Maddening Minx

by Pearl Darling

  Melinno. Lord Granwich had known all along who she worked for. Celine schooled her expression and touched a finger to the bull elephant in the music box. “Melinno was interested in the note because it seemed that your men were not looking for it.” She paused as Lord Granwich glanced away in Edward’s direction. She began again as he looked back at her. “But my superior found the information herself and deemed it to not be of interest. It was Edward that thought we should tell you.”

  She lifted her hand away from the elephant and reluctantly closed the lid to the music box. What Edward had in fact said was that every son should know they had a father that cared.

  Celine glanced back at the portrait on the wall. Daughters and sons is what Edward should have said.

  CHAPTER 6

  Edward drew his collar up as the door to the narrow house slammed behind them. It was a relief to escape the warm confines of the enclosed room. “Why do people do that?”

  “Do what?” Celine’s face was half buried in the fur coat that swathed her from head to foot. The cold wind blew through Edward’s scratchy clothes as a winter chill chafed at his skin.

  “Create such strange living spaces.” He rubbed his nose with a handkerchief and wished that he could go back to his own house in Islington where he knew Alasdair would be waiting with at the very least a hot water bottle.

  Celine turned to face him, her hair ruffled through the fur of the coat like a river of black ice through bare pines. Her blue eyes stared intensely at him. “Everybody needs somewhere to hide.”

  Edward shrugged his shoulders and opened the door to the Melinno carriage which drew up in front of them. What did she know? Why did she continue to follow him? He looked upwards into the watchful gaze of Gunvald who slapped his whip slowly against the top of the carriage.

  “After you,” Edward said shortly before following Celine into the coach. It pulled away from the curb almost immediately. But Celine hadn’t finished talking.

  “Some people choose rooms and mementoes.”

  Edward’s hand slid into his coat and clasped gently around his pocket watch before he met Celine’s gaze and withdrew his hand as if it were burned.

  “Others run away and hide from themselves.”

  Edward stared uncomfortably out of the window as the wall in his mind loomed larger than ever on his consciousness.

  “And still others bury themselves in work, or drink, or some other pleasure just to forget.”

  Edward looked back into the coach, but Celine was no longer watching him. Her hand was on the glass of her coach window, bracing herself as she stared out. “We are being followed,” she said quietly.

  “Can’t you do something then?” He couldn’t stop himself. Her words had cut him to the quick.

  Her white face turned towards him. “What do you suggest?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps fire a gun at them or perhaps vanish in a puff of smoke?” Edward didn’t realize how tired he was. Tired of the traveling, the unknown situations, the effort of being with Celine, but not really being with her. His voice emerged sarcastic and as caustic as carbolic soap.

  “I didn’t bring any guns with us.” A redness appeared across Celine’s white cheekbones. “It was an oversight.”

  “An oversight!”

  “But we can disappear. Roland finished working on this coach last night.”

  Edward gazed in astonishment as Celine pushed at the rug below their feet with a toe of her boot. Once she had lifted a corner she pulled up the foul smelling material to reveal a trapdoor.

  “This is rather unusual.” Edward shuffled over on his seat.

  “You were the one to suggest we disappear.” Celine looked up at him with a wolfish smile.

  “Yes but I was being sarcastic because I—”

  There was no use in talking. Celine had reached over to the wall of the coach and given the wood around the window three short raps. The coach rolled to a halt as Celine hauled up the trapdoor.

  “Follow me.”

  It was like déjà vu all over again. Except this time, with the effort on continuing to maintain Mr. Fiske, Lord Rochester did not come to Edward’s aid. With flailing elbows and a sore thumb he slid down through the trapdoor and followed the rapidly disappearing tail of Celine’s fur coat up onto the pavement beyond.

  He had just got his feet up onto the pavement before the large coach wheels rolled on brushing against his breeches. A small hand found his and pulled him through a doorway and into a shop.

  “Can I help you?” the shopkeeper asked, bustling out from the back.

