The Timeseer's Gambit (The Faraday Files Book 2) (44 page)

“I need to go,” Miss Woodruff said, and as Albany protested, she pulled her arm away from his and disappeared into the crowd.

“There’s a girl!” Olivia called after her. “Find someone with a normal job! One of those steelcutters who fill in potholes! Those blokes are diamonds in the rough, I assure you!”

“It’s quaint to be given a scathing review of my appearance by a woman accompanied by what appears to be a sentient rat walking on his hind legs,” Albany drawled, but his voice had lost that superior, dismissive tone.

Gently, Olivia reached out and patted his arm. “Oh, he’s perfectly disgusting and don’t I know it, but you’ll find the most marvelous thing about me is that I absolutely do not care. Try again, do, but I do feel it polite to warn you, Mister Albany, I am made of
steel
.”

“I need to speak to my sister in private,” Albany said. There was no humour left in his tone.

“You’ll leave her be, or I―” Chris began, but Rachel laid a hand on his forearm, silencing him.

“It’s… fine, Mister Buckley,” she said. He couldn’t help but notice she avoided his eyes. “He isn’t quite so bad as he seems, and I’d like to catch up with my brother.” She held out his hand to Albany, and Chris was somewhat comforted when he took it like a gentleman and led her off. He followed them with his gaze.

“Disgusting?” Kolston asked in the quiet that fell on their threesome after the Albanys had left.

“Oh, don’t start,” Olivia said, shaking a finger at her accompaniment. “I feel you aren’t allowed to be offended when you
cultivate
disgusting.”

“You actually knew her?” Chris asked.

“Your nanny? I’d only met her once, at your estate after the whole Grey affair, but―oh! You mean Miss Woodruff. Yes, we’re acquainted. Maris wanted me to order an arrest on her a few years ago, but it didn’t feel right. An Assemblyman planning to vote for one of Sir Combs’s idiotic bills was murdered. The killer wanted to even the Assembly floor, a loyal, lifelong reformist girl looked good for it on the surface, but, well. Long story short, I was right, as always. It wasn’t her.”

And she was an old friend of Rachel’s, who swore she upheld reformist ideals but wasn’t part of the group. Had that changed at some point? Had she once been an activist like Miss Woodruff?

“What’s Garrett Albany doing here?” Chris wondered aloud.

Olivia laughed. “He’d be an idiot if he wasn’t. You’ll find at least one of the Combses in attendance tonight, as well, though perhaps not Avery. Sir Combs down in Vernella wouldn’t want to give the night so much
weight
as to send his favourite son. Maybe a cousin. Second cousin?”

Chris had no desire whatsoever to make the continued acquaintance of Avery Combs. Just as well that he wouldn’t be here. “What is tonight, then?” he asked. “You said it was an exhibition, but the attendance is so…
prolific
, considering I didn’t read a thing about this in the society papers, and―”

“Oh, shh!” Olivia said, putting her hand on his shoulder to quiet him. “Here’s the woman of the hour!”

Chris couldn’t help but let his eyes stray to Rachel and her brother. They stood in an alcove, and Chris could only make them out because of the height all three of them shared. Rachel was red-faced, shaking a finger at her brother, who wore a mildly amused little grin. Chris vaguely entertained going to her rescue, but Olivia nudged him and pointed to the entrance as the room went quiet.

“―guest of honour, the esteemed and brilliant Miss Emilia Banks!” the announcer concluded, and the room exploded into applause as the mysterious reason for the event swept into the room.

Chris’s jaw dropped.

She was―she was
brown
. Her skin shone copper and bronze under the orange glow of salamanderlight, but the undertones were jewel-dark, blue and black. Her hair was as thick as lambswool, crinkled into tight, tiny curls. Some locks floated around her face, seeming to hover without being touched by gravity, and the rest were pulled back into a complex knot that rested at the nape of her neck, held by myriad braids. A tiny top hat perched at a jaunty angle atop that strange, beautiful hair, blue-green and adorned with a small fake bird and a brilliant set of hippogriff feathers. Her gown was practical in cut but vibrant in colour, matching her hat and adorned with frothy white lace that spilled from her collar and cuffs and trailed behind her. Where the white fabric lay against her skin, the contrast was breathtaking.

