Of Silk and Steam (15 page)

His hand froze against her skin, a horrified look flashing across his face before he smothered it. “Perhaps I wasn’t asking you to be my
whore
.”

He pushed away from her and Mina slumped against the wall, feeling the loss of his heat. What the hell had he been asking for, then? Her eyes narrowed to slits.

Barrons paced to the door.

“Wait.”

He lingered, half glancing over his shoulder.

“What do you intend to do with me?”

“Christ, Mina. Quite frankly, you’re the least of my concerns.” He yanked at the doorknob and she couldn’t help noting the stiff line of his shoulders and the weary, almost beaten way he carried himself.

A part of her felt an odd kinship with him. Her tongue pressed against the roof of her mouth, words hesitating there. How much had she longed for a kind word when she’d been in his position? When the entire world—her family and status—had almost been stripped from her?

“Barrons.”

“Yes?”

Clearly he had no intention of making this easy for her, and she could let it continue, truly she could. Let him build this wall of distance between them until she was safely walled back in.

Ice
princess. In her gleaming ivory tower…
A part of her had never liked those words, though they’d protected her. A part of her didn’t like
herself
very much when she looked at it that way. Because walling her heart off was safe and she’d needed that so badly once, but she was stronger now. She’d caught a glimpse of what it could be like for someone to tear down those walls.

And this wasn’t about her. She wasn’t the one hurting so badly now, though there was almost no sign of hurt in Barrons’s composure.

“I’ve never seen you so uncertain,” she said. “You’re always so confident at court. It’s…part of the reason you intrigue me so much.”

He didn’t say anything, but she could feel him listening.

Silence stretched out. She tried another tack. “I know what you’re feeling. As if the whole world has turned upside down, including your place in it.” As though there was nothing left in the world beyond the dogged determination to fight for survival. Duel after duel, familiar faces falling beneath her blade… How they’d turned on her then, when suddenly she was no longer a niece or a cousin, but the path to power.

“Do you?” The words were almost broken.

“You forget who I am.”

“No, I don’t.” And his eyes told her in that moment, that he saw only what she wanted him to see—what the world saw. He no longer saw her.

It had threatened her, the uncanny way he seemed to know her, but now its loss was almost unbearable.

Something of it must have shown on her face. His harsh expression softened, just a hint. “I can cope with the loss of power, of position. What man can’t forge himself anew? Do you know what the worst thing is, though?” He waited for her to answer, then never gave her the chance. “It’s Caine. I knew he wasn’t my father, and he was never the type to act the role, but things changed in recent years, once it became obvious that he was facing the Fade. For the first time in my life, he needed me. And damn me for a fool, but I gave him everything he needed. I protected him, no matter what the cost, and today he couldn’t even look at me. Not one word of protest. He wouldn’t even take that much bloody risk.”

“Maybe he couldn’t.” A generous assessment, but she didn’t share that thought with him. Barrons was too lost in his own grief and anger, and she…she knew exactly how that felt. “It will fade,” she said quietly. “The feeling of betrayal, of loss.”

“How do you know?”

Mina ignored the sharpness of his words. “I have lost a father too, and more than that, far more.” Her fingers twitched, aching to toy with her skirts. “When my brother, Stephen, died, I was fourteen. It was a duel, something reckless that my cousin Peter had led him into. Of course, my family was devastated, my mother more so than most. He was…” A deep breath. “He was the kind of brother who always made me feel like I was welcome at his side. He was the one who taught me blade work, when I was five. Hardly the pursuit of a young lady, as my mother frequently stated, but Stephen insisted on it. Won her over with charm, like most people. He had the entire household wrapped around his little finger.”

She didn’t want to look up at him, but something drew her gaze. A peculiar prickling, as if he were focusing all of his attention on her. Mina reached out and gestured to the wall beside her. Slowly he sat. Folding her legs under her, she sat beside him. Their shoulders brushed against each other.

“When he died, it was like a little piece of me died too. There went my laughter, my sense of order, for such a long time. My mother vanished into her grief, and my father turned his entire focus onto his experiments and the pursuit of a way to heal even death. I was left to my own devices. Peter became heir presumptive, and my father could barely stir himself to protest.

