I press my lips together to keep from bursting into a very unladylike laugh, and pretend not to notice. “I cannot say, Mr. Sinclair. I learned the steps with the other girls, of course, but until now I have never actually danced the waltz with a gentleman in public.”
“Never?” A slow smile spreads across his wretchedly enticing lips. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Not until this moment do I realize Alexander has waltzed us around the perimeter of the room without so much as one single blunder or any other difficulty. He spins us in a surprisingly competent whirl. There can be only one conclusion: he’s not nearly as unpracticed in the art of dance as he pretended earlier.
I thump his shoulder. “You, Mr. Sinclair, are a charlatan.”
“A charlatan?” His steps falter ever so slightly. “I am a great many things, Lady Jane, but never that. I’m baffled. What can you mean?”
“That you know perfectly well how to dance. You have been pretending ignorance. To what end, I cannot presume to know.”
“Oh that.” He shrugs and performs another proficient whirl. “I’m a quick study.”
“Do not try to gammon me. No one learns the waltz this well in one short lesson.”
“Hmm. I suppose you have a point.” He does a reverse turn and now I have no doubt he has been pulling the not-so-innocent sheep’s wool over my eyes.
I say nothing. I’ve a mind to step on the rascal’s toes, except he’s wearing great big shoes and I have on these flimsy silk slippers.
“Come, my lady, there’s no point in brooding.” He tries to pull me closer, but I keep my distance.
“I’m not brooding. I never brood.”
He smirks as always. “You do realize this particular dance is extremely popular in France, don’t you?”
“Of course.” I sound cavalier, but I’m not. I see where he’s going and I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. Too easily, I envision Alexander holding some coquettish French girl in his arms the way he is holding me now. We dip into another turn and my stomach sinks low. So low, it feels as if I’m dragging the darned thing behind me along the ballroom floor.
He clears his throat to get my attention. “So naturally, I—”
“I do not want to hear about your exploits in France.” I intentionally look away from him as we go into the next turn.
“Exploits? You make it sound sordid.”
“It is,” I snap. Doesn’t he know he is supposed to be my fair-haired innocent American boy? I cannot bear the thought of his arms around anyone else. “I’ve heard all about those forward French girls.”
He laughs. “Why, Lady Jane. I do believe you’re jealous.”
“Never.” I lift my chin as if I’m giving him the cut direct.
“You are.”
I refuse to say anything. It is time for this infernal waltz to end. I try to snatch my hand out of his. He wraps his big fingers around mine trapping them.
Trapping me.
I level my sternest stare at the scoundrel. “Need I remind you, I have a dagger and I will not hesitate to use it?”
“I should think I know it better than anyone.” He does a quick turn which forces me to hold on to him. “Reckon you’ll stab me with that toothpick sooner or later, my lady. Before you do, let me explain. I was a lad of fourteen, when my uncle’s lady friends taught me to waltz. Ladies, I might add, who were old enough to be my mother.”
I stop trying to tug free.
The rogue ought to keep his tongue still now that I am mollified, but of course, he can’t leave well enough alone. “Mind you,” he says, “they were very pretty ladies.”
I flick his shoulder with my upper hand, the hand which had been free to escape all along.
Finally, he stops talking. I see by his smirk he is still laughing inwardly at my expense, but at least he’s quiet. We float around the ballroom in companionable silence. This is pleasant, almost heavenly, with his arm firmly around me, and our tongues not at war with one another. I confess I feel quite contented. Almost happy.
Almost.
Until he tears apart our peace. “I suppose you heard about the fellow from the Iron Crown prowling around the docks today?”
It is as if the music screeches to a halt. It didn’t, but it may as well have because my feet stop suddenly. “What!?” My arms jerk away from him.
“Forget I mentioned it.” He tries to scoop me back into his embrace. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Well, someone should’ve said something. Why wasn’t I told?” I grip his shoulder, my fingers trembling with both fear and anger, and fight my way back into the rhythm of the waltz.
“I suppose because they were afraid you’d react like this. It’s nothing to trouble yourself about.”
Nothing?
“It is not nothing. It is a very dangerous something. A life or death something. You must be careful, Alexander. It’s your life as well as others’ hanging in the balance.” I’m so shaken I accidently used his given name. I don’t care. He’s my Alexander, annoying or not, and I mean to keep him alive. “You must tell me exactly what happened, every last detail.”
He takes a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it. There’ve been so many messengers between the captain and Miss Stranje today, I thought you already knew.”
“Well, I didn’t. And now, you’re going to tell me.”
