bastard came here. Where have you been spending your time all week? No one can seem to find you.”
“Perhaps because I have been teaching classes.”
“Why was Sedgwick here?”
“He was in contact with Papa some months before he passed away. He merely came to offer his condolences.”
“Is that all Sedgwick came for?”
“What does that mean?”
“The man has a reputation. He is dangerous. Just look at what happened to my poor sister who made the fatal mistake of marryin’ the bastard.”
“Charlotte died of scarlet fever. Don’t be an ill-informed ass. Besides, I don’t recall hearing you complain when you thought there was a profit to be made. You and your father liked him enough when you believed he was going to make you rich.”
“What about his second wife?”
“Go away, Gordy. Annoy someone else. The night is still young. I am sure you can find someone receptive to your attentions. I am not.”
“I only find it interesting that he came to see you.” He slid her spectacles up the ridge of her nose before she could slap his hand away. “It ain’t as if you are the crème of London’s new crop of socialites, old gel.” He shoved away from the counter. “Though you probably wouldn’t be a half-bad looker if you took off those spectacles and did something different with your hair. Got rid of that hat.”
Christine strode past him up the dais to the door. “Don’t come down to this laboratory again without mypermission. Nothing in this room belongs to you. I’ll donate it all to the museum before I let you put your hands on anything.”
He laughed. “You always did have airs, coz. I will tell Papa his control of your trust fund is still intact. He worries so for our security.”
“Good night, Gordy.”
After he left, Christine locked up the laboratory and walked upstairs to make sure he left the house entirely before she returned downstairs and worked another hour, carefully cleaning Erik’s fossils with a small knife and brush. After supper, she grew tired and went upstairs to her room. Aunt Sophie was already in bed, so the house was quiet. Christine sank to the tufted bench in front of her vanity. It always bothered her when Gordy called her old gel .
For even at eight and twenty, she still suffered girlish freckles on her nose. After removing her spectacles, Christine took the pins out of her hair and let the length fall down her back. Her dark wavy hair defied the subjugation found in the soft feminine styles popular among the blond, fashionable set. She turned her head from side to side and tilted her chin. Her mouth was too bold and wide, perfect for shouting at rude hackney drivers but not necessarily pretty. Christine well knew she wasn’t the embodiment of the classical beauty, but her imperfections had never bothered her before.
Papa once told her in a moment of whimsical intoxication that she looked like her mother, though Christine would not know. She barely remembered her mother and no one ever spoke of the base-born actress Papa had married and who had died somewhere in Italy with her lover. Christine turned down the lamp. She had not let herself think about her mother in years.
“Mum, will ye be needin’ anything?” the housekeeper asked from the doorway.
Christine looked around the room. She relaxed a little when she found Beast asleep on her windowsill. She wanted only to be alone with her cat. “Go to sleep, Mrs. Samuels. I’m sorry I kept you up waiting for me.”
Mrs. Samuels remained in the doorway. “Is Miss Amelia all right, mum? We’ve not heard from her in a week.” Mrs. Samuels looked at Christine in the mirror, her gray eyes anxious as they met Christine’s in the cheval glass.
“I’m sure she is enjoying herself and will want to tell us everything when she returns.” Joseph would want to return as soon as possible to begin all necessary preparations for his trip to Perth.
After Mrs. Samuels shut the door, Christine twisted around and
“Perhaps because I have been teaching classes.”
“Why was Sedgwick here?”
“He was in contact with Papa some months before he passed away. He merely came to offer his condolences.”
“Is that all Sedgwick came for?”
“What does that mean?”
“The man has a reputation. He is dangerous. Just look at what happened to my poor sister who made the fatal mistake of marryin’ the bastard.”
“Charlotte died of scarlet fever. Don’t be an ill-informed ass. Besides, I don’t recall hearing you complain when you thought there was a profit to be made. You and your father liked him enough when you believed he was going to make you rich.”
“What about his second wife?”
“Go away, Gordy. Annoy someone else. The night is still young. I am sure you can find someone receptive to your attentions. I am not.”
“I only find it interesting that he came to see you.” He slid her spectacles up the ridge of her nose before she could slap his hand away. “It ain’t as if you are the crème of London’s new crop of socialites, old gel.” He shoved away from the counter. “Though you probably wouldn’t be a half-bad looker if you took off those spectacles and did something different with your hair. Got rid of that hat.”
Christine strode past him up the dais to the door. “Don’t come down to this laboratory again without mypermission. Nothing in this room belongs to you. I’ll donate it all to the museum before I let you put your hands on anything.”
He laughed. “You always did have airs, coz. I will tell Papa his control of your trust fund is still intact. He worries so for our security.”
“Good night, Gordy.”
After he left, Christine locked up the laboratory and walked upstairs to make sure he left the house entirely before she returned downstairs and worked another hour, carefully cleaning Erik’s fossils with a small knife and brush. After supper, she grew tired and went upstairs to her room. Aunt Sophie was already in bed, so the house was quiet. Christine sank to the tufted bench in front of her vanity. It always bothered her when Gordy called her old gel .
For even at eight and twenty, she still suffered girlish freckles on her nose. After removing her spectacles, Christine took the pins out of her hair and let the length fall down her back. Her dark wavy hair defied the subjugation found in the soft feminine styles popular among the blond, fashionable set. She turned her head from side to side and tilted her chin. Her mouth was too bold and wide, perfect for shouting at rude hackney drivers but not necessarily pretty. Christine well knew she wasn’t the embodiment of the classical beauty, but her imperfections had never bothered her before.
Papa once told her in a moment of whimsical intoxication that she looked like her mother, though Christine would not know. She barely remembered her mother and no one ever spoke of the base-born actress Papa had married and who had died somewhere in Italy with her lover. Christine turned down the lamp. She had not let herself think about her mother in years.
“Mum, will ye be needin’ anything?” the housekeeper asked from the doorway.
Christine looked around the room. She relaxed a little when she found Beast asleep on her windowsill. She wanted only to be alone with her cat. “Go to sleep, Mrs. Samuels. I’m sorry I kept you up waiting for me.”
Mrs. Samuels remained in the doorway. “Is Miss Amelia all right, mum? We’ve not heard from her in a week.” Mrs. Samuels looked at Christine in the mirror, her gray eyes anxious as they met Christine’s in the cheval glass.
“I’m sure she is enjoying herself and will want to tell us everything when she returns.” Joseph would want to return as soon as possible to begin all necessary preparations for his trip to Perth.
After Mrs. Samuels shut the door, Christine twisted around and
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