“It’s the worst kind of feeling—to be useless, ignored, left to your own devices. I felt invisible, and then my debut came, and of course, every blue-blood lord wanted to have me for his thrall. No longer invisible.” She gave a bitter laugh. “But still not seen. And Father began to fall further and further into his work. Someone had to manage the duchy’s finances and deal with creditors.

“For over a year I managed the duchy, and then Father started growing ill. We thought it the Fade at first. Paling, losing time, losing his strength…taking to bed for long periods of time.” This time she couldn’t hide the grief underlying her words. “He kept saying it was Caine, that your father had done it to him. My mother and I feared poison, but what kind of poison could afflict a blue blood? We’re invulnerable to illness. I’d never been so frightened in my life.”

Thought flickered behind his eyes. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but…if it were poison, I doubt Caine had anything to do with it.”

“Of course you’d say that—”

“I believe it,” he countered, then studied her. “Caine’s not the sort to hide behind poison. It’s the sort of thing he’d think a weak person would rely on to defeat his enemies.” As if some thought drove it, all of the expression vanished from his face. “For years he beat me for every minor infraction, but he always insisted upon holding the rod himself. ‘A weaker man makes others do what he must,’ he used to say. ‘I take no pleasure from this, but by grace and glory, I shall make you a man.’” Barrons scraped a trembling hand over his exhausted face. “If he’d intended to see your father dead, he’d have held the pistol or the sword himself.”

Troubling. “It’s what my father said,” she insisted. A surge of hate welled up inside her, but she didn’t know what to think. A little part of her—the part that had spent years watching her enemy—knew that his words were true.

“But did he speak of what he believed Caine to have done?”

No. Mina frowned, picturing her father lying in his bed, so pale that she’d almost feared he was exhibiting signs of the Fade. Racked with pain that tore screams from his lips. They’d had to tie him to the bed in the end. “It wasn’t a natural death.”

“Peter?” he suggested.

“If Peter had been responsible, he’d have been unable to keep it a secret.”

“I remember him. A bloody popinjay, if I recall. You’re probably right. He’d have been crowing about it from here to Greenwich if he’d been behind it.” His voice lowered. “I remember the day you dueled him for the position of heir.”

Not her kindest moment. “I had to. He was threatening to marry me off to that cockroach Martin Astbury and to see my mother placed in an asylum once he became duke.” This time she let the bitterness surface. “She didn’t take my father’s death well.”

Vastly an understatement. Her mother had essentially died the day Stephen had. Her father’s death had merely been the opening act in a grave-digging service. Her mother had lasted all of three months after Mina’s father passed, and a part of Mina would never forgive her.

Stephen hadn’t been the only one who’d needed her. Mina pushed to her feet, pacing to the window. She felt as though her skin was on inside out. Revealing so much had never been her intention. Indeed, it made her feel terribly uncomfortable. But at least Barrons’s anger had subsided.

“So you see, I understand very well what it’s like to lose everything. It will pass, this feeling, though it never entirely vanishes.” She traced her fingertips along the window ledge, disturbing particles of dust. “It’s always there, like a ghost in the room.”

Movement shifted behind her. Light footsteps tracing hers. A shadow fell across her shoulders. Though he wasn’t touching her, she could feel him at her back like a brightly burning coil. “You’re right.” His voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “I’m acting like a child.”

“No. It’s not… It hurts.” She turned. “Right now it hurts, because those who should have cared for you weren’t there to protect you. Or if they were, they didn’t raise their voices when they should have.”

The look he gave her— “Why are you telling me this?”

Something unfurled deep in her chest. “Because nobody was there to tell me.”

Just because she had never shown it didn’t mean that the hurt hadn’t been there, deep inside. In a way, it was easier to pretend that she didn’t feel anything. Easier to concentrate on her plans, one foot in front of the other. Cement her status as duchess. Earn her place on the Council. Then later, to gather the humanist movement together and give its believers some sense of purpose. Or had that been another part of giving herself a way to forget her pain?

