Slowly, slowly, I straightened, turning away from him and covering my chest and nether regions as I did so. Nobody had seen me naked since I was a little girl, and my humiliation was absolute. My face and neck burned. My heart smashed into my ribs. I wanted to run. I wanted to curl into a ball and hide under the blankets. Hot tears stung my eyes and my lower lip wobbled. I bit it hard.
A towel came around my shoulders. I grasped the edges and pulled it tight around my body. It provided enough modesty to allow me to turn around and meet Fitzroy's gaze. A gaze that quickly flew to my face. Had he been staring at my legs? If so, there was no heat in his cheeks, nor his eyes. They grew blacker as they drilled into me.
"You should have told me," he snarled.
"Should I?" I shot back. "You kidnapped me, held me prisoner, and want my necromancy magic for reasons I can't yet fathom, and yet I should have trusted you enough to tell you my greatest secret?" The moment I'd said it, I regretted it. I'd just admitted to being a necromancer.
It probably didn't matter now. He showed no surprise. I suspected he'd discovered more than my gender today.
He lowered his head but continued to watch me through those midnight black eyes of his. His chest and shoulders heaved with his deep breaths, and his jaw was set like iron. His unbound hair tumbled forward. He couldn't have looked more like the devil if he'd worn horns and carried a pitchfork.
I tossed my head, flicking my wet hair back. I no longer needed to hide behind it. His eyes roamed over my face, slowly taking in the parts of me he'd not seen until now. I felt my blood heat again and I prayed I could control the blush. Fortunately, his gaze met mine once more, and his fury returned. Indeed, he seemed angrier than ever.
As was I. He may have discovered my gender, but he hadn't switched to acting the gentleman. He hadn't left me alone to dress. Did he expect me to do it in front of him? I couldn't guess what he wanted. All I knew was that he was furious with me.
"Are you mad at me because you didn't realize sooner?" I smiled, but it was all teeth and no humor. "The clever Lincoln Fitzroy failed to notice that I was a girl. How disappointed in yourself you must be."
He shifted his weight, and the movement had me stepping back, away from him, out of his reach. I'd said too much. He would surely force me to stop talking somehow.
Yet he didn't come closer. To my surprise, the fury in his gaze dampened a little. His body was still rigid, however, and his hands balled into fists.
"You're right. I should have noticed. But to be fair, you were very good, Charlie. Or should I say, Charlotte."
I jerked my head to the side. Being called by that name brought back memories; some good, some horrible and sad. But it also felt wrong. I wasn't Charlotte anymore. She was gone. "My name is Charlie and that's what you will call me."
"I'm not angry because I didn't see what you truly were," he said. "I'm angry because you lied to me about it."
"Of course I bloody lied! Do you know what it's like for girls living on the streets? It has been…difficult as a boy. As a girl…" I shook my head. I couldn't finish the sentence. I didn't want to think about the horrors that would have befallen me if people had known I was a girl—and a virgin from a good family at that.
His fingers uncurled at his sides. He crossed his arms. "You think I would have taken advantage of you?"
"I don't know. You did kidnap me and were rather rough in the process."
"That's because I thought you were a boy."
"You think it's acceptable to be rough while kidnapping a boy?"
"I kept you in here. In my private chambers."
"What was so improper about that? You didn't see anything until today. And you already knew I was a woman when you marched in here," I added with a sniff. "If impropriety bothered you, you would have knocked first."
"I could have hurt you. You resisted me in the street, you tried to escape and kill me in the process. I could have hurt you at any of those times to stop you." He lowered his face to mine. "I do not like to hurt women."
"So my lie upsets your moral code? Ha! Forgive me for thinking you a hypocrite, Mr. Death."
His lips tightened. His nostrils flared. I feared I'd gone too far, but it would seem his moral code was strong—at least where the harming of women was concerned.
"You didn't hurt me much," I told him. "Even though you probably wanted to, after I shot you." As soon as I said it, I wished I hadn't. I didn't want to soften. I wanted to remain mad at him for walking in on me. Anger was better than humiliation. I still felt sick, knowing that he'd seen everything. He couldn't fail to measure me against Lady Harcourt and other beautiful women he must have bedded. My body was skeletal compared to her lushness. How he must find the comparison amusing.
"Get dressed." He stalked to the door, his strides long and purposeful. "This conversation isn't finished."
I glared at the closed door, anger and humiliation swirling inside me because of that man. That insufferable bully. I hated him. Hated his smugness and arrogance, hated the way he stomped over my pride. I was caught between wanting to slap his cheek and never seeing him again. One would satisfy the furious woman in me, the other the embarrassed one. I would both slap him and leave if I thought I had a chance of success. But I wasn't fast enough to hit him and he'd proven too difficult to escape from so far.
