We both seemed to realize his actions at the same time. I couldn’t feel anything except the rush of blood that sprang up wherever his fingers touched my skin. I couldn’t hear anything except for the rustle of my hair as he brushed a strand behind my ear. I couldn’t see anything except his expression, so strange I was sure he was about to kiss me again. But when he leaned forward, lips parted, I found my voice.
“At least I found Dr. Beck,” I said, choking back this moment we shared, hoping to return us to our natural state: bickering. Slowly, he pulled back, as well. I could almost read disappointment in his eyes before a sneer took over his face.
“Being ambushed hardly qualifies as finding the man.” The walls were back up, and I should have felt safe, secure. But somehow, it was only isolating.
“Well, unlike you—”
“Please, stop,” he interrupted, backing away to the farthest corner. “It’s late. If it’s all the same to you, we can continue this argument while we get you home.”
“I don’t have any proper clothes,” I snapped.
“I bought you a dress,” he snapped back, gesturing to a simple green gown hanging by the window. “And . . . things. For underneath it.”
“What? Wh-where did you even get it?”
“Is it not to your liking? I had to kill two peo—no, that isn’t very funny . . .” His attempt at levity only brought more tension to his shoulders and lines to his injured face.
“It’s, ah, fine,” I said, slightly stunned. “Thank you.”
“I’ll wait outside. Take your time,” he said, closing the door behind him.
That man. I took a deep breath and wiped my face with his handkerchief left by my bedside. I hardly knew if it was my injuries or the conversation or the brief touch, but I felt a rush in my head, as if I were still falling through the air without control of my movements or my thoughts.
I stood and slipped off the hospital gown to assess my body closely for injuries. There was nothing to be found. No one would know what happened to me today, and that was exactly how I wanted it to stay. The green dress fit perfectly, and I could even admire its rich color. Nothing could be done with my wild hair besides running my fingers swiftly through the heavy strands.
When I was ready, Mr. Braddock met me in the corridor and walked me through its twists and turns. He spoke to the woman at the front desk, but she seemed to be distracted by a crisis over a stabbing victim. My sloppy Elizabeth Bradent signature was sufficient to sweep our way out of the dingy hospital and into the waiting hansom.
“Now, I believe you were yelling at me?” Mr. Braddock said, once we were on our way.
“Did you learn anything from those men who attacked you?” I asked.
“No,” he replied with a grimace. “They’d only met him minutes prior.”
“Do you have another plan?”
“Camille’s building is the only possibility—though I doubt she would have remained there, considering the recent commotion.”
“But there is no reason for her to move. I’m the only one who knew the location, and they didn’t expect me to survive that fall. We should go now.”
I already knew what he was going to say, but I thought if I slipped in the suggestion quickly and he agreed to it by accident, it would somehow be set in stone.
But he caught it, his brow knitted in frustration. “No. There’s no we for this search. In fact, there are even more reasons for you to stay away now. If they see you are healed, Dr. Beck will want you for his experiments, too.”
“I doubt you will get very far yourself. We clearly need each other’s assistance.”
He scoffed at that. “You need my assistance. Your presence only makes it more difficult for me.”
“Then you don’t need to know what Dr. Beck’s power is? Silly me, I thought it might be helpful.”
His eyes stopped, dead still, his lips half parted and frozen. I had his full attention. “You learned what it is?”
“He admitted it on the roof. He can see the future, expect things before they happen.”
Lines twisted across Mr. Braddock’s forehead as he receded from the present, replaying his encounters with the man. “He never did seem surprised or anxious. He always looked bored, like you were speaking too slowly.”
“So if it’s true, what do we do now?”
For an eternity, he stared out the window at the streaming rain, the muddy streets, the dark shops shuttered and gated, the buildings half hidden in fog. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “I’m sorry. I need more time to think.”
“I have one idea,” I lied.
“What is it?”
“You don’t need to know that yet. I’m sure you plan to go to Camille’s tonight after you take me home. But I won’t have you doing everything without me. Tomorrow morning, you will pick me up, along with Miss Grey and Mr. Kent, and we will go together. If not, I shall go out on my own again, and you will have to kidnap me to fully stop me, which in some ways would be considered a strange and criminal turn of events.”
He had no response, or—judging by his expression—no polite, gentlemanly one. His eyes flickered as he struggled to determine what clues he had overlooked, what I had solved that he couldn’t. After another long, uncomfortable silence, Mr. Braddock filled it with a half-grunted, half-muttered something that sounded like “As you wish.”