Heart's Blood(53)

"Well, aren't you the clever boots," she said, rather disgruntled. How could she be wary of him when he kept proving how clearly he saw her? "It's perfect. You knew, didn't you, that if you'd given me a ring with fancy gemstones, I'd have spent all my time fretting about losing it, and would scarcely have worn it. But this-I've no excuse to take it off."

A smile twitched across his mouth as he watched her, warmth in his eyes. "I'm clever like that. Because I am, after all, only a man and I want you clearly labeled as mine."

Pearl narrowed her eyes at him. "Perhaps I should label you as well. Since you are more likely to be the target of thieves. An embroidered armband, perhaps, that says ‘Hands off, ladies. This one belongs to Pearl Parkin.' "

He laughed. "If you make it, I will wear it."

She was even more certain he was making fun of her. "Perhaps a pearl stickpin would do as well."

The warmth in his eyes flared to heat and he captured her hand in both of his, bending over it to hold his lips against the back a long moment. He did not exactly kiss it so much as breathe her in. She feared her hand smelled of bacon, but he didn't seem to care.

His eyes still burned when he looked up at her. "Lay claim to me," he said. "Do."

Pearl had to clear her throat. She didn't know where to look, didn't know what to do with this sudden intensity of his. Her ears burned and she took her hand back, then didn't know what to do with it. Hiding it in her lap seemed cowardly.

She sprang to her feet. "What shall we do today?"

Grey had risen when she did and now he opened the door to the hallway for her. "We will meet Ferguson and Archaios to attempt again to track the magic. According to the morning reports, there has been no sign of the demon since it vanished yesterday, so we must focus on catching the murderer."

"You've had reports already?" Pearl put her arms into the jacket he held for her and shrugged it on, then picked up her shawl to go over it. The finely woven paisley wool helped keep the rain off, especially when folded double for wearing.

"I had the reports sent here as soon as the last conjurer clocked in." Grey buttoned his overcoat and took the tall hat McGregor handed him.

Pearl tied on her coal-scuttle bonnet. She felt as if she had horse blinders on when she wore it, for she couldn't see to either side without turning her head, but it was wonderful for keeping out the rain. And the pale gray color looked well with her pastel dresses.

The rattle of horses sounded outside, and shortly after, a knock sounded at the door. McGregor opened it and inclined his head at Ferguson who bounded into the room, rubbing his hands. "Oh good, you're ready then. Shall we?" He paused and gave his own stiff head bob at Grey. "Sir. Miss." He waved at the open door. "Mr. Archaios is waiting in the carriage."

"Yes, of course." Pearl glanced back at Grey before she started out, but he was taking something from McGregor.

"May I say that you are looking particularly lovely this morning, Pearl." James Ferguson captured her hand. Men were always doing that. Shouldn't they wait for her to offer it?

He bent over her imprisoned hand for a kiss, and it was only when he froze there, halfway down, that Pearl realized he had caught her left hand. The one with the new ring on it.

"Is this new?" He kissed her hand, then straightened, still holding onto her to look at the ring. "Very pretty. A gift?"

"Indeed." Grey sounded gruff and stern and not at all Grey-like. "It is the gift of an engagement ring. Wish us happy, Ferguson. Miss Parkin and I are to be married." He reclaimed Pearl's hand for her from the other man's grip, then placed a pair of pale gray gloves lined in rabbit fur in her hand. "To avoid a repeat of yesterday's difficulty."

He nodded to McGregor, who crooked fingers at a pair of footmen who followed them down the steps to the waiting Briganti carriage, their arms piled high with hot bricks for their feet and carriage robes for their laps, which were tucked around Pearl. The leftovers were grudgingly shared out among the men.

"Congratulations on your engagement, sir, Miss Parkin," Ferguson said, when the blankets and bricks were settled and the carriage was moving. "When did this happy event occur?"

"This morning," Pearl said.

"Near Christmas, I think," Grey said, obviously thinking Ferguson had asked when the wedding would be. And perhaps he had. Or perhaps Pearl simply panicked, hearing Grey's intention to marry so soon.

"Next Christmas," she said.