I took my time dressing. I sat on the bed for an age, the towel wrapped around me, and thought of all the tricks and horrid things he'd done to me in the last few days to fuel my anger and dampen the embarrassment. But there were so few instances. He'd even shown kindness, on occasion. Whenever I thought of those times, and how I'd wanted more of them, I felt even sicker at what he'd seen and what he must think of me now.
The best way to remain angry was to face him, so I dressed. Instead of dragging my damp hair over my face, I decided to sweep it back. Let him look me in the eyes as he gloated.
He was sipping whiskey by the unlit fireplace when I entered his sitting room from the bedroom. He paused, the glass at his lips. A beat passed. Two. I gave him a defiant glare and he downed the remaining contents.
He crossed to the sideboard and poured another. A bottle of wine was open on a tray and a glass sat with it. Either Seth or Gus must have brought it up, along with the selection of cheeses. I wondered if they knew about my being a woman yet. I wondered what their reactions would be.
Fitzroy held out the wine glass to me. "If I give you this, will you throw it in my face?"
"Let's find out, shall we?" I accepted the glass. My fingers brushed against his and something inside me jolted at the touch. Despite everything, I had a strong urge to linger.
He let go of the glass and indicated I should sit on the sofa. He occupied one of the armchairs, looking every bit a king on his throne. I lowered myself to the sofa, but no longer felt sure how to sit. Legs slightly apart like a boy didn't seem appropriate, nor did lounging. But without a woman's bustle to get in the way, I didn't need to perch. I sat back and kept my knees together. It felt far too prim and unnatural.
"I didn't know you were in a state of undress," he said. "I apologize for walking in on you."
"And for not turning around and walking out again immediately? You could have left, Fitzroy, yet you didn't. Did you enjoy witnessing my humiliation? Will you enjoy telling Seth and Gus what I look like without clothes?"
His glare turned chilly. "Is that what you think of me?"
I sipped my wine.
After a moment, he finished the rest of his whiskey and set the glass down on the table beside him. "Remind me to thank Lady Harcourt when next I see her."
"What has she to do with anything?"
"It was she who told me you might be a girl."
"You already knew before today?"
"Suspected."
"Then why continue to allow me in your room? Not that I cared," I added quickly, "but you are the one who seemed upset by it."
"I wasn't sure I agreed with her suspicion. I thought spending more time with y
ou would help me decide one way or another, although she was very much against it. It didn't help, by the way. Your disguise was impeccable. I did realize you were educated and from a well-off family, but not that you were female."
"What gave me away to Lady Harcourt?"
"You took an interest in her clothes and not the woman inside them. She claims the way you looked at her was that of one woman appraising another out of curiosity, not desire."
"She thinks every male looks at her with desire?"
"She is a desirable woman."
I took a long sip of my wine. Lady Harcourt was everything I would never be. There was no point wishing it could be otherwise, but his words stung nevertheless.
"She confided her suspicions to me the night she returned for dinner," he said. "I didn't believe her until last night. When Seth and Gus returned with the tale of the ageless boy, it began to make sense. As a thirteen year-old girl, you had done most of your growing, although perhaps your lack of nourishing food has kept you on the small side. Thirteen year-old boys still have some growing to go, but you never changed. That's why you had to move on every few months. With Lady Harcourt's suspicions in mind, I returned to Tufnell Park today to follow a different line of inquiry to Seth and Gus. I asked about a girl who arrived in their midst five years ago. There was one who stood out, but she appeared only briefly. The boys remembered her as being a miserable, frightened thing with beautiful golden brown hair. That hair and her pretty face—and innocence—made her a target for every whore's minder in the district. When you suddenly disappeared, they assumed you'd been taken and put to work. Or died."
"Clearly I didn't die." I hated how my voice sounded weak. I cleared my throat and sipped my wine.
He picked up his glass, but seeing it empty, set it down again. He didn't let it go, and the fingers gripping it turned white. "How did you escape?"
