Grave Expectations (The Ministry of Curiosities Book 4) (3 page)

He suddenly let me go. It wasn't until that moment that I realized he'd lifted me up and deposited me on the other side of the door. I'd been too distracted to notice.

"Out, vixen, before I break my vow and give in." He stepped back, smiled the most wickedly delicious smile, and shut the door in my face.

"That wasn't fair!" I called out, hands on hips.

"That's the pot calling the kettle black. You haven't played fair since the moment you walked into Lichfield."

"I never
walked
into Lichfield. I was dragged there, kicking and screaming, right after you almost suffocated me."

As soon as I said it, I regretted it. Lincoln's methods to capture me and keep me at Lichfield still troubled him, even though I'd forgiven him, and he didn't like talking about it. When he didn't respond, I worried that I'd offended him. I didn't want him thinking I still harbored a grudge.

"Lincoln?" I said to the door. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought that up. It was a silly joke and—"

The door opened and he stormed past me. "Don't apologize." He dragged the sofa to the window and moved one of the occasional tables to the wall. "Go and change. It's time to resume your training."

"Here? Now?"

"Yes."

"You were going to tell me about the prophecy."

"I will, after training."

With a sigh, I headed to my bedroom and changed into my exercise clothing of loose men's pants and shirt. We exercised together until my skin became slick. Lincoln didn't look like he'd lifted a finger, whereas I had to gulp in every breath.

"Good," he said, with curt indifference when our session ended. "But you require more practice. We'll set aside time every afternoon."

"Even while in Paris?"

"Why waste the opportunity?"

"But I want to see as much of the city as possible. I may never come back here again."

"If you wish to return, we'll return." He strode to his bedroom and shut the door. The lock tumbled.

After I washed and changed into evening clothes, we headed to the hotel dining room where I felt quite under-dressed. The French ladies all wore gowns in the height of fashion, with jewels dripping from their ears, fingers and throats. My blue and white striped dress was reasonably pretty but quite ordinary by comparison, and I wore no jewelry.

Lincoln asked for a secluded table and we were led to an unoccupied corner. After ordering wine, he brought up the topic of the prophecy without prompting. "You know that I was chosen to be leader because the timing of my birth was right, and because of who my parents were," he said with a lift of his brow.

"Yes, but I know little about them except that your mother is a gypsy seer and your father is someone important. Is he a nobleman?"

"He is more than that."

"More?"

"Do you remember that night I went to the ball?"

"Very clearly. You were in a foul temper when you returned." We'd argued, but not about anything in particular. He'd wanted to pick a fight, and I'd simply been there at the wrong time.

His gaze shifted to the white tablecloth. "I was drunk and angry after seeing him there."

"Your father?"

"I only know that my mother is a gypsy because of that pendant she gave me. Like you, I researched it and discovered the eye was a symbol the gypsy clans use to ward off curses."

"What pendant?" I said weakly.

His gaze narrowed. "I know you found it in my desk drawer, Charlie. I also know you read all about it in my books."

"You do? Why didn't you tell me you knew I'd seen it?"

"I hoped you would come to me of your own volition and ask me about it."

"Oh. Right." I cleared my throat. "I…I suppose I should have, but I didn't want to be chastised for it."

His silence drew my gaze up to his. He was watching me with unnerving intensity. "Was I that bad?" he murmured.

I reached for his hand and gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "That's in the past. Let's move forward."

His fingers clutched mine. "The point I'm trying to make is that I knew my mother was—is—a gypsy. I'd learned her name from my file in the ministry archives and learned that she still lives. The night of that ball, I had not seen my father in a long time, and never up close. When Julia told me he would be there, I couldn't help myself. I had to go. Not because I thought I'd get close enough to speak with him, but because I…" He shook his head. "I suppose I just wanted to see what he was like."

I remembered Lady Harcourt had manipulated Lincoln into going to the ball so that he could meet eligible young ladies. Knowing he hated balls, she'd needed another incentive to get him there. But I couldn't recall who she mentioned would be attending in particular.

"What I learned about my father that night is the reason I returned home angry. He knew my mother, his lover, was a gypsy. He must have known. And yet he disparaged them cruelly to his friends that night, all for a few laughs."

"What did he say?"

His eyes turned hard, cold, and not even stroking his hand chased the dark shadows away. "He said the women were all whores and the men their minders."

