“I apologize for the other morning,” he finally said, guiding us around a corner. “You caught me by surprise, and I went about everything the wrong way. It was not my intention to cause the distress I did.”
The apology caught me off guard. It took me a few moments to break the habit of thinking up retorts. “And, and I . . . well, thank you, for coming to my aid. I was—I was overwhelmed . . . and not quite expecting you here. Why did you follow me?”
Broken shadows crept across his profile, bending around his Greek nose. “To tell you what I was trying to say when you ran off before. I should have been clearer, but . . . I thought you were already aware. Have you been able to accept it yet?”
“Accept what?”
“Your gift. The powerful healing ability.”
“You are confused. That would be Rose. She studies for hours every day—”
“As knowledgeable as your sister may be about medicine, her success comes from the extraordinary power she was born with. When we first met, I had assumed it was her power alone and that she understood it. But until our meeting yesterday, I had not considered the possibility that both of you had the power and both of you were completely unaware of it.”
He took a deep breath, pulling in my gaze with his own. “It is your touch that heals people, Miss Wyndham.”
“Ha! Half of Bramhurst insists that Rose has some miraculous gift of God, no matter how much I try to explain that it’s science, but I must admit, it’s amusing you would fall for such an idea, too.”
“What I’m telling you is science. There is a process called saltation that some scientists argue is a more precise theory of evolution. It finds that speciation occurs when select members of a particular species undergo sudden drastic changes in their development that suit them better for survival. This jump randomly occurs from one generation to another, and the new, advanced species are the ones to live on, while their predecessors gradually go extinct. That is how you and your sister acquired such rare gifts of healing. You are part of that jump. As am I. I have my own power. . . . I have lived with it for three years now—”
“Mr. Braddock,” I interrupted, finally prodded into speaking. “I told you to stop this dark act. I’ll admit, this is far more inventive than those moody men who knock over trays of appetizers to attract attention or loudly mumble bits of their poetry, but do you really think I haven’t the faintest idea of how evolution works and that I’m willing to believe myself in some fantastic gothic novel?”
“No, of course not—”
“Good. Then thank you very much for your assistance, and please, let me go home in peace.”
He stepped in front of me, crowding me back in an alley. “I cannot let you do that. I know this is unbelievable—it took me time to come to terms with it, as well—but do not simply ignore me.”
His intensity and vehemence sent a chill down my spine, and my amusement vanished entirely. He really believed this. Was he completely unaware of what he was doing? If this was not an act, how crazy did that make him?
“You’ve told me your amusing story, now let’s—”
“It’s not a story.”
“It is, unless you have any shred of evidence.” I tried to move past him, but a tight grip on my hand twisted me back around. I drew in a sharp breath as a searing essence surged through my arm, prickling my veins from where his hand met mine, until a second later, his hand and the feeling were gone.
“Was that evidence enough?” he asked, voice hard as stone.
“You . . . did that?” I gasped, almost unable to speak.
“Did you think it was the flutterings of your heart?” He sneered, but I could see his lips tighten as he tried to control his own reaction. He resumed our course down the street.
I followed, maintaining my distance. “I think it’s another magic trick. A hidden device.”
“There’s no trick. I told you, I have a power—”
“The power of vexation?”
Stepping up another crumbling curb, he rubbed his neck and his jaw tightened. (I was surprised it could tighten any further.) “Believe what you wish. But either way, I need your help. I have a very sick friend—”
“No,” I replied with a sinking sensation. “Not another incurable condition.”
“Why? Is that what the large man at the ball told your sister?”
“It was. And you want me to cure this friend, I’m sure, but I cannot do that,” I said.
“Perhaps your sister, then?”
“She is unavailable.”
“I can help you find her,” he added with a steady sidelong glance.