Mission: Improper: London Steampunk: The Blue Blood Conspiracy (33 page)

M
ALLORYN WAS not pleased
.

Fortunately, he had other matters on his mind and only gave them one snarled comment—
“could you possibly have found a bigger monument to destroy”—
before sending them off to tend to themselves.
The fact that someone had tried to blow up the queen whilst she was at his engagement party seemed to be the bigger affront.

Ingrid found herself settled into a steam carriage driven by a member of the Nighthawks, who were now combing the garden at Malloryn's.
She didn't care anymore.
She'd done her bit, and now the loupe was demanding payment.
The carriage rocked as Byrnes shouldered his way through the door, and then he was settling on the seat beside her.

"Zero was here," he told her, lifting up a note.
"She had this delivered ten minutes ago by some street lad.
It's to me."

Ingrid had just enough strength to lift her head to read.
"Congratulations, Master Byrnes.
You do prove resourceful—and somewhat vexing—though I do not care for the company you keep.
Never mind, I'm enjoying this game far too much, and people die—verwulfen die—such is life.
We will meet again.
Zero."
She looked up, blinking through the heavy lassitude of the loupe.
"She does seem particularly taken with you.
Are you certain you didn't get up to anything I should know about?"

Byrnes looked affronted.
"I've barely even met the woman!"

"Well, something made an impression.
I'm not sure it's your charm."

"She's insane!"
Byrnes screwed the piece of paper in his fist.
"And she just threatened you."

With a laugh, Ingrid rested her head on his shoulder.
"Don't get your drawers in a twist.
She's not coming after me yet.
Wake me when we get to Baker Street."

And then she stopped fighting the heaviness.

A
s evening drenched the skies
, a swift knock came at Ingrid’s door.
Even before Byrnes opened it, he knew who was there.
He'd recognize that scent anywhere.

"Rosa," he murmured, keeping his voice low.

Rosa peered past him.
"Is she all right?"

"Apart from a few scratches, she's fine."
He was not, however.
Ingrid was going to be the death of him.
Watching her on that beam, with the vampire at her heels....
"She's just tired.
Hasn't woken up yet."

Rosa slid onto the bed, curling Ingrid's hand in her own.
"She does that when she exerts herself immensely.”

"Let's hope she doesn't fall asleep somewhere when she's not yet made it to safety then."

"She won't," Rosa said.
"The fact that she's allowed herself to surrender to it means that she trusts you.
Byrnes...
thank you.
For looking after her, and guarding her back."

"You sound surprised."

Fabric rustled as the duchess smoothed Ingrid's hair off her head.
"I'm not surprised you protected her.
You're a Nighthawk, after all.
I might be a little shocked to find you sitting here at her bedside, however.
The Caleb Byrnes that I know is not the sort of man to hover at a woman's bedside."

There was a question in that.

"She asked me to stay the other night when she was injured.
I don't think she likes to wake up alone in the middle of the night.
I think—" He stopped in his tracks.
Why the hell was he explaining himself to Rosa?

And the truth was, he was lying.
He was here because he wanted to be here, and because he didn't want Ingrid to wake up alone in the dark and not know where she was.

Rosa saw it all, judging from her expression.
"I thought we had an agreement?"

To hell with that
.
"I'm not giving her up, Rosa."

The duchess's lips thinned.

"I'm not," he told her firmly, standing and retrieving his coat.
"Whether you like it or not."
He slung his coat over his shoulders.
"As Ingrid's friend, I respect your concern about our relationship, but this is between Ingrid and me, and I'll thank you to stay out of it."

Those dark brown eyes watched him as he headed for the door.
Then she smiled, very faintly.
"As you wish."

It was the smile that unnerved him.
Far from looking like she was about to leap between them with pistols raised, Rosa seemed to be dwelling on some secret thought that amused her.

"I'll give you a moment alone with her," he murmured, slinking through the door and finding Lynch in the hallway beyond.

"You've just cost me one of my finest bottles of blud-wein," Lynch sighed.

It wasn't what he'd expected the duke to say.
"What?"

"Garrett," the duke replied, sliding his hands into his pockets.
"I should have known better than to bet against that bastard.
Come.
Walk with me."

Together they strolled into the garden at the back of the house.
Fog lingered in the corners, and a single gaslight lit the yard.

“Should I be worried about Rosa coming after me?”
Byrnes muttered, leaning against the wall.

“I think she’s reconciling herself to the idea of welcoming you into the family.”

That disconcerted him a little.
Rosa as a sister-in-law.
Jesus.
Byrnes shifted.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
Nothing’s been decided, and… there are still some problems for Ingrid and me to work through, as soon as we get a chance to breathe.”

“Oh?”

His first instinct was to clam up, but to hell with it.
He couldn’t do this alone any more.
"She wants children.
I've never— I didn't—" It was uncomfortable terrain for him to stare into a future he'd never examined before, never dreamed of.
"I'm not good with children, and I've never wanted to be a father.
I've never wanted to be a husband."
Not until she'd walked into his life and turned it upside down.
"But I cannot stay away from her."

