“Could you not sleep?” Catherine Strake, wrapped in a bed sheet, entered the parlor. “You should come back to bed.”
Ian shook his head. “I wished to review this one more time. I guess I am trying to anticipate the changes Prince Vlad will suggest.”
“Whatever they are, you should make none of them.”
“Why not?”
“You know he will be sending his own report to supplement yours.” She rested a hand on his forearm. “You know he will do you no favors. His report will stress all the things that you did not see. He will diminish your accomplishments.”
Ian smiled. “You need not begin that again, Catherine. I have decided to acquiesce and append a copy of the Gazette story about the expedition to my report.”
“Good.” She drew over a chair and sat, leaning forward to again hold his forearm. “You must learn to avoid the mistakes Owen made, lest you be trapped here as he is.”
How could I see Mystria as a prison with you here? “I have agreed with you, darling, but I cannot avoid the fact that I have little or no recollection of parts of the expedition.”
“But you have done yourself injury, Ian, by understating what you have seen, and your part in the expedition. You were sent west to find Postsylvania and bring the people back. You did this, at great risk to yourself. And in the process you discovered the Antediluvian ruins. Were you to have centered your report on them alone, you would have done well.”
“I know. I recall you telling me to write a book about it, and that my fortune would be assured.” Ian flipped pages back atop his copy of the report and squared the edges. “I know that this report is accurate, but it seems lacking, terribly lacking.”
“It is modestly presented, as befits the hero you are.”
He shook his head. “You say that because you believe it, Catherine, but I know the real reasons for the modesty. The primary one is that the men with whom I traveled impressed me. Awed me, even.”
She drew back, her eyes narrowing. “You do yourself a grave injustice with the implied comparison.”
“But it is accurate, because I know who I am.” Ian’s heart began to speed up as memories he’d wished to remain at rest began to rattle around in his mind. “These men, your husband included, took to incredible hardships with good nature that I could barely understand. I could not let them believe they were better suited to things than I, but were it not for Count von Metternin and their respect for him, I doubt we should have called a halt to marching save for nightfall. And the Gazette, it does not do the battle against the wolves justice. We survived not only by dint of courage, but because they had the foresight to choose our campsite carefully and to build a small breastwork to offer defense.”
“Beasts fighting beasts.”
“I disagree, my dear.” He rested a hand on hers. “I know you have no love for Woods or Kamiskwa, and Bone is of a class with them and Dunsby, but crude use of language cannot be mistaken for a dull mind. Though I found his words bordering on blasphemy, Nathaniel Woods proved very capable in addressing a logical argument. Back in Norisle, there’s more than one Oxford Don who would meet his better in Woods.”
“Still, Ian, you are a more courageous man. Benefiting from breeding and education, you understand more fully the risks you take. This makes your actions far more brave than theirs.”
Ian swallowed hard. “I trust you will continue to think that, Catherine, for there is something that I must reveal to you. Something of which I am not proud, for it reveals me to be a coward.”
She squeezed his forearm. “I shall never think poorly of you, dear Ian.”
He glanced down, unable to meet her gaze. I must tell her, I will tell her, but just not all of it yet. “Catherine, you know I was married. My wife killed herself. Many people put it down to her having been quite fragile of spirit, and reports of my death wounded her. My injuries, though I recovered from them, further frightened her. She feared losing me, and that fear consumed her life.”
Catherine nodded. “The gist of that story has been communicated to me, yes.”
“It’s not the truth.” Ian’s head came up. “You see, I had been cuckolded. Just as I now put the horns on Owen’s head, so another man had replaced me in my wife’s bed. Replaced me in her affections.”
“Who, Ian?”
“It is not important, darling. What you must understand is that when she heard I had been killed, her spirits soared because then she was free to be with her lover. But when I was not dead, and when I was elevated to the status of hero… for her to have left me, for any hint of the scandal to be revealed, would have destroyed her and perhaps even her lover. I gather that he spurned her from that point forward, and this is why she took her life.”
“Oh, Ian.” Catherine took his hand in hers and raised it to her lips. “It must have caused you terrible heartache, my dear.”
He nodded, his throat thickening to block any words.
“Who was it, Ian?”
He shook his head.
Catherine’s voice sharpened. “You must tell me, Ian. You are too good a man to see it, but whomever this is, he is your enemy. He will have to destroy you, so you must be careful, and I will help you there. Who was it?”
Ian exhaled slowly. “Duke Deathridge.”
Blood drained from her face.
Ian pulled her to him. “I knew I should not have told you, my love. I know you could not have thought evil of Owen’s uncle. Some men might have thought it fitting, my taking you to my bed because Richard Ventnor had taken my wife to his, but I am not vindictive. I love you, and that is the reason I cannot give you up.”
Catherine pulled back and caressed his cheek. “Oh, darling, you are a noble and brave man. Already he has tried to destroy you. He sent Owen here to win fame and riches for the family. You he sent on a much more difficult mission, hoping to destroy you. And now it makes sense, why you downplay your role. Instinctively you knew that to draw more attention to yourself would be to invite him to work more diligently to destroy you. I should have known. I should have seen. I should have protected you before this.”