I winced. What a horrid thing to say, particularly since he must have cared for one of the women enough to bed her. Or…perhaps he hadn't cared for her at all. Perhaps he'd tricked her by pretending he had. Or perhaps he'd raped her.

I felt sick. "Oh, Lincoln. No wonder you were furious." His emotions must have been boiling over by the time he got home and he was too inexperienced to suppress them, and so he'd simply let them out.

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to confine my anger to him. I should never have made you suffer."

Our wine arrived and we let go of one another's hands and waited for the waiter to leave again.

"Our mothers had something in common," I told Lincoln. "Both got themselves into trouble with men who didn't love them." I sipped my wine and watched him over the rim of the glass. I was very aware that he had not yet told me his father's name. It couldn't have been a committee member if he needed to attend a ball to see him. "Who is he?" I asked, setting my glass down.

His fingers tightened around the wine stem. "Albert Edward Saxe-Coburg-Gotha."

"Bloody hell," I said a little too loudly. One of the ladies three tables away shot a flinty glare my way. I lowered my voice. "The Prince of Wales!"

He nodded.

"Are you sure?"

"It was listed on my file in the archive, and the prophecy states that the leader of the order would be the son of a king. He'll be king when his mother, the queen, dies."

"That's why your name is Fitzroy." It was so obvious now. I couldn't believe I hadn't put the pieces of the puzzle together before. "It means son of the king. Who named you?"

"The committee. Lincoln after Lincolnshire, the county where General Eastbrooke lived as a child, and Fitzroy for the reason you stated. When I saw his name on my file, I confronted the committee and they told me it was true. I was the son of the prince, but I wasn't to tell a soul."

"I suppose a scandal like that would undermine the monarchy."

"I'm not so sure it would be much of a scandal now. The Prince of Wales is well known for his philandering. His relationship with my mother—if it could even be called that—occurred before his marriage, when he was only your age, but that is no excuse to speak of her or her people dishonorably. I was extremely disappointed that night. I'd hoped he'd loved her—or at least cared for her. After hearing him say that, and worse, I knew he hadn't."

"How did the committee members learn about you?"

"I suspect they had spies watching the prince. From the dates in the prophecy, they could be quite certain he would father the ministry's future leader. It was only then a matter of watching the women he consorted with. Being with a gypsy seer would have certainly raised their interest. It fits with the prophecy."

I digested his news as we ate, but by the time it came to return to our rooms, my mind still reeled. Royal blood flowed through Lincoln's veins—and he wanted to marry
me
.

"If he acknowledged you as his son," I said as we approached our suite, "you would be accepted into the highest, most exclusive circles."

"You know that doesn't interest me."

"But it's your birthright, Lincoln."

"The ministry is my birthright." He opened the sitting room door and followed me inside.

"You would be introduced to powerful people from all over the world. Opportunities would come your way that you could never gain otherwise."

"I want none of those things." He frowned and closed the door. The click sounded loud in the heavy silence. I turned away, but he caught my arm and gently pulled me against him. "Charlie, I know that look. Tell me what's wrong."

"You're a prince, Lincoln."

He grunted. "I am nothing of the sort. The man who fathered me is a prince."

"But it changes everything!"

He stroked my hair back. "It changes nothing. I've known for some time, and decided after the ball, that he's not a man I want to get to know better. Even if he did acknowledge me, it still changes nothing. I will always be the leader of the ministry and you will be my wife."

"But…I'm a gutter rat."

"You are
my
gutter rat."

I spluttered a watery laugh and lay my head against his chest. He enveloped me in a hug and kissed the top of my head. "You're overwhelmed," he said. "The journey was long and tiring, and we've been busy since our arrival."

"Not to mention I got engaged to the man I fell in love with some months ago."

"I'd like to remind you that we've been engaged since the evening we rescued Buchanan from Bedlam."

"Not to my mind."

I felt him smile into my hair. "We'll slow down, now that everything is settled."

"Does that mean no more training?"

"Your training will continue in the afternoons. The way your saddle was cut worries me, and I want you to be as prepared as possible for whatever may come when we return." His arms tightened. "Finding who cut it will be my priority."

"
Our
priority. You do not work alone."

"You won't be helping if your life is in danger."

I sighed. I'd been expecting that response ever since he'd found the strap on my sidesaddle had been cut in the days before we left London. While the sabotaged strap had been easy to spot, it didn't mean the attacker wouldn't try again. Although Lincoln hadn't mentioned it since, I suspected it had been playing on his mind. Returning to London would see a return of the steely ministry leader who'd all but disappeared since arriving in Paris.

