“Oh, God, Daniel!” she breathed. “I think she’s dead!”
Daniel bent and peered, then dropped the cover back so it brushed the floor. He straightened, his expression stiff. “Yes, she’s dead, poor girl. She’s blue around the lips. I think someone strangled her.” The furrow between his brows deepened as he considered Adele. “This changes things,” he said slowly.
“Oh? You believe me now?”
“I believed you were up to something,” he replied. “Now I know that something is rather more dire than I gave you credit for.” He grimaced. “It seems to be my night for apologies.”
“You didn’t actually apologize,” she pointed out tartly. She looked around the room. “This room is right below the King’s. Perhaps that was why Ginny was murdered. They needed the room…”
“There’s nothing in it but her hairbrushes,” Daniel pointed out. “And Ginny, God rest her soul.”
“It wouldn’t be in the wardrobe,” Adele said, looking at the one big, enclosed space in the room. “She might have looked in there. But there is nowhere else.”
Daniel pointed upward. “People always try to hide things behind other things. Up above eye level is always overlooked.”
“Where did you learn to be so sneaky?” Adele looked up. “Is that a valise on top of the wardrobe?”
“What could be more natural than shoving an empty valise upon the top of the wardrobe to get it out of the way?” Daniel asked.
“Shoving it beneath the bed,” Adele said shortly. She hoisted her peignoir up and stepped up onto the bed, with mentally apologies to Ginny for disturbing her.
“You know I could just lower the case down, don’t you?”
“Not yet,” she said distantly. She balanced on the bed frame and examined the dusty top of the wardrobe. A small leather valise lay there, looking perfectly innocent.
Adele unbuckled the straps as Daniel hoisted himself onto the bedframe and clutched the wardrobe for balance.
She pulled the lid back.
White cotton lady’s underthings were revealed.
Daniel laughed at her expression. “What were you expecting?”
“A bomb,” Adele whispered. She reached for the garments.
“Oh, hey, the girl is dead!” Daniel whispered.
“And her garments are not folded neatly and that is just…wrong.” Carefully, Adele pinched the bastiste between her fingers and lifted it.
The bottom inch of the case was covered in dull red, round sticks with wires emerging from the end. The wires all ran together, disappearing beneath the linens.
Daniel gripped Adele’s wrist. “Let the clothes go,” he breathed. “That’s dynamite.”
Adele stared at the thing. “Can you tell when it will explode?” she breathed, as Daniel eased to the floor.
He reached up and plucked her from the bed frame and put her on her feet before him. “Not without pulling the clothes aside. I’ve only ever seen dynamite charges set once. I don’t know if we would set it off if we explore any further.”
“Then you can’t stop it?” Adele said. She chewed her lip. “I need Melville,” she decided and moved to the lamp and picked it up.
“Who?” Daniel pushed a hand through his hair, glancing at the top of the wardrobe. “Adele, we must leave and call the police, or the King’s guard or someone! There is a bomb!”
“I am calling someone,” Adele said, putting the lamp inside the dry washbowl. She put her hand between the lamp and the window. “Now hush a moment. I must concentrate.”
The message was a short one which Melville had prearranged with her and could be sent quickly. That didn’t stop Daniel from coming up beside her and gripping her left arm. “Adele, I mean it. Come on.” He tugged.
Adele pulled her arm from his grip and repeated the message one last time for good measure.
At the same time, from the corner of her eye, Adele saw the door between the two bedrooms open and the silhouette of a tall man outlined by the lamp in the other bedroom step through. He came up behind Daniel.
Daniel stiffened.
“Come away from the window, Lady Adelaide,” the man said.
Adele turned in the confined space between the now-open door and the washstand, for the three of them were crowded into the tiny area. “Baron Stroud!”
Peter Neville, the third Baron Stroud, held a silver gun up against the back of Daniel’s neck. The big fingers of his other hand gripped Daniel’s shoulder.
