The Last Necromancer

Chapter 5, Part 1

"You are quite the little thief." Lady Harcourt's wink softened her accusation, but the sting of her words pricked me nevertheless. Or perhaps that was my guilt. I felt horrid that I'd dragged her into my scheme. She'd already received a sharp glare from Fitzroy as he'd handed the pistol back to her.

She checked the barrel then placed the gun inside her reticule. The evening gown she wore probably didn't have pockets. It was an exquisite outfit of mourning black satin and lace, with gold beads arranged in leaves on the bodice and down the length of skirt in two panels. A black silk ribbon choker set off the white of her throat and the lustrous sheen of the pearl at the center. It was difficult to tear my gaze away from the gown and her jewelry, but I managed it. It wouldn't do to show too much interest in feminine things.

"The pocket in your skirt wasn't deep," I told her as she sat on a chair in the parlor. Fitzroy and I remained standing, he with his hands casually at his sides, me with mine behind my back. "It's too easy to steal things from shallow pockets."

"I'll have it deepened. Thank you for your advice, Charlie." She bestowed a smile on me that had me blushing. It was more than I deserved. "I see the bullet is missing."

"It's in the wall of the tower room."

Her eyebrows arched. "Was anyone injured?"

"Only Mr. Fitzroy."

She leapt up from the chair. "Lincoln!" She crossed the floor to him, sweeping past me as if I weren't there. I could have easily snatched the reticule from her and she wouldn't have noticed in her agitated state. "Where? Where are you hurt?"

"I am unharmed, Julia." Fitzroy looked uncomfortable as she searched his face in earnest.

"I asked where?" she said with quiet steel.

His lips thinned. "The left shoulder. A graze only. It doesn't hurt."

"Of course it must." She clicked her tongue. "It's typical of you to downplay your injuries. You are fallible, Lincoln, even though you like to think you are not."

Several beats passed, during which they stared at one another in a kind of silent battle of wills. It was almost as if words were exchanged between them and yet none passed their lips. I wasn't sure who'd won, but Lady Harcourt was the first to break the silence.

"May I see your shoulder?"

"There's no point. I've already had it seen to."

"Nevertheless, I would like to assess it for myself."

He turned away from her to tug the bell pull. Her back straightened in offense. "Lincoln, stop being such a child and let me see it."

"I am not the one acting like a child, Julia. We have company."

"Your point?"

"I suggest you don't ignore him. He has been eyeing off your reticule."

She swung round to face me. I could see her temper flaring, but I didn't think she was angry with me. Fitzroy was being terribly rude toward her. It was one thing to speak abrasively to someone who'd ended their prior liaison—surely she must have been the one to end it—but it was quite another to call a lady a child. I wouldn't have stood for it if I were her.

"I won't steal from you again," I said quickly. "Mr. Fitzroy is cruel to blame me."

Her face softened. "He is, isn't he?"

Fitzroy didn't seem to care that I'd called him cruel. No doubt he'd been labeled worse.

Gus arrived, sporting crumbs down the front of his waistcoat. "Boy giving you trouble, sir? Want me to take him away?"