Wicked

by Shannon Drake

  He interrupted her with a choked sound of laughter. “Imagine! And I had been about to believe your every word!” he exclaimed.

  She felt her anger rising, and also her color, for he had every right to laugh. She stood. “I’m afraid, Lord Stirling, that you are doing nothing but seeking revenge upon me as well as Tristan, and that there is nothing I can say or do that will stop you from pressing charges. I can tell you only that my work is very important to me, that Tristan is often foolish and misled but never evil, and that, if you’re going to press charges, you must just go ahead and do so. If I don’t appear at work soon, I will surely be fired. That may not matter, because I would never deny my association with Tristan, and once you file charges, word will get out and I will lose my job anyway.”

  “Oh, do sit down, Miss Montgomery,” he said, suddenly sounding weary. “I admit that as yet I’m still feeling a bit…wary, shall we say? Regarding you both. However, for the moment, I suggest that you take a chance. Play along with me. If you’re ready, we’ll get you into work right now, and I’ll see to it personally that you receive no reprimands for tardiness.”

  Stunned, she sat in silence.

  “Sit. Finish your tea.”

  She sat, a frown creasing her brow. “But—”

  “I haven’t been to the museum in quite a while. I wasn’t even aware of how the hierarchy in your department worked. I think a journey in will be quite appropriate for me at this time.” He rose. “If you’ll be so good as to be at the front door in five minutes…?”

  “But what about Tristan?”

  “He needs the day in bed.”

  “I have barely even seen him. I must get him home.”

  “Not today, Miss Montgomery. Shelby will have the carriage at the museum doors at closing time.”

  “But—?”

  “Yes, what haven’t I covered?”

  “I…must go home. And then, there’s Ralph.”

  “Ralph can tend to your guardian today. He won’t be leaving. I’ve seen to it that he has lodgings in the metal smith’s place in the courtyard.”

  “Really, Lord Stirling, you can’t just keep people prisoner.”

  “Actually, I can. I rather think they’ll be more comfortable here than in jail, don’t you?”

  “You are bribing me! Blackmailing me!” she choked. “You are toying with me, playing some kind of game!”

  “Yes, but you’re a smart young woman, and therefore, you should play this game my way.”

  He turned to leave, perfectly aware that she would do as he had suggested. Ajax might have decided that he liked her, but certainly no more than his master. The giant hound trotted out in Lord Stirling’s wake.

  When they were both gone, she jumped to her feet. “I will not be made a pawn!” she swore aloud. But then she sank back into the chair again, staring across the expanse of the long hall. Yes, she would be made a pawn. She really had no choice at this minute.

  She finished her tea, angry. And when she was done, she made her way from the wing to the great stairway. The Earl of Carlyle was waiting for her at the bottom.

  She stopped before him, chin raised, shoulders squared. “There must be some agreement between us, Lord Stirling.”

  “Oh?”

  “You must promise not to prosecute.”

  “Because I’m bringing you into London, to work?” he inquired.

  “You are using me somehow, sir.”

  “Then let’s just see how useful you prove to be, shall we?”

  He opened the door. “You are buying a great deal of time, and since you arrived out here of your own accord last evening, I think it’s rather chivalrous of me to see to it that you maintain your employment.”

  Her lashes fell and she walked past him.

  The carriage, with the man, Shelby, driving, was waiting for them at the door. She was so angry that she jerked her arm away when the beast of the castle would have helped her in. She nearly careened off the step, but, thank God, saved herself. She somewhat crashed into the forward seat of the carriage, but that didn’t matter since she was able to rectify her position before he joined her, sitting on the opposite side. He carried a silver-knobbed walking stick, and he tapped it against the top of the carriage.

  As they started out, she fixed her eyes on the view.

  “What is going on in that devious little mind, Miss Montgomery?” he inquired.

  She turned to him. “I was thinking, My Lord, that you need a new gardener.”

  He laughed, the sound oddly pleasant. “Ah, but I like my deep, dark woods and the tangle of vines within them!”