"I had to step lively and get my proposal in early today, before all the things we have to do." Grey brought her hand with the ring to his mouth for another kiss. The gloves helped with the melting problem. "I am thanking my luck that she said yes."                       
       
           



       

"This is splendid, yes?" Archaios twinkled at them. He had particularly twinkly eyes. "And you will have the wedding before I must return to Greece, so I may attend." He nodded, as if everything were settled.

Pearl managed to smile and nod, wondering just how long Archaios planned to stay in England.

"I am sure everyone will be happy to hear the news." Ferguson's words and even his tone sounded pleased, but his expression was full of reproach.

Whatever for? Ferguson had always been kind and solicitous of her on the occasions when they met, full of compliments that made her feel wary and flattered both at once. She had always been polite and friendly in return, but nothing more. Surely he couldn't have built expectations out of that.

"I am sure they will." Grey's smile showed his teeth and little humor. He encased her hand between his in a blatant laying-of-claim.

If Ferguson foolishly thought a few idle conversations gave him any reason for his own claim, she would show him right quick how wrong he was. Ferguson tried to stifle her actions with no right to do so. He would be an impossible husband.

Pearl patted Grey's arm and stretched up to kiss his cheek. He covered his surprise quickly with such a besotted expression she thought certain the others would see right through it.

"Are we going to the office first?" she asked, needing desperately to change the subject of conversation. "Or will we begin where we left off yesterday?"

"I thought we'd begin back at St. James's Park. See if we can follow the ghost back to the scene of her death like we did with Angus Galloway." Grey pulled out his watch to check the time. "We've another hour and a half till moonset."

Pearl cleared her throat, not actually trying to get attention. She acquired it anyway. "I may have-well, laid the ghost yesterday. I don't know whether I actually did, but once I sent the magic out to follow the murderer-There was a great deal of it left over, you see. So I sent it back to Rose. And, well . . ." She shrugged. If Grey was angry, he would just have to be angry. The magic wanted to go home.

Grey nodded. "Excellent. That's excellent. We can call her spirit in that case, which is a much easier proposition."

"You sent the magic to follow the murderer?" Ferguson's expression was all curiosity. He seemed a man of sudden enthusiasms. "How does that work? What does it do?"

"Oh, that's right . . ." Grey drawled, lounging back in his seat. Rather like a large cat with prey in its sights, pretending indifference to draw that prey closer. "You were unconscious the first time she did it, after the first murder."

Pearl looked from Grey to the young wizard and back. Grey didn't trust Ferguson apparently. That masculine possessiveness ought to annoy her, but it didn't. Probably because she felt rather possessive herself. And she had no right. Not truly.

"That's correct, sir." Ferguson blushed under his freckles. "I wasn't. Which is why I am most curious."

"As am I," Archaios chimed in. "Sorcery has been gone from us for so long, the Conclave itself is anxious to know what it can do. It can also lay ghosts?"

"Well, yes." Pearl attempted to explain. "I am not sure if sorcery can do it alone, or if it requires sorcery and conjury working in concert, but-"

"What about the murderer?" Ferguson interrupted. "Begging your pardon, Miss Parkin, Mr. Archaios, but that is what we're about this morning, is it not?"

"Of course." Pearl found a place to begin. "I'm not far enough along in my studies to understand the theories about how or why it works, except that innocent blood has magic explicitly designed to find justice. It cries out for justice, correct? It is one of the most basic of sorcery's spells because it wants to be used for that specific purpose.

"It can be shaped and sent out by nothing more than a woman crying out over the body of her slain child, or in the blood of her own injuries."

"Yes, but what does it do?" Ferguson persisted. "Does it create a blood trail to the killer? Does it attack the murderer's bowels, or cause a brain fever, or-?" He broke off, because Pearl was laughing, which obviously annoyed him.

"You are rather bloodthirsty, aren't you, Mr. Ferguson?" Her laughter faded to smiles.

A mere smile was apparently enough to rouse Grey's possessive instincts, for he glared at Ferguson and tucked Pearl closer to his side. "You're shivering," he said. "Are you not?"