Zoe Archer - Scoundrel (The Blades of the Rose)

Arrivals and Departures

Southampton, England. 1875.

Catullus Graves pushed back from his worktable and growled. His latest device was not coming along as quickly as hed hoped. There was still the matter of making an internal combustion engine small enough to fit into a knapsack, and light enough to be carried without causing the bearer to crumple under the weight. He could discuss his design with his sister, Octavia, but he knew he could solve the problem on his ownif he could get his mind to clear.

He took off his spectacles and polished them with a handkerchief, a habitual gesture as deeply ingrained as respiration.

It was no use. He couldnt focus. Not now. He would be leaving soon, within the week, and his thoughts jumbled, preoccupied with details and logistics.

What he needed right now was a good, strong cup of tea. Tea always helped sharpen his brain. And while he was up in the kitchen, he could root around for some of Cooks cinnamon biscuits.

Catullus took the steps that led from his basement workshop. There were brighter spaces available at the Blades headquarters, but the Graves family always worked in the basement. The room was bigger, and the heavy walls and lack of windows ensured discretion. It wouldnt do to have their neighbors hearing the variety of explosions and sounds of heavy welding equipment that emanated from the workshop at all hours. He never slept a full night. The best he could do was a few hours here and there, just enough to refresh him between sessions at the workbench. But he was long acclimatized to his irregular sleep patterns. Everyone in his family suffered the same insomnia. The blessing and curse of the Graveses of Southampton.

Perhaps it was another reason why he was still single.

As Catullus entered the main house, heading toward the kitchen, sounds of commotion in the main parlor arrested him. Seeking out the noises origin, he entered the parlor and found a large group of people assembled there. Samuel Ashcombe. Alex Hughes. Jane Fleetwood, returned only last week from Ceylon. A host of familiar faces.

And, standing in the center of the group, Bennett Day. Looking tan and relaxed, grinning from ear to ear like a boy on his birthday as he shook hands of welcome. Even Catullus, who had, over the years, seen Bennett looking pretty damned pleased with himself, had never seen the old scoundrel appear so happy.

We havent received a telegram of condemnation from the Greek consulate, Catullus said, coming forward. So I assume the mission went well. He shook Bennetts hand, and the bastard actually winked at him.

Couldnt have gone better. London, Bennett said, turning to the woman standing beside him, Ill do you the insult of introducing you to Catullus Graves. Cat, you sodding dandy, let me honor you by presenting London Day, expert linguist and my wife.

Catullus couldnt have heard that properly. Wife?

I know, said the woman, extending her hand. She was, as fitting Bennetts usual tastes, exceptionally pretty, with honey-colored hair and sparkling dark eyes. Yet her eyes sparkled not with flirtation but a keen, perceptive intelligence. Were all still waiting for the sun to go black and rivers to flow backward. Despite what my husband said, its an honor to meet you at last, Mr. Graves.

Catullus shook the womans hand. He still could not believe that Bennett Day, inveterate voluptuary, had actually gotten married. However, considering this womans beauty and intellect, perhaps that wasnt such a surprise, after all.

London, he said, musing. He frowned. London Edgeworth Harcourt? The assembled group of Blades all gaped in surprise.

The glimmer in her eyes dimmed slightly. That had been my name, but no longer.

Youve heard of her? Bennett demanded.

Of course, said Catullus. I make it a point to familiarize myself with the Heirs families so that Im never caught off guard by their sudden appearance. Dont you?

Bennett scowled. Too damn busy risking my neck to pour over Debretts Peerage .

Believe me, Mr. Graves, Mrs. Day said, sincerity shining in her face, all connections with my family have been entirely severed. Bennett and I just came from the city, but my mother refused to see me. She took my fathers death very hard. And Im quite sure that if my brother ever spotted me on the street, hed shoot me dead. She spoke these words flatly, as though inured to the idea. Catullus marveled at her strength.

Im very sorry, Mrs. Day, Catullus murmured.

Please, dont be. Im quite happy to trade one family for another. And I would like it if you called me London. Ive heard so much about you from Bennett, and benefited so much from your inventions, I feel as if were already old friends.

Catullus bowed. My pleasure. And call me Catullus, please.

Only I call him Cat, Bennett said. Just to annoy him.

That is one of your strengths, Catullus answered.

More Blades ambled forward to meet Bennetts bride and offer their congratulations on the mission and his marriage. Catullus stood back and observed. London met each Blade with genuine warmth and courtesy, and she accepted their good-natured ribbing and questions with humor. None of this impressed Catullus so much as the way she and Bennett stood close to one another, constantly brushing their hands together, touching in small but weighted ways. It was clear that London loved Bennett, and the unmitigated adoration in Bennetts eyes whenever he looked at his wife made Catullus a little sad, that he himself had never experienced such a feeling and likely never would. Brilliant, intrepid young women like London didnt just fall from the sky.

Well, he had his work for the Blades, and that should be enough. Octavia ensured the continuation of the Graves line.

When all the felicitations and welcomes had been exhausted, the room emptied of Blades, leaving Catullus alone with his old friend and his friends wife.

I was headed to the kitchen for some tea, Catullus said. I can ring and have it brought out here.

Lets go to the kitchen together, London answered. She glanced around the large parlor, filled with maps and a ramshackle collection of furniture. Papers covered the available tabletops, and someone had abandoned a game of patience on top of an out-of-tune pianoforte. This parlor is

A disaster, sighed Catullus. Few of the Blades shared his love of order, and, truthfully, everyone was too busy chasing down Sources to concern themselves with maintaining elegant headquarters. The cleaning staff knew better than to try to keep order, lest they tempt madness.

I was going to say, this parlor is not very cozy. London laughed. I do want us to be informal and friendly with each other. To the kitchen?

Of course. Catullus bowed, liking London Day immensely. What of Athena? he asked as they headed down the hall together. He did not miss how Bennett kept a proprietary hand on her waist. She hasnt written in some time.

Id say her time is rather filled at the moment, Bennett said dryly.

Filled, in a good way?

A very good way, London answered, smiling.

Its a fortunate thing you arrived in Southampton when you did, Catullus said. They reached the kitchen, where Cook and her assistants were busy preparing the evening meal for a dozen hungry Blades. Fortunately, Cook was well familiar with Catulluss odd eating habits, and she made no objection when he, Bennett, and London ensconced themselves in some settles installed for just such a purpose. Without prompting, one of the cooks assistants set a tea tray, complete with cinnamon biscuits, on a small table between the settles. Ah, the headquarters were a bachelors dream.

Why is that? asked Bennett.