Daniel didn’t shift his head, for the gun was against it. But he did roll his eyes toward Adele. “Run.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Adele said. She remembered the heavy pistol in her evening reticule, back in her bedroom, with a touch of regret. Although, even if she’d had the pistol, she wasn’t certain what she could do when Stroud was pushing the barrel of his gun up against Daniel’s head. “I think Baron Stroud would shoot you before I got through the door.”
“I would,” Stroud said calmly.
“I can’t believe you would betray England this way, Peter,” Adele added. “You used to steal every waltz on my card and bring me punch afterwards. You even apologized to me when you got married, because you really wanted to marry me instead.”
“Then you ran off and married that commoner. The shopkeeper.” Peter sneered. “I shouldn’t have bothered apologizing at all. You clearly weren’t up to standard.”
Daniel’s face turned red.
Adele pressed her hand against her roiling middle. “Dry goods merchant,” she corrected Peter. “And he was a far better man than you. Hugh would never have betrayed England and his king the way you are.”
“Although,” Daniel said with an odd, conversational tone that belied the expression on his face, “I find a certain comfort in having Stroud’s gun against my head. It means the bomb is not close to going off. A man like you, Stroud, would ensure he’s miles away, long before the bomb exploded.”
“You always were a bad poker player, Bannister,” Peter said. “You never could read a man properly. In fact, the bomb is very close to going off. So close, that none of us has any hope of out-running it.”
“He’s lying,” Daniel said to Adele. “He’s not the sort to give up his miserable life for anything.”
Adele wet her lips. It was difficult to think. Only, she must think.
“I said you were lousy at reading people,” Peter told Daniel and gave him a little shake, which made Daniel wince. “The man who should have seen to this failed to arrive tonight.”
You can help Britain as no other woman can. The memory of Melville’s cool, certain assessment returned to her. Adele drew in a shuddering breath. Then another one. Then she took a small step toward the head of the bed, moving around Daniel’s strained figure.
“How extraordinary,” Adele said and took another small sidestep. “A German who isn’t punctual.”
Daniel’s gaze met hers.
“I’ve had to step in and adjust things on the fly. It would have been a complete disaster otherwise.” Peter’s voice whined.
“Adjust things? Like killing Ginny?” Daniel’s tone was outraged.
“An unfortunate side effect,” Peter said. “Relax, Bannister,” he added, his tone one of warning. “I have quite a bit of pressure on this trigger. I don’t know how much more I need to make it fire. Don’t tempt me to find out.” Peter’s gaze slid to Adele. “And where do you think you’re going?”
“I wanted to get away from that thing,” Adele said, pointing up at the wardrobe, and making her voice shake.
Peter Stroud laughed. “You poor little thing. The amount of dynamite in that case will blow apart this entire wing.”
“For the Kaiser, hmm?” Daniel said, his tone hard.
“Yes, exactly,” Peter said. “A modern thinker. A brilliant man, actually. A man well ahead of his time.”
“So is King Edward,” Daniel replied. “Something you haven’t bothered to learn.”
“Edward’s attitudes are his mother’s!�
�� Peter cried, his own face working with fury.
Adele took one more step, which put her squarely in front of the bedroom door. Peter swung around to face her, his back to the window.
He didn’t seem to notice, though. He was too deeply mired in contemplating the King’s sins against him. “Do you know he flatly refuses to even discuss divorce when a woman is in the room? He is positively medieval!”
“That’s why you’re doing this?” Daniel breathed. “Because you can’t get a divorce?”
“My bloody wife won’t be coming to Germany with me,” Peter ground out.
“You won’t be going to Germany, either,” Adele told him.
Peter stared at her. So did Daniel.
“Jink left, Daniel!” she cried and dropped to the floor.
Daniel gave a grunt of effort. At the same time, Adele heard the glass in the window crack and drop, to shatter into even smaller pieces. There was a soft zinging sound and another coughed exhalation, right on the heel of Daniel’s.
Behind her, the door shivered in its broken frame. Wood splintered.
