Page 30 of Unforeseen Affairs (The Sedleys #6)

They stared at each other, and the air in the room perceptibly changed—charged with the knowledge of each other’s lips and the feel of their bodies against one another. And something else. Something potent, yet unidentifiable.

It was she who finally broke the silence.

“Hello,” she said. It came out sounding hoarse, to her slight dismay.

“Miss Sedley,” he replied with a nod, stepping within at last and shutting the door behind him.

When he reached up to remove his hat, Charlotte was flooded with a powerful urge—a desire to take hold of the lapels of his coat and pull him to her, to push herself into the firmness of his body.

Oh no. This would be even more challenging than she’d anticipated.

She swallowed and turned away, busying herself with straightening a stack of books that were already quite neat.

“Mrs. Stone is in the back room,” she said hurriedly, pausing to clear her throat before adding, “She’s working.”

“Ah.”

More silence. There were only so many ways she could shuffle the books about on the shelf, most of which she had already exhausted. Death and the Afterlife: Eight Evening Lectures on the Summerland , the one in her hand was titled. She’d already read it.

“It need not be different,” he said, his tone hopeful. “Between us, I mean. I’m so sorry, you must understand, Miss Sedley, I never would have thought myself the—”

“Sir Colin,” she cut in, trying to sound firm even as she fought back a smile, “might I beg you, yet again, not to apologize to me?”

She turned to face him and crossed her arms.

His eyes were wide, that look of adorable befuddlement plain on his face.

“At least, if you’ll recall, not for something you’ve already apologized for.”

“Oh.” He nodded slowly. “Right.”

“And besides,” Charlotte lied, “I’ve quite forgotten about it.”

“You have?”

“Of course,” she said breezily, watching him study her with interest.

“Ah, well,” he said with a bit of a forced laugh. “No harm done, then, I suppose.”

He had clearly not forgotten.

It was a pleasing realization, one that forced her to take up her polishing once more lest he notice the color rising in her cheeks. This next stage of her plan would be rather interesting, considering the difficulty they both seemed to be having in one another’s presence.

Charlotte might need to amend her thinking about the nature of their relationship.

Especially if they were to travel to Manchester together. Alone.

Her idea was simple enough. She would tell her parents—at quite the last possible minute—that she planned to visit Cousin Marcus at his estate in Lancashire, to be accompanied by Cousin Bess.

Her reason, which would not be altogether false, would be her desire to explore the ancient, crumbling, and undoubtedly haunted Methering Manor, where Marcus’s father-in-law lived.

Meanwhile, Charlotte would tell Cousin Bess that she only needed her escort to the railway station, and that she would make the train journey alone so as to not take Bess away from the business of Walter’s photography.

Of course, once at the station, Charlotte would meet up with Sir Colin, and the two would take the train to Manchester, where they would finally expose Mr. Bass in front of an audience at one of his shows.

Her target was his elongation trick, for he performed it both onstage and during his private sittings; if she could prove it to be an illusion in front of an audience, it would discredit every claim he had ever made that elongating during a séance was a sign of a spirit entering his body.

It was admittedly not the most cunning plan—after all, it would be discovered quite quickly that she had not arrived at her destination in Blackburn, and they would surely face her family’s wrath once found—but she hoped it would buy them the day or two they would need to complete their quest.

As if reading her thoughts, he strode closer, fiddling with his hat as he spoke. “I am still ready and willing, if you are.” He looked everywhere about the shop—at the books, a shelf of glass orbs, a stack of scrying bowls—everywhere but at her. “That is, er, as long as the plan is sound.”

He paused before a rudimentary spirit cabinet and leaned closer, frowning at the contraption.

Charlotte drew in a deep breath and set the rag aside. “Of course the plan is sound.”

“That is, I mean… well.” He drew back from the cabinet and finally looked in her direction. “The last undertaking ended on a bit of a sour note, wouldn’t you say?”

“On account of your actions, or lack thereof.”

He froze, his face twisted in pain.

Charlotte held his gaze. Her heart was as loud as thunder in the silence.

