Rufus clutched his leather satchel in his lap with his left hand and rubbed his face with his right as the carriage left Clifton and Ester Grierson's small home and rumbled down the cobbled street toward his next appointment.
Cases involving the sudden death of a child were draining, and this one had been no exception. Emotions on both sides of the veil tended to run high, making his task of communing with a spirit and deciphering what kept them there arduous.
But on that count, ten-year-old Junius Grierson was different.
When Rufus had arrived an hour and a half earlier, he'd known only three things about the situation he was coming to investigate. The family's name, where they lived, and that their only child had recently passed.
However, before he'd exited the carriage, Junius appeared directly in front of him with an exuberant smile, radiating peace and a sense of relief as he told him his name and showed Rufus—all in a matter of seconds—how he died from a sudden asthma attack.
Clifton and Ester later confirmed this after Rufus had finished conducting his investigation.
"He's here now, isn't he?" Ester tearfully whispered, glancing around the room.
Rufus nodded.
"Is he... frightened?" Clifton asked, his voice breaking.
Rufus looked at Junius and bit back a smile. "Only of spiders... and Mama's Victoria sponge, he says."
Clifton laughed and wiped the tears pouring from Ester's eyes before hauling her into his arms. "Ah, love... he's telling us he loves you, and he's all right." He met Rufus's gaze over Ester's head and hoarsely whispered, "He is, isn't he? That's why he's stayed around? Not to torment us for being unable to save him as some would have us believe?"
Rufus nodded and swallowed to dislodge the lump of emotion clogging his throat. "He didn't mean to scare you or make you worry... and," Rufus frowned and silently asked Junius to repeat what he'd said, but it still didn't make sense.
"What is it?" Ester sniffled, wiping her face with a handkerchief.
"Something about visiting you in your dreams?"
Ester's chin wobbled, and tears streamed down her face. She looked at her husband, then buried her face in her handkerchief and wept.
Clifton wrapped an arm around his wife and hugged her to his chest as he met Rufus's gaze and brokenly said, "It was the last thing she whispered in his ear before we buried him; she asked him to visit her in her dreams and let us know he was all right."
Junius had vanished shortly after, and Rufus had struggled to keep his emotions in check while he accepted payment for his services, climbed into his carriage, and left.
It was a thirty-minute drive past workshops and tenements, their doorways and windows packed with ghosts and living souls, all watching with forlorn eyes as Rufus's carriage rolled by.
Despair and loneliness permeated the air, seeping from the buildings like a gloomy shadow staining the bricks as effectively as coal ash.
When the carriage finally turned down the gravel drive leading toward his final appointment for the day at Buckley Manor, Rufus closed his eyes and took a deep, fortifying breath.
No two paranormal investigations were alike, but some were more uncomplicated than others. And with any luck, this would be a straightforward case—nothing more serious than a simple haunting involving one or two ghosts needing some help moving on.
But an hour after investigating Buckley Manor, Rufus knew two things with absolute certainty. First, the dwelling wasn't haunted, a rarity in London. And second, a member of the staff was responsible for the increasingly dangerous attempts at driving Sir Donaldson and his four children out of their new home.
Elphi crossed her arms over her chest and drummed the fingers of her right hand against her left upper arm as she paced the length of their bedroom and waited for Rufus to return home.
He was supposed to be back an hour and a half ago. And with every passing minute that he remained absent, Elphi's unease grew, her stomach revolted, and for the second time in the past three agonizing hours that she'd been home without him, she ran to the water closet and vomited.
After swishing a mouthful of cool water around and spitting it out in the sink, she wiped her mouth with a hand towel and returned to pacing her bedroom.
She had tried to distract herself at first by reading.
A failed venture.
She'd then walked out into the small garden, hoping the fresh air would help clear her mind. But three minutes later, the heavens opened in a torrential downpour and sent her scurrying inside.
So she roamed the halls and wandered from room to room, and when the clock struck the hour of five, Elphi realized in some surprise that she'd been pacing their bedroom for the better part of two and a half hours.
She turned and walked toward their bed, her ears straining for any sound through the open window of an approaching carriage. If Rufus wasn't home in thirty minutes, she'd send a note to Harwood Hall or take it there herself and insist Roderick go searching for him.
And if Roderick wouldn't go—
Elphi froze mid-stride and held her breath, blood rushing in her ears as a carriage pulled to a stop outside. She dashed to the windows and bit back a cry of relief when Rufus stepped from the carriage and spoke to Harrison for a moment before walking toward the front door.
Spinning on her heel, she ran to the stairs, which she then took at a cautious pace after hearing Fitz whisper, "Slow down."
