"I have to go."

"Where?"

"Dartmoor."

Exasperation rasped through her. "Dartmoor? What in the name of little bra.s.s teapots is in Dartmoor?" She took a deep breath, her momentary fear bubbling out in words. "What is Father thinking? First it was that bug and now this. You've hardly been home all week, and now I'll have to cancel dinner with the Whitlocks."

He turned away, snapping the bag shut. "I didn't know I would have to go until this afternoon. If I could stay, I would." He looked up, his gray eyes solemn. "Believe me when I say that. I would much rather be with you and Jeremy."

"Then stay. I'll speak to Father."

He held up a hand. "It's best I get out of town for a while. And Holmes has asked for his niece to join him on a case, so I'm to escort her. There's a murder investigation on the moors involving a cursed dog or some such blither."

That was too much. "Evelina Cooper?" The woman you actually love instead of me?

"Yes." Tobias made a helpless gesture. "I have to take her."

"You're not her jail guard!"

"I am now."

"But why you? Why not someone else?" Alice counted herself a good sport, but this was pushing things. She sat down on the edge of the bed, rattled by the bizarre conversation.

"You know your father," Tobias said tightly.

She did. He's playing games. "I said I'll speak to him."

His face had gone pale, with a flush high on his cheekbones. "No, don't. He's right. I have to leave London for a while. That's what they're deciding downstairs, but I already know the answer. Whatever else might happen, it's better I distance myself for the time being."

A suspicion worse than jealousy was beginning to crawl through her, dragging all her anxiety back to the fore. "Tell me what happened."

Tobias circled around to sit next to her. He took a deep breath and then let it out roughly, as if he had been pushed beyond the bounds of endurance. Alice leaned close, all too aware of the line of his shoulders, the curve of muscle beneath his sleeve. Her body tensed with sudden nervousness. So often their time together was like walking a high ledge, exhilarating and terrifying because a slip could be fatal. But every step toward a real understanding was a risk she couldn't refuse. They'd been obliged to marry, but there was still a chance to make something real if neither one of them lost their nerve.

And there had never been any question about their physical desire. She could feel his warmth like a magnetic pull, the scent of him reminding her that she'd been a woman before she'd been Mama or Mrs. Roth.

But he stared straight ahead instead of at her. "I don't know how to talk about what happened."

She jerked her chin up. "Be blunt. You know that I deal with that better than a lot of dancing about."

For a moment, he looked amused. "Yes, you do."

"Then out with it."

He took a ragged breath. "All right. I shot the Scarlet King. Your father's Yellowbacks got rid of the body, but it would be better if I were out of London until the investigation is over."

"William Reading is dead?" Alice was dumbstruck, and then her mind lurched forward, grasping everything he'd said. "You're right, you need to go!"

That seemed to surprise him. "You need to understand-"

She held up a hand, stopping his words. Horror was rising inside her, a jittering, chill menace that threatened to shake her to pieces any moment now. But as Keating's child, she'd learned about the savage landscape of the Steam Council long ago. She wasn't as sheltered as her father thought.

Now she willed herself to iron, ready to fight instead of crumble. "I do understand. He was a vile man. I knew William Reading when he was a clerk in the Green Queen's counting house."

"A clerk?" Tobias said in surprise, finally angling toward her.

"You don't believe all that military nonsense he put on?" Alice scoffed. She could see the horror beneath Tobias's mask, and wanted to brush it away. "He knew military contracts. He never marched a day in his life."

Tobias dragged his hand down his face. "I still killed him."

His eyes were pits of rage and guilt. Alice had always loathed the Scarlet King, but her anger tripled because he'd put that look on her husband's handsome features. She slipped her arms around Tobias, pulling him close. Dear G.o.d, I'm comforting a killer, she thought. And then, What does this mean for my son?

In truth, it meant that Jeremy wouldn't grow up in a world with William Reading in it. That was a good thing, whatever else came of this. Alice closed her eyes, feeling wet heat escape onto her cheeks. And then Tobias pulled her tight, his breath ragged. The strength of his embrace crushed her small frame and when his mouth sought hers, his kiss was fierce. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "And thank you."

He released her enough to study her face. Their embrace had loosened a strand of her hair, and he pushed it behind her ear. It was a tender gesture, one she would have trapped in her memory and treasured, but she caught sight of his hand.

"What is that?" she asked, catching his cuff and drawing the injury back into view. His fingers looked swollen, the tips reddened.

"Ah," he said, with a tight twist of his lips. "It's nothing. A chemical burn."

Alice let his hand go and he hid it away behind him, as if the sight had offended her-which it hadn't. But something in his manner left a hollow place in her chest. "Get a doctor to look at that."

"I will," he promised, cupping her cheek with his good hand. "You know, the problem with you coming here like this is that it makes going all the harder."

She touched his face, tracing the clean lines of his cheekbone and jaw. He was the most handsome man she'd ever known-far more striking than she'd ever be. "Do you have to go right away?"

