Then Wesley blinked. “Hang on,” he said suspiciously, to Sebastian. “Is Jade—”
“I would not tell a lady’s business,” Sebastian said, not meeting his eyes.
The man couldn’t prevaricate worth a damn. And apparently Jade was even more interesting than Wesley had guessed.
He raised his voice. “Tell Miss Robbins I’m coming,” he called back to Ned, and dropped the key on the mattress by Sebastian’s free hand. “I assume a dangerous rogue like yourself can handle it from here,” he said dryly.
Sebastian nodded once, his eyes guarded. He was shifting more, his muscles certainly sore. He didn’t look dangerous; he looked wary, and tired, and worst of all, utterly unsurprised, like he hadn’t expected anything better than to wake up in handcuffs and now be told to get himself free.
Wesley shoved any softness away. The man was still a criminal, and apparently a paranormal one at that. “You still have mud on your face from the alley. There’s a bathroom on this floor if you wish to clean up. Have the staff show you to the morning room after; I want answers.”
In Lord Fine’s bathroom, Sebastian took big gulps of cold water from the sink. When he’d finally slaked his thirst, he straightened up to face his own reflection. The man looking back at him was in desperate need of a shave, with mud smeared on his cheek, bags beneath his eyes and hair sticking every which way like a sucked mango pit. He didn’t wear the unraveling look nearly so well as Lord Fine; he just looked a mess.
Captain in the British Army,he reminded himself, as he splashed the cold water on his face.Lord Fine is not a man you can look at.
There was a footman waiting for him in the hall, the one Lord Fine had called Ned. Sebastian vaguely recognized him from May and the day he’d delivered the painting of Barcelona. “Um, good morning,” Sebastian said awkwardly.
Ned had to be aware he’d just spent the night in Lord Fine’s room. He didn’t know about Sebastian’s magic; how would Lord Fine have explained the situation?
But Ned just said, “Nice to see you again, sir.” If he had opinions about his employer keeping a man in his room for the night, he didn’t let it show on his face. “His lordship requested you be brought downstairs.”
Ned took him down two flights to a room at the back of the home, away from the street. Sebastian left Ned in the hall and slipped quietly inside to find Lord Fine and Jade sharing a table by the large curved window that overlooked a garden.
Lord Fine’s tea was pouring itself, and the viscount was watching with an expression of genuine delight, in a way that took years off his normally cold face.
Zhang’s astral projection was hovering over by the bookshelf. He wouldn’t have been able to see Sebastian, but Jade looked up from the table at that moment and smiled. “There you are,” she said, and Zhang’s projection turned in her direction. “Jianwei, he’s all right.”
“She keeps talking to her fellow but I can’t see him.” Lord Fine pointed at the tea set. “De Leon, did you know about this? She’s telekinetic!”
Sebastian leaned on the wall, a soft smile crossing his face unbidden. “Yes. She’s the only one with that magic I’ve ever met. It’s very impressive.”
Lord Fine snorted. “Certainly more impressive than whatever that brutishness you do is.”
Sebastian’s smile slipped off his face.
“And she says her fellow, Mr. Zhang, walks on the astral plane,” continued Lord Fine, “and apparently Arthur’s friend Rory Brodigan can see history and control the wind. Can you do anything incredible like that?”
Sebastian swallowed and shook his head. “You’ve seen all I can do already.”
Lord Fine snorted again. He leaned back in his chair at the table, his eyes now the same cool gray as his suit. “Well, you lost out when it comes to abilities, didn’t you? You’re basically a paranormal bully.”
Ouch.
Lord Fine’s delight had vanished, as if Sebastian’s presence had sucked it away. But then, Lord Fine had heard him commit a kidnapping, had been knocked to the floor just that morning by Sebastian’s magic. How could Sebastian ever make him anything but afraid?
Just past the table, propped up on a settee near the bookshelf, was a rectangular outline covered by heavy cloth, exactly the right size to be Isabel’s painting of San Juan.
Sebastian ignored the pang of loss in his chest. It was good that Jade and Zhang were here; maybe they could show Lord Fine that not all magic was bad. Sebastian could give the painting, the one helpful thing he could do, and then get out of the way before he kept making things worse.
Lord Fine had turned back to Jade. As quietly as he could, Sebastian stepped back into the hall. He followed the length of the hall until it brought him to the front door, where his flat cap and coat had been hung—much cleaner than they should have been, after his collapse in a muddy alley—on a coatrack.
You’re running again,the voice in his head said, as Sebastian hurriedly pulled on his coat.
He gritted his teeth. He had to leave; all he did was put Lord Fine even more on edge.
There was a time when a man without magic would have felt safer around you.
Sebastian jammed the cap on his head. Those days were gone. Lord Fine now knew about magic, but it didn’t mean he was going to magically forgive Sebastian or want his company. There was no point in thinking about it further.
