Page 32 of Harmonic Pleasure (Mysterious Arts #6)

A LITTLE LATER

F arran had to look away at that comment about not wanting to stop.

He felt the same, or at least, as much the same as those words could convey.

He was certain that if, when, somehow; they got onto the topic of each other, of creating something together between them, stopping would be the worst thing ever.

And the thing was, talking was necessary.

The logistics, even with both of them trying their best, were messy and complicated, and there’d never be enough hours in the day.

At least not as long as Vega was performing.

Farran was not the sort of man who would ever suggest someone he cared about give up what she loved for convenience or even for love. That wasn’t love, that was a cage, and he wanted no part of that.

It was part, he thought, of why so many of his previous relationships hadn’t worked.

The women he’d walked out with had ideas of what a relationship looked like, who was responsible for what, and all of those chafed.

As much as his first apprenticeship had.

Even if it hadn’t bothered him, he couldn’t do that to someone else.

Now he cleared his throat. “Might I join you on the sofa?” It would be easier than craning over the table, and he wanted, well.

He wanted to be closer. Even if they were still figuring out so many things.

She blinked at him, then smiled, the sort of smile that was all invitation, and nodded.

Farran moved, sitting next to her, not quite touching, but almost immediately her fingers moved to thread through his. “There.” It sounded inane.

“Vandermeer.” Vega seemed to force herself to focus. “We should lay out what we both know. Oh. I should apologise, maybe? Tell you, anyway.”

“Apologise?” Farran wasn’t sure what she’d be apologising for. “Yes? If you feel the need.”

She squeezed his fingers once. “I went and talked to Mistress Porter about you. After we had the meeting at Ormulu. I don’t know if she’d have mentioned.”

“Vivian is extremely thorough about her discretion, so no, she didn’t. Not about anything that might be any kind of consultation.” Farran was, actually, encouraged. “What did you ask her?”

“If you knew about her being a Cousin. And she said...” Vega gestured with her free hand. “That you’d been out at one of the estates with her a few times.”

“Doing research in advance of your questions, then.” Farran shifted to look at her.

“Do you think I’d be upset by that? There are excellent reasons for doing a bit of research before going out on a limb.

And especially with something that you, all of your family, keep private for excellent reasons. ”

Vega let out a huff of breath, loud enough he could hear it. “Most people don’t understand.” Her chin twitched. “People at the club don’t know. Though maybe Madam Helena does. I haven’t told her, though.”

Farran nodded. “She runs things well, from everything you’ve said. And she’s been around in the larger community for a long while, I know that.” He considered. “May I ask about that? And then about Vandermeer.”

“Yes, of course.” Vega twisted slightly, so now they were more or less looking at each other, their knees barely touching, hand in hand.

“When you sing, obviously, you’re using some magic, but I’m curious about what kinds. Not least because I’m wondering if Vandermeer has picked up on something related.” Also, Farran was curious, but he’d not have asked, not here and now, if there hadn’t been an actual reason.

“I’m trained in Incantation, the same as many people. Well, most performers in Albion at my level or a bit below, honestly. It’s the obvious choice for us. The use of the voice, the body, spoken enchantment.” Vega considered. “And you think that’s relevant?”

“What we know about Vandermeer is - not as much as I’d like.

That he approached you, initially. That he’s turned up at the club.

Vivian did a little checking for me. He’s registered as a guest at the Cecil.

He’s been in town for a month or two, and he’s been having the sort of business meetings that suggests import and export trade.

” Farran added after a moment, “Which can often be a cover for people with rather less legal interests. She was working on some American connections, but that’s tricky.

” He paused. “Would he recognise you as a Cousin? Even potentially? Or know about the object you’re— we’re— looking for? ”

Vega bit her lip, and then let go of Farran’s hand so she could reach for her tea.

Farran was glad she liked it. It was a blend Vivian preferred, and it had seemed the right mix of something with flavour and something ephemeral.

When Vega spoke again, it was not an answer, but rather a question.

