A Study in Silks

of the room.

“Who is he?” Evelina whispered.

Bigelow’s face was filled with concern. “I don’t know, miss. I have been with the family since their return to England, and I have not seen that man before tonight.”

“Perhaps they knew each other in Austria?”

The butler gave a slight shake of his head. “I do not know, miss, though when I think on it, I have heard Dr. Magnus’s name. It was the night that poor young Grace died. When I went to wake His Lordship, he cried out that name, almost leaping from his chair when I touched his arm.”

“His chair?”

“That night, he fell asleep over a book right there in the library. He does that sometimes.”

After one too many drinks. “He saw Dr. Magnus at the opera, and then dreamed of it.” And nightmares at that—but at least Bigelow’s story means Lord B did not slit Grace’s throat. Not if he was asleep then.

“That is not for me to say. I should return to my duties, miss.”

Evelina glanced down at the book she had no intention of reading. “So should I.”

She intentionally let the Racine fall, and stooped to pick it up. As she bent, she scooped the mouse out of her pocket, and it ran under the door to spy on the two men.

Bigelow disappeared down the corridor. Evelina watched him go, a knot of anxiety heavy in her stomach. The last few days had not been reassuring. Automatons coated in dark magic. Murder. Coded messages. Gems and gold. Mysterious strangers from the ambassador’s past. And the Season hasn’t even properly started yet.

Evelina began walking, barely paying attention to where her steps led. She turned and went back up the stairs to the second floor. The longcase clock struck eight as she reached the landing.

Tobias was there with his hands stuffed into his pockets, watching the mechanism with his habitual air of nonchalance. When he saw her, a half smile lazily curled his lips.

Her stomach flipped, but she took a deep breath, determined not to show her nerves. The mouse was right that she had been avoiding him since the kiss in the morning room. Did she want to see him or not? Common sense told her to run. Curiosity begged her to stay.

“The weather dial says there is a storm coming,” said Tobias. “What a terrible blow. I shall be obliged to forego the pleasures of the racetrack.”

“I hope there is no storm. It is your mother’s garden party tomorrow.”

“Blast, you’re quite right.” He laughed a little, making it hard to tell if he had really forgotten or was just putting on a show.

“The clock is always wrong, anyhow.”

“So it is.” He gave her a lazy smile.

“But there is a real storm brewing, I think,” said Evelina. “Someone named Dr. Magnus arrived tonight to talk to your father. Lord Bancroft wasn’t happy about it. They seemed to know each other.”

The smile faded a little, a crease forming between his fair brows. “I remember the name from Vienna. He was a friend of my father’s once—I believe he was a mesmerist. I vaguely recall that he gave me a wooden horse for my birthday when I was still in the nursery.”

“What kind of a man is he?”

“I don’t know. I was a child.”

How old was Tobias? About twenty-three? Magnus barely looked old enough to be an adult mixing with ambassadors so many years ago. Then again, some men looked almost the same between thirty and fifty. Perhaps Magnus was one of the lucky ones.

Tobias looked down at her. “What are you thinking? You have the most puzzled expression on your face.”

“There is a lot going on.”

“Including the murder of Grace Child?” His smile was completely gone now. “And then the grooms?”

Evelina hesitated, then decided there was no point in avoiding what she most wanted to know. “Did you talk to Grace just before she died?”

For a moment, he looked almost as stern as his father. “Yes.”

She studied him, thinking about their kiss and then about Grace and finally wondering what manner of man Tobias Roth really was. The only part of him she felt utterly sure of was his taste for pneumatics and magnetic currents. That seemed to be his one absolute truth.

Frustration itched along her nerves. She cursed inwardly, wishing she knew what hid behind those solemn gray eyes. He was so rarely still and never serious, always on his way out to a club or music hall or mistress. If they were alone, he seemed to smile from a point just out of her reach.

Her mouth had gone dry. “How did Grace seem?”

He shrugged, looking out the narrow window beside the clock. “What you’d expect. She had stayed out past curfew. She was afraid Bigelow would sack her. He locks all the doors at midnight. She wanted me to sneak her inside, so I did.”

“That’s all? She didn’t say anything else?”

“She didn’t name her murderer, if that’s what you’re asking. She muttered something about a Chinaman being idiotic or slow or something to that effect. I thought perhaps she’d been in the Limehouse area.”

She tried to weigh his tone and expression, wondering if he lied. She couldn’t tell. “Was Grace waiting outside or was she just arriving at the house when you met her?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “She was waiting. I think.”

“For long?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“Did you say anything to Inspector Lestrade about your conversation with Grace?”

“No. Then he would ask me where I had been, why I was out, and I have no intention of answering that question until I absolutely have to.”

“But—”

He put a finger over her lips, silencing her. “A man has to keep some secrets. And I swear to you it has nothing to do with Grace or the grooms.”

Where had he been that late? With whom and on how many occasions? If it had no bearing on the problem at hand, her uncle would declare it immaterial to the investigation, so she had to as well, even if the questions burned like red-hot coals.

Still, Evelina gave a mutinous glare, pulling away from his touch. She could taste his skin on her lips, bitter with tobacco. He smelled of cigar smoke. “A girl died, Tobias.”

“And I didn’t kill her. We talked, we went inside.”

“Did you lock the door again?”

“Yes.”

“Then the killer was already inside.” Was that who passed me in the hall that night?

He froze, as if the import of her words just sank in. Then he shook himself. “I can’t believe that.”

“Do you have another theory?” she asked, unable to stifle a shudder.

The killer could still be inside, right then. Hiding or, worse, wearing a familiar face. The clock ticked, loud and slow, as if prompting them to continue.

All of a sudden, he looked startled, then worried, his eyes widening. He’d thought of something. She would have traded her best bonnet to know what was passing through his mind.

Then his face changed again, becoming soft as he reached out a hand. “Evelina, this isn’t something you should be getting involved in. Father assures me that there is no danger to the family, but I still think that it’s not safe for you to be asking all these questions.”

Not safe was balancing on a whisper of rope twenty feet from the ground. Not safe was being the maid carrying a fortune in gems at midnight through dark alleys infested with street rats. All Evelina had to worry about was dodging half-truths, and she was fairly sure Tobias was feeding her some now.

No, her biggest danger was desire, because she wanted to believe that look of concern on his face. She