Of course Mina didn’t own a dinner gown. She wouldn’t have had any need of one. Stephen was a heel for not thinking of it. Even as he stepped forward to make the introductions, he saw Mina’s eyes go to his coat and tie, then drop to her own clothing. Otherwise, her face betrayed only pleasant interest.
Painfully conscious that there was nothing he could do now, Stephen helped her to the seat opposite Colin and waited as Baldwin served. He’d been nervous before; now he feared that this would be a very long hour.
“Miss Seymour,” he said into the silence, “is a friend of Professor Carter.”
“His secretary, actually,” said Mina.
“I’ve heard of him. Not as much as Stephen, of course,” Colin said. His accent had shifted somewhat over the last few years. Now there were shades of English in it and a bit of Irish, as well. It still conjured up memories of home for Stephen but not as strongly. “What’s he been having you do, then? Lug around books on Egypt?”
“The Etruscans, mostly,” said Mina, “and the Romans. The Vikings, too, lately. They’re an interesting lot—a lot more complicated than you’d think, even if they didn’t spin all the webs the Romans did.”
“Hard for anybody to manage that, I’d think,” said Colin. “Jolly strange, too. I was in Italy for a time. Gave me an absolute horror of politics.”
“How fond of them were you before?” Mina asked, and both brothers laughed: Colin in admission, Stephen in triumph.
“He’s got the sense to leave that to me,” said Stephen, “for my sins.”
“I like to put all problems into the hands of experts. Or at least into the hands of someone other than me. Luckily, being the younger son generally means I can.”
“Do you have any other siblings?” Mina asked.
“One sister living,” said Stephen, with a readiness that would have shocked the man he’d been six weeks ago. He’d always tried not to give specifics of his family to outsiders. “She keeps very close to home.”
“These days,” said Colin. “I can recall a time you wouldn’t have caught Judith nearer to Loch Arach than the Channel. At least not for more than a day or two.”
“Aye, but she’s older than either of us, and there’s only so much of the world one can see.”
Mina smiled. “My mother will be glad to hear that. I’ve got a brother at sea—same malady that your sister used to have, from the sound of it. If he’s in one place for too long, I swear he grows feverish.”
Sailors’ stories followed—the ones Mina’s brother had told and the ones Colin had picked up over the years, or at least the less scandalous of his assortment. Mina listened avidly, talked animatedly, and laughed a good deal, with her head tilted back and her eyes gleaming.
She should wear amethysts, Stephen thought suddenly, or pearls, the large silver-gray sort. They should dangle from her ears so that they swayed when she laughed, and they should fit into the hollow of her throat, a place currently covered by far too much violet cloth. Come to that, she should have a damned dinner gown, something with silk and gauze. Mina would do more credit to such things than any woman Stephen had ever seen wearing them.
Naturally, she would never accept any such gifts from him. Men nowadays didn’t give clothing or jewelry to women other than relations, wives, or mistresses. Stephen would have cursed the rule as one more modern complication, except that he didn’t recall ever reallywantingto give either to a woman before. He’d exchanged presents with relatives on the appropriate occasions; he’d given baubles to mistresses likewise, though his last such connection had been a century in the past; but he’d never really given any thought to the matter beforehand.
“…but I wouldn’t say that Stephen’s exactly led a settled life himself,” said Colin.
Drawing Stephen out of his thoughts had doubtless not been the point of the remark, but Stephen silently blessed his brother for it anyhow. “Settled enough, in comparison. But perhaps I can travel again one day when I’ve untangled Father’s papers and so on. I’d like to visit Russia again.”
“My brother, you see, is a man of singular tastes. This one seems to be for freezing to death.”
Obligingly, Mina pretended to shiver, but she also turned toward Stephen, and her gaze was far more curious than horrified. “I’ve seen pictures of the churches there,” she said. “The ones with the domes. They’d be quite a view from up close, I’d think.”
“Aye, and the icons. There’s a great deal of skill there,” said Stephen, “and a fair bit of history. Even if half the fake mediums today do affect a Russian accent.”
“Well, if it wasn’t Russian, it would be French,” said Mina. “Nobody would believe that someone from Surrey could part the mystic veil.”
“If they could, they wouldn’t live in Surrey,” said Colin, grinning.
Awkwardness was no threat. Colin and Mina got on like a house on fire. Looking at one and then the other, Stephen realized that he wasn’t at all certain how he felt about that.
Twenty-five
Whatever you’ve heard,Mina wrote,I promiseI’m doing quite well.
She paused and picked up her pen, examining the drying ink of her last line in the ray of morning sunlight that slanted in through the drawing-room window. Going on might prove difficult, since she didn’t want to tell her family any more lies than had already been necessary. The desire for honesty dueled with the equally strong desires not to give away anything Ward could use and not to be thought mad.
Setting pen to paper again, she wrote,Everyonehasbeenverypoliteandrespectful, which was true enough, really. After the first antagonistic kiss, Mina had either initiated anything impolite with Stephen or had been a very eager participant in it. Her mother certainly didn’t need to know about any of that, regardless.
