A Rip Through Time

“No, I told you I could handle this.”

“Of course you can,” she says smoothly. “But I have never been in this particular police office, and I wished to take a look, in case there is something I might do on behalf of the royal women’s police-offices-beautification society. I believe new chairs would be in order here. Perhaps flowers for the front desk.”

She’s joking, obviously. I bite my cheek against a smile, and Gray rolls his eyes and relaxes just a little. The desk clerk, though, snaps to attention.

“We could use new chairs, ma’am,” he says.

“I am certain there is much you could use,” she says. “Including an exterminator. I believe I saw something furry scamper that way.” Her gaze shunts to the side. “It is an interesting building, though. The historic value is immeasurable.”

“That it is, ma’am.”

She turns to me. “I have taken the liberty of retrieving your possessions, Catriona. We are free to leave.”

I nod, and she takes my arm and leads me outside, Gray following. The moment the door shuts behind her, she turns to her brother.

“I am going to take Catriona out for a breakfast tea,” she says. “I know you have errands to run. We shall meet you at home.”

Gray hesitates. “I do not believe you’ll find a suitable tearoom in this part of town.”

“Then we shall find an unsuitable one.”

He still pauses, his gaze going from Isla to me before he says, “While I am certain Catriona spent a very uncomfortable night, I am not entirely convinced she deserves tea.”

I stiffen. That should make me laugh. I don’t deserve tea? Not exactly a stellar insult.

It’s not that, though. It’s the layers of distrust woven under those words. He’s not sure I was actually attacked. If I was, he’s not sure I didn’t deserve it—at least in the sense that I’ve been attacked twice, and that can’t be simple bad luck. Either way, he’s not sure I should continue to be treated like a valued servant, and he’s quite sure I shouldn’t be left alone with his sister.

“I insist, Duncan,” Isla says, and then adds a softer “Please.”

Here I see again the back-and-forth between them, the unease of their relationship. Isla is the older sibling, yet she’s reliant on Gray as the “man of the house”—even when it’s also her family home.

Now that I know their deeper personal history—he is her half brother, illegitimate, a social stigma—does it alter my analysis? No. They behave as a bachelor and his older widowed sister, with no “half siblings” or “uncomfortable circumstances” thrown in. It’s an enviable relationship.

“If you insist,” he says.

She meets his gaze, her voice soft as she says, “I do. Thank you for understanding.”

“There’s a decent tearoom a few blocks over. You can walk there—the streets are safe here. Then catch a hansom home, please.”

He pulls coins from his pocket, and she gives a wry half smile.

“I do not need you to pay for my cab, Duncan.” Before he can close his fist, she plucks the lone sovereign from among the smaller coins. “But if you insist…”

They share a smile, and he shakes his head, straightening with, “I shall see you at home. And, while the household is your province, I would like to discuss…” His gaze cuts to me.

“Understood.”

He gives directions to the tearoom and offers to accompany us, but Isla shoos him on his way. He’s about to leave when he stops.

“You found your locket,” he says, and I look over sharply, to see it around her neck.

She nods. “I did.”

“Good. I heard you were looking for it, and I was concerned.”

“It was misplaced, that is all.”

They say their goodbyes, and Isla and I head in the other direction.

“You got the locket from my things,” I say. “I was worried it might have gone missing.” I glance back at Gray, his long legs carrying him out of earshot already. “That is why I came here last night.”

“I know.”

Is it my imagination or has her face gone as hard as her brother’s, her blue eyes chilling?

I open my mouth.

“This is the last straw, Catriona,” she says, gaze still forward as she walks. “That is what I took you aside to say, beyond the reach of listening ears at home. You will return to pack your things. If you do so without complaint, without bothering my brother or Mrs. Wallace, without upsetting Alice…”

She hands back Catriona’s switchblade, along with the few coins that’d been in my pockets. Then she lifts the sovereign she took from Gray. “A month’s wages. I will double it if you do not attempt to argue your case now. I am finished with you, Catriona. I cannot trust you, and I cannot have you in our house.”

“B-but I got your necklace back.”

“You got my necklace back?” She looks over, brows shooting up. “Do you think me a fool? You were trying to sell my necklace. That’s how you came to be attacked last night. Either you flashed it in front of the wrong person, or you tried to sell it to the wrong person.”

I inwardly wince. I was attacked in Catriona’s old haunt, with Isla’s necklace on me, as if I’d sat in that library yesterday, listened to her pleas for its return, and heard only that I should sell it before she searched my room.

“I sold it before my accident,” I say. “To a pawnshop. After we spoke, I knew I had to get it back. That’s what I was doing. I recovered it just before I was attacked.”

“A pawnshop?”

“Er, yes, a place where people sell items for money.”

“I know what a pawnbroker is, Catriona. I meant that, if this is your story, it is easily proven. Take me to this shop, and I shall speak to the owner. Let us see whether he confirms your story.”



* * *



“I have never laid eyes on this girl in my life,” Dover says as we stand in his shop. “I certainly did not buy that necklace from her. It’s obvious that such a piece would have been stolen, probably from her mistress. I am an honest man who loans money to the poor for their belongings in times of need. I do not deal in stolen goods.”

“Of course you don’t,” I say. “But I misrepresented myself to you, sir.”

His eyes narrow at “misrepresent” as if he doesn’t know the word and presumes I’m casting aspersions on his character.

“I lied,” I say flatly. “I told you it was my grandmother’s locket, and I had to sell it to feed the baby. Then I said my brother gave me money to buy the necklace back. There is no baby. I have no brother. I lied, and I’m sorry that I duped you, sir. The truth is that I stole it from my mistress and then regretted it. You had no way of knowing it was stolen goods.”

He doesn’t take my excuse. Either he’d seem like a fence or a fool, and he won’t be either, especially in front of a proper lady like Isla.

When we finally leave, I say, “I warned you, ma’am. He won’t admit he bought stolen goods even accidentally, for fear of a police investigation. You could tell he was lying, couldn’t you?”

“No, Catriona. I could not, which means either he’s telling the truth or I have a poor ear for detecting falsehoods. I believe, at most, that you have sold him goods before and hoped he’d go along with your story in expectation of future business from you.”

“Then why would I have tried to dissuade you from speaking to him?”

Her brows lift. “Do you honestly think that trying to stop me from proving your claim worked in your favor? You hoped to dissuade me, and when you could not, you hoped he would lie for you.”

We keep walking. My mind whirrs, looking for solutions. No one likes being made to play the fool, and that’s what I’ve done to Isla. She thinks I had no fear of losing my position because my employer is a silly, wealthy woman who fancies herself a philanthropist. Shed a few tears and spin a few lies, and no matter what happened, I’d keep my job.