She self-consciously pushed her eyeglasses firmly up onto the bridge of her nose.
"—and I thought that with all the reading I am asking you to do, it would be beneficial to both of us if I had you go to my occulist to be certain your lenses are strong enough."
She opened her mouth as if to protest, then shut it again. Good girl. You know you need them; don't look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth.
"No harm done if they are fine, but you have been faltering a bit and I would like to be certain that your eyes are not being strained," he continued. "I certainly need them to be in top order. At any rate, you may use my flat in town, I'm arranging for a conveyance, and you can use the rest of your time to shop."
"Thank you, Jason," she said warmly. "That will be considerably more than I expected." Her cheeks were flushed with pleasure, and her eyes behind those thick lenses sparkled brightly.
Now he felt even more like an indulgent uncle arranging a holiday treat. "Would you prefer Barrymore or Babes?" he asked. "I'll have my agent get tickets."
Her mischievous smile lit up her face. "I suppose I should say Barrymore, but I have to confess that I—oh, this is dreadful!—I adore Victor Herbert. His musical plays are like candy: terribly sweet, probably bad for you, but such fun!"
"And what better Christmas treat than Babes in Toyland?" He laughed, and tapped out his last order. "Sometimes a surfeit of sugar is just what one needs. I must admit that my opinion of John Barrymore is not shared by the general public, but—well, Shakespeare is not his forti. He is far too dissipated for Oberon, too bombastic for Hamlet, too shallow for Macbeth, too callow for Othello, too young for Lear and too old for Romeo."
"Prince Hal?" she suggested delicately.
He snorted. "Only the drunken Hal, bosom friend of Falstaff. Wait until he's appearing in something more suited to his style, then I can recommend seeing him." He shut the box on the telegraphy machine. "Well, that was all I needed to interrupt you for, if you are ready to resume reading at the usual time. Unless you had something?"
There. If she wishes to "betray" du Mond to me, there's an opportunity.
She hesitated, biting her lip. "I encountered Mr. du Mond today," she said slowly. "I said nothing about Magick, and he did not ask. However, he seemed quite friendly." Her tone said more than that, and he was pleased that he had not read her wrongly.
"I should have warned you that he is something of a rake," he replied solemnly. "I hope he did not become overly familiar?"
"Not precisely, no." She grimaced. "But I did guess—that if he had any encouragement, he might."
"He has his orders to treat you with respect," Cameron assured her, "but I would not believe anything he promised if I were you, nor anything he told you about himself. He once claimed to one of my maids that he was the rightful heir to the throne of Russia, and that if she would come away with him he would make her a czarina."
She burst into laughter at that, as he had hoped she would. "No! Not truly! Did she believe him?"
He chuckled. "She smacked his face and told him to take his fairy tales to children, who would find them entertaining. I do my best not to employ people with more hair than wit."
She was still laughing. "Good for her! Well then, if he is so easily put off, I shan't worry about him. Thank you again, Jason. My diligence will be all the greater for the promised treat, I promise you!"
"I counted on that," he said teasingly, and grinned again at her blush and wry smile.
She resumed her place and position on the couch, taking up in her book where she had left off. He watched her for a few moments more, then blanked the mirror.
He did not summon the Salamander, but it appeared anyway. "I assume you overheard?" he asked it.
It spun lazily, once, then came to rest on its obsidian plate. "Do you want du Mond to have free access to her?" it asked.
"He won't try anything physical—not here, at any rate," he replied. "Not while she is under my protection. And, quite frankly, if he intends to say anything more to her, I want to know about it, and I want to see if she says anything about it." He thought for a moment. "She didn't precisely report his conversation, after all."
"One does not tell one's employer that another in his employ called him mad," the Salamander pointed out. "Not only would that be rude, but it might reflect badly on her and her ambitions. It could be assumed that she was angling for his position, which is a permanent one, whereas hers is only temporary—and after all, it would be her word against his."
"True." That was an aspect that had not occurred to him, and he was glad the Salamander had pointed it out. "Making claims like that could actually get her dismissed if I believed him instead of her."
"And she is no fool; she would like to continue in this position as long as possible." The creature sounded smug. "She sometimes talks to herself in the bath."
Which was, of course, the one place where he would not spy upon her! Nor did he intend to start now, however relevant the information might be.
"You may continue to eavesdrop, and tell me if you hear anything interesting," he told the Salamander. "I would just as soon not hear girlish secrets, however."
The Salamander grinned. "As you wish." It acted as if it had something it was not going to tell him now, and however much his curiosity nagged at him, he was not going to counter his previous order!
"You might as well come with me since you're here," he told it instead. "I'm going to select more books. We are going to intensify the search tonight."
Because I dare not take the chance that the beast is overcoming the man, he thought, grimly, as he led the way to the bookcases. Nor can I take the chance that I can control what is happening. Perhaps this is the result of pain, perhaps the result of the narcotics I am forced to use—or perhaps it is not. I have no options.
By the time her holiday comes around, I fear that Rose will be in desperate need of it. But with luck—I may by then have found my key.
CHAPTER NINE
Rose waited on the platform for the train to arrive, bundled warmly in her new fur cape, but too tired to really feel the excitement that she knew was within her. The last two weeks had been brutal; Cameron was making her earn her holiday. She read the Apprentice books feverishly until after dinner, sometimes even reading them while she ate, then went on to read and translate his books until very nearly dawn and they were both having a hard time staying awake. She hadn't had time to encounter du Mond much; once every few days he would intercept her as she returned from visiting Sunset, but she could always plead duty to get away from him. Taking a short walk to visit Sunset was nearly the only exercise she was getting at the moment.
She wouldn't even have been doing that, but for two factors. The stallion himself was so pathetically pleased to see her that she couldn't bear to disappoint him of his daily visit (or apple; she wasn't sure which he was looking forward to)—and Cameron had asked her to make sure he wasn't being neglected, once he knew that she and Sunset were getting along. The concern in his voice had been unmistakable, and she had promised immediately. She'd even gotten so far as to have one of the Salamanders show her how to use a brush and comb, and did some of his grooming herself. It had been very strange, and just a bit frightening the first time, to stand in the paddock with such a big, strong beast, without even a single fence rail to protect her if he should take it into his head to dislike her. But although it had been frightening, it had also been exhilarating, and the more she handled him, the more confident he became with her, and vice versa.