He stood and shook out his hands. "Bloody hell," he muttered. "I'm sorry. Are you all right?"
I expected to see burns on his hands, but they appeared perfectly fine. As did mine. They did, however, feel hot. Indeed, I felt hot all over. I removed the choker from around my neck, but it did little to alleviate my discomfort.
"Why did that happen?" I asked. "I thought you only started fires when you were angry."
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug and turned away.
"You touched me when you kidnapped me, yet that didn't happen," I said, talking more to myself than him. I didn't expect an explanation and nor did he offer one.
He made a great fuss with the pails, kicking them gently and watching the water ripple on the surface.
I studied my palms again. They were still hot, as was the rest of me, but they no longer tingled. Remarkable. "There seems to be so much that we don't know about this. Jack, I must ask...what makes you think I can be trained at all?"
He stopped kicking the buckets and knelt on one knee in front of me. There was resignation in his eyes, and a deep sadness, but I did not touch him like I wanted to. "We have to try, Violet." His voice was smooth and chocolaty thick. Despite my confusion and uncertainty, it instantly lifted my spirits. "Otherwise you'll be a prisoner for the rest of your life. Now." He stood again and removed his waistcoat and rolled up his sleeves.
"Jack!" I shielded my eyes with my hand, but peeked through the fingers. "I may have lived a sheltered life, but I do know undressing in company is not appropriate."
"To hell with propriety. I'm boiling inside."
I quite understood, and I thanked God that I wasn't wearing a corset and had chosen a light dress for the day. "If you're trying to frighten me, it's not working."
He laughed. "I'm not trying to frighten you. Not yet. Let's begin with some breathing exercises you can employ for when you're feeling afraid."
I couldn't sleep that night. Thoughts of Jack whirled through my head. I couldn't block them out, nor did I want to. I liked how he looked at me. I liked how he made me feel. Except when he zapped me, that is. It had taken the rest of the day before my body cooled enough to feel comfortable again. Indeed, I was still a little warm, so I rose to open the window. The air was cold but didn't alleviate the heat throbbing through me. Jack's touch had indeed been powerful, and the effects long-lasting.
Voices drifted up to me from below. In the moonlight, I could just make out two figures standing side by side. One wore a long overcoat and hat. The other did not. Both had the stance and size of men.
"He'll be in a lot of trouble if Langley finds out," said a voice I instantly recognized as Jack's. Why was he referring to his uncle by his surname?
"We don't know it's 'im." Good lord, it was Tommy, speaking in a slum accent similar to what I'd heard Jack use that one time in Langley's rooms. His tones had been cultured earlier as befitted a footman in a grand house, so why the slip now?
I leaned further out the window to hear more.
"Of course it's him," Jack said. "The maid said—"
"She 'as a name, Jack. Maud. You mighta risen up 'igh now, but you better not f'get where you came from. Wouldna want that pretty lady knowin' what you really is, would ya?"
Something flared in the darkness, and I realized with a start that it was Jack's fingers. There were no sparks, but they did glow.
"Jesus bloody Christ, Jack-o'-lantern!" Tommy backed away. "I don' mean no 'arm. I won' tell 'er nuffin'. Put yer 'ands away."
The glow went out. "Maud said the intruder she saw was a tall man with a big nose and a scar across one eye. Unless you know of another fitting that description, then I'd wager it was Patrick."
"But Patrick's in London with the others."
"It would seem he's made at least one trip into the country recently. I'll go to London and warn him to keep low."
"What? You not gonna let the Bobbies deal wiv 'im? My, my, seems you ain't f'got us after all."
"Of course I haven't forgotten you, you know that. You're my family. Always have been, always will be." Jack gave Tommy a slap on the back, and Tommy briefly clasped Jack's arm.
"You got anuvver family now," Tommy said. "An uncle and a cousin. Don' fink they'd like 'earin' you talk about the likes o' Patrick and me as closer to you than them."
Jack tipped his head back as if he were about to look up. I ducked inside and flattened myself against the wall. My heart thundered in my chest and I closed my eyes, held my breath.
"They're not my family," I heard Jack say, and I breathed out again. It would appear he hadn't seen me.
"Aye. No need to feel bad about what Patrick stole then, is it? Langley's just anuvver toff." The gravel crunched beneath their boots as the two men walked away.
I breathed deeply several times. I still couldn't believe what I'd just heard, yet I must. Jack not only knew the thief, he was protecting him.
They're not my family, he'd said. If that were the case, why was he living at Frakingham House at all?
To fleece Langley of his wealth by pretending to be his nephew? Or was there something more sinister going on?
CHAPTER 6
"Try focusing inward," said Jack.
"How do I do that?" I sat in the training room with my eyes shut. When Jack had asked me to close them I'd thought he was going to frighten me in some way, but he hadn't.
"Try to imagine your insides," he said.
I pulled a face. "Do I have to?"
"Not your innards, but the flow of energy. Your essence, if you like." He must have been circling my chair because his voice sounded like it was surrounding me. I felt completely immersed in its rich honey-thick tones. "Can you feel it, Violet? The flow of heat beneath your skin, the quiet thump of warm blood through your veins."
My breath came in short bursts, and I had to fight for every one. I could only manage a nod, but I couldn't explain that what I felt was perhaps as a result of his close proximity and the lilt of his voice. Heat did indeed swell inside me.
I opened my eyes and stood up, almost bumping into him. He managed to back away just in time.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
I put a hand to my forehead. "I'm tired. This has been an exhausting day and I didn't—" I was about to tell him I hadn't slept well, but I didn't want to plant the suspicion that I'd overheard his conversation with Tommy. "I didn't think we'd be training all morning."
"Would you prefer to sit and embroider with Sylvia?"
"Actually, I would. Perhaps we can resume later?"
He frowned. "Are you sure you're all right? You do look tired."
"I'm fine," I said brightly. "But all this anatomical talk is quite overwhelming. My poor head can't cope."
His gaze narrowed. "You seemed to comprehend it well enough. Did you have a tutor?"
"Four. They each came regularly, but never at the same time."
"I saw them. I'd assumed they were there to teach your sister."
"Perhaps they did. I don't know. It was Mr. Upworth who taught us about biology of plants and animals. Humans weren't included in our education, thankfully."
"The basic structure is the same between many animals and humans."
"Oh?"
"Don't look so horrified. I haven't cut up dead bodies to discover that fact. Like you, I had tutors. And books."
"The only books I've seen are in your uncle's rooms."
"And those are the ones I read. He's generous when it comes to their use. He says knowledge is the only way for a man to rise above the class in which he was born. You should ask to borrow something when you get bored with embroidery."
"No thank you. I think it's best that I avoid Mr. Langley for a while."