“What do you make of him, first? Besides what little she found out.”

“If I were looking at him as a client?” Farran considered that.

“Nicely dressed. A hair too sharply, actually, the sort of sharp dresser where I wonder who he’s trying to impress, if that makes sense.

It’s not always a terrible reason, and some people do just like being entirely up to the minute.

An American tailor, obviously, though I think a magical one.

” Farran thought through the rest. “If he showed up at Ormulu, I’d be wanting a profile of his background and accounts.

His likelihood of paying his bills, not that we’d ever put it that crassly. ”

It made her giggle, and that was worth the phrasing, definitely.

“Is that something you have a system for, then? I’m not used to that, I don’t do private parties.

That’s a lot of bother and people groping you or thinking that because they’ve paid for your voice, they’ve paid for other things.

” Vega met his eyes. “I’m no untouched maiden, but that’s not a path I have any interest in.

For one thing, it’s as easy to be quickly discarded as quickly taken up.

The current sort of man inclined to take a mistress doesn’t have the staying power of men in the eighteenth century. Or earlier.”

That was not a way anyone had ever put the problem to Farran. “If you were going to be a mistress, you’d want it to be the sort that had an agreement. A cottage or whatever for you whenever he was tired of you. A way to make your own life.”

“That.” Vega set her teacup down again. “Vandermeer.”

“How does he make you feel? Like I said, he makes me feel like I’d want more of a solid background on him before any sort of business arrangement. He has the feeling of someone who’d pass off a fake, though there’s only so many times you can do that.”

“Do people actually try often?” Vega reached for his hand again, and Farran twisted his wrist slightly to make it easier, enjoying the warmth of her fingers.

“Often enough. Sometimes they don’t know.

Someone a generation or two ago replaced a stone in a family piece with an excellent replica, for example, or a painting’s been duplicated.

There are some ways to check, now, if you know.

Ormulu has talisman makers and a few others on retainer.

If it’s a matter that might touch on legal issues, there are things the Penelopes can do.

And there are a fair number of fairly easy tricks, if you know what to look for.

” He looked down at his hands. “That’s part of what I’m good at.

Realising something’s a bit off, even if I can’t pin down by myself what it is or how to prove it.

One of the seniors at Ormulu, he can do it by looking at something.

At least in the periods he’s expert in, he just says he knows if something’s a fake or a replica, he can’t ever explain why. ”

“So what— I mean. It’s a help to know something’s wrong, but what happens then?” Vega asked. She was speaking softly, as if she were working her way through a particular thought while asking.

“Then we do more investigation. Or we hire someone to. Or the person skulks off with their object and we pass a message along to the other auction houses to keep an eye out.” Farran shrugged.

“We’re not the courts, but we also put our own reputation behind what goes in our sales.

We’ll get it wrong sometimes, but we try to do it as rarely as possible. ”

Vega nodded slowly. “And Vandermeer feels that kind of wrong. Like he’s claiming one thing, and he’s being another. Too sharply dressed, like you said. Is that just because he’s American?”

“Here’s my question. Are there Cousins in America? There must be.”

“Some. But it’s different other places.” Vega frowned. “It’s not something I’m used to explaining. Give me a minute?”

“Of course.” Farran settled himself, shifting one foot so his toes didn’t fall asleep, and thinking through what else might be relevant.

After a good two minutes, she spoke again, carefully, feeling her way through it.

“Here, we have the Pact. The Fatae aren’t entirely gone, but nearly so.

All the interactions are either very private, on our estates, or mediated by the Council and the Pact itself.

Mostly it’s just the Cousins. And most people in Albion don’t even know about us, never mind the Fatae. ”

She took a breath. “But in America, it’s more complicated.

There are Fatae of those places, and they never agreed to the Pact.

There are Fatae from Europe who came to the Americas at various points, and settled in, not bound by the Pact.

And while people in the United States and Canada make the Pact, it’s sort of a, a holdover from being a British colony.

So he might well know about Cousins. Or how to identify us.

