Something in her chest gave a tiny pang, and she realized what made Bucky different from the other young men who begged for a dance or a chance to turn pages while she played the piano. Like Evelina, Bucky had spent a good deal of time at their house for years. They had jokes that spanned years. She was the girl who always had to have her toast slightly burned. He was the boy always up to messy mischief. Who they were formed part of the equation between them, not just how much of a fortune she had to offer.
Bucky straightened, his eyes meeting hers with unusual seriousness. With the lightness of a swift’s shadow, an understanding passed between them that something had turned a corner. They agreed to share more than banter now.
And then Percy Hamilton’s voice cut through the air, shattering the moment. “Disconnect me! There you are, Miss Roth!”
As if reading her need for reassurance, Bucky gave her hand a squeeze.
Chapter Twenty-six
Evelina had spent the last half hour pretending everything was normal. Guests had come and gone from the room, each arrival making her start, afraid it would be Magnus. Her first instinct was to plead a headache and slip from the gathering, but the crowd made her feel safer. Besides, giving in to abject cowardice was a bad way to begin the Season.
Courage was sometimes the only meaningful weapon. Back at the Wollaston Academy, on that first day of school, the headmistress had made her stand on a stool at the front of the class while she was introduced, stiff and awkward in ringlets and petticoats. One look at the sea of spiteful faces, and she knew she would never fit in. They’d take her down like a doe among wolves at the first sign of weakness. Only Imogen had shown the least curiosity about who Evelina was. School did prepare a young person for life, but never in the ways parents expected.
So Evelina smiled and made light conversation, determined to look bright and happy. A champagne fountain appeared, wheeled in by two of the footmen. Evelina wasn’t sure it was quite a success. The pump was steam operated, the heat melted the ice too quickly, and a few of the guests complained behind their hands that the wine was a shade too warm.
“I just don’t think these new inventions are the thing. I mean, certainly the trains are efficient and industry finds them useful, but steam has no part in a gentleman’s home,” said a whiskered man named Sir Darius Thorne.
“I rather like the novelty,” protested another. “Something new. Tradition can stand to be shaken up a bit from time to time.”
“Tradition might be dull, but it is seldom smelly, noisy, and greasy, not to mention vulgar.”
“You should come ’round to my in-laws at Christmas dinner. They might prove you wrong about that. Nevertheless, I’d watch what you say. With talk of the gentry joining the rebels, it’s best to love steam and all its workings, at least in public.”
She edged around the room, looking for someone she wanted to talk to. She thought she’d seen Alice Keating’s red head go by. Unfortunately, she got stuck in a crush near the doorway before she could find the Gold King’s daughter.
There was a conversation going on behind her. “Did you hear the Reynolds trial is set for next week?” asked a basso voice that sounded like a human tuba.
“That was fast,” someone responded in a light tenor.
“They don’t expect it to last more than a day or two. They’re already clearing the prison courtyard for the pyre.”
“I hope it lights faster than the last one.”
“You mean the sorcerer from the boys’ school?”
“I paid good money to get in to see that, and the man died of smoke before we got to see him burn.”
Agitated, Evelina inched back the way she had come, nearly locking bustles with Lady Liverton. When the clockwork trolley bearing drinks rattled by, she took a glass of sherry to fortify herself. There were just too many people in the room.
She’d just sipped the sweet liquid when a fat, jolly laugh sounded behind her. She turned to see the commissioner of the Metropolitan Police chatting amiably with Jasper Keating.
“It was the damnedest thing,” the commissioner was saying. “At least half a dozen bodies found in pieces yesterday, washed up by the tides. So sorry they turned out to be your cousin’s Chinamen. Damned inconvenient to lose a whole set. Some sort of tribal war, I suppose. Can’t get anything out of that bunch. Can’t understand a word they say. Some babble about a dragon. Their kingpin, perhaps?”
“They’ve been smoking their own opium.” Keating sounded put upon. “Harriman will have to hire a fresh crew. I’ll tell him to make them local boys this time.”
Chill horror drove the warmth of the sherry from her stomach. Evelina bit her lip, recalling the blood Imogen had seen on the floor of the warehouse and the Chinese tailors who worked in the area.
She didn’t have time to think further. With a sudden start, she saw Dr. Magnus bowing over Alice Keating’s hand, giving the red-haired girl a lingering look that seemed more scientific curiosity than male appreciation.
Evelina calculated the distance to the door, but before she could react, he had seen her. His tall, dark form was coming her way, the force of his personality preceeding him like a wave. Evelina braced herself.
“My dear Miss Cooper, well met.” He bowed low, his dark eyes crinkling pleasantly. “I was hoping we would meet again. Our acquaintance has so far been limited to passing in doorways.”
“No, we’ve not been properly introduced.”
“I know such things are properly done by a mutual acquaintance, but they all appear to be having a splendid time elsewhere. I am Dr. Magnus, an old friend of the Roth family.”
He stood so close that she could feel power radiating from him. Evelina looked him in the eye, doing her best to hide the fact that she felt the prickle of his magic against her skin. It wasn’t a clean, bright power, but dark and somehow oily.
She was tongue-tied for a long moment, and then gave in to her impulse to come to the point. If he was as dangerous as she surmised, games were useless. “I understand you are the one who found my toy bird. I’m extremely grateful for its return.”
He gave a long, slow smile. “It was my pleasure to be of service.”
“How did you know it was mine?” She supposed that it was the feel of her magic that had given her away, but she was interested in his answer.
He flashed white teeth. “I have my means, which shall hopefully be made plain as the evening progresses. I do believe we are being called to dinner. Shall we?” He offered Evelina his arm.
She didn’t want to be near him a moment longer, but it would have been the height of rudeness to refuse. Gingerly, she slipped her gloved hand over his sleeve and let herself be led into the dining room. She heard Imogen’s laugh somewhere ahead, and wished she had stayed close to her friend, even if Imogen had been dogged by Stanford Whitlock and Captain Smythe all evening. The captain had nearly poured champagne down his front when Imogen had smiled in his direction—although that smile might have been meant for Bucky, who was standing directly behind him at the time. It seemed Imogen and Bucky hadn’t been more than a dozen feet apart all night. If there had been any doubt that something was going on between the two, it had been dispelled in Evelina’s mind.
And she felt just as overset as Smythe, but for quite different reasons. Dr. Magnus had a hungry look that reminded her of one of Ploughman’s tigers.
