Quicksilver - Amanda Quick [83]
Wolf had been more careful after that. If the Quicksilver Mirror worked as advertised he had no intention of returning it to Newton. The relic might come in handy in the future. It would give him an edge against his rivals. In London’s underworld there was always plenty of competition.
THIRTY-ONE
Owen felt Virginia stir in his arms. She gently pried herself free from his grasp. He let her go. The room immediately grew colder. Reluctantly he opened his eyes and looked up at her.
“It’s getting late,” she whispered.
“I know.”
He levered himself up on one elbow and watched her get to her feet. Her hair was wildly tousled. Her stockings had come free of the garters and were draped around her ankles. The top of the chemise was crumpled at her waist. Her face and breasts were still flushed. He felt his senses stir.
“You look delicious,” he said. “Good enough to eat. I believe I’m working up an appetite.”
“There will probably be some muffins left in the kitchen,” she said very seriously. She pulled the chemise up over her breasts. “Unless your nephews ate all of them.”
He smiled and got to his feet. “I had another dish in mind. But it’s getting late. You need your sleep.”
She glanced at the tall clock in the corner. “Good heavens, it’s nearly two o’clock in the morning. Your nephews will be wondering what is going on.”
He fastened the front of his shirt, taking his time. “If either of them asks any questions, which I very much doubt, I will tell them that we were discussing the case.”
“I dread facing Mrs. Crofton in the morning.” Virginia leaned down to strip off her stockings. “I shall be lucky to get breakfast before she gives notice. She has been remarkably tolerant of the eccentricities of this household, but the business of bodyguards watching the house will be too much for her.”
He reached for his trousers. “You know, Virginia, it is probably not a sound idea to go about in fear of your housekeeper.”
“I’m not afraid of her.” Virginia straightened and stepped into the center of the pool of fabric formed by her discarded gown. “Well, perhaps I am, in a manner of speaking.”
“Why?”
“Don’t you understand? No, you probably don’t.” Virginia inserted her arms into the sleeves of the dress and concentrated intently on doing up the hooks of the bodice. “If Mrs. Crofton goes back to the Billings Agency to seek another position, she will naturally inform Mrs. Billings of the rather odd goings-on around here. Mrs. Billings takes great pride in making certain her people are sent only to respectable employers. I suspect that after all that has happened here lately I will no longer qualify.”
He thought about that while he secured the knife sheath to his ankle and got his trousers closed. He fastened his waistcoat with quick, practiced motions and pulled on his low boots. When he was dressed he crossed the room to stand in front of her.
“Is respectability that important to you?” he asked.
She raised her chin. “My father was a gentleman who kept his glass-reader mistress in the shadows. I have lived my entire life with the stain of illegitimacy. I am burdened with a talent for perceiving the most unwholesome afterimages in mirrors. That is not exactly a fashionable or ladylike skill. I make my living in a way that Arcane, the one organization that should accept and understand my psychical nature, finds disreputable.” She fastened the last hook of her gown and dropped her hands. “Yes, Owen, respectability is important to me.”
He caught her chin on the edge of his hand. “I grew up in a family that does not concern itself overmuch with the outward appearance of respectability. But the Sweetwaters do care a great deal about honor and courage and strength of will. It is how we have survived. Those qualities are what bind us together as a family.”
She smiled. “I do not doubt that.