Echoes, p.7
Echoes, page 7
part #2 of Aether Chronicles Series
“Maker, what is wrong with you today?”
The exasperated question left Amethyst’s lips adding to the rigidity of his stance. There was so much he wanted to say, to do. All of it taboo. He’d come to the library to escape the unpalatable company of Lovesey, who clung to Edwina and Monty like a bad smell. The things he had said about Bobbie and Amethyst still soured the taste in Maker’s mouth.
Finding Amethyst already in the library had increased his determination to stay. After seeing the A-Class, and his following outburst, Lovesey had clearly recovered too quickly. Maker internally berated himself for the outburst, but the others said nothing.
After punching Lovesey, he had removed himself to stand outside the barn, sucking calming fresh air into his lungs, searching for a serenity he was so far from feeling. A hand clapped on his shoulder, bringing the tension straight back. Monty was at his side.
“Ignore Lovesey.” The whisper was for Maker alone.
A small twist of his head showed Lovesey at the barn door, rubbing his stomach and looking daggers back at Maker.
“He’s a revolting pig.”
“Edwina?”
Monty shrugged. “He’s a wealthy pig, he’ll keep her in comfort and look after the boy, send Felix to the best schools.”
The best schools were not always the best places, as both he and Montgomery had reason to recall.
“About Bobbie. He’d never do what he says.”
That was no real concern. Bobbie was many things, not the least of which were resourceful and quick. Lovesey wouldn’t survive long enough to hurt her. “No.”
“Your Miss Forester though, she really is something.”
She was, something he wanted more of.
“Do you think she might be amenable?”
Every fiber of his being had stretched to its limit at the idea of Amethyst being amenable to Monty. Bile burned and knotted in his stomach. He would have to find a way to keep Amethyst from Monty, but she was so head strong that if he said the wrong thing, he would be launching her at the man. His own inability to find calm had forced him to walk away from the discussion. As they headed back to the house they had been hailed by the ladies. The walk in the garden, the following luncheon all light and light-hearted, everyone acting like the best of friends. Yet he grew increasingly tense.
When Amethyst and the other ladies retired for afternoon naps, Lovesey and Monty had headed out again. More time in their company was the last thing Maker needed, other than their ribald comments about him joining his wife.
Seeking sanctuary in the library, he had been surprised to find Amethyst already here, reading. Without speaking he browsed the shelves. With her drawing his every thought and feeling to the moment, the now, to her, concentration was impossible. His heart hammered in his ears, he felt that undeniable pull that he must deny. Her words broke his resistance. Her ire was audible, but it was Amethyst and the least he could do was face her. He had to. He wanted to. Turning, he found her sitting on the wide couch, the book held on her lap as she frowned up at him. The book went to the cushions at her side as she stood. Without conscious movement, Maker found himself but a step before her.
“Monty.” It was a harsh whisper, a tone he shouldn’t use against her, but his annoyance was not dissipating as it should.
“What about him?”
“Touching you.”
The near snarl made his feelings evident. She understood him probably better than anyone else. Did she understand how much he wanted her? The pulse in her throat jumped. Was she afraid of him or was it possible that she too felt some touch of this need?
Her perfect brows pulled together. “Do you mean when he was showing us around the maze?”
“Yes.”
“He only put his hand in the middle of my back for guidance.”
“Guidance?” Was that what she called it?
Without thinking, he put his hand in the middle of her back, guiding her toward him. She offered no resistance. Suddenly they were standing close, closer than dance partners. Her left hand went to his waist, her right smoothed up his chest. Could she feel how his heart beat a tattoo just for her? Her head tipped to maintain eye contact. Eyes dark, full of the desire he longed to see. Her own lids seemed heavy and her lips parted, breathing seemed as difficult for her as it was for him.
He filled his arms with her, held her tight, pulled her against him. His head dipped, and his lips pressed that much-wanted touch against hers. Her groan was pleasure and surrender. For a heartbeat, he pulled away, he had to give her the chance to say no, only her hand at his waist tightened, holding him close as she leant into him. He was kissing her again. Hungry and urgent, his tongue quested against her luscious lips, he felt ‒
The thwack of Great-Aunt Flora’s cane across his back. It reverberated, clashing their teeth.