  She didn’t reply, but once again stared out the window.

  “You don’t approve?”

  She looked at him. “I’m sorry for what you’ve suffered,” she said. “But I’m equally sorry that a man of your position should hide himself away because of that suffering when you could be doing so very much for so many people.”

  “I am not at fault for the ills of the world.”

  “The world is better when the life of one man, or one woman, is improved, sir.”

  He lowered his head slightly. For a moment, she couldn’t even see the sardonic curl of his lips or the intense blue of his eyes.

  “What would you have me do?”

  “There are dozens of things you could do!” she informed him. “With this property.”

  “Shall I cut it into tiny lots and divvy it out?” he asked.

  She shook her head impatiently. “No, but…you could bring the children from orphanages out here, let them have just a day with a lovely picnic! You could hire many more people, have beautiful grounds, give employment to some who desperately need it. Not that it will change all the ills in society, but—”

  She broke off as he leaned forward. “How do you know, Miss Montgomery, that I don’t contribute to the welfare of others?”

  He was very close to her. She didn’t think she had ever seen anything quite so intense, so silencing, so commanding and condemning as his eyes. She found that she wasn’t even breathing.

  “I don’t,” she managed to say at last.

  He sat back.

  “But!” she said. “I know what I have heard about you. And you are one of the most powerful men in our kingdom. I’ve heard that the Queen and your parents were devoted friends. I’ve heard that you are one of the—”

  “One of the what?”

  She looked out the window again, afraid that she was being quite crass. But then again, she was the daughter of an East End prostitute.

  “That you are one of the richest men in the country. And since you were so blessed at birth, you should be thankful. Other men have lost their families, and they cannot all be bitter.”

  “Really?”

  She had angered him.

  “Tell me, Miss Montgomery, should murderers go free?”

  “Of course not! But if I understand correctly, your parents were killed by snakes! Egyptian cobras. Again, I am sorry, but there is no man to blame for that!”

  He didn’t answer then, choosing to look out the window instead. She realized then that, far more than the mask itself, he had managed to build an emotional wall around himself. He didn’t intend to speak with her anymore, she knew. And despite herself, she couldn’t force the point.

  She, too, gazed out the window until they came into the bustle and jog of London and then to the museum itself. He didn’t allow her to refuse his help when stepping out of the carriage, and neither did he release her elbow as they headed for the building. Before the door, however, he suddenly came to a halt, turning her to face him.

  “Believe me, Miss Montgomery, there is a murderer who brought about the death of my parents. I believe that the killer is someone we both know, perhaps even someone you see nearly every day.”

  A chill enwrapped her heart. She didn’t believe his words, but she believed the fever in his eyes.

  “Come along,” he said then, walking once again. Almost casually he added, “Whatev
er I say or do, you will go along with, Miss Montgomery.”

  “Lord Stirling, perhaps I can’t—”

  “But you will!” he said firmly, and she fell silent, for they had reached the great doors to her place of employment.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  LORD STIRLING knew his way.

  Employees and visitors alike seemed to know him or of him, for many greeted him—all trying not to stare at the mask—with respect and a bit of awe. Perhaps it was his size, his height and the breadth of his shoulders, the casual and handsome way he wore his clothing. Or the way he carried himself. Or the mere fact of who he was.

  “I work in a back room on the—”

  “Second floor, of course,” he murmured.

  They came to the section, and he immediately headed her toward the door that led to the rooms that were not open to the public. She pulled free then, nervously hurrying before him. Inside the first office, they came first upon Sir John Matthews, who was seated behind the entry desk, papers piled in disarray before him.

  “There you are, at last! My dear Miss Montgomery! You know my opinion of those who cannot manage to arrive in a timely manner. I—” He broke off, seeing the Earl of Carlyle coming behind her. “Lord Stirling!” he exclaimed, astonished.

  “John, my good fellow. How are you doing?”