However, the instant her feet landed safely at the bottom of the stairs, she skip-trotted to Rufus's study. He stood at his desk, his back toward her and head bent, focused on whatever he held in his hands.
A wave of relief crashed through her at seeing him unharmed and made her limbs tremble, her heart hammer against her ribs, and it took all of her self-control not to give in to the urge to burst into the room and kiss him senseless.
"You're home later than I thought you'd be. Did you have trouble along the way?" She breathlessly said, twisting her hands at her middle as she glided into the room like the dignified lady her parents had raised her to be.
Rufus stiffened at the sound of her voice but remained with his back toward her and said, "No. I dropped one of my case files off to an old colleague at the Yard. How was your visit to Madame Morrissey's?"
"Rosalind was a great help today. I think you'll be pleased with my new evening gown when it's finished."
"Will it be the green silk you mentioned?" He asked, his voice sounding strained.
"As promised," she said. She studied Rufus maintaining his position in front of his desk, and her brow puckered with a frown. "I apologize... am I intruding?"
"Of course not."
She arched a brow, biting her tongue. Rufus's tone had said yes while his words said no. "You seem engrossed. What are you reading?"
He slowly turned to face her, holding in his right hand two half-sheets of paper, the bottom page stained by an inkblot in the bottom left corner.
Elphi's gaze honed in on that telling mark, her heart slamming against her ribs with a dull, heavy thump. The anxiety that had been her constant companion for most of the day now threatened to consume her.
"By the look on your face, I take it you know what this is?"
"It isn't what it looks like," Elphi forced past numb lips.
Arching a brow, he glanced at the paper, "I don't know about that. It's titled Reasons I can't Possibly Be in Love With Rufus." He pursed his lips but refused to look at her when he muttered, "Seems self-explanatory to me."
A high-pitched buzzing filled Elphi's ears, and her body tingled from head to toe.
She tried to move, wanting to rip the papers from his hands and tear them to shreds before he could read any further. But her hands and arms refused to move, and her feet seemed frozen in place.
So, she opened her mouth to explain, knowing by the heartbroken tone of Rufus's voice that he had utterly misunderstood the nature of her list. But no sound came out.
All she could do was stand there and listen, helpless, as he read aloud, "He's in line to be the Eighth Viscount of Montburn." He frowned and spared her a glance as he muttered, "Your brother is a Viscount himself...why is that a strike against me?"
Elphi swallowed and shook her head, wanting to tell him it wasn't. But her throat had clamped shut against any attempt to speak in her defense.
Despair and anger blossomed to life in Rufus's eyes before he returned his attention to the page and continued reading.
"He loathes attending séances.
He hates the texture of potatoes.
He separates his food, so it doesn't touch.
He frowns a lot—no, I used to..."
Rufus paused, his hands trembling and his face drawn and pale, but after a moment, he cleared his throat and continued,
"He shares my fondness for lemon tarts—that one's easy enough to see. You're afraid of a bit of competition.
He drowned as a young boy—died and came back, now sees ghosts?" Rufus swallowed, his voice lowering and the frown deepening upon his brow.
"Communes with ghosts? Must clarify.
He hates being wet and takes short baths.
He avoids large bodies of water—as anyone who's drowned would, I can assure you.
He broke his left pinky boxing.
He has a stilted relationship with his parents—do they even know we're married? Yes, they do... I sent the Lord and Lady of Montburn a note informing them of our impending nuptials the day we married. I thought it best since there was a chance I might not live to tell them the happy news later. And in a moment of weakness this morning, I finally accepted Rosalind's invitation for us to attend the Treadway family supper I'd previously declined the past several weeks. So now, this Saturday evening is sure to be a delightful time to introduce my wife, who, according to this list, has... twelve reasons why she can't possibly be in love with me."
"Rufus," Elphi finally managed to choke out past the lump of emotion wedged in her throat. "Let me explain."
Rufus ignored her, his gaze fastened on the paper in his hand as though rereading its contents. Then after a moment, he quietly admitted, "You've managed to learn a lot about me in only three and a half weeks."
He lowered his hands to his side, allowing the papers to fall to the floor as he looked at her for the first time since she'd entered the room, his eyes guarded. "Was this why you were so evasive this afternoon?"
Elphi stared at him, her eyes wide, her stomach lurching to her throat, then plummeting to her toes while her anxiety soared to fevered heights.
'Don't say the words,' her mind implored. 'Tell him the truth, and you seal his doom. Better to lose him because he thinks you don't love him, then have him end up dead like Bradford, Fitz, and Percy.'
'Damn the consequences,' her heart cried out, 'and tell him you love him.'
