Veiled in Moonlight (The Ministry of Curiosities Book 8) Read online

  The kiss was as fierce as they always were between us, filled with our pent-up desire for one another and a longing stoked from months of living together. My hands dug into his hair, loosening it from the leather strip, and his hands pressed into my back, holding me in place.

  Then he suddenly grasped me by the waist and forced me to sit down again.

  "Kissing me won't make me change my mind either," he said. Despite his insistence, I knew the kiss had an impact. His breathing turned ragged and his eyes became even smokier. He smoothed his hair back, as if he needed the moment to gather himself and regain calmness.

  My blood thudded along my veins to the beat of the train's rhythm. My skin felt hot, tight, and I suspected my cheeks were aflame. No amount of hair-smoothing would calm my nerves.

  "If we need to travel again before the wedding," he said, "Lady Vickers is coming along."

  "To stop me from visiting you in the night?"

  "To stop me from visiting you. Contrary to popular belief, I am not a machine. Particularly after a kiss like that."

  My lips curled into a smile. "I know. You could fool anyone else, but I see the signs, Lincoln."

  He grunted. "You've always been able to see me. It's part of the reason why I love you."

  My heart skipped merrily at his words, and I found I could not tease him any more. He loved me. That's all that mattered. The rest would come later, on our wedding night. I must dredge up some willpower and find some patience until then.

  The steam ferry ride across the Solent was long enough to turn Lincoln pale from seasickness but not long enough to bring up his lunch. He didn't want my sympathy so I spent the journey admiring the dark blue-gray water against the retreating green of the mainland and the golden sands of the island. As we drew closer to Cowes, I spotted the towers of Osborn House peeking through the trees to the east.

  Lincoln recovered soon enough once his feet were firmly on land again. His singular weakness was not mentioned. We found accommodation at the Fountain Inn, where the respectable innkeeper eyed us dubiously until we requested separate rooms.

  "Do you know where Lady Ballantine is staying?" I asked as he handed Lincoln a key. "I heard on the ferry that she is here, and her daughter Leonora is a dear friend from school. I thought I might visit them tomorrow."

  We'd decided it would be best if I made inquiries rather than Lincoln, and our presumption was rewarded. The innkeeper gave us instructions on how to find Beaulieu House, the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Franklin.

  "The kin of our Mr. Franklin from London," I said to Lincoln as we headed up the stairs to our rooms. "How interesting."

  After an early dinner in the dining room, we said goodnight to one another. Neither of us retired immediately to bed, however. Lincoln took advantage of the cover of darkness to investigate not only the village but Beaulieu House and possibly Osborn House. I made friendly approaches to one of the maids who delivered supper around nine.

  My inquiries revealed that the Franklins had bought the old Beaulieu residence less than a year ago without viewing it first. It was near Osborn House, and the chatty maid assumed that had been its selling point, since the Franklins only came to the island when a member of the royal family was in residence. Mr. Franklin had joined the yacht club where he competed against the princes when they visited. Mrs. Franklin was reportedly a friend to Princess Beatrice, the queen's youngest daughter who, along with her husband, traveled everywhere with Her Majesty.

  I reported all of this to Lincoln in the morning over a breakfast of sausages, mushrooms and eggs in the inn's dining room. It didn't taste as good as Cook's cooking.

  "And how did your investigations go?" I asked him.

  "Uneventfully," he said. "His Royal Highness arrived after us by private yacht and is now at Osborn House. Lady Ballantine and Leonora are staying with the Franklins but have not visited the queen. Two nights ago, Leonora met in secret with a stranger wearing a hood."

  "Did her maid, Ryan, tell you that?" I asked skeptically. Ryan had been adamant she would never talk to us again, and I worried that Lincoln may have been heavy-handed with her.

  "A groom was forthcoming with the information," he said. "Particularly after I planted some money in his palm. So forthcoming, in fact, that he showed me the secluded clearing in the garden where he'd taken Leonora every night to meet her lover. I waited in a nearby tree and was rewarded with a view of Leonora at around midnight."