He pulled away first and set me at arm's length. "Goodnight, Charlie."

"Not even a goodnight kiss?"

He considered this for a moment then leaned in and pecked my cheek. "That will have to do."

I sank into a curtsey and lowered my head. "As you wish, your highness."

"I wondered how long it would be before you mocked me."

I straightened and squared up to him. His lips quirked but did not break into a smile. "If only the others knew what a good sport you were."

"They wouldn't believe you. Besides, I wouldn't allow anyone but you to mock me."

"I feel so fortunate."

"Goodnight, Charlie."

I caught his hand as he walked off and he stopped, brows raised, that mischievous smile still playing on his lips. He'd never looked more handsome. Relaxation suited him. "I
do
feel fortunate, Lincoln. I am the luckiest girl in the world."

S
eth
, Gus and Cook were pleased to see us. At least, they were pleased to see
me
. They embraced me, in turn, with brotherly hugs and broad grins. They merely nodded at Lincoln, or muttered a half-hearted "Welcome back, sir." Despite knowing him for longer, they did not yet feel altogether comfortable with their leader. My fiancé.

"We are engaged," I blurted out before we'd even reached the front steps of Lichfield Towers. I thrust out my hand to prove it.

"Blimey," Gus muttered, inspecting the diamond from all angles. "That'd be worth a sum."

Seth jabbed him in the ribs. "A gentleman never discusses money. It is quite impressive, Charlie, but I think you could have held out for a larger one." We were out of earshot of Lincoln who was assisting the driver to remove our luggage, but Seth leaned closer to me anyway. "He would have given you Everest if you'd asked for it."

"She ain't that kind of lass," Cook snapped, putting his meaty arm around my shoulders and kissing the top of my head. "I be pleased for you, Charlie. But…" He glanced over his shoulder at Lincoln. "Are you sure? He be difficult."

"I know that as well as anyone, but I love him anyway." I kissed his soft cheek. "Thank you for your concern."

We all looked to Lincoln. The hackney that had brought us from the station drove off, leaving him glaring at his men, the bags at his feet.

"I think he wants your assistance," I whispered.

Gus trotted back down the steps, but the other two walked with me into the house.

Seth took my cloak and hung it on the coat stand. "One of us ought to pull Fitzroy aside and have
that
discussion with him."

"What discussion?" I asked, unpinning my hat.

"The one where we threaten him if he doesn't treat you well."

I laughed. "I'd like to see that discussion."

"Ain't be me," Cook said, folding his arms.

Seth shot a glance through the open door, where Gus and Lincoln were climbing the steps, cases under each arm and in each hand. "I nominate Gus."

"For what?" Gus said, edging sideways through the door.

"Later," Seth muttered through a clenched-teeth smile for Lincoln's benefit. "Congratulations, sir. Charlie is a fine choice for you."

I slapped my gloves into his chest, forcing him to take them. "I am not a horse, nor am I for sale."

"Take Charlie's luggage upstairs," Lincoln said coolly. "Cook, prepare tea to be served in the parlor. We're having a meeting."

"All of us?" Cook asked.

"All of us."

I followed Gus up to my rooms and pulled out my new clothes once he'd gone. After freshening up and changing into a smart dark green day dress and a matching fitted jacket with brass epaulettes on the shoulders, I returned to the parlor where the four men in my life waited for me. Three of them smiled at me. Lincoln did not, but his sharp gaze followed me until I sat on the sofa. He had not smiled since leaving France. I'd not seen him at all on the boat as he battled seasickness, but even when we'd touched land, he continued to look a little ill and had been quiet. When I'd asked him on the train back to London what was the matter, he'd simply said he was being vigilant. It took a moment for me to realize he was worried about someone attacking me.

Lincoln handed me a cup of tea and a slice of cake then sat beside me. "Eat. Drink. It's been a long day."

"I'm not tired." I drank the tea until the cup was almost empty then set it aside with a satisfied sigh. I'd not had a decent cup of tea since leaving England. The French did food, wine and fashion better than us, but they didn't know how to brew good tea.

"Does our news surprise you?" I asked, since no one had begun a conversation. I felt rather conspicuous in my new dress with the diamond on my ring finger. It was as if they all saw me differently now, like a grown woman and not the girl who'd first disrupted their lives. Or perhaps that had more to do with how
I
felt than how they saw me.

