Mr. Greene generously cleared his busy afternoon schedule to wait with us on the docks and point out Dr. Beck’s errand boy. In return, Mr. Kent promised not to reveal Mr. Greene’s dark secrets and wreak havoc on the merchant’s life. Then we could all happily go our separate ways.
The sun was in its slow decline by the time we had spread out along the dock. Robert waited near the front gate, Miss Grey in the middle beside a customs office, and Sebastian on the roof of a storage warehouse, where there was no one he could hurt. My lucky spot was on a berth right next to the Zephyr, which happened to be unloading twenty nauseating tons of fish at the moment. We all stood within sight of the Aurora, where Mr. Kent provided pleasant company for Mr. Greene, who kept watch from his vantage point, ready to signal the boy’s arrival.
The detective work might have sounded exciting when proposed, but in reality, the wait was dreadful. It was not quite as bad as a ball, but it was exhausting and demoralizing to scan through the crowds, spot hundreds of young servants, and turn to see Mr. Greene shaking his head no like some sort of malfunctioning automaton. I couldn’t bear to imagine the pain Rose was enduring every extra second this took.
Meanwhile, Mr. Kent’s waves, smiles, and attempts to amuse me bounced off the side of my head for hours. I looked up only for Mr. Greene’s signals and ignored everything else. I paced and searched and paced and searched until I noticed the empty space by the customs office. Where did Miss Grey go? Had she found the boy? My eyes darted up to the Aurora and there she stood, having taken the spot near Mr. Greene. And behind me, uncomfortably close, stood Mr. Kent, trapping me between himself and the water.
“A word please, Miss Wyndham,” he said.
“No, thank you,” I replied, refusing to look at him directly. His image, wavering and undefined, reflected back at me in the water along the edge of the dock.
“Right, I clearly don’t need to ask you if you’re angry.”
“Your detective skills continue to impress.”
He clasped my hands, pivoting my body toward him, and spoke with complete sincerity. “I—I want to apologize for not telling you earlier. But if you consider the time we’ve known each other—”
I pulled away. “I knew something was wrong. I felt it that night at the brothel—”
“Dancing room.”
“Wherever it was that you were shamelessly flirting! Did you honestly know it was me?”
He frowned. “No, but it was to gain access to your sister. I just didn’t want to offend you about your . . . appearance.”
“That sounds like an excuse you came up with later. And you can’t very well ask yourself for the truth—”
“No, see, I can.” He walked over to the edge, perilously close, and waved to his reflection in the water. “Nicholas, were your intentions honest at the Argyll?”
“Why, yes! Of course they were, Nicholas,” he replied to himself. “How silly of you to ask. Nothing could distract me from serving Miss Wyndham. Except perhaps you, you dashing fellow—”
“Fine! Forget the Argyll! You still have no excuse for the way you abused your powers!” I insisted.
“I know, but please consider this from my perspective,” he said, staring off beyond the Zephyr, straight at the horizon. “We both are of a rare breed already with these abilities, but you are blessed even further. Your power to heal cannot be inconvenient or detrimental to any situation you may be in, except . . . perhaps if you were attempting to kill a man on a cliff, and he was horribly injured and clutching the rocks on the very edge, clinging for dear life, when by chance, he grabs your arm and restores himself back to health, but now . . . how often are you in that sort of situation—”
“Mr. Kent, I believe you were attempting to make a point.”
“Ah, yes, well, what I meant was that I cannot switch my ability off. I have to hear the truth from every person I speak to, and if you heard some of the things I’ve been privy to, your opinion of the people in this world would not be . . .”
I snorted. “What? That sunny, optimistic opinion I have of society now?”
“You would think even worse of it, which I know is saying a great deal.” The sun glinted hard off the bay, covering his face in slants of light and making it impossible to read.
“I’d prefer if everyone were not so deceitful and hypocritical,” I said. “And this diatribe of yours against the truth isn’t changing that.”
“That’s simply because you have not had to suffer it. Consider yourself fortunate. I’d much rather have false civility and feigned politeness.”
“Very well, your life is pure misery. You would have had my sympathy if you’d told me about your powers instead of constantly using them on me the whole time we’ve known each other!”
His eyebrow twisted upwards. “Constantly is a bit of an exaggeration—”