  "Did she meet anyone?"

  "No. She left after an hour." He paused while the innkeeper's wife poured coffee into our cups. Once she'd taken her leave again, he resumed the story. "The Prince of Wales must have warned his son to stay away from her."

  "Very likely. Did she seem upset?"

  "I couldn't see her face."

  "Then we ought to find out."

  "Agreed."

  We set out in the direction of Beaulieu House after breakfast. The air hadn't shed its nighttime crispness yet, and dew still glistened on leaves. The sun threatened to burn it off soon and the promise of a fine day buoyed my step. I was visiting a beautiful seaside village frequented by holiday makers with my fiancé at my side. What could be better?

  Since it was early in spring, the island wasn't yet overrun by visitors. Lincoln and I fitted right in with the other couples strolling along the high street and admiring the view beyond the harbor. I clung to his arm and he shortened his step for me, but it wasn't until he almost steered me into a bollard that I looked from the view to him. He had not been looking out to sea, but at me.

  "What is it?" I asked, smiling.

  "Are you cold?"

  "I'm fine, thank you." While the sea air was fresh, it wasn't windy, and we walked at a steady pace that kept the chill at bay.

  Even so, he adjusted my shawl at my throat so that it covered the bare skin there. "Don't catch cold," he said simply, and walked on.

  "Is this the vision you had once?" I asked. "Us walking along the beach together, happy and at peace?"

  "No."

  "What's different about it?"

  "You carried a child on your hip."

  His pronouncement took my breath away, and I couldn't think of a single thing to say. He must have realized because he squeezed my hand and said, "Are you all right, Charlie?"

  "I will be. I'm just a little…overwhelmed." I smiled up at him. "And yet you once again seem so calm."

  "Not calm. Happy." He kissed my forehead and then the skin near my ear. "Very happy."

  We reached Beaulieu House and enquired after Leonora. The housekeeper claimed she wasn't in, but I wasn't sure if she spoke the truth.

  "Do you feel her presence?" I asked Lincoln as we walked away. "Or did you detect a lie?"

  "No on both counts." He looked back at the white stucco house with the bay windows commanding a view of the Solent. "That may mean nothing. My instincts aren't strong."

  We decided to try Osborn House next and headed back down the drive to the gate. Lincoln's hand stilled on the latch. His chin snapped up and he tilted his head to the side. He seemed to be listening or perhaps stretching his seer's senses into the surrounding area. I could neither see nor hear anything except the garden, the house, and the sea. Everything felt as it should.

  Lincoln let go of the latch and placed his hand at the small of my back.

  "What is it?" I don't know why I whispered but it seemed necessary all of a sudden.

  "I thought I sensed something."

  I glanced around. "'Something?'"

  "A presence."

  I touched my imp's orb and did not ask him what kind of presence. If he'd sensed a person, he would have worded it differently.

  We walked to Osborn House just a short distance away. We kept to the busy road and followed a delivery cart through the tradesman's entrance rather than the grander main gate. The house was far more impressive than Lichfield, all creamy yellow elegance against the bright green of the lawn and deep blue of the sky. I was so used to London's grayness and dense ai
r that the sights and smells were overwhelming at first. But as we waited for the footman to inform the Prince of Wales of our arrival, I drew in deep breaths. The spring blossoms mingled sweetly with the sea's saltiness, the resulting scent one of pristine purity. It wasn't a scent I wanted to forget.

  The Prince of Wales agreed to see us, and we were led through reception rooms of varying sizes to a sitting room. Fewer staff bustled about Osborn House compared to Buckingham Palace, and the softer colors and larger windows made the rooms bright and airy. This was a holiday home rather than a place of business like the palace. I liked it immensely, and I could see why the queen preferred to spend time here.

  We were shown into a sitting room where the Prince of Wales waited for us. A younger man stood with him. His slightly receding hairline and heavy, deep-set eyes were so like the Prince of Wales's that I knew immediately he must be Eddy.

