Chapter Fourteen #2
“Not yet, but I’m sure it will sting like the dickens tomorrow.
I think a woman’s shoe heel inflicted it.
” She pulled the rumpled silk scarf from around her neck with disgust. “What was that nonsense? I know plenty of people who don’t like the Damocles Club, but I’ve never witnessed anything like that.
It was like—like bottled vitriol spewing forth.
Why choose Leland’s party to make a statement? ”
“He’s an influential alumnus,” Sidney said. “Maybe their most famous.”
“Has he ever encouraged you to join?”
Sidney’s hand faltered. “No, he hasn’t. I’m not really the sort of person they seek out.”
Gin quieted at this, staring off into the night as Sidney finished cleaning up the wound.
It was much easier to imagine her an injured soldier or a cricket match victim this way—to not admire the finely muscled calf and damp skin glistening in the moonlight.
For that, she would likely tweak his ear—or her fiancé might cosh him.
But Sidney had a few choice words ready for Craddock if he wanted to find fault with this rescue after the man beat a hasty retreat from the mayhem.
He was probably the type to swoop in with roses and chocolate and excuses, though that didn’t strike Sidney as a tactic likely to work on a girl like Ginevra Bishop. Only, what did he know?
Sidney fished a clean handkerchief from his pocket—silently thanking his mum for drilling the habit into him—and neatly bound up the wound with a smart knot against her shinbone.
“Thank you,” she said. “That was certainly more efficient.”
Slowly, he rose, toying with the soiled handkerchief. Despite her clipped comments, her spirit seemed quieter than usual. She was probably tired and hurting and only wanted her bed, same as him. But the unfinished apology wrestled inside Sidney, desperate to break free.
“Look,” he said, “your father sounds like a bastard. I understand why you don’t like using your title, and I’m sorry for throwing it at you last week.
” He hesitated, twisting the cloth between his hands.
“I’m also sorry for not helping you more from the start.
I’ve been an ass, and I’d like to start over. ”
Ginevra stilled, her head revolving toward him with a preternatural grace that made him fear she was about to rip him limb from limb. Instead, she pinched his arm.
Sidney recoiled with a yelp. “What the bloody hell was that for?”
“You’re playing nursemaid and apologizing,” she said. “I wanted to make sure this wasn’t a dream.”
Sidney tossed the handkerchief in annoyance, but Gin deftly caught it.
She looked down, smoothing the damp fabric between her fingers.
“Well, I’m very sorry for goading you. It’s not my place to dictate your actions.
I see now that your methods are different from mine, but they’re suited to your nature. ”
“What nature is that?”
“A hermit crab,” she said. “But no one pays much attention to them, do they? You probably do see a lot that other people miss.”
The corner of Sidney’s mouth itched with a smile. “Is that how they teach debutantes to pay compliments?”
Ginevra threw the dirty handkerchief back at him, but the mirth in her eyes made something twinge under Sidney’s breastbone.
“They teach debutantes not to stand in dark streets with young men. I fear I have failed my teachers on all points.”
Sidney tucked the handkerchief into his pocket. “I think your upbringing prepared you well for this line of work, especially talking to people and getting them to open up. I’ve always enjoyed the observational side more.”
“Perhaps, but you do have more experience all around.”
Sidney recognized it as a real compliment by the begrudging edge in her tone. “It means I know my strengths, and I can’t charm people like you. Watkins and Hughes warmed up faster to you tonight than all my weeks in the seminar.”
Ginevra made a pleased hmm, a touch of smugness in her face, and turned to continue their walk. “Then the first clause of our truce shall stipulate that charming interrogation is my domain, and observational glowering shall be yours.”
Sidney’s smile was dangerously close to escaping now, but he did have his contractual glowering to consider. “That’s the measure of it.”
“Excellent. Then can we proceed to a proper discussion? For you are right: I am in a muddle over everything I’ve uncovered so far. What I told you at Tolliver’s barely scratched the surface…”
Methodically, Ginevra laid out the details of what she’d found while Sidney filed away the information: Marion Kirk’s obsession with the Damocles Club, her alleyway meetings, the mysterious significance of the same article showing up in her room and Tolliver’s house; Neville’s Russian letter littered with redactions, the striking change in his appearance that evening—
Gin stopped and whirled toward Sidney on the path, grabbing his arm.
“Good lord, I nearly forgot in all the excitement: Did you hear what Neville said at the end, right before hell broke loose? Die Krone was the nickname of this Robert Crowne fellow—the German’s spy in Vosburg.
Surely it can’t be a coincidence those were Mr. Tolliver’s final words? ”
Sidney had been far more focused on a gleam of auburn hair than Neville’s speech. It was amateurish distraction on his part, and he resolved to not let it happen again. “I didn’t catch it, but you’re right, that is peculiar. I think it’s time we call the Rook.”