Ghost Girl Page 8

  "The society's library…" I began in an effort to swing the conversation back to less awkward matters. "When can we view it?"

  "You'll be joining Mr. St. Clair?" Myer asked.

  "Yes."

  "How fortunate that he has such an agreeable companion. It will make the endless hours of research go much faster."

  "My husband doesn't particularly like research," Mrs. Myer said as Adamson returned with a tray laden with tea things. "It's why he employed Mr. Faraday to do it for him. What a happy coincidence. The three of you can visit the society's library together."

  "I don't mind research," Myer said before his wife had completely finished speaking. "But I seem to have come to a dead end. I'm hoping someone with more expertise will turn up something new."

  "What are you looking for?" I asked.

  "Details about the book of spells, of course, and where to find it."

  "You no longer think it's located at the abbey ruins?"

  "I don't know, since I no longer have access," he said pointedly. "Unless Langley sees fit to reverse his position and allow me access in exchange for allowing Mr. St Clair to look through the society's books."

  "Mr. Langley doesn't care if Quin does or does not view your library," I said. "I am sorry," I felt compelled to add. We did need his permission to view the society's books, after all. It paid to remain polite.

  Myer gave me another one of his non-committal smiles, while his wife's was more genuine, if somewhat triumphant. She seemed pleased that her husband's on-site research had been thwarted.

  "Can we see the library today?" I asked.

  Myer eyed Quin's shirt. "Perhaps tomorrow, when Mr. St. Clair is more suitably attired. The library is often frequented by gentlemen from the society who would be less understanding about his missing luggage than I."

  "They are politicians, bankers and barristers," Mrs. Myer said. "Powerful and important men who set certain standards, for good or ill."

  I huffed out an exasperated sigh. I wanted to get started immediately. Hopefully Quin's suit would arrive later today. "Tomorrow, then."

  Myer nodded. "Meet me in St Michael's Alley, off Cornhill."

  We had not finished our tea, but it seemed an appropriate time to leave and I wasn't keen to stay longer than necessary. I thanked our hosts and rose. Quin did too, but Samuel did not. I got a bad feeling about what was to come next.

  "There's something that's been troubling me," he said lightly, as if he were simply chatting to an old friend. I knew otherwise, however, and I suspected Myer did too by the anxious look on his face.

  "What is that, Gladstone?" he asked.

  "You remember the spirit of the master?"

  "How could I forget? I helped you capture him. Or the body of Clement, I should say. Poor fellow. I hear he's trying to recover the ground his company lost in the time he was taken over by the master's spirit. What of him?"

  "He has finally crossed over, but before he did so, he told Mrs. Beaufort some interesting facts about himself."

  "Such as?"

  "Such as his name. Percy Harrington."

  Myer gasped and swung round to his wife. "Did you hear that? Harrington!"

  "I have ears," she retorted. "Poor Percy." She cocked her head to the side. "Do you mean to say he was the master who tormented—?"

  "Yes," Samuel said, cutting her off before she could mention Charity by name. "While everyone is relieved that he's finally gone, the mystery remains. Who was the medium who helped him possess Clement?"

  Myer shrugged. "Miss Moreau and Mrs. Beaufort are the only mediums I know of. If I learn of others, I will be sure to inform you. Now, if you don't mind, Faraday and I have work to do."

  He stood, but Samuel did not. "Don't you think it odd that Harrington was associated with you, Myer?"

  "An unhappy coincidence. I actually have very little to do with the bank. Harrington was an acquaintance only. I hardly cared whether he lived or died, frankly."

  "Except that your wife inherited his fortune."

  "Well that is a happy coincidence." He laughed.

  Mrs. Myer shook her head in disgust at her husband's disregard for a life, albeit the life of a horrid man.

  Samuel stepped up to him and grabbed Myer's waistcoat at his chest. He twisted it in his fist, lifting Myer onto his toes. "If I find out that you knew about Harrington's games, before or after his death, I'll gut you."