“Her skin,” he breathed. “She looks like… like freshly brewed tea, or… or…”

Olivia snorted. “She looks like a human person,” she said, sounding halfway between bemused and irritated. “Not a beverage.”

“She’s―” Chris began, but stopped. The gloriously exotic Miss Banks met another woman on the floor. Miss Banks dipped a shallow curtsey. The other woman gave a quick bow.

“Well. Doesn’t
she
clean up rather well?” Olivia murmured. It took Chris a moment to realize that she wasn’t referring to the strange beauty, but the person she’d met on the floor.

The woman in question was dressed in the policewoman’s dress uniform: a long, straight black skirt, smart, gleaming boots, a dress coat that fell to her wrists in the sleeve and her thighs in the hem, cinched tightly at the waist with a silver-threaded belt. Silver pins gleamed at her collar. She wore a bowler-style hat, black and trimmed in silver, and that was what had concealed her identity. All her hair was tucked up inside that hat, so Chris hadn’t noticed that it was bright orange or curled almost as tightly as Miss Banks’s.

“That’s Maris!” he exclaimed.

Olivia tapped her nose. “How do you think we got invitations?” she asked. She nodded to them. “Can you guess how they know one another?”

Chris blinked. “N-no, I―that is, how could I? I haven’t even met Miss Banks, yet.”

“Well, let’s remedy that,” Olivia said. She waved her hand above her head, her wispy lace sleeve falling to bare her arm to the shoulder, which Kolston watched consideringly while Chris averted his eyes and flushed. Maris and Miss Banks caught the gesture. Miss Banks smiled and raised a hand in return. Maris shook her head and put a hand to her temple. “I swear on my
life
, Christopher,” Olivia muttered as the two women made their way toward them, “if you tell her she looks like a cake or a tree or, or, a
junebug,
so
help
me―Maris! Emilia!” She reached forward and grasped Miss Banks’s hand, shaking it like she was a man. “I
had
to wish you congratulations! I cannot wait to see the main event. I’ve only been hearing about it since forever!”

“Introductions, Faraday,” Maris reminded, which Chris was eminently grateful for.

“Oh, yes, of course. Christopher, Rayner, this is the
brilliant
engineer and scientist Miss Emilia Banks, the reason we’re all here tonight! Emilia, this is my assistant, Christopher Buckley, who is very thankful you agreed to let him attend this event, and this is my sentient rat walking on his hind legs.”

Kolston swept off his ever-present bowler, seeming to find no complaint with the description, and Chris made the finest bow he could manage.

Miss Banks smiled. This time, she showed her teeth, which were very white against her skin.
Don’t mention it,
Chris reminded himself, but it was hard not to stare. Was she from the Southern Continent? That savage land? “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mister Buckley,” she said, inclining her head and dipping a shallow curtsey. Her voice was a low, smooth alto, sweet and soothing like honey. “Mister Rat,” she echoed the gesture to Kolston. “Charmed to meet you both.”

“Miss Banks,” Chris said, schooling his voice into the perfect tenor. “It’s my pleasure. You’re a friend of Officer Dawson’s?”

Miss Banks twisted her head to give Maris an almost arch look. Maris glanced away, colour touching her cheeks. She stood extremely close to Miss Banks’s side.
Can you guess how they know one another
? He really couldn’t. He studied them.

“Ah, yes,” Miss Banks said in that smooth voice. “You could say that. Maris and I have known one another for years.”

“Met when Emilia’s residence was robbed,” Maris grunted. She still wouldn’t meet any of their eyes. This seemed odd behaviour for her usual blunt, direct self. “Back when I worked a beat.”

Miss Banks pushed playfully against Maris’s shoulder and gave a sonorous chuckle. “A villain made off with some gold-plated laboratory equipment of mine and it would have taken quite a bite out of my personal finances to replace it. But Maris proved herself quite heroic.”

Maris rolled her eyes, but Chris recognized her rubbing the back of her neck as a sign of bashful pleasure. “Em is very
melodramatic
for such a scientific mind. The bloke was a numpty. Tried to pawn the stuff one street over and thought he’d get away with it.”

“Adorable,” Olivia squealed, clasping her hands together excitedly, and Maris rounded on her with eyes flashing.

“
You
,” she said, “can clam your gob right up. You owe me a world of explanation!”

