“These days,” said Colin. “I can recall a time you wouldn’t have caught Judith nearer to Loch Arach than the Channel. At least not for more than a day or two.”

“Aye, but she’s older than either of us, and there’s only so much of the world one can see.”

Mina smiled. “My mother will be glad to hear that. I’ve got a brother at sea—same malady that your sister used to have, from the sound of it. If he’s in one place for too long, I swear he grows feverish.”

Sailors’ stories followed—the ones Mina’s brother had told and the ones Colin had picked up over the years, or at least the less scandalous of his assortment. Mina listened avidly, talked animatedly, and laughed a good deal, with her head tilted back and her eyes gleaming.

She should wear amethysts, Stephen thought suddenly, or pearls, the large silver-gray sort. They should dangle from her ears so that they swayed when she laughed, and they should fit into the hollow of her throat, a place currently covered by far too much violet cloth. Come to that, she should have a damned dinner gown, something with silk and gauze. Mina would do more credit to such things than any woman Stephen had ever seen wearing them.

Naturally, she would never accept any such gifts from him. Men nowadays didn’t give clothing or jewelry to women other than relations, wives, or mistresses. Stephen would have cursed the rule as one more modern complication, except that he didn’t recall ever really wanting to give either to a woman before. He’d exchanged presents with relatives on the appropriate occasions; he’d given baubles to mistresses likewise, though his last such connection had been a century in the past; but he’d never really given any thought to the matter beforehand.

“…but I wouldn’t say that Stephen’s exactly led a settled life himself,” said Colin.

Drawing Stephen out of his thoughts had doubtless not been the point of the remark, but Stephen silently blessed his brother for it anyhow. “Settled enough, in comparison. But perhaps I can travel again one day when I’ve untangled Father’s papers and so on. I’d like to visit Russia again.”

“My brother, you see, is a man of singular tastes. This one seems to be for freezing to death.”

Obligingly, Mina pretended to shiver, but she also turned toward Stephen, and her gaze was far more curious than horrified. “I’ve seen pictures of the churches there,” she said. “The ones with the domes. They’d be quite a view from up close, I’d think.”

“Aye, and the icons. There’s a great deal of skill there,” said Stephen, “and a fair bit of history. Even if half the fake mediums today do affect a Russian accent.”

“Well, if it wasn’t Russian, it would be French,” said Mina. “Nobody would believe that someone from Surrey could part the mystic veil.”

“If they could, they wouldn’t live in Surrey,” said Colin, grinning.

Awkwardness was no threat. Colin and Mina got on like a house on fire. Looking at one and then the other, Stephen realized that he wasn’t at all certain how he felt about that.

Twenty-five

Whatever you’ve heard, Mina wrote, I promise I’m doing quite well.

She paused and picked up her pen, examining the drying ink of her last line in the ray of morning sunlight that slanted in through the drawing-room window. Going on might prove difficult, since she didn’t want to tell her family any more lies than had already been necessary. The desire for honesty dueled with the equally strong desires not to give away anything Ward could use and not to be thought mad.

Setting pen to paper again, she wrote, Everyone has been very polite and respectful, which was true enough, really. After the first antagonistic kiss, Mina had either initiated anything impolite with Stephen or had been a very eager participant in it. Her mother certainly didn’t need to know about any of that, regardless.

I’m still not certain when Lord MacAlasdair will conclude his business. I do have every hope that it will be resolved soon. I look forward to seeing you again, and to—

To what?

Resuming her old life was the obvious answer. Over the last few weeks, she’d become certain that Professor Carter would take her back, no matter how tarnished her reputation grew, and Mina thought she’d even been careful enough to avoid much scandal. She would go back to typing his notes, living in her boardinghouse and going home for Sunday dinners, walking in the park on fair days and visiting museums when it rained. Now she’d have at least a hundred pounds more in her pocket, and that would let her sleep very soundly indeed, shield that it was against illness or mishap.

It should have been plenty. She’d had a piece of extraordinary luck. It would give her a good foundation to go forward, and Mina did feel happy when she thought of it—or at least mostly happy.