"The man who caught me planned on selling me to the highest bidder, that first night. He dragged me into every gambling den and disreputable tavern in the north of the city, making sure everyone got a good look. Men, including so-called gentlemen, placed bids on me. Some bought my abductor drinks. By midnight, he was so drunk he couldn't stand. I slipped away while he was pissing in an alley behind a tavern. He was too slow and slipped over in his attempt to come after me. When I was far enough away, I hid until morning. I didn't know where I was, but the area was poor. At around dawn, a door to one of the nearby houses opened and a woman emerged with some clothes to hang out to dry. When she returned inside, I stole some boys' clothing from the line. I peeped through the window into her kitchen and waited until she left, then I snuck in and stole a knife. I cut my hair and sold it to a man who paid me a shilling for it. I bought a loaf of bread, but instead of eating it, I found a gang of boys living nearby. I offered it to them in exchange for joining them. They thought I'd stolen it, and since they were always looking for good thieves, they included me immediately. None of them ever thought I was anything other than a boy."
"It's been hard for you," he said quietly.
"Not as hard as it has been for some." Or as hard as it could have been, if I hadn't disguised myself. "What I told you does not leave this room. You do not tell Seth or Gus, Lady Harcourt or any of the other committee members. Do you understand?"
"I won't betray your trust."
I wasn't sure whether to believe him, but I had no choice. "So you know that I'm a woman," I said. "What else?"
He drew in a long, measured breath. "After I learned about the girl with the golden hair in Tufnell Park, I changed tactic. I visited the local police station and asked about any girls that had been reported missing five years ago."
"They didn't think that odd?"
"Probably. I claimed I was a private enquiry agent, employed to find missing girls by a good Samaritan."
I snorted. "Only an idiot would fall for that."
"They fell for it."
"Just proves the constabulary are dolts."
"The detective inspector remembered a local girl going missing from her home at about that time. Her name was Charlotte Holloway and her father was a vicar."
"And you just happened to be searching for a girl who was known to live with a vicar, and my name just happened to be Charlie, so similar to Charlotte. Were you surprised that I was that necromancer?"
"Not by then. When I realized you were a girl, I suspected you must be the necromancer I sought."
"It would seem I am the last necromancer after all." I raised my glass in salute and drained it. "And you have me in your clutches. You have succeeded in keeping me away from the man who wants to use me against the queen, so all is well. There is no other necromancer for him to find, now. If I promise not to fall into his clutches, will you let me go?"
"No."
I rubbed my forehead. I wasn't used to the wine and felt dizzy from drinking it so quickly. "Why did I suspect you would say that?"
"Go to bed, Charlie. You're tired. We'll discuss this further in the morning."
I dropped my hand and thumped it on the sofa arm. "I may be three years away from reaching the age of majority, but I am an adult in every other way. Do not treat me like a child, now that you know I am not one."
"I won't. But the truth is, I am in a difficult position. This is a household full of men and you are a young woman."
"Then let me go."
"I can't. I cannot risk you being caught by him. Legally and morally, I should return you to your father. You belong there, but I—"
"I do not belong in his house," I snapped. "Not if he doesn't want me."
His eyes widened. "You did not run away?"
"No. He threw me out."
I had the great satisfaction of seeing him shocked. At least, I think he was shocked. His lips parted ever so slightly, but shut again almost immediately. Then they flattened. "I assumed he beat you," he said quietly, "and that you'd had enough. I wouldn't have returned you to him if that were the case."
"And now, when you know that he didn't beat me, that he simply doesn't want me?"
"It seems I still won't be returning you." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. It was almost a casual position, except he seemed as tightly coiled as ever. Was he expecting me to try and escape, even now? "The detective said you disappeared the night your mother died. Did you raise her spirit? Did your father see? Is that why he…?"
"Thought me abhorrent? Yes. She died. I held her in my arms and begged for her to come back and not leave me. To my utter surprise, the smoky thing that looked like her saw me. It lay on her body, and the body came to life. I was so shocked that I let her go. Father was shocked too. Horrified, in fact. He got down on his knees and prayed and cried. My mother's spirit spoke through her body and asked me to release her. She said it wasn't what she wanted. That she was sorry, and she needed to go. So I said some words to the effect that I release her. The spirit drifted away and the body collapsed, dead once more. My father stopped praying and turned on me. He never hit me, but he called me things. What I'd done was unnatural, against God, and all things holy, he said. He ordered me to leave and hustled me out the door. I haven't set foot inside the house since, nor have I spoken to him."
Fitzroy was silent for a long time. His finger brushed against his top lip as he watched me. It was unnerving. I was just about to tell him to stop staring when he said, "Now that we know you are the only necromancer, we can proceed."
"What do you mean?"
"When I assumed you were a second necromancer, I was only concerned with getting to the girl before he did, the man with the initials V.F. But now I know you are she, it's time to flush him out."
I gasped. "You mean to use me as bait!"
"Incentive."
"You are going to use an eighteen year-old woman as bait to catch a monster!"
"You prefer I use a thirteen year-old boy?"