  “They’re coming to the shop.” Celine’s whisper stopped him cold. He turned as she ducked down behind a display at the front of the shop. Edward backed away from the door, knocking over an intricate display of tinned food that appeared as if from nowhere.

  “Here, what are you doing? I’ll have no trouble in here!” The shopkeeper shouted indignantly. Edward scrabbled at the tins at his feet, bumping into yet another display. He groaned as a large banner tipped over.

  “You hooligan!” The shopkeeper picked up a vase of flowers that had sat beneath the sign and dashed the contents of the vase over Edward. “Never in my life—”

  Edward gasped as the water ran down his neck. The doorbell jangled as the door opened.

  Lord Henry Anglethorpe stared at him, whilst Lord Freddie Lassiter slapped a hand against his leg and laughed and laughed and laughed.

  “I told you you were insane,” Freddie cackled gleefully. “At Lady Colchester’s wedding and you looked like you wouldn’t believe me!” Freddie knelt on the floor and lent his head against the side of the wooden commode. “Please stop the water. The dripping from his breeches, I can’t take it. He looks like a drowned rat!”

  “Shut up, Freddie.” Celine rose from behind the commodes. The fur on her coat stood on end, whilst her expression was furious.

  Edward swallowed. Oh gods. What a mess.

  Freddie howled even louder. “And Celine is here with you!”

  Celine looked away from Edward. A dull red had flooded her complexion. “Henry.”

  Henry cocked his head on one side. “Celine.”

  Edward didn’t like it. He didn’t like the way Henry said Celine’s name, as if there were secrets that they shared. That they had perhaps shared in a place where one might find a musical jewelry box. A place that he had never been.

  And the fact that Edward was caught in front of that same man with water fountaining behind his head.

  “Has Freddie been to the Pink Canary Club again?” Celine’s voice was sharp.

  Henry blinked. “No.”

  “Then he’s back on the laudanum. You need to get him under control.”

  “I am not back on the laudanum. Henry will vouch for that.” Freddie stood up, dusting at his knees before grasping his cane again.

  Henry nodded. “He’s not on the laudanum.” He smiled suddenly. “Even I think you look pretty outré, Edward. Especially one such as yourself. You’ve got a couple of hairs out of place.”

  “Thank you, Henry.” Edward smoothed down his hair with quick fingers.

  “I think you should come with us, Edward.” Henry beckoned to him. “I don’t know how you became mixed up with the Melinno Society but they are not to be trusted.”

  Celine’s huff was barely audible.

  Edward walked forward, conscious of the water that dripped from him with every step. “You know about Celine?”

  Celine shook her head wildly. “No!” she mouthed behind the gentlemen’s heads.

  “Celine?” Henry’s voice was slow.

  “That she and I are together again.” By god. He hadn’t even thought before he said it. He glanced across at her and she gazed at him, her red, inviting lips parted in obvious astonishment.

  “That’s jolly good news,” Freddie said blithely. “Can’t keep a good man down eh?”

  Edward could feel the blush starting somewh
ere at the tips of his ears and spreading through his jaw. Suddenly the water that soaked his clothes didn’t feel so cold after all.

  CHAPTER 7

  Celine rose from behind the front window exhibits and trailed after the gentlemen. Edward’s breeches dripped as he moved, and yet his legs swung with an animalistic grace she had never seen from the normally stiff and unbending man.

  He turned at the shop door. “I think you had better go home.”

  Celine looked up into his eyes. They were shuttered again. She glanced away and caught Freddie’s gaze. The usual jovial expression had gone, and in its place an air of speculation had settled. She glared at him and looked back at Edward and smiled sweetly.

  “Oh no. We are together again, darling, I wouldn’t want to lose you again now.” Not whilst Mr. Khaffar was probably looking for them.

  “She can come too, Edward. I think both of you have some explaining to do.” Henry’s stare was fathomless.