The binding of his arms around her disappeared, he stepped back and she was frozen without his warmth. Her knees had no substance and Amethyst sat down hard on the sofa. She glanced up and all she saw was Maker’s retreating back. Then Great-Aunt Flora’s glare.
“Ah, Amethyst, there you are. Lady Gordon.” Jenson entered the library and offered the older woman a small bow in respect. He was slightly dusty, particularly about the knees, but looked fresh enough.
“Call me Great-Aunt Flora, everyone I like does.”
Every major joint in Amethyst’s body slackened. “You don’t even expect Maker to call you that.”
“Well, three words is rather too taxing for that…” Flora glanced heavenward for inspiration. “Man.”
Jenson looked between the two of them. His curious gaze showed he understood that he’d missed something, but was too polite to ask. Thankfully.
“He certainly is a man of few words,” Jenson agreed as Great-Aunt Flora did her impressive and doubtless unnecessary thump-shuffle to another chair. “Yet still, the man in question is definitely one of life’s good fellows.”
He was good enough to get Amethyst’s heart thumping. She wished she understood that better, but she was terrified of asking Flora. Perhaps Bobbie...?
Jenson moved to the open seat on the sofa, and taking up her book, he sat beside her. The presence of such a stable man helped calm her nerves. She would have to think about what had happened with Maker, what might have happened if Great-Aunt Flora hadn’t interrupted. At some point she was going to have to work out how she would conduct their future aff‒ their future relationship. What kind of future or relationship she could possibly have with a married man was entirely too questionable to think about now. Instead, she could depend on Jenson to keep her grounded and sensible.
“How goes your investigation?”
He shrugged. “Do you know a James Peterson?”
She shook her head.
He turned the book over in his hand. “What is this?”
“It’s one of Stephen’s early notebooks about the transmission of sound through aether. It’s fascinating. From what I’ve read so far, he tried some very similar experiments to those I attempted, and with similar results.”
“You mean they failed for him too?”
“Basically,” Amethyst agreed with a smile. “I’m just getting to the part when he’s moving on and trying different things. I think he –”
“We missed you at lunch.”
Amethyst gathered by Great-Aunt Flora’s comment that the conversation was getting too technical again. She also had to acknowledge that, surprisingly, she had missed Jenson too. As pleasant a time as she’d had, she had been aware of his absence.
“I was brought lunch in the workroom, and I was still looking through everything. It was not a wasted time.”
“No?” Fascinated by the potential source of interest, she moved closer to the inspector, focusing on him intently. “What did you find?”
“More notebooks like this,” he said. “They’re all in code.” He flicked through the pages and selected a large chunk of code. “Like this. Aetheric annotation?”
Amethyst nodded. Jenson hadn’t had the benefit of a scientific education, but he was far from stupid. It was one of his most admirable qualities. “Would you like me to have a look at them?”
“I was hoping that you might. Yes, please.”
“Not today,” Great-Aunt Flora commanded.
That made no sense, and Amethyst frowned over to the older woman in black. “Why not?”
Great-Aunt Flora gave her a look that suggested she was missing the obvious.
Amethyst turned to Jenson, who shrugged. From somewhere in the hall a clock struck the hour.
“It’s five o’clock. .” Great-Aunt Flora got carefully to her feet, and with a flap of her hand, indicated that Amethyst should stand too. As the young woman and Jenson stood up, Great-Aunt Flora looked the man up and down. “We’re expected to dress for dinner.”
Jenson looked uncertain. “I wasn’t intending to arrive au naturel.”
Flora’s brow rose, and the edge of her thin lips curled up. “Shame.”
