Chapter Twenty-Seven
TWENTY-SEVEN
Vesper awoke the next morning to a knock on her door.
It took her a moment to remember where she was, all that had happened the night before. For a moment, she expected to find Maximilian on the other side of the door, but when it opened, it was Mrs. Cauble who entered. She was holding a dress in her hands.
“Morning, Miss Evans.” The woman’s smile was bright, kind. “Your clothes have been dried, and I took the liberty of pressing them for you.”
“Thank you.”
The woman gave a small curtsy and smiled. “When you’re ready, breakfast is ready downstairs.”
By the time Vesper had dressed, the sun was out.
The previous night she’d been too cold, wet, and exhausted to appreciate much of Kite Manor; in daylight, she found herself awed over and over again.
Everything in the home seemed to gleam, from its marble floors, to the silk tapestries hung on the wall.
She found Max sitting at the head of a particularly long table when she entered the dining room.
He seemed to be deeply engrossed in his reading, and didn’t look up until one of the servants pulled her chair back to seat her on the opposite side of the table. He grinned.
“Miss Evans,” he said cheerfully. “I take it you slept well?”
He’s pretending as though nothing happened at all. Good. Vesper decided that she would do the same. “I did, thank you. I’m most refreshed.”
“Excellent.” Max set aside his book. “I wasn’t sure if you’d have an appetite, so I asked my chef to prepare a light breakfast for us.”
Vesper raised a brow. The “light” breakfast was made up of platefuls of poached eggs, buttered croissants, and a fruit assortment. It was enough to feed a family of four and still have leftovers.
“Please.” Max gestured to the table between them. “Enjoy.”
Vesper’s stomach growled. Only now did she remember that she hadn’t eaten a proper meal since the previous afternoon.
As she stacked her plate with everything within reach, Max resumed his reading, but she thought she felt eyes on her as the servants watched.
Her cheeks warmed. Did any of them know what happened in the den last night?
Had any of them seen her running back up the stairs to her room?
She chewed faster, not wanting to dwell on the thought.
“Bexley says the lockdown mandate has been lifted,” said Maximilian.
“Good, then I should get back to the Globe.” Vesper spoke around mouthfuls of food. “I’ve got plenty of work to do, and I need to review my notes from the investigation.”
“Of course,” said Max. “I’ll escort you.”
The Kite family coach couldn’t get any smaller.
Every time it jostled or hit a bump in the road, Vesper’s knee brushed Max’s, and every time they touched, her mind went back to the night before.
She’d been too tired to dream after she’d fallen asleep, but now scenes from the den were playing in her mind in an endless loop.
She thought about the way Maximilian’s lips had felt on hers, the way his teeth had grazed her neck.
It had been real, all of it, and something had indelibly changed between them.
The smell of smoke pulled her back to the present.
Vesper looked out the window and winced.
In the daylight, the damage from last night’s fire was starker.
Most of the buildings on the street had been spared, save for a few broken windows and debris from the riot that had ensued, but a few of the buildings closer to the factory were covered in soot, and the place where the factory itself had once stood was little more than a skeleton.
Vesper looked away quickly. She was relieved to see, as they went farther down Pierce Street, that the buildings in this area looked to be largely unharmed.
The coach came to a stop, and she got out quickly.
Relief surged through her body as she stared at the Quander Building.
Everything was exactly as she’d left it. She sighed.
“I’m glad it’s okay.”
Vesper turned. Maximilian was standing in front of the coach, his expression earnest. “The newspaper, that is,” he said, gesturing. “I know it means a lot to you.”
“I’m glad it is too.” She looked to the building again, then at the sorcerer. “Thank you again, for your hospitality, Mr. Kite. I appreciated it.”
A strange expression touched Maximilian’s face. There was a moment’s confusion, maybe hurt, but just as quickly, his expression smoothed. “Of course, Miss Evans. It was my honor.”
Like that, things were back to the way they’d been.
Vesper relaxed and tried to ignore the tiny part of her that was a little sad.
This, she told herself, was better. Even if she’d cared for Maximilian, and even if he’d cared for her, she reminded herself that they would never work as a real couple.
They came from different worlds, as different as land and sea.
His place was in Stonehaven; hers was here.
“You should get some rest and make sure everyone’s all right.” Maximilian’s tone was formal now, devoid of any of the tenderness it had held last night. “We can resume our investigation tomorrow, if that suits.”
Vesper nodded. “It suits.”
The sorcerer offered a low bow. “Then I bid you a good—”
“Miss Vesper Evans!”
They both turned in the direction of the new voice. A boy no older than eleven or twelve was tearing down the street. His face was red and even after he stopped before them, he had to hold on to his knees for a few moments, trying to catch his breath before he looked up again.
“Are you … Vesper … Evans?” he asked.
“I am.” Vesper nodded. “What’s going on?”
The boy shrugged off a small bag, reached into it, then withdrew a small envelope. “I was asked to deliver this,” he said. “She said she’d pay extra if I got it to you quick.”