"This is not a joke!"
"I am not joking."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
He was as heartless as the man he was trying to catch. Perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised; Seth and Gus had warned me he was an unfeeling wretch.
"You will be safe," he said.
"You cannot guarantee that."
His jaw worked, and I wondered if I'd insulted his manliness by bringing his ability to keep a woman safe into question. Well, good. He could not guarantee such a thing, and it was arrogance to even think he could.
"I won't help you, Fitzroy, and you can't make me." I crossed my arms over my chest in a somewhat petty show of defiance.
"I understand your fear, Charlie."
"Do you? You're a necromancer wanted by a madman, are you?" I grunted. "Don't pretend to sympathize. You don't have a sympathetic bone in your body."
He snatched his glass off the table and stalked over to the sideboard. He poured himself another glass of whiskey but didn't drink it. Instead, he set it aside, very deliberately, and prowled back to me.
I swallowed heavily. He can't force you, Charlie. He can't make you do anything you don't want to.
Except he could. He was strong enough and, dare I say it, ruthless enough to do anything. I wondered how far he would go to get his own way.
I dug my fingernails into the armrest. "I won't work for you, but I won't give myself up to him, either."
"That's not enough."
"It has to be. I'm not offering more. Put me back on the street if you want. I don't care. I'll be safer there than if I parade myself in front of him."
His eyes narrowed and I wondered if he suspected that I'd seen the fellow. I'd yet to tell him anything about the doctor who'd visited Father. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to. He might see that as my agreement to help.
"You refuse, knowing that the queen's life may be in danger?"
"I care nothing for a queen who doesn't lift a finger to help the children starving on her city's streets."
He crossed his arms and regarded me down that straight, handsome nose of his. "I'm offering you a roof, food, clothing and comforts. It may be summer now, but winter is always around the corner."
"I've survived winters before."
"How many more years can you pass yourself off as a boy? It won't last forever."
"I know that. I'll adjust when the time comes."
"It's a lonely life, moving on every few months, never allowing yourself to have friends. Do you want to be alone forever?"
I leveled my gaze with his and tried very hard not to let him see that he'd rattled me. "Perhaps I'll offer myself to a kind man. One willing to protect me in exchange for keeping his bed warm."
He leaned forward and rested one hand on top of mine on the chair arm, trapping it. He drew so close to my face that I could have kissed him. The traitorous feminine part of me wanted to do it. The other part of me wanted to smash his nose with my forehead.
"I can protect you," he said, voice velvety thick and soft.
In that moment, with his dark eyes boring into mine, his breath on my cheek, I wanted to believe him. I wanted to stay with him. I wanted to offer myself to him and keep his bed warm, and I would do it without the offer of protection, too.
He suddenly let my hand go, releasing me. "You don't have to do anything in exchange except lure V.F. into the open."
My breathing sounded loud in my ears, so I concentrated on steadying it before he saw how much his presence affected me. "I want nothing to do with a scheme that puts me in danger. And don't tell me you'll protect me," I added as he opened his mouth to speak. "Because why would you? What do you care if I am alive or dead? You don't need me or my necromancy, beyond it being a lure. In fact, my presence causes you problems. With me around, I am a danger for all sorts of madmen—not just this one."
He sat down again and stretched out his long legs. His shoes almost touched my bare feet on the rug. "You're right," he said eventually. "Bad people will always want you, when they learn what you can do. All the more reason for you to remain here, under my protection. I can't send you back to your father, so it seems you are under my care now, whether we like it or not. It's my duty to see that you are safe, and I take my duty very seriously."
Duty, safe…they were just words; easily spoken and easily discarded once I'd done what he wanted me to do. "Forgive me if I don't put any faith in you doing your duty," I spat.
"I am not your father, Charlie," he growled. "If I promise to protect you, I will."
I pushed myself up from the sofa and strode to the bedroom door. "I've had enough talking. We're getting nowhere. I suggest you look for other options, Fitzroy, because I am not going to help you."
Before I knew what was happening, he'd grabbed my arm and spun me round. He loomed above me, his face set hard as granite, his eyes two black pits that went on forever. "You don't seem to understand, Charlie. There are no other options. Let me make two things very clear to you—you will help me, and I will keep you safe." He released me, but the heat of his fingers remained on my arm.
He strode to his desk, leaving me standing in the bedroom doorway with my insides in knots and my heart beating in my throat. With an almighty heave of breath, I turned and slammed the bedroom door closed behind me. I threw myself on the truckle bed and pulled my knees up to my chest.
"I hate you!" I shouted at the door.
He didn't answer.
CHAPTER 9