“Nice of you to try and make me feel useful,” said Colin, “but I’m quite happy to be idle and ornamental. Still, I’ll keep a lookout. What about your Miss Seymour? Are you planning to leave her here and risk the wards?”

“No,” Stephen said. “She knows that part of town better than I do, and she’s good with a bluff if need be. I think it’d be best if I didn’t end the evening in jail or with my name in the paper. Besides, a human—and someone who knows London—might spot something neither of us would.”

“You’re just repeating what she told you, aren’t you?” Colin smirked.

“You’re a remarkably unpleasant wee churl,” said Stephen, and confiscated a muffin by way of vengeance.

“You’re insulting an injured man, and you haven’t denied the charges.”

He hadn’t. He couldn’t. Five minutes with Mina’s ruthless logic and hard eyes, and Stephen had known a lost battle. He also hadn’t wanted to stay and see where the fight would lead.

Well, he had wanted to. That was the problem.

“She says she’ll keep well out of danger,” he said, “and that having two people along is better in case one of us needs to go and get help.”

“You’ll be able to send me a message anyhow,” said Colin. “At least, if you’ve still got the ring Judith forged.”

“Aye,” said Stephen. Each of the rings contained blood: his, Colin’s, Judith’s, and their father’s. Wearing it, he could speak to Colin at some distance, though Judith and Alasdair were each, in their own manner, too far away. “But if I need more immediate assistance, it’d be good to have her there.”

“If I had to choose a human to go with you,” said Colin, “she’s the best of the current lot by far. I never thought you’d take the opinion of one into consideration on a venture like this, though.”

“She’s the sort of lady who should have her say in things,” Stephen said and fixed his gaze on his brother’s face. “She’s got a good head on her shoulders—and a good heart as well.”

Colin looked up from his tea, blue-black eyebrows rising in graceful arcs. “From what I’ve been hearing lately, quite a few people think all ladies should have their say in things,” he said, “but you sounded as if you were particularly warning me, Stephen.”

“Well—perhaps I am.” Stephen set his plate down on the nightstand and stood up. The chair he’d been sitting on, like most of the furnishings in the room, was covered with roses, an artifact of either a housekeeper’s tastes or his mother’s. It was rather ludicrous for the room’s current tenant and particularly for the current discussion.

The whole discussion felt a bit ludicrous, at that. “I mean to say,” Stephen went on, “that is, she’s not like the lasses back at Loch Arach. She didna’ grow up knowing how strange we were, and—and the world’s different for women outside the valley.”

“I’d imagine I know that better than you,” Colin said, “having spent a few decades more in the outside world of late.”

“Aye, but Mina’s not like your actresses and your widows, either. She’s not got very much to fall back on if anything goes amiss—and she’s her family to think of—and she’s not the sort to like depending on a man—”

“Exactly what do you think I’ll do to the girl, pray tell?” Colin asked, smiling infuriatingly.

“You…I—I don’t know.” Stephen sat back down, defeated. “And she’s a grown woman, so there’s not much I can say in the matter. I just—treat her well. Honestly. Don’t let her think you’re in love with her.”

“It was never on my mind,” said Colin. “For one thing, you’ve given her the real sentiment already. How could I compare?”

He might have announced that he’d slipped arsenic into the teapot. Stephen went completely still for a second, then managed to make a half-choked sound of interrogation and disbelief.

“Don’t swallow your tongue,” said Colin, clicking his tongue reprovingly. “And don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about, either. It’s perfectly obvious that you’re in love with Miss Seymour.”

Stephen gathered himself to deny it—and found that he couldn’t. Memories flooded back to him: Mina warm and frantic against him, her hair like silk in his hands and her mouth moving skillfully beneath his; Mina at the breakfast table, mouth pursed and eyebrows drawn together as she considered an article in the Times; Mina joking with him in the library; Mina reaching out to console him when he was worried, and prepared to face thieves with a poker, manes with a kitchen knife, and an entirely new world with the keenness of her mind and the strength of her will.

He loved her. How could he not?

The idea simply felt right, settling into his blood and his bones. When Colin had spoken it aloud, it had been the crystallization of some long-guessed-at formula.

