Hamlet had curled up on the opposite bench. At Helena’s question, he lifted his own copper brows, his golden eyes glowing as he carefully watched Cynthia.
‘Of course. Her father’s choices are hardly her burden to bear.’ A new thought occurred. One Cynthia should have come to much sooner. ‘Dear God. What shall we do if we discover he really is guilty of murdering Hubert? Surely he will react poorly when he realises his ruse has been discovered.’
Helena shook her head. ‘We won’t let him know we are aware of his crimes. We are simply gathering information. Once we have some firm evidence, we can take that to Uncle Lachlan and let Scotland Yard confront him. Or we can turn the carriage around and go to Uncle Lachlan now with George Lippert’s address.’
Cynthia scrunched her nose and shook her head. While she respected Superintendent MacDougal, she knew they had a better chance of learning the truth without his presence. He would barge in with bluster and brawn when they needed a gentler hand to uncover whatever secrets George Lippert was keeping. Besides, Helena was right. They were in no danger so long as George Lippert didn’t suspect they knew the truth.
‘I have the utmost faith in our abilities. He can’t possibly be any more frightening than Mr Sinclair. And I have a witch to protect me; what could possibly go wrong?’ She snapped her mouth shut, regretting her last words. She had no wish to tempt fate.
‘Many things.’ Helena’s grey eyes lightened a shade as she carefully watched her.
Cynthia could easily become lost in the subtle changes of Helena’s irises from grey to silver, like watching water crystalise one moment at a time.
‘Your eyes are the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in all my days.’
I shouldn’t have said that.
But it was impossible not to appreciate Helena’s many attractions.
Helena blinked. A small smile creased the edges of her mouth. She shifted her hand so it rested fully on Cynthia’s leg. Her finger dug into Cynthia’s thigh, just above her knee, as she squeezed gently.
‘Not nearly as stunning as yours. Do you know, when I first met you and looked into eyes so like the forest, I knew.’
‘Knew what?’
‘That you would be trouble.’
Cynthia couldn’t stop the giggle. Or the rush of pleasure Helena’s words caused.
‘You like trouble.’
Helena shook her head. ‘I find I like trouble far too much for my own good.’
Before Cynthia could process her words, the carriage turned down a narrow street where the houses slumped against each other like drunk men trying to stumble home. They were getting close to Lippert’s address.
A group of children spilled from one of the doorways into the street. The heat was amplified by the brick buildings absorbing the sun and reflecting it back onto broken cobblestones. A slow-moving river of putrid sludge added to the foul scent created when people were forced to live crammed together in a sea of stone. It rather distracted Cynthia from the lovely tension building between them.
She wasn’t ignorant of her fortune, even if she was bound by golden chains. But as she took her coachman’s hand and descended, it was impossible not to acknowledge how vastly different her circumstances were from the hard-working people of Cheapside. They were just as trapped as Cynthia within society’s rules, and their cages were far less comfortable.
As Helena exited the carriage, a stray dog caught sight of Hamlet poking his copper nose out of the door.
Cynthia heard the growl and scratching claws on cobblestones a moment before she saw dirty grey fur streak past her towards the fox. Hamlet had no escape as the much larger, much fiercer dog bunched his muscles to leap into the carriage.
‘Stop!’ Cynthia screamed, throwing her hand out towards the dog. A snap of energy flew from her palm to the dog. He jerked back, caught on an invisible tether. His muscles quivered, and his lip snarled, showing sharp white teeth. He couldn’t break free as he strained against what held him. An invisible leash she controlled by some miracle.
Or magic.
But that is impossible. Unless I’m somehow stealing power from Helena.
Helena’s grey eyes lightened to silver as rushing water pooled around the animal’s feet, forcing him to lose his ground and be swept several feet away from the carriage door.
The coachman who had helped Helena from the carriage looked wide-eyed at the dog, then Helena, then Cynthia.
A strange calm flooded Cynthia, sweeping away her questions and filling her with confidence. She knew what needed to be done.
‘Go home.’ Her voice resonated with command. There was no question in her mind that the dog would follow her orders.
He stood, soaking wet and trembling, several feet away from them. His growls turned into confused whining as he cocked his head at Cynthia.
