With Tarlton and his assistant Erasmus preoccupied with their own experiments, Zan quickly bid them good luck on their results and a farewell before retreating quickly from their laboratory. Once she reached the basement hallway, however, an insistent hand on her shoulder stopped her. She gave a stiff jerk, shrugging it off.
“If you will excuse me, I have some errands to run,” she said, not looking back.
“I need to talk to you,” Caradon replied. He moved to keep up with her when she began walking.
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“We never finished our conversation from yesterday.”
They passed the main foyer where she nodded politely to a few passing Academy members. “I believe that conversation ended,” she said as he opened the door for her. Zan sailed passed him with barely a tip of her head in acknowledgement of his courtesy. “Our agreement was settled. And I do not believe that you are in want of a report at such an early juncture.”
“It’s not about the agreement or the report. But you haven’t told me everything of what you know about your uncle’s affairs. If I wasn’t mistaken, you came to the Academy this morning to follow up on one of your uncle’s last ideas with Henry Tarlton. You’re planning on heading into Old Amanthus to investigate some mystery on your own, aren’t you?”
She was, but she would be damned if she were to tell him. Why would she tell Caradon anything anyway? “How on earth did you find me at the Academy in the first place?”
“I visited your residence first. Your butler told me that you were visiting the Academy on an errand. So I came here, hoping to catch you before you flitted off elsewhere.”
“You could have waited in the sitting room. Or sent a message earlier about meeting.”
“If I had waited, it would have been for hours. Your staff had no idea when you would return. And judging from our last meeting, I wouldn’t have been surprised if you had ignored my message if I had sent one.”
“Perhaps I would have.” She stopped at the bottom of the Academy front stairs and slanted him a look. “Fine. So you want to talk to me. So talk.”
Zan was amused at the annoyed expression that briefly crossed his face. “In such a high traffic area? Why don’t we use the privacy of the carriage while I take you to your next destination?”
“I’ve had enough carriage rides with you. Besides, my next destination isn’t too far and a nice brisk walk can do wonders for the constitution. Or are you afraid you can’t keep up?”
“Keep up?” He adjusted his hat in such a manner that she believed that he was trying to thumb his nose at her. “I can more than keep up. Where are you going?”
“Where? To the Museum, of course. I wish to look at where they’ve archived my uncle’s machines.”
Caradon waved down a driver waiting near the curb. His own carriage and driver, Zan thought with a wry twist of her mouth. While he was talking to the driver, she turned on her heel and headed down the street towards the Museum on Market Row, the large square building in classical lines approximately one block south of the Academy.
“You’re as slippery as an eel, aren’t you?” He had finished talking to his driver and had somehow sprinted back to her side. Apparently, the man was going to stick to her side like glue until he had wrung some answers out of her.
Well, he could hover as much as he wanted, she thought stubbornly. No matter how much he tried to intimidate her, she was going to keep her mouth shut on the subject of her uncle’s notes. “I may be an eel, but eels are noble sea creatures. You, sir, are a leech.”
“You aren’t very subtle, are you?”
“No. I prefer to be blunt. You are both annoying and persistent, Mr. Caradon. Why are you wasting time with me? I thought a businessman like you would be rather busy with his other affairs such as your shipping business. Aren’t you concerned with inventory and shipping schedules and tariffs and other sorts of things merchants like you are supposed to be worried about? I am nothing.”
“Miss Hu, you are not ‘nothing.’ You represent a considerable investment. And I always take care of my investments.”
“An investment!” Zan said slightly outraged and scandalized. Several passersby gave her odd glances, but she ignored them as she and her patron crossed Market Row to the front of the Museum. “So I am like your stocks and bonds? I’m not a person?”
“Of course you’re a person,” he replied, exasperation lacing his tone. “But the marketable inventions that you may produce are the investment. I never meant to imply otherwise.”
