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“Of course.”
My answer dug his frown even deeper. “Why will you not accept I killed him?”
“Because you want me to leave, and you believe confessing will see me off. I won’t leave, not while I suspect you’ll hang if I do.”
His eyes widened, smoothing the frown away and turning his expression soft and a little alarmed. “You’re staying for me?”
I approached the man who professed to hate me, the friend I’d betrayed. He tensed and unfolded his arms, as though readying himself for attack. I stopped a few strides away—a safe distance for two acquaintances. “You came to my aid when I needed it. In the past I… I made mistakes. I owe you my help, and I’ll not leave until I see you safe.”
His blink and silence suggested that someone helpinghimwas a new and unexpected occurrence. What would he be like outside the suffocation of Minerva? Would he come alive like one of his father’s vibrant toys? Would he ever breathe freely and dance as though he had no care? Would he ever… kiss a man again?
“As you say,” he said, his gaze skipping away, “I have little else to do.”
“Good. Do you have attire more—”
“Befitting a gentleman?” He swept up his coat and threw it over his shoulders. “I’ll meet you in the bar in thirty minutes.” He glided from the room, gone so fast he almost ran. I chuckled at his awkwardness, so distant yet so typically Devere.
Drawn to the open books on the desk, I scanned the last pages he’d read.
The Study of Dreams in the Damaged Mind.
Thankfully, he didn’t know my dreams and how most featured him. Such secrets were better left locked in my head.
ChapterFifteen
Devere’slong coat covered his clothes. I wouldn’t get to see his evening wear until we arrived at the club. However, he had combed his hair back and tied it into a low tail with purple silk lace. Was the purple a hint of his hidden outfit, or the only splash of color he allowed himself?
I’d laughed at him once at school, after I’d placed a daisy in his hair and told him it wouldn’t kill him to wear a little color every now and then. He’d smiled and worn that flower all day, until Jeremy Russo kicked him in the dirt for it.
That was then, and this was now. This trip wasn’t about Devere, although I was keen to see how he was treated among his father’s peers. Nothing about this visit to the club was personal. It had to remain professional. I was here to observe and look for answers for Devere’s sake.
The carriage picked us up outside the inn. Devere as my traveling companion was a pleasant relief compared to Rochefort’s suggestive glances. Devere gave no such glances, preferring to stare out of the window. I ached to ask after his thoughts. It seemed as though he had a great many things occupying his mind, and when he offered snippets of them, they were always worth hearing.
His silence, however, was welcome too. It allowed me to focus and prepare for the task ahead. With Devere at my side, we might actually learn something.
“Do you believe in magic?” Devere asked, swiveling his gaze to me.
“What?”
“Magic,” he said again, as though the question were reasonable.
“I believe in science. Science may sometimes appear to be magic to the untrained mind.”
His smile grew in a way that suggested I was wrong. “Is science not its own kind of magic?”
“I suppose it can seem that way to those who don’t understand—”
“Then you agree. Magic is real?”
“That’s not what I said. I believe magic is a name for something we don’t yet understand. Fire was once magic, but now we understand how a spark ignites fuel and creates the flame.”
“By that definition, magic is another name for science.”
I laughed. He was talking circles around me, although he didn’t seem all that impressed with my humor. Why he’d decided to argue about this with me now, I had no idea. “All right, then, magic exists as a synonym for the undiscovered sciences.”
He nodded. Apparently, he’d won the argument. Trying to read Devere was like trying to read a book in a foreign language one did not speak. Magic, indeed. Where had that thought come from?
The carriage clattered to a halt, and I climbed down, still bemused by Devere’s sudden fascination with the unknown. And if I were honest, bemused and amused by the man himself. I caught a glimpse of his coat’s purple silk lining as he climbed from the carriage and joined me on the sidewalk.