She stared at him somewhat defiantly. “We’re not enemies, not anymore. I don’t know what the truth is about my father’s death but…perhaps you’re right. I’ve cataloged Caine’s faults and weaknesses. Poison…it’s not like him.” Mina licked dry lips. “I won’t betray you. I won’t breathe a word of what you’re doing here. I’ll say I was blindfolded the entire time—”

And just like that, she lost him. Fury glittered in his eyes and he turned on his heel. “Christ.” A bitter laugh, thrown over his shoulder. “You know, you almost had me there. You almost made me believe you gave a damn—”

“Barrons! Wait!” She went after him.

The door slammed in her face. Mina held her fists up in frustration, then rested them helplessly on the door. From the sound of his harsh breathing, he was still on the other side.

“I meant it,” she said, pressing her fingertips against the polished wood grain and resting her forehead there. “I meant every word. It’s just—I can’t stay—”
You
don’t understand.

And
I
can’t tell you…

The only answer was the sound of angry footsteps echoing down the hall.

* * *

“She says she didn’t do it,” Leo said, staring into the fireplace.

“Do you believe her?” Honoria asked.

He clenched and unclenched his fist, watching the play of tendons across his knuckles. “I want to. Perhaps that’s part of the problem. I don’t know if I can see the truth.” Something he’d never admitted to anyone else before. “Not when it comes to her.”

“You look tired,” Honoria said.

Drained was a more accurate assessment. He stared into the flickering flames in the grate. “I spent years dreaming of this moment. I used to lie in bed and plan how I would react; whether I’d stare the prince consort in the eye and deny it, or rage against it, or call him an imbecile.”
God
. He looked up at the ceiling. What a fool he’d been. “I did nothing. I just sat there. I
couldn’t
say anything.”

And he didn’t feel anything either, not really. A little numb, now that the initial shock had worn off. Worn thin, as if he’d lost a piece of himself, but the greatest loss was the most unexpected one.

There was nothing left of the tentative bond he’d thought existed between himself and the duchess. She’d finally let him see a piece of her beneath that guarded veneer. He’d felt as though he’d reached for her and she’d begun to reach back. She existed in his thoughts; she always had. Hell, he’d even come to hope that she could be his, that he could have something akin to what his sisters had. He wasn’t fool enough to dream of love, for he didn’t understand it. Didn’t have a bloody clue what it meant, truly, but he’d hoped for…something.

Obviously he had overestimated the situation.

The duchess’s one desire was to return to her gilded life. And why not? What would she want with a bastard? With a man who was nothing? He had nothing to give her now but himself, and he knew how cheap a gift that was.

If only he could
make
her want him, prove he had some worth left.

“Well,” Honoria said, her hand sliding over the small of his back, “the truth is out. There’s nothing to be gained by sitting here and dwelling on it. Now we must plan what we will do for the future.”

Despite himself, he smiled a little at her, though the effort soon slipped. Honoria would never change. Practical almost to a fault, but he liked the way she said “we.” They’d made their peace over the years about his involvement in Charlie’s illness, but he’d never truly felt as if she’d forgiven him.

His smile faded. “How ironic… Here I am standing on your doorstep, begging for help.”

Four years ago, she’d been a stranger to him, the daughter that Todd had loved more than him. The little girl who’d grown up in Caine House while Todd still had the duke’s patronage. How he’d hated her as a child.

When Todd had been murdered by Vickers, the Duke of Lannister, she’d fled into Whitechapel with Charlie and Lena, with barely a handful of coins and the clothes on their back. Leo had turned her away from his door when she came begging for money after she lost her position of employment. Though he’d tried to hide her traces and steer Vickers’s manhunt in the opposite direction, he hadn’t done
enough
. He’d never forgive himself for it. “Honor, I—”

“A wise man once reminded me that I would never have married him if you’d given me money back then.”

Leo let out a slow breath and said gruffly, “Now I know the baby’s stolen your wits. You’re referring to Blade as wise.”