"Yes," Seth said as the other two muttered, "Aye."

"It does?"

While Cook's already florid complexion flushed more, the other two averted their gazes. "We didn't think you would, er, formalize your relationship," Seth said.

Lincoln set his cup down with a loud clank in the saucer. He blinked at each of them in turn, but since they were studying their slices of cake with great interest, none noticed. I resisted the childish urge to utter, "See, it wasn't just me," to him. I simply cleared my throat and smiled into my teacup.

"Tell us how you liked Paris, Charlie," Gus said, smiling. He had a rather gruesome smile, with his broken teeth and the scar that made one eyelid droop, but it warmed my heart to see it. I'd missed him. Missed them all. "Were it like you expected?"

"Better. It's a beautiful city. We saw everything there is to see, and ate the most delicious dishes. Except for the snails." I pulled a face. "Your friend Fernesse sends his warmest regards," I said to Seth. "He wants you to visit him."

"I'm unlikely to travel to Paris in the near future," he mumbled.

When he didn't continue on, I added, "He's quite well."

"I'm pleased to hear it." He turned to Lincoln. "You'll be wanting a report, sir?"

"Did something happen in our absence?" Lincoln asked.

"Nothing out of the ordinary. We've had no callers, not even committee members."

"I informed them all that I would be away until further notice."

"Will you send word tonight that we're back?" I asked.

"I prefer to wait until the morning."

"I prefer you never tell them, but I suppose it must be done." I stroked my thumb over the gold band of my engagement ring. "They will be surprised."

"They'll be bloody shocked," Gus said. "It ain't goin' to be a fun meetin', that one."

I gave Lincoln a grim smile. "Thank you for waiting until tomorrow. I'm not sure I can face them after such a long day."

"You don't have to face them," he said. "Leave them to me."

"It involves both of us. We'll do it together." I held up my hand when he protested. "Together, Lincoln, and that's final."

I wasn't aware of how forceful I'd sounded until I saw Gus's eyes widen in alarm, and Seth's worried gaze shift to Lincoln.

Lincoln, however, didn't bat an eyelid. "I'll summon them to a meeting tomorrow afternoon. That gives me the morning to speak with Holloway."

"Holloway!" Gus frowned. "He's in prison. What you want to speak to him for?"

"They need Holloway's permission to marry, dolt." Seth rolled his eyes.

"But he ain't her real father. Can't the courts place her under your guardianship, sir?"

"They may, but the process will take time." Lincoln seemed disinclined to elaborate, so I explained to them that Holloway was my father in the eyes of English law because he'd pretended I was born to his wife in France all those years ago. "We have a letter from the matron at the orphanage stating that he isn't my real father. If we need to go to court, we have that in our favor as well as his conviction. The courts move slowly, however. If we can get Holloway's permission now, we won't have to wait." I closed my hand over Lincoln's. "We don't want to wait."

Cook cleared his throat. "I hate to say it, but who'll be doin' maid's work now?"

Gus groaned. "I ain't cleanin' out the fireplaces no more. Soot gets into everything. Last time I was wipin' it out of the creases of my eyelids for days."

"Soft," Seth muttered.

"We'll place advertisements in the morning, one for an experienced housekeeper and another for a butler," Lincoln said. "Once those positions are filled, they will hire other staff as required."

"You're not worried about them learning ministry secrets?" Seth asked.

"All ministry documents will be locked away. Any meetings will be held with the door closed. No one will mention the ministry, our work, or supernaturals except in private."

Gus and Cook exchanged glances. I understood their concern. No matter how careful we were, a nosy maid could discover secrets if she wanted to.

"I will make it clear to the staff that there will be consequences if they are not discreet," Lincoln went on.

"Try not to use your threatening voice," I told him.

"My threatening voice?"

"Or that look."

"What look?"

"The one you use when you're trying to scare people into doing your bidding. I know now that it's just a look, and doesn't mean anything, but newcomers won't. We don't want to frighten the poor maids away before they even start."

Seth bit his lip but it didn't stop his smile. Fortunately Lincoln was too busy staring at me to notice. "I will not use my threatening voice or look." He said it without moving his jaw which made me think he hadn't understood what I meant at all.

"Seth, will you help me word an advertisement later?" I asked. "You must know how these things are done."

"My mother was in charge of the staff," he said. "But I'll do my best. In fact, I know an experienced butler in need of employment. He was our butler for almost two decades, until Mother fired him."

