The Duke is Wicked (League of Lords #3) - Tracy Sumner Page 0,70
a hushed comment from Simon, who stood in a murky corner of the study, working a coin between his fingers in a dazzling presentation of dexterity.
Humphrey slammed his glass atop the table. “No one, that’s who. I’m a lone wolf for life.”
Sebastian snorted, knowing Humphrey had his eyes, and likely his hands as well, all over Finn’s sister, Belle. It would only be so long before he was forced to decide if he loved the chit or not. An exceedingly liberated woman, Sebastian hoped she put the hulking beast through hell first. He shouldn’t be the only one suffering.
Julian reached for his sketch pad and began to flip through the pages. Halting, he frowned and tapped his finger on the sheet. “This is who I see, close anyway. The setting isn’t clear. Her location seems to change with each note.”
Sebastian crossed to the desk, took the pad and tilted it into the dying sunlight falling in the window. His breath rushed forth in a tortured exhalation. What had Delaney said about the woman who’d stepped in front of her before she’d tumbled from her mount? Antiquated clothing. He shoved the sketch at Julian, went to the sideboard and poured gin. Closing his eyes, he tossed it back, savoring the sting as the liquor rushed through him. What he wouldn’t do for opium at this moment. “You need to show this to Miss Temple. I believe that’s who caused the fall from her mare last week. Young, female, clothing from another era.” He scratched his temple with the glass. “I imagined she was concussed, speaking nonsense.”
The coin Simon held dropped from his hand to the floor with a thunk. “Let me see it!”
The room silenced as if a church bell had rung. Simon was the calmest of men, until he wasn’t. And he’d never allowed a coin to hit the floor. Never.
Julian passed the sketch to Simon, his lips flattening. He worried over his adopted boys, Finn and Simon, like a protective papa, and likely always would. Even if they were men, or in Simon’s case, trying to get there.
Simon dropped to the sofa, the drawing clutched in his hand, blood rushing from his cheeks until they bleached, the color of snow. His lips moved, but no words arrived.
Sebastian went to his knee beside the boy. “You recognize her, don’t you?”
“I thought she was dead. One of my haunts. In that world, occasionally drifting into mine.” He laughed, but it was frayed, sorrowful. A horribly lonely sound to Sebastian’s ears. “She started showing up a year ago. Fourteen months. Not all the time. She’s the only one I can’t talk to. First time. The ghosts talk my head off, which I had to get used to. At night, anytime, all the time. I don’t know why she can’t. But she can see me. We”—he brought the sketch close, the charcoal marks possibly holding the answer to a vital question—“communicate without words.”
Sebastian rocked back on his heels. Damn. This was the girl they suspected Simon was involved with, as much as he could be with someone deceased.
“Miss Temple saw her.” Simon lifted his head, his eyes shining. Sebastian was struck in the chest by the naked emotion on the boy’s face. “The horse reared, so her mare saw her, too. Maybe she isn’t dead. Maybe she’s stuck.”
“And seeking answers to be able to move back,” Julian said. “Or forward.”
Humphrey drained his glass. “Enough to threaten to disclose our secrets, that level of desperation.”
Simon was in Julian’s space, crowding him before anyone could draw a breath. “Maybe I can find a way to go there, since I’m a conduit. Travel the in-between and bring her—”
“No.” Julian ripped the drawing from Simon’s hand and thrust it in his folio. Turned his back on what they would see. Fear. He and Piper were coming to grips with the fact that their son, Lucien, was gifted. Sebastian didn’t have to witness his friend’s expression to know what he was thinking.
He wasn’t going to lose his children—and Simon was his son as much as Lucien.
“I can do it without you, Jules. Or I can try,” Simon said in the harshest tone Sebastian had ever heard from him. A man breaking out of a boy’s shell. “Don’t make me do it alone. If there’s any chance she’s alive, I will find her.”
“Oh, no, you won’t,” Julian snapped, turning around, his scowl growing as Simon exited the study, his footfalls echoing down the hallway.