  "I say!" Nathaniel cried. "That is uncalled for."

  Samuel turned his head slowly and pinned Nathaniel with a glare so cold that I shivered.

  "We should go," I said gently.

  Quin rested a hand on Samuel's shoulder. Samuel let Myer go and stalked out the door. I hurried after him, tossing my thanks to the Myers as we left. Quin followed us both out and down the front steps.

  "My apologies," Samuel said. He stopped at the waiting coach, his breaths coming hard and fast. The Beauforts' footman stood beside the open door, his gaze suitably vacant. "I shouldn't have let my anger get the better of me like that."

  I took his hand. "It's all right. I understand your frustration and it was deserved."

  "Do you think he spoke the truth about not knowing Harrington all that well?"

  "It's possible," I said. "I do believe he spoke truthfully when he claimed not to care about banking matters. He does seem more interested in the paranormal than the company."

  "I'm not sure it was always that way."

  "Oh?"

  He glanced past Quin at the sleek black door of the Myers' home. "Lady Preston told me that Myer had pursued Edith relentlessly, because of her fortune. He might not want to get involved in the running of the bank but he does want the comforts its wealth provides. I believe he was somehow involved with Harrington but I don't know how to prove it."

  Neither did I. I glanced at Quin to see if he had any suggestions, but he was too busy observing everything around him. He watched the people opposite, strolling through Berkeley Square, then glanced up and down the street itself, taking in each of the buildings. I got the feeling he would like to experience the city rather than watch it pass by through the window of a coach.

  "Shall we walk home, Quin? It's not far."

  "Aye. It's a fine day."

  "I'll go on without you," Samuel said. "I'm meeting Charity for luncheon to discuss wedding plans."

  I kissed his cheek. "It is all over, Samuel," I said gently. "The master is gone and Charity is happy. That's all that matters."

  He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I know. You're right. I have to let it go or she'll never be at peace."

  I was glad that he realized it.

  Quin and I walked off, side by side, as the coach drove away with Samuel. "You performed admirably in there," I told him. "Nobody would have known that you were not from this time."

  "If Faraday had asked me questions about Melbourne, we could have encountered problems."

  "Thankfully he didn't. Let's hope he continues to be disinterested when we see him again tomorrow. It seems we're stuck with his company in the library." I wasn't sure how I felt about that. On the one hand, I looked forward to getting to know Nathaniel again, but on the other, we didn't want anyone connected with Myer to learn of our true plan.

  "He will not trouble us for long."

  I frowned up at him. "What do you mean?"

  He didn't respond. He was too busy watching the gentleman and lady strolling toward us. Behind them was another couple; he also studied them intently. Once they passed, he thrust his elbow toward me.

  "Take it," he said when I simply blinked. "It's customary for the ladies to hold onto the gentleman's arm in this time."

  I didn't tell him that those couples must be well known to one another. They were not unwed acquaintances of marriageable age, like us. If Emily could see us, she'd warn me against being so familiar. My sister-in-law, Celia, however, would lecture me for an entire week on the proper behavior for young females. Thank goodness she was on the other side of the wor
ld.

  We turned the corner and strolled past more of Mayfair's finest residences. Quin studied each of them with wonder. "The buildings here are magnificent. I've seen castle towers stretch that high, but not entire rows of houses."

  "You'd be surprised at what else has changed since your last visit."

  "Aside from the introduction of forks, privies and trains?"

  I grinned. "Let's see. We have the postal service to deliver letters and typewriters to type them on. There are sewing machines and ovens, safety matches, and steamships. I came over from Melbourne on one." I pointed to the lamp atop the nearest post. "Some of our streetlamps use electricity instead of gas."

  "We didn't have gas in my time. We didn't have lamps in streets."

  "You tasted chocolate last night, but there's another confection called ice cream which you might like."

  "You eat ice?"

  "It tastes better than ice. There's a confectioner on Piccadilly who sells delicious flavors. I'll buy you one."

  "I don't want you to buy me anything."