Chapter Thirteen
The air in the drawing room felt too thick to breathe. Perhaps her waist was cinched in too tight. Amethyst loved this dress, and it used to fit perfectly. Too many of Mrs. Shaw’s wonderful little cakes and pastries; clearly her housekeeper and cook was just too good at her job and one of the problems with having money was that she didn’t walk anywhere near as much as she used too.
“I will do more,” she promised herself. “I will.”
“Do more of what?”
The soft voice at her ear made her turn and smile at the man who had spoken. His thick moustache was steady and even; no smile for her tonight?
“Walking,” she explained. “I used to walk everywhere. Now I hail a cab. I need to stop that and walk more.” She patted her waistline. “Or eat less. Otherwise I might never get into this dress again.”
“Well that would be a shame. You look beautiful.”
“I feel fat. It’s never been this tight before.”
“You are most certainly not fat.” He looked to her waistline. “What is that? A twenty-inch waist?”
It was twenty-two, but she appreciated the flattery.
“If anything, you need to eat more.”
“Hardly,” she smiled softly.
“How ladies eat anything in tight corsets, I’ll never know,” Jenson said.
“Sparingly. Very sparingly. And tomorrow I will start walking more.”
His scrutiny was a little uncomfortable. “You need to be careful. Walking is very beneficial exercise, but a young lady out walking alone can be a target of the wrong sort of attention. Especially back in London. Besides, how would Great-Aunt Flora keep up?”
The concern was both flattering and worrying. It was as both Maker and Great-Aunt Flora kept reminding her, she was a woman of society now and had to remember both the rules and restrictions of that society. “You have a point. Perhaps I’ll have to find another walking partner.”
“I will be walking around some of the estate tomorrow, you’re more than welcome to join me. Assuming that you can tolerate the company of an old man who’s going to be asking a lot of questions of the people he’ll be looking out for on the way.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Oh no, not the company of an old man, I don’t think I’d enjoy that at all.” The smile couldn’t be contained any longer. “But being with you all day; now that would be a pleasure.”
His eyeline shifted over her head and she heard the last thump-shuffle before the black mass of the formidable Flora appeared in her sight.
“Great-Aunt Flora, you look…” He paused and considered. “…like you’re going to hit me with your cane again. May I ask what I’ve done to deserve such attention this time?”
The humph was small but distinct. “You haven’t dressed for dinner.”
As Jenson looked down, Amethyst looked him over too. He wore a dark grey suit, a rather stylish one, actually. It was neatly tailored and well pressed, his shirt was pristine white, and his black tie elegantly knotted. His look returned to Great-Aunt Flora, then tended a question to Amethyst. She shrugged.
“You look dressed to me.”
Great-Aunt Flora humphed again. “Dressing for dinner means a dinner jacket and a white bow tie.”
“Ahh.”
“And a dicky.”
Jenson’s eyes slipped down and his moustache twitched. Amethyst looked away and fought a losing battle against a blush.
“A starched shirt front,” Great-Aunt Flora tutted. “Really, you two.” The thump-shuffle scuttled away.
As Great-Aunt Flora sat with Lady Garrington-Smythe, Lady Roberta Davenport decided to join the couple. The formal greeting was made properly. Apparently, Jenson was eager to show that despite not meeting the dress code, he knew how to behave in polite society.
“Inspector Jenson, if you don’t start calling me Bobbie, I’m going to call you Inspector Jenson all evening. Would you like that, Inspector Jenson?”
“Well it is my name, but the rank would get a little wearing, Lady Bobbie. Might impede on the comfort of others too. I’ve noticed the presence of a police officer can do that to even the best of company.”
There really wasn’t a lot to say to that, but the doors opened and in swept Lady Violet, wearing duck egg blue silk, her blonde hair curled and styled to the fashion, a single ringlet falling to her right shoulder. An ostrich feather dyed to match the gown and artfully placed in her hair, accentuating her height, grace, and beauty.
“She really is perfect.” Amethyst breathed and tried not to let jealousy raise bile too high in her throat.
“Only on the outside,” Jenson assured her.
“True,” Bobbie agreed in an undertone. “And you’d barely even notice Maker was with her, he seems determined to blend into the background.”