She looked up in time to see Peter drop to his knees, his eyes open and unseeing, just as Ginny’s had been. There was a horrible bloom of red on his forehead and grey matter she did not care to examine too closely.
Daniel slithered away from the man, scrabbling with his feet, his hands behind him. He was breathing hard. “What the hell?” he breathed. Then, “Watch out!”
They both scrambled out of the way as Peter fell face forward onto the threadbare rug. Daniel rammed himself against the bureau and Adele stepped onto the bed once more.
At the same time, the remaining panes in the window cracked and dropped. The middle frame splintered.
“Open the window, Adele!” Melville called. “Hurry!”
“The bomb!” she cried, stumbling over Peter’s body. “It’s here!”
“Yes, I know,” Melville said, as she shoved the lamp at Daniel and struggled to open the window.
Daniel put the lamp on the bureau, then pulled the whole washstand aside, as Melville threw his leg over the sill and slid into the room. He wore the uniform of the Royal Regiment of Scotland, the kilt flapping about his knees.
“On top of the wardrobe!” Adele cried.
Melville climbed onto the bedframe, then rained white undergarments down upon them in a small flurry, before peering into the suitcase. His head shifted as if he was reading the dynamite. Then he reached out and delicately plucked a wire. Then a second.
Then he sagged against the wardrobe.
“It’s done?” Adele cried.
Melville wore a huge smile. He lifted a bunch of the dynamite sticks. A pocket watch was attached to the end, its cover removed. “Three minutes to spare.”
From outside, in the corridor, a male voice said sharply, “I tell you, it was a shot. Heard plenty of them in my day. Someone just fired a rifle inside the house.”
Melville’s smile faded. He looked at Daniel. “Bannister, yes?”
Daniel’s eyes widened.
Melville nodded as if Daniel had confirmed his identity. “Take Lady Adelaide back to her room, fast as you can, there’s a good chap. Let’s keep her out of this, hmm?”
Adele opened her mouth to protest at Melville’s high handling, but he shot her a glance that seemed to say more than he had actually spoken aloud. His gaze shifted to Daniel and back.
He wanted her to get Daniel out of the room.
Adele put a hand to her temple, and made it shake. “Oh dear, I really do think I need a drink. Daniel, that Scotch…”
“Damn good idea,” Daniel murmured. He unchocked the bedroom door by dragging the pillow away with his heel, then lead her out.
“I’ll get this sorted out,” Melville called from behind them.
“Check under the bed!” Adele called back.
ADELE POURED TWO GLASSES OF scotch, one of them far larger than the other. She pushed the full glass up against the back of Daniel’s hand, where he leaned heavily against the big worktable, his head down.
He gripped the glass.
“Drink,” she said softly and took a sip of her own.
For five minutes, she let the scotch touch her lips, while Daniel drank the full glass. While he drank, the castle awoke around them. Lamps were lit. People stirred. Alarmed voices called out to each other.
Eventually, two members of the Scottish Royal Regiment came into the kitchen. The officer nodded at Adele and Daniel, removing his cap. “May I have your names, please, sir? We’re to account for everyone.”
“Is the King safe?” Daniel asked.
“The King was our first priority. He is safe and well, sir.”
“Good,” Daniel said. He gave his name, and Adele’s.
The officer took note of their names in a small exercise book, nodding as he wrote. “You might be best heading for your rooms, sir,” he told Daniel. “This flap is likely to take the rest of the night.”
“And we’ll be in the way,” Daniel guessed.
“Something like that, sir.”
“Can you tell us what has happened, officer?” Adele asked, keeping her voice timid. “We’ve heard shouting, and someone said there had been rifle fire in the house…”
The officer shook his head. “We’re still sorting that out, m’lady. But it is perfectly safe inside the house, now. You can return to your room without fear.”
Adele didn’t bother correcting his impression that she was concerned for her safety. Instead, she turned to Daniel. “Do you mind if I retire? It has been quite the evening…”
Daniel poured another inch of scotch into his glass. “I’m going to drink this and turn in myself. Let’s talk in the morning, yes?” His gaze met hers.
