I paused, the full spoon at my mouth. "Creations?"
Her already pale face grew paler. She glanced at Fitzroy and he took over the explanation. "He takes pieces off different corpses and binds them together to make new, more superior ones. All they lack is a spirit that will bring them to life and do his bidding."
My stomach rolled. Bile and jelly rose to my throat. "Why would he do such a thing?"
"To build himself an elite force," Lady Harcourt said. "He takes the long, powerful legs of a fast runner, for example; the strong arms of a laborer or pugilist; the heart and lungs of a good swimmer. And the brain of an intelligent man, or one with knowledge he seeks to use to his advantage."
What kind of monster wanted to do such a thing? The very notion was sickening, but to actually cut up bodies and sew pieces of them together to form a new man... His surgery must be covered in blood and gore...his arms and body too. The very notion was unfathomable.
"Charlie?" Lady Harcourt rose and came round the table. She placed her cool hand on the back of my neck. "You've gone quite ashen."
"It's no wonder," Seth said quietly.
Gus murmured his agreement. "Makes my belly ache, too."
Fitzroy poured me more wine and handed me the glass. He watched as I drank. "Have you ever heard of such a man?"
"Why would I?"
"Street children hear all sorts of things. Perhaps the body of a homeless man has inexplicably disappeared, or someone saw a fellow acting mysteriously near the cemetery. You spend a lot of time at Highgate Cemetery."
So he'd learned that about me too. "I haven't seen or heard anything. If the man looks like a regular gentleman, he could be anyone."
It must have been the doctor I'd seen at Father's house. Only a man with medical knowledge could piece bodies back together. But I didn't know his name. I didn't know where he lived. I couldn't help Fitzroy and Lady Harcourt find him, even if I'd wanted to.
Fitzroy returned to his seat, but Lady Harcourt remained at my side, stroking my hair. "My spies told me what happened at the police station," he said. "Word gets around quickly, particularly when something sensational occurs. I suspect this man's spies also informed him. He will be looking for you now."
"You've got it wrong, Mr. Fitzroy. It weren't me that did that."
"We will keep you safe, here, away from him. He can't get you while you are under my protection."
I snorted. "You don't even know what he looks like." Lady Harcourt's hand drew too close to my fringe and I pulled away. "I ain't a necromancer. I can't help you."
She returned to her chair. "Not even for a soft bed, food and clean clothes?"
"I ain't the necromancer," I said again. I hadn't spent five years surviving on the street, doing everything possible to hide my identity and keep safe, to throw it away for a queen who meant nothing to me. "I wish I could help you but I can't. Seems to me you need the girl. Better find her before he does."
"We will. Now that we know there are two of you—"
I slammed my palms down on the table, sending the jelly into a jiggling frenzy. "I ain't a necromancer!" I pushed up from the chair, but my passage was blocked by Gus and Seth. Arms crossed, scowls on their faces, they presented an impassible wall. There would be no distracting them tonight. Besides, I had no doubt if I did that Fitzroy would catch me.
"I think that's enough for tonight," Lady Harcourt said. "A good rest is in order. Take him to his room."
"Sir?" Seth asked.
Fitzroy nodded. "I'll follow shortly."
"Lincoln?" Lady Harcourt arched her perfectly drawn eyebrows at him. "Why do you need to go too?"
"I've decided he is less likely to escape from me. I've moved him into my rooms."
"Your rooms? Permanently?"
"Yes."
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"Why not?"
A little color infused her cheeks and for one awful moment I thought she knew. She must have seen through my disguise and known I wasn't a boy, and that allowing me to stay in his rooms would be inappropriate. "Who will trace his origins tomorrow if you are watching him?"
I let out a long breath.
"Seth and Gus will be given full instructions."
"Is it wise to give them such an important task?"
Gus's mouth flattened, and he looked as if he wanted to challenge her. Seth merely flushed and stared down at his boots.
"They're capable enough, and they need the practice. Besides, I have a better idea of where they should concentrate on their search now." This last he said to me, and somewhat smugly, if I wasn't mistaken.
Lady Harcourt frowned. "I still don't think—"
"I have decided."
She bristled and glared at him. He glared back at her, their silent battle of wills once more making the air in the room feel tense and tight.
"Send for my carriage," she said to Seth.
He seemed relieved to be dismissed and disappeared from the room. Lady Harcourt marched out of the dining room and into the hall. She gathered her hat and gloves, and Fitzroy helped her on with her coat. They didn't speak. Neither his hands nor his gaze lingered at her bare shoulders or neck. It was as if he didn't even notice the silky white skin, or care that she had moved closer to him than mere friends ought. There was nothing of the lover about the way he treated her. I wasn't surprised. I couldn't imagine him consumed with passion for her—or for anyone, for that matter.
Seth returned and the carriage wheels soon crunched on the gravel outside. He opened the front door for her and bowed. Lady Harcourt offered him her hand and he kissed it. Gus didn't receive the same privilege and he didn't look like he expected to.
"Walk me out, Lincoln," she said in a mild voice.
Fitzroy's gaze slid to me.
"I won't try to escape," I told him.
"Take him to the library and wait for me there." He followed Lady Harcourt outside.
Gus nodded at a door leading off from the entrance. "Library's in there."
Seth led the way and Gus followed behind me. I thought there'd been a great many books in Fitzroy's rooms, but the library held triple. Bookshelves reached to the ceiling on all the walls, leaving some gaps between them for lamps, windows and framed pictures. A circular iron chandelier, sporting dozens of candles, plunged from the ceiling rose, stopping just above the round table. Seth lit some in candlesticks and handed one to Gus.
"Over here," I told them. "I want to see the books."
"We ain't at your beck and call," Gus growled.
I ignored him and strolled around the room, brushing my fingers along the spines of the leather bound tomes, breathing their earthy scent into my lungs.
"Don't think about throwing them," Seth said, trailing behind me with a candle.
I paused at the window. Fitzroy and Lady Harcourt stood at the carriage door, talking. Or, rather, arguing, if her expression was anything to go by. His back was to me, but in the light cast by the moon and the coach lamps, her face looked stern, her body rigid.
"What do you think they're arguing about?" I asked.
Seth peered over my shoulder. "It's hard to say. You, perhaps, and Death's decision to keep you close. His decision to give Gus and me more responsibility."
"Or his decision not to take her to his bed," Gus said, coming up behind me on my other side and watching through the window too.
"You think it was his choice to end their...liaison?" I asked.
"Maybe."
Lady Harcourt spun round and climbed into the coach, ignoring Fitzroy's outstretched hand. He pulled it back as she slammed the door closed.
"If it were," Seth said, as the coach drove off, "he probably didn't end it the way a gentleman should."
"Why do you say that?"
"You may not have noticed, but he's not good with people."
I snorted. "I noticed."
"I'm not sure he knows how to treat a lady properly. I certainly don't think he understands the fair sex."
"That don't stop Lady H from throwing herself at him," Gus said. "Other women, too."
Seth rounded on him. "Lady Harcourt does not throw herself at anyone. She's much too—" He broke off when Fitzroy appeared at the door.
"Upstairs," Fitzroy said, turning away. "Now."
Gus and Seth gripped one arm each and led me out of the library. We followed Fitzroy up the stairs and along the corridor, then they shoved me into the room after him and shut the door. He locked it and pocketed the key. I swallowed hard as Fitzroy faced me. It was one thing to pretend to be a boy in his presence during the day, but now I had to spend an entire night with a man who made my blood alternately run hot and cold. A man whose gaze seemed to see everything.