“Don’t worry,” Olivia soothed. “I finished your paperwork before I squeezed into this thing.” She indicated her dress. “I spent all yesterday and this morning on it, and if it can be said, I think I did a
fine
job of it, too. It should be on your desk in the morning!”

Maris made a disgusted noise low in her throat. “You―I’m not talking about the paperwork,” she growled. “I’m talking about the
paper
. Have you somehow not seen it?”

Olivia blinked. Miss Banks tilted her head inquiringly. Chris once again turned to glance at the Albanys, a little concerned that Rachel was still occupied. She was stabbing her brother in the chest with a finger as Garrett threw his hands into the air. The area directly around them had cleared. Chris tried to read their lips to see what they were saying, but he had no luck.
Should
he go to her rescue? He wasn’t so sure, now.

“I said
discreet,
” Maris said, shaking her head. “I don’t know
who
you blew the lid off of this at, but I swear, Olivia, half the papers in this city are reporting wild rumours that there’s a serial killer after Maidens and Youths.”

“Oh, good! Just rumours, then. I’m still ahead of this!”

“
Faraday
.”

Olivia pouted. “Well, I can hardly be blamed.” She crossed her arms over her glittering chest, pushing her décolletage out even more. Chris really did try not to admire. He caught a knowing glance followed by a raised eyebrow from Kolston and looked away, face burning. “I’m only doing my job!”

“You also apparently harassed a Missus Theresa Edison?”

“Ooh―
she
was the one who talked to the press, then? Maris, please. It was completely reasonable! She’s a suspect!”

“
Why
are you always going after the grieving mother?”

“Why are
they
always acting so bloody guilty?”

“Ladies, really,” Miss Banks interrupted as Maris went to retort. “I would love to stand here and watch you two all evening, because it’s endlessly entertaining, but I have work to do and little time to do it.” She laid a hand on Maris’s forearm, and then quickly brought it away. “Maris, if you’re still standing here shouting at poor Miss Faraday when I’m ready for my celebratory glass of port, I swear I shall make you
terribly
sorry.” She smiled and nodded at each of them in turn and swept off.

“You must be proud,” Olivia said to Maris, grinning.

“Shut your mouth,” Maris shot back and actually flushed. “I’m not done with this thing with the press yet. Do you have any idea the chaos that erupted at the churches yesterday?”

“I don’t go to church. Especially not on Healfday, goodness. Besides, I think I’m getting close to having a theory―”

“When I tell you to be
discreet
, you can’t run off and tell everyone in Darrington what’s going on! Georgiana Edison’s mother lodged a
complaint
against you. Do you know how serious that is?”

“Very serious. Bad Olivia. Is Emilia going to outgrow you, now that she’s about to become the most famous person in Tarlish history since Richard Lowry himself?” Olivia asked sweetly.

Maris growled. “Faraday,” she said, her voice flat and threatening. “I swear to
Deorwynn
―
”

“What?” Olivia fluttered her eyelashes in guileless innocence. “We’re at a ball and I’m making small talk. Small talk is an important part of conversing as a normal person, Maris, try and keep up.”

“We are
talking
about your case, and for once in your life, can you not say ‘Officer Dawson’ just to humour me?”

A smile tugged at the corner of Chris’s lips, but his attention was pulled away from the altercation when a hand touched his arm. He looked down. Rachel stood beside him, her face nearly white beneath her cosmetics and her lips pulled into a tight grimace. “I’m sorry,” she breathed.

She looked awful. Chris turned and placed both hands on her shoulders. She was shaking. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“I―no. I don’t think so. I…”

“I’m so sorry, Rachel. If I had any idea that he would be here―”

“You really should have known,” Rachel said, jutting her chin forward. He was struck momentarily speechless by the venom in her voice. “Do you never pay attention to anything going on around you? Did you just hear ‘ball’ and accept without even asking what it was for? So that you could dress up and play at being relevant? Gods! This exhibition is for technology that’s going to change the conflict between the reformists and traditionalists
permanently
. Did you not think to find that out before you invited
me,
of all people, knowing my connections―”

“Rachel, please!” He glanced about. He felt terrible, like there was a ball of lead in his stomach, but she was working herself into a frenzy and people were staring.

She followed his gaze. The muscles in her jaw bunched. Her hands clenched into fists. “Mother Deorwynn!” she spat. “Do you care about
anything
other than how you look in front of others?”