  So this was Lincoln's half-brother. They looked nothing alike. Lincoln was dark, his features sharp and strong, whereas Eddy was fair and soft around the jaw. His frame was impressive enough, but Lincoln was taller, broader and had an effortlessly commanding nature about him. Eddy might be more senior in rank to Lincoln, but I would not want to take orders from him in a crisis. Lincoln had certainly inherited his looks from his mother's side.

  "This is my son, Prince Albert Victor. Eddy, this is Miss Holloway and Mr. Fitzroy." The Prince of Wales introduced us as if we were no more important to him than passing acquaintances. It was a disappointment, and yet what did I truly expect? It was one thing to tell his brother about his relationship to Lincoln, but quite another to tell his legitimate son that he had an older, illegitimate half-brother whose mother was a gypsy. "I have informed my son of your investigation into Protheroe's death but not the manner of his death. The fewer people who know that the better."

  I suspected that meant he hadn't told Eddy about shape shifters at all. That would limit the number of questions we could ask.

  "You are free to speak to him," the Prince of Wales went on. "He will answer truthfully."

  "I didn't do it!" Eddy blurted out. "I swear to you, sir, I am innocent." His eagerness to convince us confirmed two things—he was worried, and he didn't know Lincoln was his older half-brother. If his father had told him, he would have been far more curious about Lincoln. The declaration of innocence was directed entirely to his father.

  "There," the Prince of Wales said to Lincoln. "You heard him. He's innocent."

  I feared Lincoln would disagree, but he merely regarded Eddy with a bland expression. Perhaps he was wondering how he could be related to such a weak man. To be fair, the younger prince looked very tired. He must not have slept well after being spoken to by his father last night. Both men looked as though they needed to take to their beds.

  "Now that we have settled my son's innocence, you can look elsewhere." The Prince of Wales tried to usher us out, but neither Lincoln nor I moved.

  "What do you know about the victim, Roderick Protheroe?" Lincoln asked Eddy.

  "Nothing!" The young prince swallowed. "My father told me last night that Protheroe was in love with Leonora, and that they had an understanding, but I don't believe that. I cannot believe it. She was in love with me. She told me so. If I can only speak to her, she will confirm it."

  "You will not speak to her again!" his father roared. "Not only have you led the girl to believe that she had a future with you, but she is involved in this terrible crime up to her neck! You will not go near her or any of the Ballantine family. Have I made myself clear?"

  Eddy blinked owlishly. "But I adore her. How can I give up such an angel? If only you could meet her. She's wonderful, kind and agreeable. We're so alike. We have the same interests, like the same poets and books."

  "That's because she's been groomed to attract you," the Prince of Wales said. "She's bait, and you're the fish."

  "No! It wasn't like that."

  "Are you not listening?" the Prince of Wales exploded. "She had an understanding with Protheroe, not you." He stalked across the carpet and back again, his face a dangerous shade of red. "You fool, Eddy. You silly fool. This is why you must listen to the queen and myself when it comes to choosing a wife."

  Eddy groaned and lowered his head to his hands. "She was so convincing. So utterly convincing."

  "Who introduced you to Leonora?" Lincoln asked.

  Eddy blew out a shaky breath. "A mutual friend by the name of Nigel Franklin. I met him here, at the yacht club. His parents have a house nearby."

  I was not surprised, considering what we'd learned about the Franklin family and their presence on the Isle of Wight.

  "Did you ever meet Lord Ballantine?" Lincoln asked.

  "Several times, at their London house. I only ever saw Leonora under his supervision. He wasn't always in the room with us, but he certainly sanctioned our rendezvous."

  "What about Sir Ignatius Swinburn?"

  "I've never met him."

  "I told you before, Fitzroy," the Prince of Wales snapped. "Swinburn is not involved in this. He's a good fellow and has nothing to gain from Protheroe's death."

  "That has not been proven one way or another," Lincoln said.

  The Prince of Wales clicked his tongue but didn't have a chance to speak before his son did.

  "I cannot believe any of this," Eddy muttered into his hands. "She can't have been in love with anyone else. I would have known."