  "Put away your masculine pride and let me buy you an ice cream. I insist."

  He said nothing, but I gathered from his stiff jaw that he didn't like the idea of a woman holding the purse strings. I led him into the confectioner's on Piccadilly and he didn't object when I bought him a bowl of ice cream.

  "I will find a way to repay you," he said, accepting the glass bowl and spoon.

  I watched as he enjoyed his first lick of the confection, piled high in the bowl. His eyes widened and he nodded his approval. The ice cream didn't last long after that.

  "Your time is interesting, Cara," he said after we handed the bowls and spoons back and left the shop. Piccadilly was a busy street in the middle of a sunny day, and I wondered if it had even existed in his time. It would have looked quite different if it had.

  "I'm sure yours would be interesting to me if I went there."

  He shook his head. "I wouldn't like you to visit, even if it were possible. No lady who gets about in coaches and is allowed her own money would survive long. Besides, there's neither ice cream nor chocolate."

  "Completely barbaric," I joked.

  He didn't laugh. "Aye, it is."

  I quickly changed the subject and played tourist guide, pointing out anything I thought might be interesting. He listened intently and asked several questions. Once or twice he wanted to stop or detour, and he seemed particularly interested in the pastime of strolling through Hyde Park. We didn't go into the park itself, but looked in from Hyde Park Corner.

  "You mean they aren't going anywhere?" he said, watching the strolling couples.

  "They're walking for the sake of walking."

  He pointed at a gentleman riding his horse through the arch into the park. "Is he going in there to ride?"

  "Yes."

  "Not hunt?"

  "No. It would be far too dangerous to hunt with so many people around."

  "Aye, but…what is the point?"

  "To be seen, of course."

  He shook his head. "Your time is interesting, but sometimes odd."

  "Wait until you see someone riding a bicycle."

  We wound our way through the quieter streets of Belgravia, away from the park. I was about to cross the road, but Quin held me back.

  "We'll continue on this side," he said.

  "Why?"

  He shook his head, avoiding answering again. But the reason had just come to me. A narrow church nestled opposite. It was the one Emily and her family attended on Sundays, and I with them when in London.

  "You can't possibly recognize it," I said. "It's not from your time."

  "I don't." He seemed to know what I was referring to, even though I'd not mentioned the church as we walked hurriedly past on the other side.

  I tightened my grip on his arm. "Enough, Quin. You have to explain what it is about churches that bothers you."

  "They do not bother me."

  "Then why do you recoil from them? You wouldn't even walk on the same side of the street as that one. I'm not asking you to go in."

  My question was greeted with stony silence.

  He'd told me he was human and not an angel, so he wasn't a heavenly creature, or from hell either for that matter. So why avoid places of worship? "Will something happen to you if you enter a church? Something…unpleasant?"

  He jerked his arm free of mine and rounded on me. His nostrils flared, his eyes flashed like hard jewels, and his features twisted in anger. I shrank away. He'd claimed he was there to protect me, but at that moment, fear crept like ice through my veins.

  "Stop it!" he growled. "No more questions, wench." He walked off, his long strides quickly leaving me behind. I gathered up my skirts and raced after him, but my heeled shoes weren't made for running and the pavement was uneven. I tripped and fell, landing on my knees.

  I looked up, only to see Quin hadn't noticed. He was still walking in the other direction. I felt the first tug of tiredness and the chill of fever when he was ten feet or so away. I shivered and battled to remain alert, focused, but darkness crowded close. I was going to faint.

  Quin kept on walking. Surely he wouldn't abandon his promise to protect me, all because I dared question him?

  But from the look of his rigid shoulders and long strides, that was exactly what he would do.

  CHAPTER 7

  "Quin!" It came out as a pathetic rasp, but he must have heard.

  He glanced over his shoulder then sprinted back to my side. The fever subsided as quickly as it had taken hold. He cursed in French then helped me sit up. I swayed into him. He cradled me and I rested my cheek against his chest. His heart thumped out a strong, rapid rhythm.