“You have, my love.” Ian kissed her palm. “Deathridge would have had copies of the Gazette story sent to him. For me not to include it with my report would be suspect. He must not know that I know. This is the only way he shall think me harmless, and that orders shall be issued that bring me back to Norisle. When those orders come, I shall take you and Miranda with me.”
“Oh, darling.” Catherine kissed him softly on the lips. “Yes, I shall go with you, happily, proudly.”
Ian kissed her more firmly, his arms encircling her in a fierce embrace. He trapped her against his chest, and would have dragged her into his lap, but she pressed a hand to his breastbone and held him off. He loosened his arms. “What is it?”
She looked away. “I will go with you, Ian, but Miranda cannot come with us.”
“But she must.”
“No, not immediately.” She rose from her chair and drifted toward the room’s shadowed corner. “From the day of her birth Owen has made her a creature of this place, of Mystria. She would be completely out of place in Norisle. Do you know that on occasions when Woods brings his half-breed children to Temperance, Owen allows Miranda to play with them? Savages, Ian, unbathed, heathen, bastard savages who play at hunting. Miranda can read a track by the river better than she can read letters. Just last week, when the Prince’s man, Baker, had trapped several rabbits, Miranda was upset that I would not let her help him butcher them. Right now, at her age, she does not understand why this is wrong.”
“But, darling, time in Norisle will break her of these things.”
Catherine shook her head. “Oh, Ian, you are too noble a man to even imagine the other side of these things. Were she to come over now, she would be teased mercilessly. She would not understand why, and would cry herself to sleep every night. No, in three years, perhaps five, when she is old enough to reason, then we can send for her. We can prepare her
. Perhaps, by then,” Catherine turned and smiled at him, “she shall have brothers and sisters.”
That idea sent a jolt through Ian. He rose from his chair and went to her, embracing her from behind, pulling her back against him, kissing the back of her neck. “From the first moment I saw you, and again when I woke up and you were my healing angel, I thought, I dreamed, of you someday bearing a child of mine. You were so gentle with me, and are so gentle with your daughter, that I knew I could not want for a better mother for my children.”
“Oh, Ian, I shall bear your children, and proudly. Once in Norisle we shall find a prelate who will annul my marriage to Ian, then we shall wed.” She turned in his arms, the sheet falling from her, and hugged herself to him. “I already feel I am your wife, and dream of the day our love is sanctioned.”
“Nothing will make me happier, darling.”
She sighed and laid her head against his shoulder.
“What is it, dearest?”
“Ian, we shall know pain before we know joy.” Her hands came up over his back, hooking on to his shoulders, the nails biting in. “I would tell everyone that you are my lover, but we cannot. We will be able to meet here, from time to time—not as often as either of us would desire, but enough, perhaps.”
“I will never get enough of you, Catherine.”
“Or I of you, Ian. But until the time we can be together, there is something I must do. For your sake, to protect you.”
“What is it, darling?”
“Duke Deathridge is a powerful man. Owen is his nephew and his agent in Mystria. Were there to be any suspicion of our love, Deathridge would destroy you.” She looked up and kissed his throat. “For the sake of our safety, I will have to make it appear as if my marriage to Owen is as solid as granite. Luckily I am known to be in town when he is not, and vice versa. We will be able to see each other without arousing notice. But I do not want, my darling, for you to be hurt by my being with my husband. If you see my hand on Owen’s arm…”
I will imagine you in his bed.
“…know only than I am wishing most fervently that it was you beside me.”
Ian shivered. “You will share a bed with him?”
“Does that hurt you, darling?”
Ian swallowed hard. “The thought of it, more than I would have imagined.”
“Oh, Ian.” Catherine clung to him fiercely. “I shall share his bed, but my body will not be his. I promise you this.”
“And if he demands you perform your wifely duties with him?”
“Were I unable to resist, were he to force himself upon me, I should wish it was you and I would count it as a trial to endure to be with you forever.” She kissed his chest. “But I do not think Owen will press. And Miranda can always be encouraged to have a night fright and join us—and would anyway in the winter.”
Ian shivered. “How odd is it that I, the man who is stealing you away from your husband, begrudge him any time spent in your presence? Seeing you in Church beside him shall drive me mad.”
“I shall endure the same torture, darling, knowing that very soon thereafter, I shall enjoy the balm of your love.”
Ian held her tightly, his mind racing. He had once believed he was an honorable man. That was how he had been raised. He believed it fervently until the events at Rondeville had proven otherwise. He’d had a window opened into his soul, and he saw himself for who he really was. And since that time he had been very careful to keep that window closed, and to hide it away behind layers of curtains, shaped of lies and denials. Catherine saw that as humility.
Though he loved her dearly, and had convinced himself that this love had sparked when first they met, then roared alight as she cared for him, he could not deny that Owen’s relationship to his late wife’s lover had not played a part in his pursuit of Catherine Strake. Whenever it occurred to him that what he was doing was wrong, the concept of redress of the grievance Deathridge had done to him had convinced Ian his affair with Catherine was only fair.