Clenching her hands into tight fists, Elphi gathered her fragile courage and opened her mouth to declare her love.
But before she could utter more than what came out as a garbled groan, Rufus said, "Earlier today, I asked if you'd grown fond of me, and you... you looked at me the same way you are now—" he snapped his mouth shut, then, with a shake of his head, muttered a curse and, without another word, marched out of the room.
Elphi stood frozen, blinking back tears as she stared at the two pieces of paper on the floor she wished she'd never written and listened to Rufus violently leave their house.
After slamming the front door—an intentional action which felt so cathartic, Rufus was tempted to open the door and do it again but refrained—he stood on the landing and frowned—fault number four on Elphi's damn list. He didn't know where he'd planned on going when he decided to leave moments ago.
He'd simply sought a quick escape because it hurt too much to stand near the woman he fell further in love with every day while struggling to understand how any of those twelve pernickety reasons listed were awful enough to keep her from loving him in return.
Did she genuinely believe him unlovable because he despised the texture of potatoes or separated the food on his plate?
He pondered the question, his frown deepening as he scanned up and down the sidewalk before deciding on walking toward Kensington Gardens. His legs could use a good stretch after the time he'd spent in the carriage, and given the late hour, he might find someone looking for a spot of trouble.
Rufus allowed his mind to wander, briefly distracted when he spotted two ghosts following a young man down the sidewalk until they turned the corner out of view. But inevitably, once the trio was gone, Rufus began replaying the scene with Elphi in his study.
Why did it matter that he took short baths because he hated being wet? They were long enough to clean himself, which was their sole purpose, wasn't it?
He bathed daily, and it wasn't as though his time in the tub was so short that he still smelled afterward—unless she didn't care for the scented soap he used, which was easy enough to change if that was the issue. But then why did his baths make her list and not his soap?
None of it made any sense.
And what did his crooked pinky have to do with anything? It boggled his mind how it could be a strike against him. Did she have some unknown standard he was unaware of that her spouse's fingers and toes must be perfectly straight?
Ridiculous.
Was that what she'd been doing while caressing his hand and asking why it was crooked that night they were first married? For all he knew, it hadn't been a caress. Instead, she was evaluating each digit's straightness and lamenting his pinkie's deformity.
Rufus grunted and shook his head, ignoring the strange looks several passersby cast his way before he crossed Bayswater Road and headed for The Broad Walk.
He'd thought Elphi to be devoid of such pettiness, but clearly, she and Edwina had that vile trait in common. How had he not seen it sooner? After his traumatic experience with Edwina, he could usually spot the behavior in a woman well before there was any danger of entangling his emotions.
But not with Elphi.
She'd blindsided and disarmed him, somehow snuck in before he could even think about putting up his usual defenses.
Heaving a sigh, Rufus shoved his hands in his pockets and slowed his pace. He'd proven himself a fool who hadn't learned his lesson regarding women.
Thunder rumbled across the sky, drawing his attention before a fat raindrop landed on his right cheek. A second one followed a heartbeat later, hitting the edge of his upper lip. And then a crash of thunder heralded the rain clouds unleashing their watery burden overhead, drenching Rufus to his skin in a matter of seconds.
However, instead of sending Rufus scurrying for shelter or returning home as the rain would have before, he continued walking because he would rather endure the sheer misery of being drenched than submit to the torture of having Elphi nearby.
By the time Rufus arrived home several hours later, it had stopped raining, night had fully descended, and his clothes were uncomfortably wet, but—and it was a rather meaningful but—he'd decided how to move forward with Elphi.
While relieved he hadn't admitted his feelings aloud, after much pondering, Rufus wasn't sure he could—or if he wanted to—stop loving her. But if Elphi couldn't love him, he wouldn't manipulate or force her.
So, until he was positive their marriage was a lost cause, for sanity's sake, and to protect himself from further hurt, he would have to keep Elphi out of arms reach.
Which wouldn't be too difficult, would it?
Rufus pushed away the niggling voice in the back of his mind that scoffed and whispered, "You're a delusional simpleton if you believe yourself able to accomplish such a feat, Treadway."
He had six years of experience at keeping women at a distance, all but ensuring he was capable of excelling at the task he now faced.
And with each silent, entreating repetition of that little phrase until reaching the master bedchamber, Rufus was convinced he had a chance at succeeding.
But after soundlessly closing their bedroom door and turning to find Elphi fast asleep, curled on her side facing him, Rufus muttered a curse and raked his right hand through his wet hair.
How had he not seen until now that his plan had one monumental flaw?
Being in love with Elphi would make keeping her at a distance far more complicated—if not outright impossible.
Perhaps he was a delusional simpleton after all.