The problem was that she knew more now. Through chance, she’d found out about aspects of the world that most people would never have guessed, or even believed if they’d heard. Going back to being a secretary now, having seen dragons and cast spells, would probably be as unsatisfying as staying home and marrying had seemed when she’d been fifteen and reading about expeditions to the Nile.

Perhaps Professor Carter would let her take more of a hand with his research. Or maybe she’d join one of the occult societies like the Emerald Star. Stephen could probably sponsor her, if she asked. Those were brighter prospects, but even thinking of them didn’t go all the way toward lightening Mina’s spirits.

When the library door opened, she looked up, glad of the interruption.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” said Stephen, with an awkward smile. “I was looking for Baldwin or one of the maids.”

“There are bells, aren’t there?”

“It wasn’t important enough to summon anyone, not with the house so short-handed. I’d wanted to find out if Colin was awake yet, is all.”

Mina laughed. “I’m afraid you wouldn’t like the answer. I’ve got no way of knowing for sure, of course,” she added, “but given the last day or two, if I were a betting woman—”

“Aye, I’d thought as much myself,” Stephen said. “And I’ve several centuries behind my guess.”

“I guess he’s a little old for you to have someone go in with a sponge.”

“A sponge?”

“You soak it in cold water, and then you wring it out over the vic—sleeping person,” Mina explained and then giggled at Stephen’s grimace. “I’m surprised you hadn’t heard of it. It’s a handy trick when you’ve got brothers.”

“For waking them up, do you mean, or for some sort of sisterly vengeance?”

“Well, either,” Mina said as a few memories came back to her. “Though I was never much for pranks myself. That was Alice, and George, when he was younger.”

“You don’t seem like the sort to take that meekly,” Stephen said.

“I wasn’t. I had a good memory, and I was better at saving my pocket money. So I’d buy sweets and eat them in front of the other two when they made me angry. I was,” Mina added, on further reflection, “a horribly smug sort of little girl. Probably deserved at least some of what I got, although I still think cutting off my braids was going too far, and so did Mum.”

“I cut Judith’s hair off once,” Stephen admitted. “But then, she’d asked me to. It was too hot in summer, she said. That didn’t save me from my mother, though.” He winced.

“Strict sort of woman, was she?”

“Fierce, I’d say. But she had to be, I’d think, to live among the rest of us and have begun as a mortal.”

“Begun?” Mina asked, pretending that her heart hadn’t speeded up.

Stephen hesitated a moment, standing in the doorway with his hands in his pockets. Then he shrugged, stepped in, and closed the door behind him. “It changes wi’ the first child,” he said and looked toward the window. “It’s to do with shared blood, perhaps. A mortal either gains longer life or…well, or doesna’ survive, generally. The child does sometimes, even if she dies. A cousin of mine did.”

“Brave women,” Mina said, after swallowing past a sudden thickness in her throat. She wasn’t sure what else to think. She wasn’t sure it was her business to think anything about that particular subject. She dropped her gaze from Stephen’s face, down to the letter she’d been writing, and when she looked up again, she couldn’t meet his eyes. “Though life was more dangerous back then for everyone, I’d think.”

“In many ways, aye,” he said. “I think back sometimes—even to what I can remember, which isn’t nearly so far—and I wonder at how we ever managed.” A quick smile lightened his face. “But then, perhaps every man thinks so about his youth.”

Mina laughed, taking the chance to change topics away from birth and death. “I tend to wonder how I survived, but that’s mostly because of Alice and George. And me,” she admitted, thinking back. “Especially when I was old enough to get into real trouble.”

“You? I can’t imagine it,” said Stephen.

“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, my lord,” Mina said and sniffed, hiding a smile.

“It wasn’t all sarcasm,” he said. “I consider myself a fair man, after all, and so I’m bound to admit that I’ve only seen you get yourself in trouble the once. And,” he added, taking one hand out of his pocket and stroking his chin slowly, “that was on someone else’s behalf. Rather admirable, in fact.”

Mina couldn’t hide her smile, and now it no longer came from amusement. “Thank you,” she said. “Professor Carter took a chance on me. It only seemed fair.”

“It’s not so common for women to be secretaries, not to men,” Stephen said slowly, calling up facts that had never been important to his mind and had never really left Mina’s.