Chapter 18 Discovery
DISCOVERY
On Diana’s list of things currently irritating her, the dog was at the top.
It was locked up somewhere nearby, and it had been barking and howling all morning.
Its pitiful wailing reminded her of Merlin.
And she could not escape. No leaving the house now that Temple knew her secret.
He seemed more worried than she about someone finding out.
Quite endearing.
Quite infuriating.
She could use a glamour after all.
But until the last few days she’d had no real desire to leave.
She felt safe in Temple’s terrace. It was a narrow little house composed entirely of straight lines and right angles, but each room held an abundance of books.
And at least one surface for Temple to toss her on or against and make her body sing.
Between her husband and her intellectual explorations, there’d been no need to leave.
How cozy they were—Temple worked in the forge, and she took notes in the study.
They popped in on one another and exchanged little kisses, tiny touches, until one of them broke and demanded more.
And the bedroom of course.
Sometimes she thought Temple could not be real.
He must be a dream she’d wake from. A single smile from him could make her forget all her fears.
In this little house she did not worry about being discovered, did not worry about a future that seemed so very constricted.
When he kissed her, she could approach the question of how to rid herself of her talent as if it were an intellectual puzzle rather than an immediate need.
“I’ve found a fairy.”
Diana looked up, her heart thumping. “Temple, you scared me.”
“Are you summoning the god of literacy?” He stepped into the circle of books she’d made around her on the floor and sat next to her. “Am I safe entering the fairy ring?”
“Do so at your own peril.”
He kissed her cheek. “You look perplexed, frustrated, irritated.”
“Have you swallowed a thesaurus, Temple?” He kissed her cheek again. “Do you know, when I met you, you were rather growly. What happened to that man?”
“He swallowed a bit of love potion.” Said while nuzzling her neck. “Thank Juno.”
She shrugged him away. She wished she’d never bought that love potion. He didn’t seem to mind. Teased her about it, but a little voice had wedged itself inside her mind, and it said one thing only: All of this is fake, nothing more than a glamour created by a bit of love elixir.
He shifted away from her enough to look into her face. When she turned her chin to her shoulder, he nudged it back around. “Diana, something’s wrong.”
“It is only that I’ve never heard that phrase before—thank Juno. Like you’re thanking God.”
“Ah. In a way, she is sacred to alchemists. The mother of Vulcan. But that’s not what’s wrong. Tell me.”
Nothing for it but to meet his gaze. Gray eyes, worried, gentle.
“It’s that dog,” she lied. Only partly a lie. “It’s been barking all morning. I cannot concentrate, and… it reminds me of Merlin.”
“Merlin?”
“My grandfather’s dog. Apollo’s dog now.
Not that Apollo cares. I worry about him.
He must miss me. He was the most adorable thing.
Fluffy fur you could sink your fingers into.
Apollo never liked him that much. And dislikes him now because he cannot glamour away the dog hair on his clothes.
Also…” She sighed, looking at the chaos of books spread out around them. “I find myself a bit bored.”
“Bored? Have I failed to entertain you?”
“Yes.”
“Sometimes honesty is not desirable,” he grumbled.
“Oh! Oh no.” She leaned against him, kissed his shoulder. “I did not mean it that way. Oh dear, your face has gone mottled. Calm down, Temple.”
“I am calm. And apparently boring.”
“Not at all! You yourself are highly entertaining. It is only remaining here day after day that is tedious. At the potion shop, I had work to do, new things to learn. And before that, before my grandfather died, I acted as his nurse. That was a particularly time-consuming job. He was something of an amateur scholar, and I helped him with his papers when he lacked the strength to write. I read to him when his eyes were too weak to do so for himself. He did not trust our footmen with messages for his colleagues, so he would send me instead. I have walked from one end of London to the next, I dare say.”
“We walk around the square at night,” he said, “and in the garden.”
“As we did at Finsbury before here.”
“You’ve visited Lady Guinevere. I’ve brought you books from Nickleby. We receive every newspaper produced in London.”
“And still I feel caged.” She collapsed backward, sprawling out across the books.
He stood and held out a hand. “I think it’s time for an adventure.”
“Another jaunt around the garden?”
He shook his head. “I came to tell you I was heading out for a few hours, but now I think you should go out with me.”
She sat upright. “Go where?”
“The Guild Library.”
