Chapter Twenty-Nine. Midnight Burglary
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Midnight Burglary
“I don’t like him,” I muttered, tucking my arm into Ruan’s as we walked down the darkened Oxford streets.
The closeness was for warmth. That was all.
And yet somehow my hand unerringly found his, and I slipped them both into the pocket of his coat amongst the various unusual pebbles and stones he’d collect and forget he’d pocketed away.
Ruan did not pull away this time. Rather, he squeezed my fingers tighter within his own—tired of fighting whatever this was that existed between us.
Ruan for his part appeared impervious to the cold, dressed only in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat. “He certainly doesn’t like you. What did you do to cross the fellow?”
I snorted. “Exist? Truly, I don’t know. I spoke to him this morning and we didn’t leave on the best of terms, but he certainly hadn’t looked at me with such hatred then as he did tonight. Do you suppose he blames me for Treadway’s behavior?”
Ruan made a low sound in his throat. It was a cloudless night, which made everything somehow colder—the stars shone bright overhead as the moon rose high. The scent of woodsmoke thick in the night.
“Did you hear anything useful?”
“Not about your friend. Concern. Anger. Fear. It was all swirling in both of their heads. I could not make sense of why, but the air was thick with it.”
Amused, I paused, looking up at him. “You act like you can smell it. Are you also part bloodhound?”
He let out a low chuckle. “No. But emotion has a … perhaps scent isn’t the right way to explain it. But emotion is a palpable thing. Perhaps essence is a better word. Gods, this is strange to discuss with you…”
“Why? Because I’m terribly ordinary?” I laughed.
Something flickered in his expression. “There is nothing ordinary about you, Ruby Vaughn.”
The dim glow of the gaslights barely illuminated his dear face.
Ruan leaned down, his forehead pressed against mine, and inhaled deeply, drawing the essence of me into his lungs.
His willing tenderness was intoxicating.
I caught the scent of ginger candy on his breath and for a moment I thought he might kiss me, but instead he pulled back, tugging me on down the lane.
“We should get back and check on the girl.”
His words cut through the buckets of champagne that Lord Amberley had been pouring me, crushing the moment to dust.
Right. I felt immediately rotten for having not thought of Annabelle before now, distracted as I’d been by the fracas in Amberley’s drawing room.
Ruan’s step grew more determined than ever before, as if he could outrun the chaos of what we were together if he merely moved fast enough.
I did not even notice until long after we were back home that Ruan never released my hand.
Not until we were on the way up the stairs to the room where poor Annabelle lay in her sickbed—and for the life of me, I did not know what it meant.
I waited outside in the hall as Ruan knelt on the cold wooden floor beside the girl, murmuring with Mrs. Penrose about what had happened in our absence. “No changes then?”
She shook her head. Her gray hair glinted in the warm electric lights of the room.
The muscle in his jaw tightened, and he set about checking her pulse. “I still worry we should call a physician.”
I took a step farther into the room, floorboards creaking with the movement. “Is there infection?”
Ruan gave his head an imperceptible shake.
“Is she any less stable than before?”
Again, another subtle shake.
I folded my arms beneath my breasts, still wearing his jacket. “I don’t see what good a hospital will do. You are far more attentive than any physician I have ever known and frankly I’d rather put myself in your hands than any number of their kind. Besides, you’re a witch.”
“Pellar,” he corrected grumpily.
“Semantics. The point is, you’ve read all the same books they have.
You have spent the last several years of your life learning from Dr. Quick in Lothlel Green, you may as well be a physician.
I have seen firsthand what you can do. With or without your”—I hesitated, uncomfortable speaking of Ruan’s abilities in front of Mrs. Penrose, though the woman already believed he walked on water—“your gifts.”
Ruan let out a decidedly Mr. Owen–sounding grunt, his roughened fingers resting on the girl’s pulse. Perhaps he and I had spent too much time with the old man for our own good.
Mrs. Penrose slid past me, pressing a good-night kiss to my cheek before slowly making her way down the stairs.
I waited until she was fully out of earshot before I turned back to Ruan.
“Do you think Reaver did something to Leona? I’d confronted him in the museum today—I cannot understand the man nor his motivations. But tonight? Tonight frightened me.”
Ruan shifted, settling his hip on the bed beside the girl. “Me as well. The air was thick with his guilt and the rage— Ruby, I swear to the gods he would have killed you on that floor had I not taken you away. I’d never felt such anger.”
I swallowed hard. Neither had I. “What does he think I’ve done?”
“It was chaotic, I couldn’t hear anything beyond the emotion.”
I let out an awkward huff. “Speaking of hearing, did you hear Mr. Owen tonight?”
“I did…” Ruan remained less amused than I was at the situation.
“The man lost ten pounds betting on Treadway. Anyone with eyes could have seen that he didn’t stand a chance against Reaver. The fellow might be a beast, and wish me dead, but his arms are quite…”
The ghost of a smile crossed his lips. “A man wishes you to the devil for unknown reasons and you are admiring his forearms?”
My throat dried and I swallowed hard. “All that is to say, I may not like the fellow but if one admired such a thing…”
Ruan chuckled. “Go on to bed. Get some sleep. I’ll be done soon.”
I crossed the hall not at all intending to sleep.
Not with Leona missing. I dropped to my knees and dug about under the bed for my own satchel.
Sitting around worrying was not going to get me any closer to finding out what happened to Leona or finding Julius Harker’s killer.
And there was one place I had not yet checked for clues—quite possibly the most obvious place of all. Julius Harker’s home.
The wooden floorboards creaked behind me as I pulled out my roll of lockpicks from the bag and flopped them atop the mattress.
“I take it we are headed back out this evening?”
“We haven’t searched Harker’s home.” I continued groping around under the bed for my boots.
I shucked off his coat and threw it carelessly beside the lockpicks before starting on the stubborn buttons at the back of my rose silk gown.
“Close the door, would you? I’ll be ready in a trice.
Assuming you’re up for another adventure? ”
Ruan made a sound in his chest before closing the door behind him.
I’d half expected him to leave me in peace to change, but instead he stepped deeper into the room, brushing my fingers away as he made quick work of the buttons on the gown.
“It will take all night if I wait on you to finish. And the sooner we are gone, the sooner we are back, the sooner I can get some sleep.”
I let out a breathy laugh and stepped behind the thin dressing screen before shimmying out of the gown.
I flung it over the top before turning to my wardrobe and pulling out a pair of trousers and a clean blouse.
In the reflection of the mirror, I caught him watching the screen with a considered expression, as if he could not quite decide how he’d ended up in this madhouse with me.
Madhouse.… I swallowed hard as the specter of my own past came back. Not now, Ruby. I quickly fastened the buttons of my trousers, and tucked in my blouse. I put on my riding boots and hopped out from behind the screen struggling to get my right foot fully into the thing.
Ruan handed me my roll of lockpicks. “Shall we?”
I took them from him, my fingers brushing his before I darted down the stairs. There was promise in these words. Something beyond this night and the ridiculous plan I’d hatched after far too many glasses of champagne.
We shall. Whatever it might be.