The Double Life of Incorporate Things (Magic Most Foul) by Leanna Hieber Read Free Book Online Page A

same ways she and I had done months prior. I tried not to fear for my favored place at the center of things, but jealousy has its ways.
    “We’ll only volunteer vague answers to Brinkman’s questions,” Jonathon instructed.
    “Wait for him to volunteer information first.” I nodded.
    We took the elaborate route Brinkman had instructed in his note and kept silent the whole way. I’d seen Jonathon play his demon doppelganger eerily well and so was fully prepared for him to take the lead with his countryman. But I palmed the hilt of the small knife I stowed between the stays of my bodice and the corset beneath, accessible via a partly opened seam. This action steeled me. If the spy proved a turncoat, I’d draw and defend Jonathon in a heartbeat...
    We were making the last turn of the particular route, the park ahead of us, when a flurry of action at the door to the carriage had us exclaim in alarm. My knife was out in the instant, but so was Brinkman inside in the same, with a cry of, “If you’ve weapons put them down, I’m on your side!”
    The door yawned open as the man’s hands were planted upon the roof of the cab and his feet were up and between Jonathon’s and mine before a lanky body lithely followed. In another smooth motion, he threw his weight to the side, plopping next to Jonathon. He then bent to draw the flapping door shut once more and turned to both of us with a wide and winning smile, plucking a black wide-brimmed felt hat from his head. He was dressed in a fine black suit and grey striped waistcoat and white cravat, all well-made and tailored but not ostentatious. His features were nearly weasel-like in their somewhat pinched quality, and yet somehow their arrangement was disturbingly attractive. His dark brown hair was slicked back, a few ends turning out in defiance, his eyes were a sky blue, a shade darker than Jonathon’s strikingly pale ones, but that just didn’t seem fair, as I found Denbury’s so hard to look away from.
    “Gabriel Brinkman at your service, Lord Denbury,” he said in a gently refined accent that I guessed came from a London elite. Though I knew little about England and its regionalisms, I could tell upper class from common well enough. “And who might this feisty young lady be?” he asked, offering a dazzling smile that dimpled lean cheeks. “I saw a telling flash of silver.” He bowed his head to me. “An impressively quick draw, miss.” He then turned to Jonathon. “Hiring a female bodyguard? Very clever and very good cover, sir.”
    Jonathon offered a slight smile, but I could tell he wanted to laugh. I said nothing and tried to look menacing. I doubted it worked, but both gentlemen seemed to enjoy it. Jonathon introduced me only as “a colleague” and gave no name. If Brinkman was a good spy, he’d figure it out. Brinkman narrowed his bright eyes at me and did.
    “You must be Miss Stewart. I had a look through the files pertaining to your portrait, Lord Denbury, and the goings on surrounding it. Sergeant James Patt seemed all too glad to have your nonsense wrapped up and to have pinned the blame on someone, batty Mister Crenfall, eh?”
    “Well, he was an accomplice,” Jonathon replied. “He was the broker who facilitated the transfer of my portrait and...incapacitated body onto these shores. Justice was served in his arrest, certainly.”
    “Indeed.” Brinkman nodded. “As for the rest of the justice... You’ve taken that upon yourselves, have you?” While his tone held no judgment, neither of us were sure how we should reply. Brinkman continued. “Patt gave me leave to peruse your diary, Miss Stewart. And am I to presume that it is true?”
    I blushed. He’d have read all the kissing bits in that diary. That was so unfair.
    “It is,” I said through clenched teeth.
    “I stake my life on it,” Jonathon replied. “The life that is wholly in her debt, you’ll know from having read her accounts.”
    Brinkman smiled at me again. That didn’t