Vesper took the envelope from him and examined it. It was pale pink, with a golden wax seal monogrammed with an ornate letter B. She felt a mounting sense of dread as she tore open the envelope.
Maximilian watched. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Vesper withdrew the note from its envelope, read it, then looked up. “It’s Ada Bickerton. She’s been attacked.”
The Bickerton home was, like the Stonehaven town houses that surrounded it, opulent and immaculately well-kept.
Maximilian used the head of his walking stick to rap the door three times, and within seconds a footman in red, yellow, and black livery was opening it.
He looked solemn as he bowed his head in greeting.
“Good morning,” he said quickly. “I’m afraid the Bickertons are not accepting guests today.”
“We received a message.” Vesper held up the note. “It’s from Mrs. Bickerton.”
“She told us to come right away,” Maximilian added.
The footman studied the letter in Vesper’s hand only a few seconds before he nodded his head and stepped aside.
“Right then, you’d best come inside.”
Vesper and Maximilian needed no further prompt as they followed the footman into the Bickertons’ home.
It wasn’t quite as grand as Maximilian’s but the floors were still made of dark polished wood, and they passed several crystal chandeliers as the footman led them through the house.
At last, they entered a parlor painted powder blue, and decorated with ornate crown molding.
A white marble fireplace to the left had been stoked, and standing beside it were a man and woman.
Vesper knew at once that they had to be Mr. and Mrs. Bickerton.
Ada was reclined on a chaise a few feet away. Vesper drew in a breath.
Ada’s normally neat hair was disheveled, and a bandage had been wrapped around her head. There was a dark bruise under her left eye, and her lower lip had a line of coagulated blood along the crease in the center.
“God,” Maximilian said under his breath.
“Vesper. Maximilian.” It was Mrs. Bickerton who stepped forward first. The woman had the same curly hair, slender build, and heart-shaped face as Ada. “Thank you both for coming so quickly. We’ve been trying to get Ada to talk to us, but…” She paused. “She only wanted to speak to you, Miss Evans.”
“Ridiculous, if you ask me.” Mr. Bickerton crossed his arms. “She never should have put herself in—”
“Shh!” Mrs. Bickerton glared at her husband before taking him firmly by the elbow. “We’ll leave you alone with her, Vesper. Maybe she’ll open up to you. Maximilian, if you’d like to join us in—”
“No.” It was the first thing Ada had said since they’d walked into the room. She didn’t look up, and her expression remained blank as she stared out the window, but her voice was firm. “Mr. Kite can stay.”
Mr. and Mrs. Bickerton exchanged an uncertain look before Mrs. Bickerton nodded. To Vesper, she said: “We’ll just be down the hall.”
Maximilian and Vesper waited until Ada’s parents had left the room before sitting down beside her.
“Thank you both for coming,” Ada said softly. “I appreciate it.”
“Of course.” Vesper took the girl’s hand in hers. She squeezed gently, and something seemed to shake loose in Ada. A single tear rolled down her cheek and she hung her head. She looked at Maximilian.
“Please excuse me, Mr. Kite.”
“There’s nothing to excuse.” Maximilian withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it. Ada dabbed at the eye that was bruised, then winced.
“Ada,” Vesper said gently. “What happened?”
Ada looked between Maximilian and Vesper, then swallowed. “I told you I thought I could find someone to decipher the contents of the journal you found in Charles Belver’s office,” she said. “So I went to visit a family friend.”
Maximilian’s eyes widened in alarm, but Vesper met his gaze.
“It’s all right,” she said. “I told her about the investigation. She’s helping.”
“Our family friend lives in Rockbriar,” Ada continued, “so I headed down there yesterday afternoon, but he wasn’t in his office, so I doubled back to head home.
My coachman offered to take me, but I told him I preferred to walk.
The weather was nice.” She shook her head.
“I was so foolish. About halfway home, I realized something was wrong. There were lots of people in the streets, more than usual. I tried to pick up my pace but someone attacked me. I suppose they saw a well-dressed woman alone and thought I had money. I don’t remember much, but”—she lightly touched the side of her head, then flinched—“I was hit from behind. I don’t remember much after that,” said Ada.
“When I came to, some kind young man was standing over me. He got me inside a local shop his family owned, then went to find help. I didn’t get home until a few hours ago. ”
A new discomfort settled in the pit of Vesper’s stomach as Ada’s words sank in. By the time the rioting throughout the city had gotten bad, she’d been safe inside Kite Manor, but Ada had gotten hurt, because she’d been out trying to do something to help her investigation.
She got hurt because of you, an internal voice accused. It’s your fault.
“Ada.” For the first time, Maximilian spoke up. “I know you were hit from behind, but do you remember anything about your attacker? Did they take anything from you?”
Ada nodded, and for the first time met Vesper’s gaze directly.
“The journal,” she whispered. “It’s gone.”