He kissed her ear, the angle of her jaw, the pulse in her throat. "If I hesitate, I might never leave. And it's too dangerous for you if I remain. There are men watching the town house in Cavendish Square. I didn't even dare go home to our place."

Our place. Alice bit the inside of her lips to keep them from trembling. There is something he's still not saying.

"Reading wasn't a popular man." She kept her voice reasonable, like a child trying to sound brave in the dark. "The investigation won't go on long before they give up. You'll be home soon," she said. And then wished she hadn't. Something in Tobias's face denied it. "You will come back. Promise me."

The tense line of his mouth wavered. "I promise."

She wanted to believe that with all her heart. He means it. Of course he does.

London, October 2, 1889.

HILLIARD HOUSE.

6:45 p.m. Wednesday.

POPPY FLOUNCED TO HER ROOM IN A MUTINOUS SULK AND slammed the door. The pictures jiggled where they hung from the picture rail and an old stuffed rabbit toppled from its perch on the rocking chair. Then she threw herself onto her fluffy yellow bed with a growl of rage. How dare they send me to my room! I'm a young lady, not a child.

Her chin trembled, so she bit her bottom lip to stop it. Then she grabbed her pillow, squeezing it because she needed something to hold on to. It smelled like licorice and the sweet perfume she liked, and that calmed her a little.

All she'd been able to figure out before Lord Bancroft exiled her upstairs was that Tobias was in trouble. Extreme trouble-bad enough that he had to go away to a part of the country where no one would go looking. Of course, no one would tell her why. If the Gold King had his way, her brother would leave without even saying good-bye.

But Tobias can't go. We need him here. What if he hadn't been there the night the Scarlet King and his bird had come to the party, and when the Scarlet King had caught her just outside her father's study? That whisky breath of Reading's didn't bear thinking about, and the thought of what he might have got up to next frightened her down to her shoe buckles. She'd turn to Tobias a hundred times over before going to her parents. Her father never had time for his children, and her mother wished she were somebody else.

Poppy rolled to a sitting position, tossing the pillow aside. The feather mattress was soft, the bed frame high, and that made sitting straight nearly impossible, so she ended up in an uncomfortable slouch, her feet not quite touching the floor. That made her feel six years old, so she squirmed off the bed and went to sit in the old rocking chair in the corner.

Much better-she needed to be straight and firm and clearheaded. Something momentous was going on and she had to figure out what it was. More than that, she needed to decide if there was a thing she could do about it. She'd never been a delicate miss and now was definitely not the time to resort to smelling salts and the fainting couch.

What on earth had Tobias done? It couldn't be evil, because though Tobias was sometimes an idiot, he wasn't wicked. And he wouldn't leave home without seeing her. Whatever happened, it made Mr. Keating nervous and angry, but underneath that was another look, like he'd just won at cards. Is that good or bad?

The longcase clock on the landing struck the hour, the bong making her start because it just didn't sound right anymore. Her foul mood was fraying at the edges-no less bitter, but the sharpness of it was strained by an anxious knot inside. First Im and Evelina and now my brother gone from the house. I'm going to be alone. She felt like the last chicken in the yard, and the stew pot was creeping closer.

Then she heard a faint scritch-scritch at the door. Poppy stopped rocking her chair, and she heard it again. She stood and softly crossed the floor, pulling open the door. There was no one there. She frowned into the empty s.p.a.ce until she felt something cold brush her leg-cold enough to feel right through her stockings.

She gasped and sprang back, doing an inelegant, one-footed hop. And then she spied the mouse. "You!"

The mouse sat up on its haunches, looking up at her with sharp black eyes. Poppy glowered back, her hands on her waist. Evelina had given the mechanical mouse and bird to Imogen, and they were supposed to be simple novelty toys-but Poppy knew better. She'd seen the little menace scooting all over the house, its etched steel fur almost invisible in the shadows.

But since Imogen fell ill, the things had been stiff and still as-well-toys. Poppy had even picked them up and shaken them to see if they were broken inside, beginning to doubt what she'd seen. Her mother wasn't entirely wrong when she said Poppy had a hectic imagination.

But now here the mouse was, back to its old self. "You are a shameful playactor!"

The mouse put its forepaws on its middle, mimicking her pose.

"Why did you pretend you weren't alive? You made a right fool out of me!"

It started cleaning its fine wire whiskers, obviously unconcerned by her outrage.

Poppy huffed a sigh, thinking she didn't have time for mice while Tobias was in trouble-though the notion that there was still one marvelous thing at Hilliard House made her feel much, much better. Lots of people were terrified of magic but she was curious. And the mouse wasn't exactly terrifying.

"How might I help you, Mr. Mouse?"