  Not since she had sat in the Melinno school room learning the art of wielding a fan and felt the whack of the card and paper on her hand had Celine felt so chastised. She planted her feet firmly on the floor. “We have some explaining to do? We were just shopping for—” she looked behind her broken exhibits, “—household items, and strangely you managed to find us.”

  Freddie’s snigger went on for a very long time.

  Celine glanced at Edward again. It seemed in the time that she had been talking, he had stiffened, and his jacket had straightened, even though a pool of water dripped slowly from its hem.

  “Shall we go?” Freddie stepped out onto the pavement. “I’m sure Edward has some ledgers to attend to—bloody hell, what was that?” He hobbled swiftly across the pavement to a waiting coach as an object shot across the doorway.

  Henry pushed Edward through the door. “Quickly, into my carriage.”

  Pulling her coat around her, Celine followed the men. But before she could cross the door step a hail of arrows fell, thudding into the wooden surrounds of the window. With a gasp she drew back, taking shelter behind a commode. Helplessly she watched as Freddie gave her a shrug and pulled the coach door closed after Edward and Henry, before suddenly disappearing from sight. Edward appeared at the window in his place seemingly shouting at her, and struggling at the door, before he was pulled back and the coach set off.

  It seemed Mr. Khaffar had found them already and was keen to finish what he had started on the Rochester Estate three days before. Gods. Edward was still in danger.

  She looked wildly from side to side as the arrows continued to fall. “How on earth—”

  “How on earth indeed.” The shopkeeper’s short form appeared beside her, gazing wide-eyed at the long arrows in the wood of the door frame beyond the commode. “I thought this was the nineteenth century not the fifteenth. How are my customers going to come into the shop if there is a someone hailing arrows down on the doorway? This is worse than that man you came in with.”

  A single arrow twanged into the commode through the open door beside her as she moved back. With quick hands she reached out and pulled the bow tip from the polished wood. Mr. Khaffar really wouldn’t give up that easily. She examined the arrow, the tip had been hand whittled and an ostrich feather cut into the end of the strip of wood.

  Celine sighed. There was nothing she could do until the bowman grew tired and left. And Edward probably would be safe with Henry and Freddie to guard him. Pushing the feather into her pocket, she gently put a hand out to the shopkeeper who blushed as she smiled. “Tell me, kind sir, do you have anything I could buy for a dinner party?”

  The portly shopkeeper nodded. “Why yes, we sell fresh flowers, sardines…”

  Oh dear. Celine pushed down the surge of frustration. She hoped the conversation wouldn’t last long before she could find out where the back entrance to his shop was.

  Half an hour later, Celine arrived breathlessly outside the Nag’s Head in Fitzrovia. The Melinno coach stood outside the pub, Gunvald perched on its roof, a pint glass in his hand. It was the only pub in the area that sold Cheesey Blackfoot, the beer that Gunvald loved, and it had been a sure bet to find him there. He said it made him feel very British.

  He raised his glass to her as she approached, as did several of the men that sat drinking outside on benches despite the cold. Celine nodded once. She wasn’t sure what she thought about Gunvald going behind her back to steal from Mr. Khaffar. Before she would have called him out on it straight away, but lately he had seemed withdrawn. And Pithadora had given her all the reasons. Celine had been, was even, too focused on Edward. She knew it in her heart to be true.

  “Woah, I’d like a piece of that.”

  “Mama! Where have you been all my life?”

  Celine stopped on the pavement and opened the coach door. Before putting a foot on the step to climb in she turned and glared. But it only inflamed the men further.

  “What a hot piece!”

  “Five to one, Jack, she’d give me a roll in the hay.”

  The sound of a glass smashing cut short the ribaldry.

  “I dare you to repeat that.” Gunvald leapt down from the coach, landing cat-footed upon the pavement. “That is my lady you are talking about.”

  “Oh. Err. Didn’t know she was your lady. Sorry.”