Adele gave him a small smile. “I imagine Mr. Melville might want to speak to us both. I know I want to speak to him. Goodnight, Daniel.”
She made her way to her room on the next floor—the same floor as the King’s, but in the opposite corner. On the way she glimpsed people in dressing gowns and slippers, in clumps of two and three, heads together as they discussed the drama.
Adele did not pause to talk to anyone even though everyone looked up as she passed by, expecting her to stop and share what she knew with them. There was not a single nose in the air. No one turned their back on her.
Instead of stopping, Adele kept her gaze ahead, as if the corridors and corners she passed were quite empty, and continued to her room.
Her room was as she had left it, the lamp turned low, the bedclothes tossed back. Her slippers were beneath the bed where she had left them. She suspected she would sleep more soundly for what was left of the night than she had in many long weeks.
Instead of locking the door and heading straight over to the bed, Adele went over to the dressing table and opened her reticule.
“Mrs. Becket.”
Adele cocked the heavy gun, turned and aimed toward the space behind the door. “Frau Lorenz.”
The blonde woman stood where the opening door had hidden her. She held a gun of her own. Her eyes widened as she saw Adele’s pistol. “You knew I was here?”
“Bergamot and spices,” Adele said. “Guerlain’s Jicky, I believe.”
The woman grimaced. “You are much smarter than my first impression of you.”
“I’ve learned a great deal since I met you and your husband.”
“That was earlier tonight,” Evelyn Lorenz pointed out.
“It was. Why are you here?”
“You’re one of Melville’s people.”
“What makes you think that?”
“You spoke to absolutely everyone tonight. I watched you swanning around with that beau of yours. You were sizing us all up.”
“Is your husband part of this, Evelyn?”
“Siggy?” She laughed. “He won’t allow morning newspapers on the breakfast table because he thinks real news might disturb my constitution.” Her smile faded. “Even Peter didn’t understand. He said Melville would
work to place someone inside the palace as a last ditch effort to stop us, only when I said I thought it was you, he laughed at the very idea.”
Adele grimaced. “Everyone always overlooks you.”
“As they do you,” Evelyn replied.
“You didn’t.”
Evelyn hefted her gun. “Have I measured you properly, though? Maybe you only play at this. Perhaps you are the spoiled upper-class woman everyone thinks you are and the only dangerous implement you’ve ever handled is an embroidery needle.”
“I suppose that is entirely possible,” Adele replied, her heart thudding.
Evelyn considered her. “Men won’t tell you that it takes a different sort of courage to fire a weapon at someone. An unusual courage, one I don’t think you possess, or you would have used that gun the moment you knew I was in your room uninvited.”
Adele swallowed.
Evelyn smiled, her rouged lips thinning. “No, I didn’t think you did.”
Adele fired and threw herself to one side. Evelyn’s small caliber gun made a soft coughing sound, while Melville’s heavy pistol bellowed.
Evelyn cried out as she was thrown backward into the corner of the room. At the same time, the dressing table mirror shattered. Glass tinkled.
“What on earth was that?” someone said from the corridor.
Adele pushed herself to her feet and moved over to where Evelyn sprawled on the floor, a hand to her stomach. Blood oozed through her fingers.
“Evidently, I do have the requisite type of courage,” Adele told her.
Evelyn’s eyes were glazed with pain as she looked up at Adele. “We know about you, now.” Her voice was hoarse.
Adele shook her head. “Peter is dead, Evelyn. You are the only person who knows I work for Melville. If you survive that wound, you will be kept in a prison for a good long while. You won’t be telling your comrades anything.”
Heavy footsteps outside the door.
“Adele!” Daniel shouldered his way into the room.
Adele put up her hand to stop the door slamming into her. “It’s alright, Daniel. I’ve dealt with her.”
Daniel took in Evelyn’s slumped figure on the floor, as Melville and a regimental officer arrived, both breathless and both holding pistols.
The Requisite Courage Page 3