It dropped to all fours and skittered from the room on silent paws. The thing never seemed to make noise unless it wanted to. Poppy leaned out of her doorway, remembering she'd been told to stay put, and looked around to see where the mouse had gone. She caught a glimpse of its tail snaking into Imogen's room. Surely her father wouldn't object if she looked in on her ailing sister. Not even he was that much of a stickler for obedience. She decided to take the risk and slipped out of her bedroom, closing the door behind her, and tiptoed down the hall.

Imogen's room was the same as ever, the blue tones cool and serene in the afternoon light. Imogen was exactly where she always was, looking like a fairy-tale princess in her bower. As usual, there was a nurse in Imogen's room-but it wasn't the one she was used to seeing. Poppy froze, disliking strangers near Imogen.

"I don't know you," Poppy snapped, fear and anger flaring. "Where is Nurse May?"

The woman turned. She was wearing a dark gray dress and white ap.r.o.n, and her gray hair was pulled back beneath a white cap, a few frizzy wisps escaping to frame her face. She smiled rea.s.suringly, then bent to let the mouse run into her hand. "You must be Poppy," she said. "My name is Nurse Barnes."

Poppy frowned, watching her stroke the mouse's back with her finger as she straightened. "Why are you here? Are you a real nurse?"

"Nurse May required a day off, and a mutual friend arranged it so that I could take her place. I believe you know Dr. Watson? And Mr. Holmes?"

"Mr. Holmes? Yes, I asked him for help, but ..." Poppy squinted at the woman, distrust now warring with excitement. "He was going to send someone, um, someone else."

She didn't want to say Madam Thala.s.sa because there was no telling who might be listening. After all, Jasper Keating was in the house, and he always brought minions.

The woman smiled. "My friends know me by one name and my clients by another. Miss Barnes is what my friends call me, but I do have another name."

Poppy nearly staggered as the thought sunk home. This is Madam Thala.s.sa? But Keating is here! Of all the times for a magic user to come to her house! This is dangerous. Poppy bit her lip. But better than any book. This was real, and it was happening right here and now!

Holy hat ribbons! Mr. Holmes kept his promise! Poppy stepped closer, pulling Imogen's door shut behind her. "How do you do, Miss Barnes, I'm very pleased that you could come."

"It was the least I could do, Miss Roth. Mr. Holmes doesn't ask for help without a good reason."

"And I appreciate that with all my heart, but this isn't the best day to call, with the Gold King in the drawing room downstairs."

The woman gave a dismissive look in the direction of the door. "He wouldn't know magic if a flock of fairies were taking a bath in his whisky gla.s.s. I have a demanding schedule, and had to come when I could."

"But aren't you worried about getting caught?"

Miss Barnes narrowed her eyes. "I'm not the nervous type."

The mechanical bird, bright with jeweled feathers, flew to Miss Barnes's shoulder and settled there with an odd mechanical chirp. Poppy watched, so fascinated she almost forgot everything else. She'd never actually seen the bird fly before. "How did you make them work?"

The woman smiled, dumping the mouse into Poppy's hand. The little creature padded about on velvet-tipped paws, its cold little body plump and round against Poppy's fingers. She was utterly charmed.

"I didn't do anything," Miss Barnes explained. "Mouse and Bird were just waiting for someone who could speak with them. They've been helping your sister as much as they could, but now they need a.s.sistance."

Poppy was mystified. Speak with them? "But how do they work?" Springs and gears could not explain everything she'd seen them do.

She gave an enigmatic smile. "It was the creature's choice to come to you for your aid."

"My aid?"

Miss Barnes-or Madam Thala.s.sa-moved to the head of Imogen's bed and placed her hand on the young woman's pale forehead. "From what Miss Cooper was able to tell me, your sister suffered a severe shock. Her soul separated from her body and has drifted. She needs to find her way back home."

Someone walked down the hall and they fell silent, waiting until the footsteps pa.s.sed. Poppy's fingers were cold and clammy, as if all her blood had been sucked up by her whirling brain. There was too much to take in all of a sudden-and not all of it as wonderful as the mouse.

Imogen wandered away? How was that possible? And Miss Barnes had spoken to Evelina-who was locked away someplace and not allowed even to write a letter. How had she managed that? Poppy's mind was beginning to feel like melting ice cream. "I don't understand very much of this."

The woman nodded. "What you need to know is that Mouse and Bird will try to bring your sister back, but it's not an easy journey. And there is interference."

"Anna?" Poppy asked under her breath.

"Perhaps."

Poppy looked doubtfully at Mouse. "Are they really big enough to help?"

Bird gave an indignant chirp. Miss Barnes made a shushing gesture. "They have the right kind of strength for this job. But they need to be anch.o.r.ed to someone here. Someone who is going to stay by Imogen's side."

Poppy thought about that, searching for some frame of reference. "Like on a quest, there's always one knight who has to stay behind to watch the horses while the others sneak into the castle."

"Exactly."

"I can do that," Poppy said quickly. "I'm not going anywhere."