This is a phonograph cylinder. I recorded our session so you could listen to it later if you want.”
That he had recorded her without her knowledge bothered her, but he was right, she would like to hear what transpired while she was “gone.” Gingerly, she sat up. “Are we done?”
“For today.” He crossed the carpet and crouched in front of her to take hold of her hand. His fingers were warmer than hers. “How do you feel?”
Gazing into the faded blue of his eyes, she felt a little light-headed, like when she used to twirl in circles as a child, only to fall in a dizzy heap. “Fine,” she replied hoarsely. Lord, she hoped she didn’t make a cake of herself in front of him. The last thing he needed was her mooning over him like some infatuated idiot. He had rescued her last night, and for that she would be forever grateful—and sorry for whatever shame or scandal she brought down upon him.
“Excellent.” He stood, still holding her hand. “May I escort you to the garden? It’s a beautiful day, it would be a shame to miss it.”
Slowly, Finley rose from the sofa. Her brain seemed to swing slightly to the right, then to the left before righting itself. Griffin released her hand once she was steady and offered her his arm instead. She took it.
“What happened?” she asked as they crossed the great hall, then down another corridor. She tried to ignore how solid his arm was, how tall he was. How peculiar, but it was as though she was seeing him for the first time, or through different eyes.
He grinned. “Do you want the simple answer, or the long, drawn-out scholarly answer?”
“Let’s start simply. My head’s still a bit foggy from that awful stuff you made me drink.”
“First, I feel I should tell you that I didn’t take advantage of you as per your wishes.” He chuckled when she blushed. “I gave you a weak relaxant that opens the mind up to mesmerism. While you were in this tranquil state, I was able to bring out your other self without creating the kind of stress that normally precipitates a change. By doing this, and allowing both halves to coexist without opposition, we were able to overlap the personas, easing them onto the path of becoming one rather than two.”
Finley didn’t say anything. It took a few moments for her to understand what he’d just said through the fog in her brain. “So, is that it?”
“No. We still have work to do, but it went much easier than I expected. I thought I’d walk out of there with a bruised jaw at least, but you didn’t hit me, not even once.”
What a relief that was! She’d feel terrible if that other part of her had struck him while he was trying to help her. Yet…well, he seemed to accept that it
“Do you feel any different?” he asked.
“A little,” she replied, certain the direction of her thoughts seemed unusual. She was more aware of him as the opposite sex, and didn’t feel quite so guilty for her “other” nature. She felt calm, but stronger, pleasant, but not timid. It was odd. “I’m still me, but different somehow.”
He nodded. “That feeling will intensify as the two personas merge, but once it’s done you’ll feel more comfortable with it, and you won’t have to worry about one side taking over the other anymore.”
And that was what made this strange unease in her skin worthwhile. “Good. Griffin…” She stopped, trying to think of the right words to describe all the things she felt. There weren’t any. “Thank you. I know I’ve been a trial for you, and you’ve been so very good to me despite it all.”
His lips curved into a lopsided grin. “I reckon you’re worth it.”
Finley warmed and tried to conceal her pleased smile as she fell into step beside him once more.
They walked out into the garden via the main exit rather than the newly repaired door in Griffin’s study. There, on the back lawn, close to the house, was a canvas shelter on posts. It cast shade on the pristine cloth beneath it, the table loaded down with cold meats, breads, cheeses and fruit. At the sight of the banquet, Finley’s stomach growled once again. She placed her hand over it in mortification.
Griffin only chuckled. “I’m starving, as well,” he whispered near her ear, sparing her the embarrassment of anyone else overhearing. And anyone could have—Emily, Sam, Cordelia and even Jasper, the cowboy from last night, were all in attendance, the lot of them already gathered around the table.
“It’s about time,” Sam admonished with a frown. “I’m bloody starving out here.” Sam seemed a little moodier than usual. Finley wondered if that had anything to do with the way Jasper Renn looked at Emily.
Griffin arched a brow. “You’re always starving.” There was no maliciousness in his tone, only the easy teasing Finley had come to expect of him. She wondered if Griffin King, Duke of Greythorne, ever lost his temper.
She’d wager it was spectacular when he did.
Yes, she had changed already. Yesterday the idea of a man’s temper would have unsettled her. But then again, she’d changed a lot since coming to this house. The fragments of her were coming together, like a puzzle long left unfinished.
Griffin led her to the table. As duke, his place was at the head. Lady Marsden was at the foot. Sam sat to the right of Griffin, which put him beside Emily, who looked vastly uncomfortable sitting next to the boy she obviously adored. The big oaf didn’t seem to notice, or perhaps, given the tightness of his jaw, he noticed too much. Finley sat in the empty chair to Griffin’s left, next to Jasper. The boys had stood at her arrival and now they all sat once more. The American smiled at her. He was very handsome with his sandy hair, strong jaw and quick grin. “You look right fine today, Miss Finley.”
She smiled at the compliment, embarrassed that he had seen the other side of her the night before. “Thank you.”
“You’ll have to excuse Jasper,” Griffin said to her. “Flirting’s like breathing to him.”
Jasper grinned, not at all insulted by the darker boy’s barb. His green eyes sparkled. “Yes, it is. And, Miss Finley, might I say that you are a breath of fresh air.”
They all laughed at that, even Sam, though Finley thought there was little humor in his dark eyes.
“There was a burglary at Madame Tussaud’s last night,” Lady Marsden said a few moments later as she nibbled on a piece of cheese.
“What did they take?” Emily asked.
“
Lady Marsden shot him a droll look. “How very perceptive of you, Mr. Renn. Scotland Yard believes it to be nothing more than a jubilee-inspired prank, but the thieves absconded with the likeness of Victoria.”
“
The lady nodded, not quite meeting her gaze. The older woman hadn’t been quite so confrontational with her since forcing her way into her mind. “The one and same.”
“It must be a prank,” Sam commented, stuffing cheese and meat between two slices of bread. “Why would anyone want to steal a wax doll of an old woman?” He shook his head.
Griffin watched his friend for a moment, a smile curving one side of his mouth. Then, he turned to his aunt. “It can’t be a coincidence that her likeness would be stolen during celebrations of her diamond jubilee.”
“Indeed,” Lady Marsden agreed. “Less so when you consider that it was Her Majesty’s hairbrush amongst the items stolen from the museum.”
Jasper frowned. “A hairbrush?” He made a scoffing noise as he leaned back in his chair, an apple in his hand. “Why would anyone steal that? Was it gold?”
The lady looked down her nose at him, obviously dismayed at his lack of “Britishness.” “It was a gift from Prince Albert.” When Jasper stared at her, she added, “The queen’s late husband. He died thirty-six years ago and she mourns him still.”
Jasper’s eyebrows rose. “That’s an old hairbrush.”
Lady Marsden rolled her eyes and Finley hid a smile behind a grape.
Griffin picked up a ripe, red strawberry and seemed to study it before taking a bite. “Does the Yard believe the theft to be the work of The Machinist?”
Cordelia shrugged. “They are uncertain at this time, but it seems probable.”
He swallowed and licked juice from his lips. “What does he want? I can’t hypothesize the method to this madness.”
“What else was taken from the museum?” Emily inquired. “Perhaps if we put together what has been taken, we’ll know better what his goal is.” Finley understood what the other girl left unsaid—that they might also better understand why The Machinist toyed with the automaton that attacked Sam.
