Charlotte sighed. "Mr. Woolsey Scott, this is Miss Tessa Gray. Tessa, this is Mr. Woolsey Scott, head of the London werewolf pack, and an old friend of the Clave. "
"Very well, then," said Gideon as the door shut behind Tessa and Will. He turned toward Sophie, who was suddenly acutely aware of the largeness of the room, and how smal she felt inside it. "Shal we continue with the training?"
He held out a knife to her, shining like a silver wand in the rooms dimness.
His green eyes were steady. Everything about Gideon was steady-his gaze, his voice, the way he held himself. She remembered what it felt like to have those steady arms around her, and shivered involuntarily. She had never been alone with him before, and it frightened her. "I dont think my heart would be in it, Mr. Lightwood," she said. "I appreciate the offer all the same, but . . . "
He lowered his arm slowly. "You think that I dont take training you seriously?"
"I think youre being very generous. But I ought to face facts, oughtnt I? This training was never about me or Tessa. It was about your father and the Institute. And now that Ive slapped your brother-" She felt her throat tighten.
"Mrs. Branwel would be so disappointed in me if she knew. "
"Nonsense. He deserved it. And the little matter of the blood feud between our families does come to mind. " Gideon spun the silver knife carelessly about his finger and thrust it through his belt. "Charlotte would probably give you a rise in salary if she knew. "
Sophie shook her head. They were only a few steps from a bench; she sank down onto it, feeling exhausted. "You dont know Charlotte. Shed feel honor-bound to discipline me. "
Gideon settled himself on the bench-not beside her, but against the far side of it, as distant from her as he could get. Sophie couldnt decide whether she was pleased about that or not. "Mis
s Col ins," he said. "There is something you ought to know. "
She laced her fingers together. "What is that?"
He leaned forward a little, his broad shoulders hunched. She could see the flecks of gray in his green eyes. "When my father called me back from Madrid," he said, "I did not want to come. I had never been happy in London.
Our house has been a miserable place since my mother died. "
Sophie just stared at him. She could think of no words. He was a Shadowhunter and a gentleman, and yet he seemed to be unburdening his soul to her. Even Jem, for all his gentle kindness, had never done that.
"When I heard about these lessons, I thought they would be a dreadful waste of my time. I pictured two very sil y girls uninterested in any sort of instruction. But that describes neither Miss Gray nor yourself. I should tell you, I used to train younger Shadowhunters in Madrid. And there were quite a few of them who didnt have the same native ability that you do. Youre a talented student, and its a pleasure to teach you. "
Sophie felt herself flush scarlet. "You cant be serious. "
"I am. I was pleasantly surprised the first time I came here, and again so the next time and the next. I found that I was looking forward to it. In fact, it would be fair to say that since my return home, I have hated everything in London except these hours here, with you. "
"But you said ay Dios mio every time I dropped my dagger-"
He grinned. It lit up his face, changed it. Sophie stared at him. He was not beautiful like Jem was, but he was very handsome, especial y when he smiled. The smile seemed to reach out and touch her heart, speeding its pace. He is a Shadowhunter, she thought. A nd a gentleman. This is not the way to think about him. Stop it. But she could not stop, any more than she had been able to put Jem out of her mind. Though, where with Jem she had felt safe, with Gideon she felt an excitement like lightning that coursed up and down her veins, shocking her. And yet she did not want to let it go.
"I speak Spanish when Im in a good mood," he said. "You might as well know that about me. "
"So it wasnt that you were so weary of my ineptitude that you were wishing to hurl yourself off the roof?"
"Just the opposite. " He leaned closer to her. His eyes were the green-gray of a stormy sea. "Sophie? Might I ask you something?"
She knew she should correct him, ask him to call her Miss Col ins, but she didnt. "I-yes?"
"Whatever happens with the lessons-might I see you again?"
Will had risen to his feet, but Woolsey Scott was still examining Tessa, his hand under his chin, studying her as if she were something under glass in a natural history exhibit. He was not at all what she would have thought the leader of a pack of werewolves would look like. He was probably in his early twenties, tal but slender to the point of slightness, with blond hair nearly to his shoulders, dressed in a velvet jacket, knee breeches, and a trailing scarf with a paisley print. A tinted monocle obscured one pale green eye. He looked like drawings shed seen in Punch of those who called themselves "aesthetes. "
"Adorable," he pronounced final y. "Charlotte, I insist they stay while we talk. What a charming couple they make. See how his dark hair sets off her pale skin-"
"Thank you," said Tessa, her voice shooting several octaves higher than usual, "Mr. Scott, thats very gracious, but there is no attachment between Will and myself. I dont know what youve heard-"
"Nothing!" he declared, throwing himself into a chair and arranging his scarf around him. "Nothing at all, I assure you, though your blushing belies your words. Come along now, everyone, sit down. Theres no need to be intimidated by me. Charlotte, ring for some tea. Im parched. "
Tessa looked to Charlotte, who shrugged as if to say there was nothing to be done about it. Slowly Tessa sat back down. Will sat as well. She didnt look at him; she couldnt, with Woolsey Scott grinning at them both as if he knew something she didnt know.
"And wheres young Mr. Carstairs?" he inquired. "Adorable boy. Such interesting coloring. And so talented on the violin. Of course, Ive heard Garcin himself play at the Paris Opera, and after that, well, everything simply sounds like coal dust scraping the eardrums. Pity about his il ness. "
Charlotte, who had gone across the room to ring for Bridget, returned and sat down, smoothing her skirts. "In a way, thats what I wanted to speak to you about-"
"Oh, no, no, no. " From nowhere Scott had produced a majolica box, which he waved in Charlottes direction. "No serious discussion, please, until Ive had my tea and a smoke. Egyptian cigar?" He offered her the box. "Theyre the finest available. "
"No, thank you. " Charlotte looked mildly horrified at the idea of smoking a cigar; indeed, it was hard to picture, and Tessa felt Will, beside her, laugh silently. Scott shrugged and went back to his smoking preparations. The majolica box was a clever little thing with compartments for the cigars, tied in a bundle with a silk ribbon, new matches and old, and a place to tap ones ashes. They watched as the werewolf lit his cigar with evident relish, and the sweet scent of tobacco fil ed the room.
"Now," he said. "Tel me how youve been, Charlotte, darling. And that abstracted husband of yours. still wandering around the crypt inventing things that blow up?"
"Sometimes," said Will, "theyre even supposed to blow up. "
There was a rattle, and Bridget arrived with a tea tray, sparing Charlotte the need to answer. She set the tea things down on the inlaid table between the chairs, glancing back and forth anxiously. "Im sorry, Mrs. Branwell. I thought there was only going to be two for tea-"
"Its quite all right, Bridget," said Charlotte, her tone firmly dismissive. "I Will ring for you if we need anything else. "