  “I…I…quite well!” Sir John said, still appearing somewhat in shock. “Brian, I’m stunned, pleased, delighted! Does your appearance here mean that you’ll be…”

  Brian Stirling laughed pleasantly. “Contributing to the Egyptology department again?” he queried.

  Sir John flushed a rose hue, bright against his white whiskers and hair. “Dear me, that’s not what I meant at all, really. You’re family…you…well, all were so learned in the field. To have your enthusiasm involved here again would be quite fantastic!”

  Camille could see Lord Stirling’s lips curl and pleasantly so. She wondered if he might have felt a modicum of affection for Sir John at some time in his life.

  “That’s kind of you, John. Actually, I was considering attending your fund-raiser this weekend.”

  “Good God!” Sir John exclaimed. “Really?”

  He looked from Camille to Lord Stirling, then back again, completely baffled. He shook his head, as if trying to clear it, as if their appearance together should perhaps make sense, but certainly didn’t in any way.

  Stirling stared at Camille. “You will be attending—correct, Miss Montgomery?”

  “Oh, no!” she said quickly. She felt a flush rise to her own cheeks. “I’m not a senior member of the staff,” she murmured.

  “Miss Montgomery has not been with us long,” Sir John murmured.

  “Ah, but of course you will attend, Miss Montgomery, as my escort back into a world where I might feel quite lost were you not with me.”

  He wasn’t making a request. And simply because of his tone, she longed to refuse. But she was being bribed or blackmailed, whichever word fit the situation better.

  Sir John stood staring at her, eyes narrowed, still at a loss as to how she had come to be in the company of such a man as the earl.

  “Camille, if the Earl of Carlyle would be more comfortable attending in your company, you will be here.”

  Stirling walked across the few steps that brought him before Camille, reaching for her hands, taking them into his own. “John!” he said, looking at Camille even as he addressed the man. “Please! You mustn’t make it sound as if you’re threatening the lass!”

  Those sharp blue eyes of his focused on her with some humor. There was no need at all for Sir John to threaten her. She already knew that she was being threatened. Yet, along with whatever other skills he had acquired through the years, he was an excellent actor, for it appeared that he was being pleasant, as courteous and correct as his breeding should merit.

  She tried to pull her hands away casually, but his grip was firm. She forced a smile. “How very kind of you, Lord Stirling. I’m afraid I should be a rather humble choice for such an evening.”

  “Nonsense. We are living in the age of enlightenment. What better choice for an evening’s companion than a young woman who is not just beautiful, but intelligent and so very well versed on the subject of the evening’s passion.”

  “Camille!” Sir John murmured, prodding her.

  Stirling’s smile was a bit grim, and definitely amused. She longed to jerk hard on her hands. In fact, she longed to tell him that she’d rather spend the evening in an opium den with hoods and thieves.

  “It’s not…the mask, is it?” he queried.

  Oh, what a tone! The man was playing upon pathos now! “No,” she said sweetly. “This is the age of enlightenment, My Lord, as you have said. No man, or woman, should ever be judged by appearance.”

  “Bravo!” Sir John complimented.

  Apparently her tormenter decided that he wasn’t going to wait for her actual agreement. “Then, indeed, yes, John, I will attend the upcoming fund-raiser. And you may be assured that both my interest and my income are returned full score to the pursuit of our educational ideals. Well, you’ve work to do, and I caused Miss Montgomery’s tardiness. And now, I fear, I am taking more time. John, it is, indeed, a pleasure to see you so well—a bit disarrayed as ever in your studies and intents, but looking hale and hearty. Miss Montgomery, Shelby will be here with the carriage to attend to you at…six, is it?”

  “It’s usually at least six-thirty,” she murmured, aware that Sir John was now staring at them both, gaping.

  Stirling decided to let him out of his curiosity, a feeling so strong it was surely about to tear Sir John into pieces. “This dear young woman’s guardian had quite an accident on the highway last night—imagine, if you will, right at my property. Naturally, he is my guest. And quite naturally, Miss Montgomery came in haste and fear to tend to him. To my great delight, Castle Carlyle is hosting guests once again. So good day, then, to you both.”