  To my horror, a tear escaped and slid down my cheek. It was foolish. He had returned again and I was well. But the flood of fear I'd felt at his outburst and then as I watched him walk away left me shaken and unsure.

  "I wasn't leaving you, Cara," he murmured into my hair, as if he sensed my fear.

  I swiped angrily at the tear. "I didn't know that."

  His lips touched my forehead where a dull ache lingered. I closed my eyes and drew in a deep, calming breath. It felt good to be kissed like that, even if it were merely a chaste, apologetic one. Very good. Indeed, no man who was not my relation had ever kissed me, or held me, or touched me in the way Quin did. Yet I was still very aware that only moments before he'd been so angry with me that he'd forgotten his purpose for being here.

  "I'm sorry I angered you," I said, my voice a little more wobbly than I would have liked.

  "It was as much my fault. I'm afraid I'm still growing used to your modern sensibilities."

  "You mean you're not used to having wenches constantly question you?"

  He pulled away from me and I felt the loss of his solidness keenly. "I hope you can forgive me. But, please, do not ask any more questions. There are some things you're better off not knowing."

  I swallowed and tried to catch his gaze with my own, but he looked away. "Come," he said, voice rumbling in his chest. "I'll take you home."

  He helped me to stand even though I had fully recovered and didn't need assistance. He tucked my hand into the crook of his arm again and we walked off like an old married couple. We received some stares from passersby who'd perhaps witnessed my tumble—or were scandalized by Quin not wearing a full suit—but none spoke to us.

  I didn't tell Sylvia, Emily and Jacob about the incident. They were too curious about our visit to the Myers' home. We relayed the conversation, including Myer's denial that he was in any way involved in Harrington's possession of Clement.

  "We're going to the library tomorrow," I said. "Now that Quin's suit has arrived, we won't be stared at." The clothes had been delivered while we were out, but Quin had yet to change.

  "I expect Myer will watch over you while you research," Jacob said.

  "He claims that research bores him. His historian will be there, however."

  "Who?"

  "A para
normal historian by the name of Nathaniel Faraday."

  Emily frowned. "That names sounds familiar."

  Sylvia gave a little gasp, but at my warning glare, she shut her mouth.

  Emily didn't notice. Her eyes lit up and she smiled at me.

  "Yes, it's the same one," I said before she asked.

  Jacob's gaze flicked between us. "Who is this Faraday?"

  "I met him on the journey back to England. I didn't realize he was a paranormal historian. I thought he was just a regular one."

  "Did you ask him why he never wrote after promising to?" Emily asked.

  "He promised to write?" Jacob sat up straighter.

  "He did," Emily told him. "But nothing came of it. A pity. You made him sound quite dashing, Cara. I would have liked to meet him and learn his connections."

  "Just how friendly did you become?"

  "We were merely acquaintances," I snapped at him. "Since nothing came of it, I don't know why we're having this discussion."

  "Because you might be seeing more of him and Louis has trusted you to my care while you're in England."

  Quin, standing by the large mantel in the cozy sitting room, crossed his arms. "I didn't like Faraday."

  "You hardly know him!" I cried.

  "He was too familiar with you. I didn't like the way he held your hand in both of his. It was unnecessary, and the length of time he held it was inappropriate."

  "It was not."

  Jacob, standing on the other side of the mantel in an almost identical pose to Quin, pressed his lips together. "Is that so?"

  "This is ridiculous." I stood and beckoned for Sylvia to join me. "I'm going upstairs." My knees still stung from falling over and I wanted to inspect them. Since I wasn't allowed in my bedroom alone with Quin, Sylvia needed to be present.

  We met Tommy emerging from the hidden servants' doorway on the second floor landing, carrying a newly pressed shirt. "You're back," he said. "How did you fair with Myer?"

  "Come with us and we'll tell you." We couldn't discuss our business out in the open where the servants could come across us. This house wasn't as private as Frakingham, with its large, empty rooms and handful of servants. "Is that for Quin?"