She tried to tell herself it was just as well she couldn’t talk to her uncle about the case, because then she would be tempted to explain about the magic she’d sensed on Grace’s package. She’d kept her abilities secret from the Holmes family, and not just because magic was banned. If Uncle Sherlock detested shoddy thinking, she cringed to imagine what he’d make of her fumbling descriptions of a nasty feeling in her tummy when she touched the envelope. No doubt that would end in a hysterical bout of opiates and bad violin.
“Hello.” Tobias wandered into the room, managing to look impeccably turned out and rumpled at the same time. Evelina was not sure quite how he managed it.
“Good morning.”
“You look like a goddess in that sunbeam, bent to your work.” He sprawled into the chair on the other side of the table, blocking her view of the garden. He was dressed in a dark brown jacket and forest green waistcoat, a golden watch chain dangling against the silk. “Perhaps a goddess of industry, or the sylph of gears. If only I could sketch. The sight of you there, so feminine and yet so ready to ply your tools, is enough to give a man improper fantasies.”
“Spare me.” Evelina felt a rush of heat claw up her cheeks, and she forced her gaze to the necklace. If she looked at him, her wits would turn to oatmeal. “Young men are most imaginative creatures.”
“You disapprove?”
She gave the wire a deft twist. “A pity so much good brainpower is squandered on idle yearnings.”
“It is entirely up to you whether or not my yearnings are idle.”
That made her look up, one eyebrow raised. Tobias flirted, but this was more obvious than usual. “I would never spoil your fun with disappointment.”
“Disappointment?” He leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “I doubt that, Evelina. It is not in you to disappoint.”
She froze, her pliers suspended in midair. It shocked her every time he used her name—and not just because first names were an intimacy between an unmarried man and woman, but because he made every syllable delicious, as if it were something made of cream.
One corner of his mouth curled upward, giving a lopsided smile that was all charming self-mockery. He knew he was behaving like an ass and didn’t give a fig.
Confusion deepened until it was next door to anger. “Don’t waste my time.”
He leaned an inch closer, so she could feel the warmth of his skin just a touch away. “No need to bring out your prickles. I hear you’re going to the presentation. Congratulations.”
She lowered the tools, giving up trying to work. “Thank you.”
He pulled a box out of his pocket and slid it across the table. “I got you a present to celebrate. Anyone else I’d give flowers or a book of genteel poems, but you are a different kind of creature.”
Evelina knew very well that a gift from her friend’s handsome brother, no matter what, was in a very gray area of propriety. They shouldn’t be alone, and should never spar the way they did. And yet, there had always been an alliance between them, slight but steadily growing. Confidences, secrets. Such things led to breaking rules. The notion enticed and terrified her.
The box was plain paper, dull and gray. Cautiously, Evelina flipped up the lid with one finger. What she saw made her give a tiny start, as if the contents had emitted a spark. Tobias chuckled.
She lifted the lid, and scooped the box toward her with an eager hand. She couldn’t help herself. Inside was a perfect, tiny piece of clockwork made of gleaming brass. “What is this?”
“German made. You said you wanted to try your hand at making moving toys.”
“Ah,” she said happy and embarrassed. Tobias didn’t know about the bird, or any of the others that were close to complete. The half-living creatures weren’t something she could share.
“You’ve already mastered a lot, but I thought you might like another example to take apart anyhow.”
His voice had lost its teasing tone. They were on different ground now, a place for plans and projects they both shared and that few understood. Ladies didn’t work with mechanics, of course, but neither did a gentleman —at least not past the stage where it could be considered a passing whim. Blue bloods never dirtied their hands, lest they be considered vulgar.
Lord B’s aversion to his son’s tinkering was so severe that Tobias had hidden his workshop somewhere else in the city. And although the steam barons grew increasingly touchy about anyone but their own people making machines, Evelina still didn’t understand Lord B’s objections. Surely building engines was a better pastime than gambling and whoring, although Tobias did plenty of that, too. He was a versatile lad.
Well, clockwork was the one passion that they could safely share. Evelina dug into the box, closing her fingers around the cluster of cogs and springs. It was a generous gift. Even though the steam barons didn’t directly interfere with the buying habits of the gentry, good mechanical parts were becoming expensive and hard to get.
In some ways Tobias knew her better than anyone else. “Thank you so much.”
He fixed her with his gaze, disconcertingly direct. He was still leaning toward her, his head tilted at a considering angle. She could see the striations of his iris, the grays of ice and storm and mist. The huge purpling bruise around his eye was pretty spectacular, too. “I’m glad you’re here this Season. Very glad.”
And suddenly the uncomfortable tension between them was back, the scant few inches between them humming like an unresolved chord.
Her discomfort must have shown, because he pulled away with a ghost of a laugh. She couldn’t tell if it was aimed at him or her. “Oh, Evelina, you make this so hard.”
Stung, she felt a moment of numbness before shame flared under her skin. She drew herself up, her hand instinctively closing around the handle of the pliers. Something to defend herself—not that anything could protect her from this kind of danger. “What do you want from me?”
His expression was unreadable. She searched his face, finding a jumble of emotions as confused as her own. “I don’t want anything from you,” he replied. “That would be too finite a request.”
Tobias rose, a languid, lazy movement that didn’t go with the troubled set of his mouth. He paused a moment, his hands braced on the table, and leaned over. The sun slanted across his face, gilding his hair and turning his features to a mask of highlights and shadow.
Then, suddenly, he moved. He did it so fast, she didn’t have the wits to duck. Or maybe she guessed what was coming and didn’t want to.
He kissed her at the corner of her mouth. Not full on the lips. Not hard, or long, but gently, almost chastely. But all at once, it was not quite chaste. His mouth was warm and softer than she had expected.
Shock gave way to desire. Evelina’s breath caught almost painfully, her own lips parting in surprise. She looked up at him, feeling her eyes grow wide. Her body turned toward him, as if a magnet were pulling her into another kiss, but he was already out of reach.
Her reaction must have been what he wanted. He backed away from the table, a knowing look in his eye. “Have a pleasant afternoon.”
With that, he spun, his jacket swinging with him, and sauntered out the door, the sound of his footfalls lazy against the carpet. They dared her to say something, to stop him from leaving the room.
Furious, confused, wanting, all Evelina could manage was a strangled noise deep in her throat. Part of her wanted to rage that she was not to be trifled with like some chit fresh from school. Except she was. She wasn’t as ignorant as most of the Society misses, but she was hardly a sophisticate, either. Tobias, with his mistresses and his clubs, was far beyond her.
What did he want? If he was simply scratching an itch, he could do that anywhere and with a far more accomplished woman. There was at least one other layer to his game.
Evelina looked down at the mess of half-fixed jewelry on the table. The gleaming clockwork sat to one side, tucked neatly in its box, not quite belonging with the rest. Just like her, neither project was anywhere near complete.
She braced her elbows on the table and covered her face with her hands.