  “G-good day, Brian!” Sir John stuttered, still staring at Stirling as he turned about, exiting casually, yet with the natural dignity of a man born to position.

  He was gone for several moments before Sir John—who stared blankly after him long after he disappeared from sight—turned to Camille, amazed.

  “Good God!” he said.

  She could offer only a grimace and a shrug.

  “This is quite amazing!”

  “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know,” she murmured. “I…merely went out to tend to my guardian.”

  “An accident?” Sir John said, frowning. “He’s going to be all right?”

  Sir John was a decent fellow. He seemed disturbed to realize that events had made him completely forget to ask after the welfare of a fellow human being.

  “Yes, yes, thank you. We believe he has suffered some bruises, but nothing serious.”

  “These hansom and carriage drivers!” Sir John said with a sniff. “They can be so careless and reckless. Then again, it doesn’t take much to set a fellow up driving!” He seemed quite disgusted that there was no training necessary for drivers, despite the fact that many a rich man, and probably several of his peers, had invested in such cabs, heedless of who might be driving.

  She smiled, refraining from informing him that the “accident” had not involved a cab or, indeed, a conveyance of any kind.

  He still stared at her troubled. “Quite remarkable,” he said.

  “Well,” she murmured, lowering her eyes. “If you’re pleased, then…”

  “Pleased!” Sir John exclaimed. “My dear girl, Lord Stirling’s parents were such patrons of this museum, you cannot imagine. And more! They were deeply devoted to the people of Egypt, anxious that, with foreign powers lending aid, the people should not suffer. And the work they did!” He studied her a moment longer, then seemed to make a decision. “Come with me, Camille dear, and I’ll show you a bit of their legacy.”

  She was startled. So far, her work had entailed exactly what they chose to hand her—usually the most
tedious work—and nothing more. But now Sir John intended to take her into the vaults, the storage facilities of the museum.

  She was fascinated to realize that she had her threatening host to thank for this possibility. She hated feeling that she owed him any thanks whatsoever, but she wasn’t about to miss this opportunity.

  “Thank you, Sir John,” she said.

  He acquired a set of keys from his desk and brought her out of the offices, down stairs and through hallways, and then down once again. Here, the corridors were dark and the rooms were filled with wooden crates, some items unpacked, some in stages of being opened. They passed by a number of boxes that had come from Turkey and Greece and onward, until they reached a section shrouded in shadow. Some of the crates here were open. Smaller crates had been removed, and there was a row of sarcophagi still nestled in larger coffinlike boxes, cradled by their packing material.

  “Here!” Sir John said, sweeping his arms to indicate the array of treasures.

  Camille looked around slowly. There were definitely many riches here.

  “Only half, of course. Many of the artifacts went to the castle,” Sir John said. A scowl furrowed his brow. “Then there were several boxes that simply went missing.”

  “Perhaps they’re at the castle, as well.”

  “I don’t think so,” Sir John murmured. “But, of course, transporting these goods…ah, who knows! Still, Lord and Lady Stirling were always tremendously detailed about their work. Everything written down…” He paused, looking abashed. “I believe the boxes did arrive. But no matter. Their last find was so rich, we’ve not managed to begin to study and catalogue what we’ve got.”

  “These were discovered by Lord Stirling’s parents just before they died, I assume,” Camille said.

  Sir John nodded. “The small pieces and reliefs you are translating are from the same find,” he explained. “A glorious, glorious find.” He shook his head sadly. “Such a marvelous couple! Very aware of their responsibility to the Queen, but both devoted to study! It was quite amazing that Lord Stirling found a woman such as he did. Ah, Lady Stirling! I remember her well. No woman could so gracefully and kindly greet a room of friends, old or new. She was a stunning woman, simply beautiful. And yet, she could crawl into the dirt, work with a shovel or a brush, study texts, seek the answers to mysteries…” His voice faded. “Such a loss…”