He felt his insides tighten. “A male friend?”
“No, a female friend. She owns a bookshop.”
“She is single also?”
“Yes.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Owen, please, think about this for a moment. It is one thing to tell people that I am allowing you to conduct some tests and experiments on me. But if you appear with me at the reception, people may begin to suspect that our relationship is of an entirely different nature.”
“An intimate nature, do you mean?” he asked without inflection.
Her mouth opened and closed, and then opened again. She waved her hands in a warding-off gesture.
“There was only the one incident,” she said quickly. “I am fully aware that our interlude the other night was the result of the effects of the intense energy that we encountered at the scene of the murder. It affected our nerves.”
He should have seen this coming, he thought, but once again he was blindsided by her failure to acknowledge the bond between them. Blindsided and more than a little annoyed.
“Is that all it was to you?” he asked. “Therapy for a mutual case of shattered nerves?”
“I realize that you never intended the evening to end the way it did,” she said. She was very earnest. “It was my fault. I’m the one who invited you in for a glass of brandy.”
Anger crackled through him.
“And now you do not want your friends and associates to see me with you in a social setting?”
“Damnation, sir, do not put words in my mouth. I am attempting to make it plain that I do not hold you responsible for what occurred between us. As a matter of fact, it is your reputation that concerns me.”
He stared at her, nonplused. “What the devil are you talking about?”
“It is common knowledge that you will soon be in the market for a wife.”
He was stunned, shocked nearly witless. No one outside the family knew that he was hunting for a wife. No one outside the family understood why finding a mate was so important to a Sweetwater male.
“Where did you hear that?” he demanded, when he could collect his thoughts.
“I asked my friend Charlotte to look into your family background,” Virginia admitted.
“She discovered that I am hunting for a wife?” He still could not comprehend how the wall of secrecy that surrounded the family had been so easily breached.
“She discovered that you are descended from an old, established family in which the men tend to marry, at the latest, in their early thirties.” She cleared her throat. “It was obvious to both of us that you would soon be looking for a wife if, indeed, you hadn’t started the process already. You obviously have a responsibility to your family.”
Relief slammed through him. He settled back into the corner of the carriage. The Sweetwater secret was still safe.
“You’re right,” he said. “The men in my family are generally married by their late twenties or early thirties. You could say it’s a tradition.”
“Yes, of course,” she said tightly. “In a proud family such as yours you naturally want heirs to carry on the name.”
“More like heirs to carry on the family talent,” he said. “But when a Sweetwater sets out to find a bride, he does not concern himself with society’s dictates and customs. He hunts for a wife the same way he hunts his prey. He follows his own rules.”
“Owen—”
“I do not want to talk about marriage tonight.” He drew her into his arms. “That is for the future. At the moment I would much rather kiss you.”
Her lips parted on what he feared would be another question. He covered her mouth with his own before she could say anything else.
TWENTY-THREE
Congratulations, you found our missing clock maker,” Owen said. “But it appears that in addition to being a brilliant glasslight-talent, she is also highly intuitive.”
“She must have sensed that someone was closing in on her and her business,” Nick said.
They were standing in the shadows of the empty shop. Millicent Bridewell had disappeared, along with every trace of her clockwork curiosities.
Owen walked into the back room and studied the empty shelves and workbench. “Given her rather dangerous sideline, she no doubt made plans for just such an emergency departure.”
“Want me to keep looking for her?”
“No, we cannot afford the time. She is Arcane’s problem now. We must concentrate on our killer scientist. Are you free tonight?”
“I’m always free at night, you know that,” Nick said.
“Good. I want you to accompany me to a reception.”
“I detest social affairs,” Nick said. “You know that, as well. It is the primary reason why I spend most of my evenings with my books.”
Owen walked out of the back room and headed toward the front door of the shop. “I don’t enjoy such affairs any more than you do. But I need your help tonight.”
Nick followed him. “Receptions are boring.”
“I don’t think this one will be.”
“Why? Because it is being held at the Leybrook Institute? I don’t see how that makes it any more appealing.”
“We are not going to attend for the purpose of amusing ourselves. We will be hunting.”
“Huh. I suppose that might make it a bit more interesting. How do you expect to find your killer in a crowd?”
Owen opened the door and went out onto the fogbound street. “By now he will be obsessed with Miss Dean. I do not think that he can spend an entire evening in the same room with her without getting close to her at some point.”
“Obsession is a strange and powerful force,” Nick agreed. He closed the shop door. “It makes people do things that go against logic and reason.”
“Exactly.”
“Do you know, I have not seen you this intrigued by a case in a very long time.”
“It is the most interesting hunt that has come along in a while.”
“It came along thanks to J & J,” Nick pointed out.
“Yes,” Owen said. “I think the agency will become a regular, established client for us in the future.”
“Because J & J and Arcane hunt the same monsters?”
Owen smiled. “I predict a long and profitable partnership.”
TWENTY-FOUR
Mr. Sweetwater is going to escort both of us to the reception tonight?” Charlotte