  Celine looked down at the pavement. She was also Gunvald’s lady now? Oh dear. What a mess. Was that the reason why he had been so withdrawn? At any other time she would have been flattered to have been the handsome man’s lady. But she had fallen rather headlong for yet another man in a very short time. Why oh why couldn’t it have been for Gunvald who had always been there for her?

  She took a deep breath and tapped tentatively on the side of the coach to attract Gunvald’s attention. “I’d like to go to Mount Street please.”

  Gunvald leant on one of the large wheels of the coach and folded his arms. “To see him again.”

  Celine nodded. “To see both of them to be precise. Henry and Edward. Henry has him you see.”

  Gunvald frowned. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

  Gunvald had driven her away from the ball where she had finally realized that Henry did not love her. And where she had met the formidable woman that he would make his wife. She took a deep breath. “Gunvald. I’m not your lady.”

  He stared at her and reddened slightly. “It was a figure of speech. I’m your coachman remember.”

  Celine blinked, and sunk her head further into the fur collar of her coat. “Of course.” She turned away and opening the carriage door further, briskly climbed inside.

  Gunvald hesitated for an instant and then slammed the door shut behind her with a bang.

  It was a short journey to Mount Street. A tall thin figure opened the coach door for her as soon as the carriage stopped.

  Celine stepped forward and stopped. “Roland?”

  Roland reached out a hand, his thick spectacles gleaming in the sunlight. “My lady.” He grinned. “First mission. Gunvald said I could come.”

  “Where were you—”

  “—at the Nag’s Head?” Roland’s head dropped. “Getting another pint for Gunvald. I just managed to jump back onto the carriage as Gunvald set the horses off. Didn’t drop a drip of the pint either.”

  Celine marched round to the front of the carriage where Gunvald sat staring forwards. “You let Roland come with us?” she shouted.

  “Shhh, Celine.” Gunvald rolled his eyes. “The boy needs a bit of exposure.”

  “Gunvald, Roland is not suited for life in the open.”

  “Roland will never be suited for life in the open if he isn’t allowed out.”

  “Hello? I am here. Gunvald! Celine?”

  Celine stopped. Roland’s quiet tones cooled the anger that she had felt. She closed her eyes and breathed softly before opening them again. “I am sorry, Roland. I am a bit distracted.” Of course she was. She was worried about going into Henry’s house and seeing Ed
ward to make sure he was all right. Gods, what a situation. And she was taking it out on Gunvald and Roland.

  “Should I knock on the door for you?” Roland grinned nervously.

  “Please.”

  Eagerly, Roland hurried up the steps. Before he could lift the knocker the door opened, and Edward pushed him out of the way, knocking him to the side. His hand pressed against his chest he leapt the enormous distance towards Celine from the last step.

  And stopped, cat-footed on the pavement, as if consulting an inner voice.

  Celine stared in astonishment as his head tipped back and then back down again, but with a wrench he stepped forward. She tried to form the words as his hands slid within her coat and grasped her firmly at the waist, as if it were something that he did every day of the week.

  “Edward?”

  “No, Celine.” He pulled her body against his hard chest, and as she tilted her head back to the side to ask him what he was doing, he swooped, covering her mouth with his in a searing kiss. She moaned as he deepened his touch, his hand tilting her face towards him. He tasted of blackberries and mint, a hint of the forest—

  Celine opened her eyes in disappointment as Edward drew away, but he wasn’t finished. She drew in a breath, heat coursing through her as he pressed hard, hot heavy kisses to her cheek before burying his nose in her hair.

  “Dammit to hell, Celine,” he breathed, pulling her body further against his chest, one hand coming up to rest against the back of her neck. “They wouldn’t let me come back for you.”

  She turned her head and stared into his eyes, for once so clear. Her heart beat faster than the hail of arrows, thundering in her ears. This was what real passion was. And Edward was teaching her… “Edward, I—” Her hands rose to the nape of his neck, please, just once—

  “Celine.” Henry’s voice was a dash of ice against her senses.