Asher’s Invention(17)

Asher turned from the window as she entered. When she saw him, the force of his presence hit her like a giant wave. She paused, greedily drinking in his appearance. He was almost more handsome and vibrant than she could bear. As she took in his elegant gray frock coat, finely tapered trousers and snowy cravat, she wished she had changed her dress and done something to her hair. Ah, well, too late now. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen her at her worst already.

“Asher, how pleasant to see you again.” She used her most serene voice as she crossed the room.

He gave her a formal bow over her hand. “I meant to come earlier, but I had some unavoidable business to attend to in London.”

“Of course.” Far be it from her to inquire what that unavoidable business was. “Won’t you sit down?” She waved graciously at the settee before taking a small armchair herself.

“You look very well.” He sat down near her, scrutinizing her minutely.

“I’m fully recovered, I can assure you.”

“And your father?”

She frowned and laced her hands together in her lap. “He’s still recuperating. The doctors say it will take some time.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Is he still in the infirmary?”

“No. I brought him home a fortnight ago. It’s much better for him to be here, among everything familiar.” She paused. “He’s in his study at the moment. Would you like to see him?”

“Very much.”

She led the way down the hallway, hesitating just outside her father’s study. “You understand, he isn’t himself these days.”

Asher contemplated her. “Minerva, what are you not telling me?”

“It’s nothing, really. Nothing life threatening.” She pinched her lips together. “It’s just that he doesn’t remember much.”

“Of the kidnapping and the attempt on his life? I’m not surprised, after such brutality.”

“No, he doesn’t remember much of anything. He recognizes me and Hetty. He knows this is his home…but nothing else. He remembers nothing of the past ten years or so.”

Asher raised his eyebrows. “Nothing at all? Nothing of me and the millennium machine?”

“He doesn’t seem to have any recollection, but perhaps seeing you now will jog some part of his memory.”

They entered the study where a white-haired man sat by the fire with a book in his lap. He looked up and smiled at her. “Minerva, my dear.”

“I have a visitor for you, Father. It’s Asher Quigley.”

Minerva held her breath as Asher greeted Silas warmly. Her father nodded, still all smiles, but it was plain to her he had no idea who Asher was.

“My dear fellow, do take a seat,” Silas said. “And tell me about yourself. Are you an acquaintance of my daughter?”

Asher met Minerva’s eyes, compassion softening his features. He sat down opposite Silas and spoke to him for several minutes while Minerva observed them quietly. Her father was obliged to lean forward to listen, as his hearing was still impaired by the thick bandage over his left ear. Despite his eagerness, he had little stamina, and after a few minutes of conversation he began to flag. When she saw he was growing tired, she rang for Hetty.

“Father, Hetty will bring you your broth now.” She retrieved the book from his lap and smoothed the plaid rug over his knees.

“That will be very comforting, my dear.” He nodded docilely, not making a fuss as she and Asher left the room.

“He’s greatly changed,” Asher said when they had returned to the parlor. “His entire personality has altered. His charm remains, but all his dynamism has gone.”

She moved about, twitching the curtains at the windows, too restless to sit. Outside, the hoary morning frost had begun to melt under the weak winter sunlight, and the glistening bare branches of the tree stretched up toward a pale blue sky. Christmas had come and gone, but she’d scarcely noticed, let alone celebrated the occasion.

She sighed. “He’s almost like a child now, dependent on my telling him what to do and when to do it.”

“Minerva, I’m so sorry. That must be a terrible burden on you.”

He looked so concerned for her it made her toes curl. Attempting to lighten the mood, she said, “In a way it makes things easier. At least he isn’t going about, running up huge debts I know nothing about.”

“Speaking of huge debts, while I was in London I’ve been consulting with some friends of mine in the legal profession. If you will hand me the agreements your father signed with his investors, I’m sure something can be worked out.”

“Something has already been worked out. I made a complaint to the police about Grimlock stealing Father’s possessions. It seems Father was astute enough to limit his liabilities in this venture, and the investors have no legal recourse to the contents of this house or the workshop.”

Asher raised his eyebrows. “So it’s all resolved?”

“Grimlock and the others visited my father in the infirmary. I think they’re convinced there’s no possibility of their recouping their money in the near future, so they will have to write off their losses. It isn’t as if they’ve lost their entire fortunes over this debacle.”

He circled the floor in front of the fire, frowning down at the carpet. “Well, it seems you’ve managed more than adequately in my absence.”

Minerva dimpled at him. “Were you looking forward to charging in on your white stallion to rescue me?”

He stopped short. “You were happy enough the last time.”

Her jollity faded. “Oh, Asher, I am eternally grateful to you. What you did went far beyond the call of duty. I will never forget it.” She spoke from the bottom of her heart. No one had ever risked their life for her the way Asher had.

He positioned himself with his back to the fire, legs spread apart, hands behind his back. “And what of Dorian Monk?”

“Dorian…” She couldn’t help releasing a soft sigh. Her whole being panged at the thought of the young man. “His injuries have permanently scarred him. His life has been shattered. He will never be the same again.”

“It must be difficult for any man to realize his father wasn’t the upstanding citizen he thought he was. To have his name pilloried about the entire town.”

She busied herself straightening the antimacassar on the armchair. “That won’t happen.”

“What? You mean you won’t expose Monk for what he was—a vicious, unscrupulous villain who stopped at nothing for his own gain?”

She lifted her shoulders. “What good would that do? Dorian has suffered enough, and through no fault of his own.”

The frown on Asher’s brow deepened. “Your heart bleeds for him, then.”

“He is a completely innocent party in this.” She bit her lip.

“He’s still your landlord and your creditor.”

“Not anymore. He tore up the mortgage deeds.”

“Oh, I see!” His coattails swished irritably from side to side. “And that makes you eternally grateful to him too, does it?”

His annoyance irked her. She wasn’t some possession to be argued over.

She shot him a stiff frown. “I doubt I’ll see much of Dorian Monk anymore. Our relationship has changed beyond recognition. We might have been friends once, and we might still be friends in the future, but for now we both want to avoid each other as much as possible. It’s just too painful for both of us.”

He grunted and patrolled the room, still seeming unsatisfied by her answer. He looked as if he wanted to say something badly, but was reluctant to speak his mind.

“Perhaps it’s as well you’re estranged,” he said a touch gruffly. “It will make what I have to tell you a little easier.”

“Oh?” Uneasiness squirmed in her at his somber expression.

“While I was in London, I managed to deduce what made the machine explode like that in Monk’s carriage house.”

“And?”

“It was Dorian’s mechanical hand. It had a zircon crystal in it, just like the other hand you were making for him. When he came in contact with the box, the zircon reacted with the hydrogen peroxide and caused the explosion. I’ve verified this in my workshop.”

She sank onto the settee as the ramifications of what he’d just said hit her. “So Dorian’s hand killed his father.” She shook her head. “The zircon crystal serves no purpose. It’s purely decorative. Dorian wanted something…special.”

Her body felt numb. Even if she and Dorian weren’t divided, she’d never be able to tell him this. She noticed Asher’s taut shoulders and tense posture, the tapping of his boot against the hearthstone. Her uneasiness wormed again. What else was he not telling her?

“Is that all you’ve been doing in your workshop these past weeks?”

A tinge of wariness entered his eyes. “What else would I be doing?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She rearranged the folds of her skirt as she chose her words carefully. “Perhaps you were working on your millennium machine. Perhaps it’s not the abject failure you make it out to be.”

He clicked his heels together. “The tone of your voice suggests you think I’m hiding something.”