A Study in Silks

the steps.”

She was intrigued. “Then I suppose I must see what he wants.”

A minute later, the man called Striker was standing in the middle of the sunny green and yellow room, with its flowers in the pretty china jug. At first glance, he resembled a cross between a pugilist and an armadillo masquerading as a rusted-out boiler. He smelled of grease, gunpowder, and gin with an underlying tang of dried blood. A man who lived hard.

If one looked closer, however, there was a quick and wary intelligence in the man’s brown eyes. He held his hat in his hands and studied Evelina with some curiosity.

“Miss,” he said. “Pardon the intrusion.”

He was clearly minding his manners to the utmost of his ability. Tobias was watching from a few feet away, arms crossed and a disapproving scowl on his face that made him look alarmingly like his father.

“Consider it pardoned,” said Evelina, wanting to ease Striker’s discomfort. “What brings you here?”

“I came to give you these.” He held out a cloth bundle in one grease-stained paw.

She recognized Nick’s neckcloth immediately. It was the one he had been wearing last night. Alarm ran chilly fingers over her body. Why does a streetkeeper have it?

A coppery taste of fear flooded her mouth. She darted forward, reaching for the bundle, but Tobias got there first. “Tobias!”

“Let me see,” he said, setting the package on the table and working at the knots. “Before you go touching whatever is inside.” The contents gave an interesting metallic sound.

Evelina looked from Tobias to Striker, who looked unimpressed.

“It’s quite safe, sir,” the streetkeeper said.

The corners of the neckcloth parted. Mouse and Bird sprawled on the table, frozen as wind-up toys that had lost their keys. Both looked the worse for wear, Bird in particular sporting unfamiliar patches of metal that looked like they might have come from Striker’s coat. She reached out with her mind. They were still and silent, but they were both alive.

Evelina whirled to Striker. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”

Flushing slightly, the young man shifted, the coat giving a faint rattle. “The bird was in bad shape. I tried a bit o’ repair, miss, but I don’t have the tools for work that fine. Nick said you could take it from here.”

Tobias was intrigued, picking up Mouse and turning it over in his hand. “Did you make these, Evelina?”

She suddenly realized her secret was slipping out of the bag. She shot Striker a look, but his face was completely neutral. A man used to keeping his mouth shut.

“Yes,” she forced her voice to be calm. “As you know, I have an interest in clockwork toys.”

Tobias picked up the bird, peering at its repaired wing. “Was there anything else you wished to say, Striker?

“No, sir.”

“You may go.”

“As you wish, sir.” The streetkeeper clapped his hat back on his head and started for the door, moving with a visible limp.

“Wait!” Evelina cried. Why didn’t Nick come?

Striker stopped, one brow lifting, a bit of a tease lurking somewhere behind his eyes.

Questions formed and dissolved in her mind. She didn’t know Striker, and wasn’t sure what was safe to ask. “I appreciate that you came. And tell Nick thank you from the bottom of my heart. I hope everything is all right with him.”

Striker’s mouth twitched, as if understanding far more than she would have liked. “I’ll do that, miss. And don’t you worry about him none.”

Evelina watched him go, then closed the sitting room door. It wasn’t proper to be alone with Tobias in a closed room, but nothing about this situation was normal.

He was still examining the creatures. “How did a streetkeeper come to have anything of yours?”

“I lost them. A friend found them.”

“This Nick person?” Tobias asked, a protective edge in his voice. Obviously, he’d missed nothing.

“Yes, Nick.” And where was the Indomitable Niccolo? Being told not to worry was the fast road to indigestion.

Tobias set the bird down with a guarded expression, but he had questions. They were almost visibly swarming around him. “You’re entitled to your secrets.”

He told me his, after all. Evelina drew a ragged breath, explanations and excuses crowding up in a rush, but she didn’t answer right away.

My secrets are even more dangerous to share. Striker’s connection to Nick meant that Evelina’s two worlds had unexpectedly intersected. Worse, her old love for Nick—hopeless, but reawakened —had collided with her fascination for Tobias. There was no good way to explore that mess with either one of her would-be suitors.

But the need to confess was almost a physical pain—to explain about her magic, about her fears, about what Magnus had wanted from her. If they were to succeed at all, there should be nothing between her and Tobias, nothing to hinder what was blooming into real affection. Magnus was gone. Surely, enough danger had passed to make confidences possible?

No. Caution held her back, at least from letting him all the way in. Still, she felt safe enough to give him something. “Nick is a childhood friend. He travels with Ploughman’s Circus.”

She felt sick the moment she said it, but there was no taking it back. Tobias’s gaze traveled the length of her, to her toes and back up again. She fought the urge to squirm in an agony of disappointment and defiance. Her knees trembled as the blood mounted to her face.

“And you?” he asked.

Her fingers twitched, wanting to make fists. “I spent time there as a girl. Imogen knows all about it, but you can understand why I never talk about it.”

“You think it appears too common.”

“I’m sure your father would say so. It’s enough that everyone knows my mother covered herself in scandal by eloping with a base-born soldier, even if he was made an officer in the field for bravery.”

“My father is sometimes an idiot.” He stepped closer, putting his hands on her shoulders. “You’re unconventional, Evelina. I’ve always known you came from someplace different, and it doesn’t surprise me that it was a circus. You’re lighter than air when you move.”

She swallowed hard, unable to answer.

He bent his head so his face was close to hers. “Remember, I saw you when you first arrived at Imogen’s school. You were out of your element then, but you aren’t now. My parents already know your mother had an uneven history—this won’t matter to them as much as you think.”

He was wrong. She had to say it plainly, though she could not help ducking to hide her eyes. “Your father will never let you court me.”

He lifted her chin with his finger. “I can wave my father’s title out the window and a dozen perfect girls will come running. You, by contrast, always have me asking who I’m trying to fool. I’m smart enough to know to whom I should pay attention.”

The shock of confession was receding, to be replaced by surprise that he was accepting it. Then she realized that they were standing very close, mere inches apart. Scandalously close. Her pulse quickened.

“Who are you trying to fool, Tobias?” she asked gently. “I grew up at the circus. I learned to dance on a rope and fly on the trapeze. You’re going to be Bancroft one day and sit in the House of Lords.”

His eyebrow lifted. “A trapeze? That does conjure some fascinating imagery.”

“Think, Tobias!” She took a step back, needing the space.

“I have.” He sobered, looking weary, and closed the distance she’d just made. “I don’t want to follow in my father’s footsteps, however comfortable that might be. I don’t want to be a steam baron’s pet. I want to be my own man. And I don’t say that casually. There will be difficulties. I had hoped Magnus would support me while I struck out on my own. Sadly, I was wrong—more wrong than I care to say.”

She thought about his mood at the dance, and wondered if Magnus was the cause. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Perhaps it is a lesson. Independence doesn’t come easily, not when one has enjoyed