A Study in Ashes (38 page)

London, October 2, 1889
HILLIARD HOUSE
6:35 p.m. Wednesday

ALICE ROTH MOUNTED THE BROAD STAIRS OF HILLIARD
House with her head high and her heart in her throat. This wasn’t a social call. She’d been summoned—and by her father, which was worrisome. Why was her father demanding she come here, to Lord and Lady Bancroft’s house?

Furthermore, the tone of his note had been sharp, and that had raised her ire. It was beyond annoying that her father could snap his fingers and she—a married woman, a mother, the wife of a steam baron’s maker—didn’t have the courage to tell him to go polish his gears. But Jasper Keating wasn’t a man one disobeyed lightly, and though she had always loved her father, she’d seen a side of him in the last year that made her afraid.

The door opened before she’d even reached the top step, a footman bowing her in. “Mrs. Roth.”

Even after months of marriage, the name still made her blink. “Would you please let the family know that I have arrived?”

“At once, madam.”

Madam sounds so old
. Alice fidgeted, smoothing the trim on her smart green dress. She had just returned from walking with her son and his nursemaid before she was summoned. At least she had been dressed to go out.
But what is this about? And where is Tobias?
Her hands were growing damp inside her gloves.

She heard a young voice cry in disgust, and then feet pounded up the curving oak stairway that loomed just out of Alice’s sight.
Poppy
. She smiled to herself. The girl brought a touch of drama to every occasion. Then Bigelow, the butler, appeared and intoned, “This way, madam.”

If Bigelow himself has come to fetch me, this is a grand occasion indeed
. She suspected her father’s hand in it. He liked a touch of staging to set a serious mood. Alice followed, keyed up to the point that the tip of her nose had gone numb. But she was too well trained to let it show. The doors of the small drawing room stood open, and she entered without breaking stride, putting on her brightest smile.

It was a beautiful room, with a tall bay window and a grand piano in one corner where Imogen used to sit and play. The furniture had been recovered with one of those bold Kelmscott designs—big pink flowers on a green and wine background.

The first person she saw was her mother-in-law. “Good evening, Lady Bancroft.”

The older woman rose, taking her hands. She looked tired and drawn. “Alice, my dear, I am so delighted to see you. But where is our grandson?”

“Down for a nap with his nurse.”

“That’s all very interesting,” came her father’s voice from behind her, “but please sit down, Alice. There is business to discuss.”

She knew that tone of voice, though it was softer with her than it would have been with anyone else. He was in a dour frame of mind. Alice turned to where he was enthroned in a large wing chair and curtsied. “Father.”

Alice made one last curtsy, this time to Lord Bancroft. He half rose and gave her a cold bow. She wasn’t his favorite person, but then the feeling was mutual. “It is not my opinion,” Lord Bancroft said dryly, “that including the young Mrs. Roth in this discussion is wise. We require objective viewpoints, and it is not reasonable to ask a new wife to decide such pressing family matters.”

Alice found a seat and realized it was just the four of them.
Family matters?
“What happened? Where is my husband?”

“There has been an accident, my dear,” said Lady Bancroft in a faint voice.

They all looked at one another in a way that said that had been an understatement. Alice bounced out of her chair again, heart skittering with alarm. “Where is he?”

“Sit down, Alice,” said her father curtly. “We need to make some decisions.”

But Lady Bancroft said “Upstairs” at the same time, raising her hand to catch Alice’s and keep her there.

She was already out the door, racing up the staircase, past the longcase clock and up to the bedrooms. Something had happened. Was he shot? Downed by some dread illness? Had this bizarre family of his finally driven him foaming mad? She hoped Poppy was there, because they had been allies in the past. If anyone would tell Alice what was going on, it would be her.

But the hallway was empty. Imogen’s door was shut, her sister-in-law no doubt still in her unending sleep. Then she heard a noise—the rattle of drawer pulls and the scrape of wood on wood. Her steps quickened again, and she was at Tobias’s old bedroom door.

Alice stopped, her skirts swinging with the sudden cessation of movement. She could hear Tobias moving. She knew his breathing, the way he’d stop to think halfway through a motion.
What’s going on? Why aren’t you downstairs with the others?

Her chest squeezed with tension. The door was open a crack, and she pushed until it drifted open on silent hinges. And there he was, rummaging in his dresser, a large leather satchel open on the bed. He was packing.

“Tobias?” she cried, bewildered. “What are you doing?”

He stopped, his hands full of folded shirts and stockings—castoffs he’d left behind when he’d moved from his parents’ house—and stared at her. His mouth was slightly open, as if he’d been about to speak but forgotten his words.

“Well?” she asked a little tartly.

“Alice,” he finally said, and tossed what he’d been holding into the satchel. “Oh, Alice, I’m so sorry.”

She would have preferred open arms and hot kisses. “What’s going on?” she demanded, but this time kept her voice soft.

“I have to go.”

“Where?”

“Dartmoor.”

Exasperation rasped through her. “Dartmoor? What in the name of little brass teapots is in
Dartmoor
?” She took a deep breath, her momentary fear bubbling out in words. “What is Father thinking? First it was that bug and now this. You’ve hardly been home all week, and now I’ll have to cancel dinner with the Whitlocks.”

He turned away, snapping the bag shut. “I didn’t know I would have to go until this afternoon. If I could stay, I would.” He looked up, his gray eyes solemn. “Believe me when I say that. I would much rather be with you and Jeremy.”