"Mmm.
This doesn't have anything to do with your father, does it?"

Byrnes shot him a shocked look.

"You've always been the one I worried about the most," Lynch admitted.
"Emotion frightens you.
It's never been a problem until now, but it always used to worry me that one day you wouldn't be able to control everything you felt, and...
you'd do something stupid."

Byrnes swallowed hard as he rested his hands on the wall.
“I’m not going to do anything foolish.
It’s just—”

“You see too much of your father in yourself when you get angry?”

Byrnes shoved away from the wall, pacing.
“Christ.
How do you do that?”

“I’ve made human nature a study of mine,” Lynch replied dryly.
“It’s what made me a good Nighthawk.”

“An excellent one,” Byrnes replied grudgingly.
Neither he nor Garrett would ever compare.
Lynch could see right through a man, right through his motivations.
Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he swallowed hard.
Memories were starting to surface at the turn of the conversation: his father’s swarthy face as he turned and spied a young Caleb Byrnes watching from the shadows as he took his rage out on Byrnes’s mother….

"Is it the thought of being a father that concerns you?
Or the intimacy implied in such a position?”
Lynch asked.
“Or does it have something to do with losing everyone you cared for at young age, and being afraid to be vulnerable again?"

A little bit of each.
Anger throbbed through him.
"If you think that losing my father bothered me, then you'd be wrong."

"I'm not speaking of losing your father."
Lynch paused, a hesitation very much unlike him.
"You do realize that I was the one in charge of his murder case?"

Byrnes froze.
He couldn't help himself.
Instead he saw it flash before his eyes again, the knife in his hands plunging into that bastard's chest again and again, until it was a wet pulp.

Lynch had never said anything.
Instead he'd asked his questions about the incident, declared the case cold, and after the funeral had pulled Byrnes aside to offer him a position in the Nighthawks.

"I know you hated him.
No, I was speaking of your mother's loss.
Of young Debney."
Lynch rested his hip on the window ledge, merely watching him come to the conclusion the duke had already reached.
"Not the father you killed."

Byrnes pinched the bridge of his nose.
"You knew.”

"A crime of such passion?
It was either you or your brother, or perhaps even the viscountess.
Someone who hated him.
The second I laid eyes upon you, wary and mistrustful, with your emotions so tightly locked away, I knew who'd done it.
And then there was the fact that you were newly infected with the craving virus.
You didn’t come by that by accident."

"Then why did you let me join the Nighthawks?
You should have executed me."
The Echelon would have been baying for blood for the murder of one of their own.

"You were thirteen, Byrnes.
And I considered it.
The coldness you displayed unnerved me, but then there was the funeral and the way that you helped your mother hobble up to his grave to throw her flower on top of the casket, despite the fact you looked like you wanted to spit on it.
You loved her.
You were kind to her, and she was clearly a woman who'd seen the rough side of life.
In that moment I realized that you weren't hiding some sadistic monster inside you.
You were an injured wolf cub, lashing out, trying to protect the one thing that you cared for.
You could have become worse," Lynch admitted, "without someone to guide your choices, and your control of the craving virus.
You could have followed a dark path had I not taken the chance to help you.
When I adopted Garrett into the Nighthawks—well, he was always easy to love, but you...
you're the one I'm proudest of.
The one who stood in the shadows and slowly hauled himself out of them."

Byrnes's back hit the wall and he half slid down it.
He didn't know what to say.
That young blood-soaked boy inside him, terrified, hurting, furious, and wild with emotion....
He'd spent so many years trying to bury him.
And he'd succeeded in many ways.
Succeeded in bottling it all up, locking it all away.
Emotion and passion frightened him, because he knew what he was capable of.
He'd seen the blood all across his hands as he slowly came back to himself that night and realized what had happened.

“I’ve spent so many years trying not to become him,” he admitted in a hoarse whisper before meeting Lynch’s eyes.
“How could
I
be a father?
Or a husband?
I’m a good hunter, Lynch.
I’m not afraid of the dark.
I’m not afraid of the monsters, or of tracking them down, because I recognize that darkness inside
me
.
How do I become something else?”

“No, it’s not the shadows you’re afraid of,” Lynch said with a sigh.
“But the light.
And you’re not seeing the situation clearly.
I’ve seen you take care of Ingrid, Byrnes.
I’ve seen you protect your mother.
You’re so gentle with her.
There’s another side to you that perhaps you need to explore.”
Lynch sighed.
"Fatherhood scared me too, did you know?
When Rosa was carrying Phillip… it was absolutely terrifying, for I’ve never been around children much.
And then he was born, and it all became very simple.”
A faint smile quirked at his lips.
“All of that worry for nothing.
The second I held him in my arms, I knew I would shift heaven and earth to protect him.”

It was easy for the duke to say.

“Did Ingrid tell you this?”
Lynch asked.
“That she wants children?"

"It was fairly obvious at your dinner.
And your wife made some pointed remarks when she tracked me down."