  "Perhaps there was some regard on her part," I assured him. "But she is young and may not know her own heart yet. She may have been considering you both."

  Lincoln frowned at me.

  "Thank you, Miss Holloway." Eddy gave me a sad smile. "I don't profess to know how women think, but I…I felt as if I knew Leonora's heart." He lowered his head and shook it. "I cannot believe I was so wrong."

  The Prince of Wales snorted. "I cannot believe you fell for Ballantine's trickery. The nerve of the man. I'll have to cast him out, now. He was an agreeable sort, too."

  "It's probably for the best," I said. "And safer. Swinburn too."

  "Not Swinburn," he said absently. "I don't mind that you led the girl to believe you had a future together, Eddy. The family's duplicity needed to be brought into the open, and you managed to do that, in your own bumbling way."

  I didn't think it possible, but Eddy's head lowered further.

  The Prince of Wales's eyes brightened and he wagged a finger. "I've had a thought. What if the mutual friend, Franklin, is the killer? Perhaps he's in love with the girl too and got wind of Protheroe's claim on her. There. You ought to investigate him, Fitzroy."

  "We are investigating everyone," Lincoln said simply. "For now, we have no further questions of you, Your Highness."

  "For now?" Eddy echoed. He appealed to his father.

  The Prince of Wales puffed out his chest and lifted his chin. "My son's part in this investigation is complete. Good day, Mr. Fitzroy, Miss Holloway. I wish you well in finding Protheroe's killer."

  "When is His Highness returning to London?" Lincoln asked with a nod at Prince Eddy.

  "Within two hours," the Prince of Wales said. "The sooner he is removed from the little trollop's sphere the better."

  "She's not a trollop," Eddy said, but he spoke without much conviction.

  Lincoln and I followed a footman back through the house but paused upon seeing the queen ahead, walking slowly with a younger woman at her side. The footman bowed and directed us to show deference to Her Majesty.

  "Miss Holloway!" the queen said as I curtseyed. "And your fiancé too. What are you doing here?"

  "We had business with His Royal Highness," I said.

  "Spiritual business?"

  I felt the hard gaze of the companion on me but I kept my attention on the queen. "Of sorts," I said.

  "Will you join my daughter, Princess Beatrice, and I on a walk, Miss Holloway? Your fiancé can find something to do, I'm sure. You can try to reach the ghost of my husband. Albert loved Osborn House. He found solace in the garden
and the sea."

  Princess Beatrice looked horrified at the prospect. She eyed her mother with alarm and me with disgust. "Is this her?" she asked. "The medium?"

  The queen nodded. "It's a little cool to walk down to the shore, but the garden will suffice. Come, Miss Holloway. Walk with us."

  I didn't want to refuse her, but I didn't want to walk with her—or communicate with the dead prince consort—either. I hoped Lincoln had no such qualms about offering up excuses, but he remained silent, damn him.

  It was Princess Beatrice who came to my aid. "Miss Holloway looks very busy. Perhaps another time."

  "Indeed I am," I said. "We are about to catch a ferry back to the mainland."

  "What a disappointment." The queen's jowls sagged. "When I am in London again, perhaps."

  We bowed then followed the footman through the house and out the front door. "Thank goodness we got out of that," I said, glancing over my shoulder. "No thanks to you, Lincoln."

  "I was prepared for you to go for a walk with her. It would have allowed me to investigate alone."

  "Investigate? Lincoln, you're mad. There are so many servants wandering about, you would have been caught.

  "I would not." He tucked my hand into the crook of his arm. "You are young, Charlie," he said quietly.

  "What has that got to do with anything?"

  "You blamed Leonora's indecisiveness on her youth and not knowing her heart yet. She's your age."

  "But I am wise beyond my years." I stroked his face until he looked at me. "Never forget that, Lincoln. I know my heart as well as anyone can, because it was my only companion for five years."

  "That explains why I know mine. Now."

  I hugged his arm. "Do you believe Prince Eddy had nothing to do with Protheroe's death?"