“But it’s hardly sensible of me, is it? She’s mortal.”

Colin shrugged. “So was Mother.”

“Barely. Her whole line were magicians. And even so, she turned Father down the first time he proposed.” The family story had been funny when Stephen had been young. Now he couldn’t quite appreciate the humor. “Mina—she’s got an entire life of her own, one that’s got nothing to do with magic. She’s got a family who’d never believe we exist. She loves them enough that she demanded I let her write to them when she first came here and she’d no reason to think I’d treat her very kindly. She couldn’t go off and leave them without explaining.”

“Plenty of women are close to their families, and there are wonderful trains these days. And I’m certain she could make up a suitable story to tell them, one that would let her keep in touch. She’s good with a bluff, you said.”

“If she wants to be,” said Stephen, endeavoring to squash a small bit of hope that was sprouting inside him.

“Yes, yes,” said Colin, impatiently. “If she wants to be. Which she will.”

“Certain, are you?”

“Not as certain as I am of your feelings. But the lady isn’t my brother, for which we should all be thankful. Really, Stephen, you’ll not know until you ask her. ‘She’s the sort of lady who should have her say in things,’” he added, in a heavily accented baritone.

“I sound nothing like that.”

“You sound exactly like that, but I’m sure she’ll accept you anyway. She’s a forgiving sort of girl.”

The prospect was too tempting; there had to be a flaw somewhere. Stephen searched and, with a sigh, found it. “I can’t ask her now. Not with Ward, and her having to stay here, and me paying her. If she says no, it might be awkward enough to get in the way of magic, and if she says yes, it might be just because she feels obligated.”

“Doubt it, knowing the lady,” said Colin, “but wait if you’d like. Just tell her eventually, and meanwhile stop blundering about the place like a cat with its head in a sardine tin. Good Lord, Stephen, you wouldn’t catch me in such a state if you offered me the Crown Jewels.”

“Colin, if someone offered you the Crown Jewels, you’d say they didn’t go with your complexion. Or you’d lose them at cards.” Stephen got up. “I’d best go find the owner of that Brick Lane building. Otherwise, this conversation will remain academic for quite a bit longer.”

“At which point I will put poison in your whiskey.”

“Good luck trying with one arm.” Stephen paused at the door. “Colin?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

Thirty-six

A few weeks had made a night journey a much more pleasant prospect than it had been last time. The wind was gentle against Mina’s face, and the night, for once, was clear. She could even see a crescent moon hanging overhead as she and Stephen got out of the carriage.

“No stars, though,” Stephen said when Mina pointed it out.

“Of course there are. There’s one over there—and another—” She gestured, squinting against the lights of the city.

“They don’t hide so much at home,” Stephen said. “A night like this would look like a spill of diamonds in Loch Arach.”

“Sounds lovely,” Mina said, picturing it. It wasn’t the first time in the last few days that Stephen had mentioned his home. Talking with Colin must have made him miss the place, she thought, and no wonder. Everything he said made it sound halfway to Eden. “Not much like here. We’re just lucky there’s no fog. Though it might hide us, if there was.”

“Aye,” said Stephen, “but I rather enjoy breathing.”

Even without the fog, Mina didn’t think they’d be too obvious. People had come out to enjoy the night—walking to music halls or dances, or down along the river, trying to sell refreshments to the strollers, or just sitting on their front steps and talking. High laughter drifted through the evening air, and the need to let a group of young women pass pushed her closer to Stephen’s side.

He didn’t step away, even after the crowds had passed, but rather put an arm around her shoulders. “Disguise,” he explained when Mina looked up at him. “May as well look as if we’ve a purpose in being out here, aye?”

“Might as well,” said Mina, and leaned against him. After all, they were in public.

Meandering, they rounded a corner, and Stephen nudged her gently. “That one there,” he said, looking toward a narrow brick building on the corner. The doors were closed, the windows shuttered, and it looked both thoroughly respectable and totally anonymous.

No light came from under the shutters, or at least none that Mina could see from outside. Either the building was abandoned or the shades were very good—or Christopher Ward was at his best in darkness these days. She felt the weight of the revolver in her pocket, a new addition to her wardrobe, and was glad of it.