The Spiritglass Charade (Stoker & Holmes 2)

“I’ve never heard of anything so . . . improper,” a female whispered loudly enough to be certain I heard. “Chasing a thief. Running alone down a dark path. Young ladies have lost all sense of decorum in this day!”

“Proper young women don’t run. They wait for assistance. Call for help.”

“And they certainly don’t fight. What was she thinking?”

Murmurs of agreement rose and I felt my temper rising as well. I didn’t even look at Grayling, for hadn’t he said the same dratted thing? Calling me a bat-headed female?

In my entire life, no one had dared insult my intelligence. My long nose, my graceless limbs, even my tone of voice and pedantic lectures . . . but never my intelligence.

“Come on, Mina,” Dylan said, putting an arm around me. “Let’s get you home.”

I spared a brief thought for Miss Stoker’s whereabouts and a farewell pat on the head for Angus—but not even a backward glance for the man whose coat I was wearing.

Inspector Grayling could drip all the way home in his sodden clothing for all I cared.

Miss Holmes

A Milestone for Miss Holmes

Dylan helped me into the cab and I settled onto its seat. Fortunately, it was a midsummer’s night and I wasn’t cold as much as bedraggled and out of sorts. Yet I shuddered at the unattractive picture I must have made, even in the shadows.

I wasn’t attractive on a good day, with my long, slender Holmesian nose and my too-long limbs and angular figure. But now I knew I must have looked hideous. My fetching little hat was gone and my corset was ruined. My injured arm was bound up, but there were bloodstains on my glove. I didn’t even want to imagine the state of my hair.

“Are you all right? Are you cold?”

“No,” I said, wishing I was. Perhaps then I could move closer to him, and . . . no, of course not. What on earth was I thinking? Here I was, half-clothed—thanks to that annoying Grayling. . . .

“You could have drowned. Seriously. You could have drowned.”

“I know how to swim.” Even to my own ears my defense sounded weak.

He shook his head, his eyes fastened on me from across the carriage. “You chased that thief without even thinking about the danger to yourself. And you must have really held on to him. . . . Like a barnacle or something.” He gave an admiring laugh. “You’re an awesome piece of work, Mina.”

“Is that good?” I thanked Providence it was night and he couldn’t see the color of my burning cheeks.

“Definitely. It means you’re so cool and so different and unique and awesome . . . and yet challenging at the same time. It’s a good thing.”

“Right,” was all I could manage. “Thank you.”

“I know I’ve told you this before, but in my time, women aren’t treated the same way they are now—told to sit and do nothing. Just get married and have kids. It’s not like that.” His eyes gleamed in the low light. “Don’t listen to what those jerks were saying back there. They don’t know what they’re talking about. Some men wouldn’t even have chased after that thief. You were really brave.”

I was aware of an unfamiliar emotion bubbling up inside me. Warm and fluttery, it stole my breath. “Thank you.”

I had no experience with this sort of dialogue—with anyone, and certainly not with a young man. My father hardly said two words to me. My uncle, on the other hand, constantly lectured and demanded I do more and better. My mother—There had been times of soft words, a gentle touch. Even encouragement.

Fighting off the weakness of grief—I would never allow myself to become like Willa Ashton, desperately holding on to someone I’d lost—I drew in a long, shaky breath and tried to think of a way to change the subject. I needed to ask if he had seen Evaline—for I had not before being bustled off to the carriage under the disapproving eyes of the crowd.

Before I could speak, Dylan moved to sit on my side of the carriage. I wasn’t crowded when he settled next to me, likely sitting on my sodden skirts, his arm brushing warm against mine. Before I could react and explain how improper this was, he took my hand.

“I suppose this is totally improper,” he said, reading my mind. “Me sitting so close to you. Us alone in the carriage.”

I swallowed. I was no longer the least bit chilled. “It is.”

He squeezed my hand tighter, and I became aware of how large his fingers were. How warm and sturdy. His thumb began to move over the top of my gloved one, and I could feel the gentle caress through the bloodstained, damp leather.

“You know . . .” Dylan’s voice sounded odd, and his fingers twitched a little. “If we were in my time, I’d want to date you.”

“Date me? Do you mean, determine how old I am? I don’t mind telling you that; you don’t have to guess. I’m seventeen, and—”

I stopped because he was chuckling, his eyes narrowed with humor, his fingers loosening. “Ah, Mina. Thank you. I needed something to break the ice.”

I was grateful for the change of mood as well, and I smiled at him. The next thing I knew, he moved closer to me. His hand slid around the back of my head, his fingers into my soggy, sagging hair.

And he kissed me.

Miss Stoker

Evaline Investigates

I slipped away from Mr. Ashton at the earliest opportunity, determined to track down the disreputable Pix, who kept turning up like a bad coin. But though I searched for over an hour, I couldn’t find him.

As I wandered down the path from the Oligary’s Observation Cogwheel, a fireworks display exploded above. Moments later amid the popping sounds, I heard shouts of “Stop, thief!”

Ah. I’d found Pix.

I smiled grimly and started over toward the cries, aware that the night had cooled a little. As I came around the corner of a deserted pathway, I saw two people struggling on a small bridge over the river.

Blooming fish! Was that Mina Holmes?

She looked ridiculous, clutching the hem of the thief’s coat, her tall, slender body jerking and swaying as he attempted to shake her free while running away. Then a glinting blade slashed down toward her arm.

Oh no, Mina!

I was too far away to help. Pix, you fool! What was he thinking?

I ran faster.

Then the two battling figures fell off the bridge.

By the time they hit the water, I was at the shore. Two heads emerged and I identified Mina’s. With a wave of relief, I realized her assailant wasn’t Pix after all. I was just about to jump in to drag her out when another man ran from the shadows, stripping off his coat.