my mouth. His warm lips kissed away the tracks my tears had left. I put my arms around him and closed the remaining gap. His lips kissed their way to mine, and I held him harder, fiercer, not wanting the sweet moment to end. The hand that cupped my face moved to the back of my head, teasing a groan from me as my muscles relaxed. I sank into him, relishing the hardness of his body beneath our layers of clothing and cursing the strict confines of the bodice that kept me from feeling more.

  The tenderness of the kiss was quickly replaced by a hungry urgency. A need built inside me, an aching, throbbing need that swelled until it threatened to consume me. I dug my hands through his hair, grateful that he wore no hat so that I could stroke the soft locks. I opened my mouth and darted my tongue out, tasting, exploring, all the while wishing there was some way I could get even closer to him.

  A snort from behind Quin had my heart leaping into my throat. "Whore," a woman's voice muttered before her footsteps receded from the lane's entrance.

  Quin broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to mine. Our breaths came in ragged gasps and our hands moved to link together at our sides.

  Then he pulled away altogether and turned his back to me, so that he was facing Mrs. Myer's house across the street. I wanted to press my fingers to the back of his neck, but refrained. His body still rose and fell with his heavy breathing, but his shoulders were rigid.

  I couldn't stand the awkwardness that blanketed us. It shouldn't be like that. It wasn't right. "Quin," I began, but stopped, unsure how to go on.

  "I know," he said thickly. "But we cannot. It's better to accept it now than let it go further."

  I didn't agree
, but I knew I couldn't sway him. He was too much of a gentleman, and had far too much self-control to take my virtue, either here in a stinking lane or in a soft bed in my Eaton Square bedroom.

  "Damnation," I muttered.

  His shoulders seemed to lose some of their rigidity at my curse, but he didn't turn around to face me. "What did the spirit say about Edith Myer?"

  I sighed and pushed aside the lingering desire rattling my nerves, and focused on why we'd come. "She said Edith was very strong. She fought an armed man and won."

  He swung round, his eyes huge.

  "We've seen her wandering about at night before," I said, remembering the first kiss Quin and I had shared, outside the Myers' house one evening. Mrs. Myer had interrupted us. Regrettably.

  He shook his head slowly. "It doesn't seem like possession."

  "No. It doesn't."

  Our gazes locked and I knew we had both had the same thought. "Demon," we said together.

  CHAPTER 9

  "Do you think it's possible?" I whispered. The notion that a shape-shifting demon consumed the original Edith Myer—Edith Hatfield—and had been using her form for more than twenty years…it was almost unfathomable. To what end?

  "It's possible," Quin said. "It's the only explanation I have. If Edith had suddenly appeared on this realm, I would have considered the possibility that a different sort of otherworldly creature came here and assumed an identity. But she existed in human form and was known since birth."

  "And her character was reported to have changed. Of anyone alive, the butler Duffield knew her best." It was fortunate he was still alive. Perhaps the demon that had killed Edith's parents and maids didn't know that the other servants knew her well too. That and his poor eyesight might have saved him.

  "Do you think Myer found out and that's why he asked for help from the administrators?" I asked. "To send her back? No, that doesn't make sense. Why not just ask you when you came here in sixty-seven, then again more recently?"

  "Because he didn't know me or what I was in sixty-seven. He was still inexperienced with the supernatural. Besides, we had so little time to speak then. I performed my duties and returned."