Me. Or how to find a particular object of interest. Is there any sign of whether he might work for a client, something like that? ”

“Nothing that was obvious. That was part of what Vivian was trying to figure out. But if he were hired by, I don’t know, some railroad magnate or whoever has the money, we wouldn’t know that, unless we got lucky.

Or even someone in the magical community.

It’s not like people publicise that sort of thing.

We might hear it through a contact with an American museum or collector or auction house.

Often we do, but it’s not the kind of thing we can just ask about.

Especially the Cousin part. Or the Fatae part, whichever applies.

” Farran let out a sigh. “I think that fits the observed situation. That he’s looking for something specific, that he thinks you— we— are looking for the same thing, or something close enough.

And if he follows us often enough, he might get a lead. ”

Vega nodded. “He makes me feel...” She glanced off at the corner of the room. “A bit like a fox or a hart must feel, being hunted. Something predatory.”

“Foxes slip through the hounds often enough, I gather. In song and story, as well as in the flesh,” Farran offered.

“I like that about them, as long as they’re not going after our chickens.

” That made her smile and relax a little, he could tell through her fingers.

“Do you feel safe enough? If you think he’s a danger, then that’s something to take to the Guard, at least to consult.

And Vivian knows who to talk to there. Several people, actually, depending on the actual problem. ”

There was a long pause. Farran liked that she took her time, that she didn’t rush, not about important questions.

“I don’t know. He’s not done anything obviously dangerous.

He just keeps turning up when he oughtn’t to.

It’s a big city, so many people and different things going on. How is he doing that?”

“There’s a chance he’s following your magical signature a bit,” Farran said.

“Having heard you sing at the club, that might be enough for a thaumaturgical enchantment. I can ask Vivian if there’s a simple enough way to block it.

That’s where some of the old Fatae lore comes from.

Turning your coat inside out, red thread, rowan, things like that.

I don’t know which ones will work here, but she will. Or she’ll know who to ask.”

“Will that cause problems?” Vega said. “I don’t want her annoyed at me. Or the Guard or anything like that.”

“As I understand it, you have a right to go wander around London and look at the sights without someone following you. It won’t stop him if he spots you in person, either.

But it will mean he can do rather less popping up.

” He held up his finger. “This building is thoroughly warded, and your flats are too, I’m assuming.

The ordinary protections that keep the non-magical from knocking on the door do a fair bit, if I have it right.

I was talking over it with Maddie and Tony a month or two ago.

” There, he’d slipped in the names comfortably.

“What do they do?” Vega asked it, a little distracted.

“Tony finds specific materia for people. You know the sort of thing, the yellow eggshell of a particular bird, a plant documented to have been picked at dawn on a certain day. Maddie’s a research assistant.

They were up because she was looking at a few things in museum collections, and people give her a lot of bother on her own sometimes.

Their older sister…” He tilted his head.

“If you met Vivian at her office, you’ve met Eleanor. ”

“Oh.” Vega considered that. “So you’re familiar with— I mean.” She swallowed. “Look, I think we’ve got back to where if I don’t leave, I’ll be late for the club. Or entirely too distracted.”

“Can’t have that.” Farran said promptly, taking his cue. “We’ll find another time for the conversation. Monday evening?”

“Monday, as soon as you’re done at the office,” Vega countered. “And here, perhaps? Well. Less fuss from my landlady, certainly. I could stay later than eight, too, when she’d want you out.”

“I’ll arrange something for supper. Let me know what you’d like tomorrow, or if there are things you don’t eat.

I should be getting some biscuits from Lena Monday, too, we can share those.

” He liked that idea immensely, and Lena wouldn’t be baking them until tomorrow, so he could ask her to decorate a few particularly nicely.

Now Farran stood, helping her put her coat on, before offering a chaste kiss on her cheek.

“Monday. Let me know if you need anything before then.”

“Monday.” Vega smiled at him, and then she turned, as if she wanted to say a lot more and wasn’t letting herself yet. Farran entirely understood that feeling.