“Then stay. I’ll speak to Father.”

He held up a hand. “It’s best I get out of town for a while. And Holmes has asked for his niece to join him on a case, so I’m to escort her. There’s a murder investigation on the moors involving a cursed dog or some such blither.”

That was too much. “Evelina Cooper?”
The woman you actually love instead of me?

“Yes.” Tobias made a helpless gesture. “I have to take her.”

“You’re not her jail guard!”

“I am now.”

“But why you? Why not someone else?” Alice counted herself a good sport, but this was pushing things. She sat down on the edge of the bed, rattled by the bizarre conversation.

“You know your father,” Tobias said tightly.

She did.
He’s playing games
. “I said I’ll speak to him.”

His face had gone pale, with a flush high on his cheekbones. “No, don’t. He’s right. I have to leave London for a while. That’s what they’re deciding downstairs, but I already
know the answer. Whatever else might happen, it’s better I distance myself for the time being.”

A suspicion worse than jealousy was beginning to crawl through her, dragging all her anxiety back to the fore. “Tell me what happened.”

Tobias circled around to sit next to her. He took a deep breath and then let it out roughly, as if he had been pushed beyond the bounds of endurance. Alice leaned close, all too aware of the line of his shoulders, the curve of muscle beneath his sleeve. Her body tensed with sudden nervousness. So often their time together was like walking a high ledge, exhilarating and terrifying because a slip could be fatal. But every step toward a real understanding was a risk she couldn’t refuse. They’d been obliged to marry, but there was still a chance to make something real if neither one of them lost their nerve.

And there had never been any question about their physical desire. She could feel his warmth like a magnetic pull, the scent of him reminding her that she’d been a woman before she’d been Mama or Mrs. Roth.

But he stared straight ahead instead of at her. “I don’t know how to talk about what happened.”

She jerked her chin up. “Be blunt. You know that I deal with that better than a lot of dancing about.”

For a moment, he looked amused. “Yes, you do.”

“Then out with it.”

He took a ragged breath. “All right. I shot the Scarlet King. Your father’s Yellowbacks got rid of the body, but it would be better if I were out of London until the investigation is over.”

“William Reading is dead?” Alice was dumbstruck, and then her mind lurched forward, grasping everything he’d said. “You’re right, you need to go!”

That seemed to surprise him. “You need to understand—”

She held up a hand, stopping his words. Horror was rising inside her, a jittering, chill menace that threatened to shake her to pieces any moment now. But as Keating’s child, she’d learned about the savage landscape of the Steam Council long ago. She wasn’t as sheltered as her father thought.

Now she willed herself to iron, ready to fight instead of crumble. “I do understand. He was a vile man. I knew William Reading when he was a clerk in the Green Queen’s counting house.”

“A clerk?” Tobias said in surprise, finally angling toward her.

“You don’t believe all that military nonsense he put on?” Alice scoffed. She could see the horror beneath Tobias’s mask, and wanted to brush it away. “He knew military
contracts
. He never marched a day in his life.”

Tobias dragged his hand down his face. “I still killed him.”

His eyes were pits of rage and guilt. Alice had always loathed the Scarlet King, but her anger tripled because he’d put that look on her husband’s handsome features. She slipped her arms around Tobias, pulling him close.
Dear God, I’m comforting a killer
, she thought. And then,
What does this mean for my son?

In truth, it meant that Jeremy wouldn’t grow up in a world with William Reading in it. That was a good thing, whatever else came of this. Alice closed her eyes, feeling wet heat escape onto her cheeks. And then Tobias pulled her tight, his breath ragged. The strength of his embrace crushed her small frame and when his mouth sought hers, his kiss was fierce. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “And thank you.”

He released her enough to study her face. Their embrace had loosened a strand of her hair, and he pushed it behind her ear. It was a tender gesture, one she would have trapped in her memory and treasured, but she caught sight of his hand.

“What is that?” she asked, catching his cuff and drawing the injury back into view. His fingers looked swollen, the tips reddened.

“Ah,” he said, with a tight twist of his lips. “It’s nothing. A chemical burn.”

Alice let his hand go and he hid it away behind him, as if the sight had offended her—which it hadn’t. But something in his manner left a hollow place in her chest. “Get a doctor to look at that.”

“I will,” he promised, cupping her cheek with his good hand. “You know, the problem with you coming here like this is that it makes going all the harder.”

She touched his face, tracing the clean lines of his cheekbone and jaw. He was the most handsome man she’d ever known—far more striking than she’d ever be. “Do you have to go right away?”

He kissed her ear, the angle of her jaw, the pulse in her throat. “If I hesitate, I might never leave. And it’s too dangerous for you if I remain. There are men watching the town house in Cavendish Square. I didn’t even dare go home to our place.”

Our place
. Alice bit the inside of her lips to keep them from trembling.
There is something he’s still not saying
.

“Reading wasn’t a popular man.” She kept her voice reasonable, like a child trying to sound brave in the dark. “The investigation won’t go on long before they give up. You’ll be home soon,” she said. And then wished she hadn’t. Something in Tobias’s face denied it. “You will come back. Promise me.”

The tense line of his mouth wavered. “I promise.”

She wanted to believe that with all her heart.
He means it. Of course he does
.