“No, you’re not,” Vivian snapped. “You couldn’t have because that wasn’t what was happening at all. You want to start a fight, just like you wanted to start a fight with George two nights ago.”
“That’s not—”
“And you know what I think?” Vivian interrupted him, just barely remembering to keep her voice low. “I think it’s because the person youwantto fight with is your uncle, and you can’t do that.”
“You don’t know a damn thing about my uncle,” Leo snapped.
“You think I don’t?” Vivian felt hot and cold all over, and she wasn’t sure whether it was anger or something else. “You think I’ve got no idea what it’s like to have a family that doesn’t want you? You could walk out that door right now, and I wouldn’t be surprised one bit. It would just be business as usual because everyone—”
She clamped her mouth shut so tightly that it hurt, horrified by what she had been about to say.Everyone leaves. Whether it was true or not, it sure felt like it some days. She stared at Leo, her hands balled into fists by her sides. She was shaking, and she didn’t care if he saw it. “He’s a bastard, Leo. You’ve always known he’s a bastard. So don’t go taking it out on me. I’ve got plenty else to worry about right now.”
A muscle jumped in Leo’s temple. “I’m not going to walk out,” he said at last.
“Good.” Vivian eyed the glass that she had set down and, before she could think better of it, downed the rest of it in one gulp.
“Nothing’s going to happen to you, Viv,” he added, his voice growing gentler at last, the Leo that was always there when she needed it. He reached for her hand, and she let him take it, let him pull her to her feet. But even the warmth of his palm, the rough feel of the calluses on his fingers, couldn’t soothe her this time. She felt like she was going to jump out of her skin. “I won’t let it, no matter what he says.”
“I’ve only got two days left after tonight, Leo,” she said, her voicecoming out hoarse. “If we don’t turn up anything on Rokesby, I don’t know what to do next.”
“We’ll find something,” Leo said, pulling her close enough that he could wrap his arms around her and rest his chin on the top of her head. Vivian let him. It wasn’t an apology, but as raw as they were both feeling, it was probably as good as she could hope for. “I promise. We’re going to find out who did it.”
She wanted to tell him not to make promises. She wanted to tell him that she was getting scared. She wanted him to admit they might run out of time, so she wouldn’t feel so alone in her growing fear.
Instead, she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face against his shirtfront, filling her mind with the smell of starch and wintergreen and the spice of his cologne, pretending that she believed him.
“Yeah,” she whispered. They were headed somewhere known for the hundreds of secrets that were kept behind its walls. All they had to do was find out what Cornelius Rokesby’s were. “We will.”
Mags returned first, strutting down the staircase to join them in the hall. Vivian stared, not bothering to hide her surprise. Mags wore a tailored men’s evening suit, jacket left open over a three-button vest so she could stick one hand casually in her pocket. A slim black tie circled under the collar of a white shirt so crisply ironed that Vivian could smell the starch, and her brown curls were stuffed underneath a top hat. Just above her upper lip, she had drawn a thin curl of a mustache.
“Well?” she asked, leaning one hand against the banister and grinning at them. “What do you think?”
“Don’t you look handsome,” Vivian said, finding her voice at last. Handsome wasn’t quite the right word—it was impossible for bubblyMags to look anything but cute, no matter what she wore. But she smiled broadly, clearly pleased with the compliment.
“I thought so too!” she said eagerly, bounding down the last few steps. “I figured, when in Rome, right? Or when heading to Rome.” She laughed. “Golly, I had no idea men’s clothes were so comfortable. Though it’s a bit odd to be so buttoned up,” she added, sliding one finger inside the collar and tugging a little. “But I’m sure I’ll get used to it.”
Before Vivian could respond further, a throat cleared with a delicatehmmfrom the top of the stairs. They all glanced up, including Mags, to see the elegant woman smiling coyly at them as she glided down the stairs.
Her gown—pure silk, Vivian could tell even from a distance, by the way it slid around her hips and legs—was so fashionable it had probably been made just that month. Pearls draped around her neck and down her stylish, boyish figure. Her bobbed hair was wavy and blond, held back by a netted cap that sparkled in the electric light of the hall’s chandelier as she reached the bottom of the stairs, and a white-and-black fur stole was tossed almost carelessly over one shoulder.
The glamorous woman smiled Jimmy’s smile. “Am I all in order?” she asked, giving her hair a delicate fluff.
“You look sensational,” Mags said, grinning as she held out her arm. “Shall we?”
Vivian tried not to stare as they all climbed into the car that waited for them outside. In the face of all that glamour, she felt awkward in her borrowed dress and dancing shoes with worn heels. She fingered the edge of her coat as they settled into their seats, touching the hem that she had mended just last week and hoping no one had noticed the repair. She’d leave her coat in the car, she decided, when they got to the lodge. Better to be cold than look ragged.
“I’m guessing you won’t be going by Jimmy tonight?” Leo asked.
“You may call me Annabel Lee tonight,” Jimmy—Annabel—said. Her voice had changed along with the rest of her appearance, into something softer and richer, but still with the husky edge of a man’s deepness.
“Bit of a risky name,” Leo pointed out as the car jolted into motion. Vivian glanced out the window, watching the city streets slide by like a dream. “That poem doesn’t end too happily.”
“You’re a fan of Poe, then?” Annabel sounded delighted. “My, you are full of surprises, tall-dark-and-handsome.”
“Blegh,” Mags said, making a face with her tongue pointing out. “Too stuffy. Don’t you two read anything modern?”
Vivian, feeling more awkward than ever, shrank back into her seat, wishing she knew what they were talking about. Maybe she should ask to borrow some of Bea’s books of poems. But who had time to read that stuff?
Before she could feel too left out, though, Annabel turned to her, leaning forward even though there was clearly no one around to hear them. “Now that you can’t get away, Vivian, I’m going to need some gossip. What is going on with your Danny-boy recently? He’s mellowed in a way I can’t quite put my finger on…”