“All right, but only if you promise not to make more of it than it is.” His jaw flexes. It’s not like him to tense up. He’s normally so relaxed and carefree.
I nod my assent.
“Lord Wyatt noticed some fellow poking about the yards while we were working on the Mary Isabella. He wasn’t one of the regular men from the dock, so Captain Grey had him followed. Sure enough, after he left Woolwich he headed straight along the Thames, past the London Bridge, and then he turned north and went into the Drowning Sow tavern.”
My heart sinks a little, guessing what he will say next. “And?” I ask impatiently.
Alexander shrugs. “He went in and disappeared. Near as we can figure, he must’ve snuck out a back way.”
“You must be careful. Stay alert at all times.”
“Stop fretting. Trust me, I can take care of myself.”
Can you?
“I don’t fret.” That is a bold-faced lie. I wish I didn’t, but I do. Desperate to change the subject, I say, “Speaking of trust, why did you pretend you didn’t know how to waltz?”
“For this.” He caresses my back with his hand, holding me much closer than the regulation two feet. “For this, my lady.” He leans close to my ear and whispers. “And may I say, it was worth it.”
The music finishes, but he doesn’t release me for a moment. When he smiles at me the way he is doing now, I am helpless. Captivated. I would be quite content to gaze at him all night.
He bows because that is what one does at the end of a waltz. I take a quick breath and remember to curtsy. He offers his arm so that he might guide me back to the others. “Admit it, Lady Jane. You find me handsome and charming.”
His audacity is boundless.
“In our country, Mr. Sinclair, it is customary for the gentlemen to bestow compliments upon ladies, rather than the other way around.” I plaster on a smile because Miss Stranje and Captain Grey are standing beside the pianoforte clapping, and watching us closely.
“Exactly what I aimed to do. Give you a chance to show your good judgment, so I might compliment you on it.”
Nonplussed, my mouth falls open. I close it and shake my head. “Words fail me.”
“High praise indeed, my darling wolverine.”
Seventeen
MISLEADING ALICE
That night, as we prepare for bed, Alice carries a tray into our bedroom. Sera frowns at the three glasses of creamy liquid. “What is this? It doesn’t smell like milk.”
“No, miss. These here are warm brandies an’ cream. Miss Stranje sent me with ’em, sayin’ as how these’ll help you sleep, what wi’ this bei
ng your first night in London an’ all.”
We each take a tumbler from her tray. Before we left Stranje House, Madame Cho gave us a lesson on detecting poisons. In case the little traitor laced our drinks with a sleeping draught or something worse, I sniff the brandy and cream before taking a small sip. Not detecting any bitterness, I take a deeper swallow and the smooth mixture warms my throat. Maya and Sera watch me closely and follow my lead.
Alice helps us out of our gowns, while Maya, Sera, and I talk among ourselves as we normally would. Except tonight is different. Acting on orders from Miss Stranje, we make certain Alice overhears us discussing Lady Daneska. We speak low enough she ought to recognize it is a private conversation, but with enough volume she’s bound to hear a word or phrase here and there.
Georgie pretends to argue and raises her voice. “If you ask me Lady Daneska is here to kill Mr. Sinclair, or at the very least recapture him.”
Alice edges closer and takes an inordinately long time hanging my day gown in the nearest wardrobe.
Maya shakes her head. “Perhaps not. She is staying with the Prince Regent. Surely, he is her target.”
“She wouldn’t dare!” Georgie flings down her petticoat. “She would never take such a chance. Too many people watch over the Prince. If Lady Daneska tries to harm him, she’ll be caught in the act, and they’ll hang her for it. Or worse.” Georgie shudders quite convincingly.
“Oh, but she is that daring.” I don’t need to pretend the anger I feel. “Have you forgotten what she did to Madame Cho, and how she took Tess captive? Her recklessness is precisely what Miss Stranje is counting on. We’re one step ahead of her, and this time she’ll fall into our trap.” I slam my fist into my palm. “This time, she won’t get away with it.”
Alice is easier to read than a nursery rhyme. She gives off telling clues when she is eavesdropping. She stands there folding Maya’s long silk, but at the mention of Lady Daneska’s name, she pauses overlong and catches her bottom lip.
“You may go now, Alice.” Maya thanks her for folding her sari. “And you must make one of those wonderful brandy-and-cream concoctions for yourself. They are very soothing and it has been a very long day for you, too.” It sounds as if she is genuinely concerned for our traitorous maid. Knowing Maya, she probably is hoping the girl will change course.