Amethyst wasn’t in the least bit sure how anyone could think Maker could ever blend into any background. His height, his sophistication, those shining emerald eyes, all drew far too much attention.
As the vision in blue shimmered into the room, Lord Montgomery stood to greet Violet. The way he glowed, leaned towards her, smiled at her, was only just on the right side of proper. This was more like when Maker had moved towards her that afternoon. Suddenly it wasn’t just the corset denying Amethyst breath.
Her hand went over her heart, she had to calm it. Her fingers touched metal, the pendant with a stone for each of her siblings, and one for herself. It was a bittersweet memorial of her family. And it was one place Jade would never be denied a presence in the world.
She watched as Monty leaned over the simpering Violet. Maker appeared totally uninterested in the interaction. He accepted the pre-dinner drink that was offered and took up his usual position on the edge of the crowd. This time on the opposite side of the room from Amethyst.
“Jenson, would you permit me to introduce you to my mother?”
Surprised from her consideration by Bobbie’s invitation, Amethyst looked up at Jenson. He tipped his head, that impressive moustache moved, and she wondered what his lips looked like beneath it.
“It would be my honor, Bobbie.”
Amethyst stayed where she was as the other two moved away, not that they had far to go. Lady Garrington-Smythe and Great-Aunt Flora were on the nearest couch, quietly talking. She watched and listened as Bobbie made the introductions, Jenson giving a very smart bow. Bobbie appeared to have been very complimentary in her descriptions of Jenson, and Lady Garrington-Smythe was pleased to make his acquaintance. There was nothing lacking in his etiquette. In fact, there was nothing lacking in him at all.
A pair of emerald eyes drew her attention across the room. She didn’t want to be seen to be staring at Maker, so she kept a small smile on her face and moved her attention around the room. Monty and Violet were sitting together, with Edwina at their side, Violet central, of course. She was a queen holding court, and her courtiers were more than happy to worship. Robert Lovesey stood close to Edwina, a proprietorial hulk, like a ramshackle house casting shadows on a flower. Shivers ran down Amethyst’s spine. The poor woman. Only she and Maker stood apart from any group. What wouldn’t she give for the freedom to cross the room and talk to him?
Chapter Fourteen
Eventually they were notified that dinner was ready to be served. Uncertain of the etiquette herself, Amethyst held back.
Montgomery offered his arm to Violet. That might have been an insult given the way Maker’s jaw clenched, but he moved swiftly to offer his arm to Lady Garrington-Smythe. Jenson checked behind him to see that Lovesey was offering the reluctant yet compliant Edwina an arm, before he did the same for Great-Aunt Flora. As the couples processed out, Amethyst saw Jenson look briefly over his shoulder. It made no sense, but it was good to know that he was checking she was included.
“That leaves you and me then.” With a broad smile, Bobbie offered her arm.
Amethyst took it and they followed the others. “I must say, you look very dashing in tails.”
“Why, thank you.”
Bobbie’s habit of dressing in men’s clothing, oddly, usually enhanced her figure.
“Though I have to say,” Amethyst whispered. “I would very much like to know what you look like in a dress.”
Bobbie leaned in to quietly confide. “I’d very much like to know what you look like out of a dress.”
What little air Amethyst could get into her lungs fled, seemingly destined never to return as Bobbie smiled and showed her to her seat. She wasn’t shocked by Bobbie’s preference, that she’d known for a while, it was simply the idea of being stripped naked by her friend that surprised her so. It probably shouldn’t, but, unlike Bobbie, Amethyst didn’t have the benefit of a boarding school education. She’d only ever shared a room with her twin brother until their parents had decided they should be separated.
Thankfully, Bobbie moved to the other side of the table; Amethyst needed the barrier to recover her composure. Montgomery and all the other titled nobles were at the far end of the table. Once he’d helped Great-Aunt Flora to her chair, adjusting it as necessary, checked she was comfortably seated, only then did Jenson move down to sit at Amethyst’s side. Her faithful ally.