“What?” she whispered. “What is it?”

He shook his head, his face flushing.

“Nothing, nothing. You’re quite right—I accept responsibility for that.”

Slowly Charlotte moved down the length of the counter, her fingertips sliding loosely across the surface until she reached the hinged part. Without breaking her gaze, she lifted it up and slipped through, then lowered it gently behind her.

Now, with no barrier between them, she looked him directly in the eye, from equal height.

“Something’s bothering you,” she murmured. “Something’s been bothering you.”

He looked away, his flush deepening.

What was it?

Charlotte drifted closer, forcing her hands into fists in the folds of her skirts as she drew near, lest she reach for him again and send them down another heated, confusing path.

“Is it your brother? Mrs. Stone could attempt to make—”

“No, no, please.” He held up one hand as the other shielded his eyes. “Please, Miss Sedley, I beg you, speak no more of it. I’m quite alright.”

He looked up with a pained smile.

“See? Right as rain.”

Charlotte blinked.

“Very well.”

So she was not the only one lying to the other. She did not like it. Suppressing his feelings did not suit him, in her estimation. Sir Colin was so open, so earnest and full of goodwill. She couldn’t bear to see him be so false with himself.

You could tell me , she wanted to say. I could keep your secret, she’d explain, and that was true. Charlotte could be as silent as a tomb. But this moment felt too intimate, too close to that night in the alleyway when they’d allowed themselves too much.

So she simply nodded.

“Right. The next opportunity, then, to course-correct?” Sir Colin asked.

“We shall follow Mr. Bass to Manchester.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Manchester. Mr. Bass is scheduled for several engagements a week there, at the Gaiety Theatre. For the next month, as I understand it.”

Her plan, she hoped, should buy her at least two nights of unchaperoned freedom. The perfect amount of time to infiltrate one of Mr. Bass’s theater shows and finally put an end to his fraudulent career.

“Manchester,” Sir Colin repeated, clearly dubious.

She raised her brows.

“And just how, pray tell, ought we attend one of these… events in Manchester?”

Sir Colin’s words were gentle, but she could hear the real question underneath his hesitancy: How in the blazes are we to get away with something so outlandish? How could I answer to your family after absconding with their young, marriageable daughter?

She smiled. This undertaking had blossomed into an adventure she’d never anticipated; these nascent feelings he brought about in her offered a welcome change from the humdrum day-to-day her life had been.

“I might introduce you to one of the miracles of modern living: the railway.”

A queer look passed over his face.

“Sir Colin? Are you unwell?”

“Just a moment, please,” he said with a frown, pinching the bridge of his nose.

She folded her hands. After a moment he looked back to her, panicked.

“I might very well ask you the same, Miss Sedley,” he stammered, “for I cannot, in good faith, accede to such… such a journey. Not without a proper chaperone, and not without your father’s permission.”

“Oh?” she said flatly, crossing her arms. “I thought you had placed yourself completely at my disposal.”

His face fell.

“You don’t strike me as one to disregard hierarchy.”

“No… that is… you’re right. I did promise.” She thought she caught a hint of an involuntary smile force its way to his lips, even as he shut his eyes with a pained expression. “There is the matter of…” He trailed off.

“What matter?” she asked as she uncrossed her arms.

His eyes darted about her face; he seemed to be weighing a decision, wanting to move toward her but arrested in place. She prayed he would kiss her again.

He closed his eyes and gently shook his head.

Charlotte wanted to cry out.

“Nothing. No matter.”

He looked so utterly desirable; she could tell he was barely holding onto his senses, his dignity, as the muscles in his neck flexed and the lines between his brows drew together.

How she wanted to fall upon him, palms against his chest, lips along his jaw.

She longed to feel him tremble against her, full of passion.

And to think, she’d thought him boring once.

“Well then,” Charlotte said, steadying her voice despite her heavy heartbeat. “Shall we meet at Euston Station, then?”

He swallowed and opened his green eyes, guileless and innocent.

“Very well, Miss Sedley.”