"Before or after she ran off with the second footman?" Gus asked with such an innocent expression that I had to smother my giggle.

Seth stabbed Gus with a pointed glare. "She fired him for drinking his way through my father's cellar. It was after Doyle left that everything fell to pieces. I had no idea how much he kept the other staff in order until the second footman moved into Mother's bedchamber the same day Doyle departed. By the time the new butler arrived, the damage had been done."

"Perhaps that's the real reason your mother fired Doyle," I said. "And not because of the drinking."

"Undoubtedly. Shortly after that, we lost everything to pay my father's gambling debts, and Mother left the country altogether in defiance." He flattened his tie and stretched his neck out of his collar. "Speaking of my mother, I received a letter from her."

"Is this relevant?" Lincoln asked.

"I'm interested," I said.

"The second footman died," Seth went on. "Mother is returning to England on a permanent basis."

"Oh? Her re-entry into society will be…interesting."

Gus snickered.

"That's not why I'm bringing it up." Seth cleared his throat. "She has requested to stay at Lichfield until she can secure herself a more permanent residence."

"Of course," I said at the same time that Lincoln growled a protest. "She's welcome to stay as long as she needs."

"Thank you, Charlie. Her stay will be brief, I'm sure."

"She doesn't have any money or possibility of an income," Lincoln said in the boldest fashion. "How will she secure herself a house?"

"She receives an annuity from her father's estate and still has friends in London. She'll persuade one of them to take her on as a companion. You'll find she's very good at getting her way," he muttered into his cup.

"Hire your butler tomorrow," Lincoln said. "As to your mother, she can stay here as long as she doesn't get in the way."

"Thank you."

"When do you expect her?" I asked.

"In two weeks."

"Speaking of mothers," Gus said to me. "Did you find out more about yours?"

"A little. The matron told me what she remembered, but it wasn't much." I relayed what the matron had said, and it wasn't until Lincoln's fingers closed over mine that I realized how forlorn I sounded.

"You didn't raise her spirit?" Gus asked.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I'm reluctant, after what happened with Estelle Pearson. My mother was a necromancer, so she may know the same spell to overrule my control. We can't risk that happening again."

"She won't do that to her own daughter," Gus said.

I shrugged. "That's not something we can know beforehand."

"Summon her," Lincoln said quickly. "Speak to her spirit but don't allow her to leave Lichfield and enter a body."

"I'm not sure," I hedged. "What if her powers can be used in spirit form?"

"She's your mother, Charlie," Gus said. "She won't cause you problems like the Pearson woman did."

"Mothers don't always put their children's interest above their own," Seth grumbled into his chest.

"Summon her," Lincoln said again with a nod.

I blinked at him. "Now?"

"Whenever you're ready."

"I…I suppose I'm ready now." I looked at each of them and met only encouraging nods. It would seem my mind had been made up for me. If they all thought it was safe, then perhaps I was worrying over nothing. I blew out a deep breath, but my nerves still felt tighter than bow strings. "Ellen Marie Mercier, I call your spirit to me. Ellen Marie Mercier, please return to the world of the living to—"

The mist rushed toward me from the corner of the ceiling and rolled to an abrupt stop near the table where I'd set down my cup and plate. With what felt like an excruciatingly slow pace, the white cloud formed into the shape of a face.

A face remarkably similar to mine, yet hollow in the cheeks and eyes from illness.

I gripped Lincoln's hand hard as the ghost said something in French. "Do you speak English?" I whispered. "Mother."

Her slender brows drew together. Two ghostly arms stretched forward, as if to embrace me, but went right through. "My little girl?" she said in a musical English accent.

I nodded. It was all I could manage with my full eyes and tight throat.

She bit her wobbling lip, and I noticed that I was doing the exact same thing. It made me smile. "My name is Charlotte. My friends call me Charlie."

She glanced at the others in the room before her gaze settled on my hand linked with Lincoln's. Her small frowned deepened. "And your family?"

"I have no family," I told her. "They're…gone." It seemed easier to let her think they were dead. Easier and kinder. She had, after all, been desperate for me to be given to a
good
family. It would be cruel to disturb her afterlife with the truth.

"Have you been happy, my daughter?"

I nodded and smiled. "Yes. I am happy."

She didn't seem to notice my use of the present tense, but Lincoln did. His thumb drew little circles on my knuckle.