Diana jumped to her feet, no hand necessary. She clasped his anyway, squeezing tight. “Guild?”
“The Alchemist Guild.”
“They have a library? Where is it? This mysterious library? I must know. Are you teasing me? Surely I would know if such a thing existed.”
Shaking free of her hand, he gently pushed her toward the door. “Go find your mantle and I’ll show you.”
“At least tell me where it is?” she cried out as she was halfway up the stairs.
“When we’re in the carriage!”
She was breathless by the time she reached the entry hall, and Temple was laughing. He’d barely helped her into her mantle before she was bolting out the door. The carriage was already waiting, the horseflesh as impatient as her to be off. She jumped into the conveyance and slid into the shadows.
He joined her, close on her heels, and once he sat, the carriage took off.
“Tell me now,” she said, looping her arm through his and setting her chin on his shoulder.
My, but he looked pleased with himself. That smug smile. Even his cravat seemed set at a confident angle. He leaned so close his lips brushed her ear, made her shiver, and then he whispered, “The British Museum.”
“No.”
He nodded.
“But how? I think I’d have known if an entire second library were located there. We all would.”
“It’s underground.”
“No!”
He nodded. “I knew you’d like it. I’m meeting a friend there. Sir Nicholas Bowen. He’s bringing me a book for you. A wedding present. From me, not from him. Don’t go falling for him, Diana. He’s a charming devil, and people say he’s handsome. But he has a wife. Remember that.”
“And I have a husband.” She kissed his cheek. “But if the gift is from you, why is he procuring it for you?”
“Because I’m not allowed inside anymore.”
“Temple! What do you mean?” She could not have heard that right. He was the Royal Alchemist! They could not deny him access to the knowledge of his trade! “You must be teasing me.”
He sat in silence, and she would have prodded him further, but they had arrived.
“We could have walked,” she said.
“Yes, but I thought we’d go to Nickleby House after this.”
He likely also worried she’d be seen and recognized walking along the street. She threw herself at him, hugging him tight.
He hugged her back, nestling his face in the crook of her neck. “Sweet Juno, Diana, you really have been miserable, haven’t you?”
“No.” She cupped his cheek. “Not a bit. Only… I long to be free.” How silly it sounded, but how difficult to say, too. The words and ideas most important to the soul were often the ones held closest, coveted in dark silence.
He nodded, and his throat bobbed, then he helped her down in front of the museum. Together they passed through the grand columns and joined the crowd inside.
“We can simply walk through the door?” she whispered.
He squeezed her hand, tugged her toward the back of the large open hall. “This way.” He pulled her between a wide Egyptian statue and the wall.
A doorway waited in the shadows, and though it was in plain view of everyone, no one seemed to notice it. They passed inside the dimly lit hallway, and Temple slowed.
“This the Hall of Alchemy. No one particularly cares about our history. Besides, we don’t let them have the good stuff.”
“Of course not.”
“Stop here. We can go no farther, and Nico promised to meet me here. Wait by this painting.”
She did, leaning close to read the plaque beneath it. “Gilbert Crane.”
“Founded the Alchemist Guild.”
He was one of those gentlemen with hair everywhere except on the top of the head.
In the ears, on the jaw, in the nose. The painter had not been shy about depicting every scraggly specimen.
As well, he possessed a magnificent mustache.
Thick and lustrous, it curled up at the ends into little spirals. “He’s—”
A door opened across the room. Diana had not noticed it before, but now another room beyond splashed light into their little abandoned hallway. Temple stepped behind her, shielding her in his shadows.
“See you tomorrow, Stone,” a man called out from behind the door.
“See me tonight, why don’t you, Nico?” This another voice, deep and dour. “Dinner at my place. Mrs. Stone wishes to meet your wife.”
The one called Nico laughed, but there was not a single merry note in the sound. “You invite me to your home after how you’ve treated the Grants? You spent the last hour deriding my dearest friends. Surely you do not expect me to accept your invitation after that.”
“The Grants broke the rules and defied our customs. You know that. Besides”—the second voice grew more venomous—“what do they need us for now? Sir Knightly is the king’s lapdog.”
Oh. Oh no. Diana swung around and pressed herself against Temple’s back. Hard as a rock and tight as a bowstring. She rested her cheek against his muscle and wrapped her arms around his waist. A proud man like Temple… he would hate being called a lapdog.
He did not pry her off his body, but he remained stiff in her embrace.