And so you deceive yourself yet again, Ian. How long will you deceive this woman you love?
He kissed the crown of her head. There were things she needed to know about him, but not yet. They were not important, yet. When they were together, permanently together, then he could share his innermost secrets. To do it before the time was right would just drive her away. And then I would be nothing.
Ian smiled. “Go back to bed, my darling. I shall look at my report one more time, and then I shall join you. We will create wonderful memories to see us through the times we must be apart, and to inspire us when we can yet be together again. I love you, Catherine Strake. Do not doubt this and know, soon, very soon, you shall be mine for eternity.”
Chapter Forty-two
12 July 1767
Government House, Temperance
Temperance Bay, Mystria
Owen turned the last page of Colonel Rathfield’s report over, then squared the stack and, righting it, handed it back to Prince Vlad. The sun had set while Owen studied the report in the Prince’s office. He’d finished by lamplight and his spindly chair creaked as he sat back.
“Highness, I don’t really see anything in there to be overly concerned about. The idea of Antediluvian ruins might attract some attention, but he largely bypasses it. His focus might have some interest to people at Horse Guards, but this is mostly the account of a man’s hunting weekend in the country. He’ll be asked to repeat the story about the wolf attack, and be congratulated on bringing the people of Postsylvania back into the fold, but he says nothing about the events after our return to Happy Valley.”
“Yes, and the slaughter at Piety can be laid at the door of the Twilight People or Ryngian settlers—whichever is more convenient at the time.” Prince Vlad smiled and set a small stone on the report. “I liked the piece about his being conveyed ‘with all alacrity’ back to Temperance, without any mention of how he returned.”
Owen nodded. “I saw that. Do you not think that someone will wonder at that?”
The Prince stood and walked to a sideboard, where he poured whiskey into two glasses. “I considered that question, but I believe the statement ends up proving itself. The expedition has been described as conducting a thorough survey, suggesting you were not moving at great speed. On the contrary, his swift return was just that, swift. He certainly has no understanding of how long it took. Outside of my household, or the men who traveled out there, no one else does either. Because the people of Launston think of Mystria as a vast wilderness, they have no idea of the vast distances we travel here.”
“I’m not certain I’m clear on that point.”
Vlad smiled. “I believe Mugwump flew roughly two hundred and fifty miles each way. How he knew where to go, or why he started going, I don’t know. This still concerns me.
“I can understand that, Highness.” Owen accepted a glass from the Prince. “What are you going to report to Launston about Happy Valley?”
The Prince rolled his glass in his hands. “This is the greater problem, isn’t it? I’ve read everything you wrote concerning the Norghaest and the visions you had among the Altashee. If we treat their knowledge of how the Norghaest work as accurate, we need to be prepared to repel Norghaest scouts next year and destroy their colonies. If we fail to do that, we face a larger war five or ten years from now. The difficulty is, of course, that if I tell the tale as you have told it, it becomes me using a Shedashee legend to get the Crown to send soldiers and money to fight a war against nightmare creatures. While I am not at all certain I want more troops in Mystria, I am fairly certain that we might not be able to defeat the Norghaest without them.”
“But once troops have been sent, Highness, they’re not likely to be recalled.”
“No.” The Prince sipped his whiskey. “I could send back some demon bones, but Mugwump’s saliva did a very good job at demineralizing them. They’re as fragile as eggshells and likely would not be seen as proof of anything threatening. They’d start a debate about a
species of giant bats existing out here, and make Mystrians look silly for mistaking them for demons.”
Owen glanced down into his glass, then back up again. “Were you to travel to Norisle to press the case to the Queen herself, you would be believed, but questioning would reveal the fact that Mugwump can fly. Then we’d get lots of troops here, and all of them would be wurmriders, looking to have their wurms transformed into dragons. The Ryngians would bring theirs over, too, and we’d have dragons going to war over the heart of Mystria.”
“Exactly. If we invite Norillian troops in to save Mystria, we doom the colonies to warfare. If we don’t make the request, we could be overrun.” The Prince set his glass down on his desk. “Of course, I have one obvious choice open to me, and I shall have to avail myself of it. I’ll prepare a report about the Norghaest and request troops. For me to do anything less would be an abrogation of my responsibility, especially in light of the fact that I truly am uncertain if Mystrian militias can defeat the Norghaest.”
Owen frowned. “Are you certain Norillian regulars would be enough to contain them?”
The Prince shook his head. “No. This is why a second course, a very dangerous course, must be taken as well. I will have to rely upon you, Owen, as we discussed earlier.”
“Whatever you need, Highness.”
Weariness washed over the Prince’s face. “This will be an incredibly perilous game, Owen, and one we will lose at one point or another. I know that. Pressure from without, spies from within, somehow our effort will be revealed and there will be no controlling it. The fact is that the Norghaest, from what we saw, from what the Shedashee said, are masters of magick we do not know how to perform. It’s obvious that the Shedashee, likewise, are more skilled and powerful than we are. The Church suggests this is because of demonic influences—their way of dismissing that which they do not understand or do not wish to address except with extinction.”
Of Limited Loyalty: The Second Book of the Crown Colonies Page 33