Alice has never liked Maya. She refuses to look at her directly and her curtsy is only halfhearted. “Thank you, miss. I will.”
She won’t change. People don’t. My parents didn’t. My brothers won’t.
* * *
Late that night, we gather, the way the five of us normally do in the attic back home at Stranje House. Only tonight, Miss Stranje and Madame Cho stand with us in the bedroom Georgie and Tess share. The window provides enough light that we can forgo a candle.
Tess checks the door, making sure we’re alone, and makes her way to our circle. Sera scoots sideways. “Alice left the house, didn’t she?”
Tess squeezes in next to her and whispers, “Yes, I heard Phobos and Tromos yip. She must’ve sneaked out the back way, past them.”
Georgie pulls her dressing gown tighter. “It might’ve been anybody disturbing them, another servant, or a passerby.”
“No. Had to be Alice,” Tess says flatly. “If it was a stranger, or one of the other servants, Phobos would’ve raised a bigger alarm.”
“It was her.” Sera turns to me with her earnest, you-believe-me-don’t-you expression. “I heard her sneaking down the stairs a few minutes ago.” Our servants are assigned bunks in the attic, because the Haversmythe staff requires all the rooms in the basement below stairs.
“How can you be sure?” Georgie shivers as if she’s chilled. “I’m surprised you can hear anything at all. Even at this hour of the night there are so many blasted carriages rattling through the street, I doubt I shall ever be able to sleep.”
“London is smelly and loud,” Madame Cho grumbles in agreement.
Sera shrugs. “There are noises, and then there are noises. I know what I heard. It was Alice sneaking out.”
Georgie turns her attention to our traitor. “Has Captain Grey assigned someone to follow Alice?”
After Miss Stranje nods, Georgie poses another question. “What do you think she’ll tell Lady Daneska’s men?”
Tess crosses her arms and answers for our headmistress. “She can only tell them what she knows, which isn’t much.” She turns to Miss Stranje frowning. “I thought you said we were keeping Alice on so we could mislead Daneska?” She flicks her hand at me, Maya, and Georgie. “Nothing they let her overhear will trick her. It was only the truth.”
“Isn’t that what I’ve always taught you to use? The truth.” Miss Stranje does not scold Tess for her irritable tone, but she does veil her features with a stern mask. “Alice will serve us in several ways. First, and most importantly, she may help us ferret out Ghost if her contact reports directly back to him. At the very least, we should discover where their London quarters are located. We already have an idea of their general direction.”
“Past London Bridge. They think it’s somewhere in Spitalfields.” I relate what Alexander told me about the man they followed.
“Yes,” Miss Stranje continues. “Secondly, Alice will tell Lady Daneska that we have guessed what she is up to, and that we are laying a trap to catch her. This should force Lady Daneska to proceed cautiously. It might even force her to delay her plans.”
“Or hasten her into action.” I sigh, wishing I needn’t make this observation, but it had to be said. Sera glances sideways at me and nods in agreement.
“You’re right, of course.” Miss Stranje presses her palms together. “That is the risk. However, I think because Lady Daneska’s schemes went so badly awry last time, this time she will act with more prudence, to avoid rushing into another failure.”
A low rumble in Tess’s throat turns all of our heads in her direction. “When has Daneska ever acted prudently?”
Madame Cho grunts—a short terse thing, that sounds like an uncomfortable blend of a chuckle and choking growl.
“We all know the answer to that.” Miss Stranje peers down her nose at Tess and Madame Cho. “But we also know something else—Lady Daneska always acts in her own self-interest, and this time her neck is in a noose if she fails.”
“I have a suggestion…” I divert them from the bottomless pit of analyzing Lady Daneska’s character. “Since we are to be guests at Carlton House, what if I were to slip into Lady Daneska’s bedroom while Maya distracts everyone with her musical performance? I could bring lock picks in my reticule. She’s bound to have some sort of correspondence, a letter, or perhaps a note from Ghost, sketches, or maps—something must be hidden in her room that will help us figure out exactly what she’s planning.”
Miss Stranje tilts her head and I am privy to one of her seldom-seen smiles of approval.
“Hmm.” She crosses her arms contemplating my suggestion. “Yes, it might work. But it’s a grave risk. You do understand, don’t you? You will have to work alone. If more than one of us disappears from among the guests, Lady Daneska will guess what we are doing, and you’ll be caught.”
“Yes.”
“And if you are caught. We cannot rush to your aid. You will be labeled a thief and we will have to distance ourselves from you. It grieves me to say, but you will be on your own.”
It’s a risk I must take.
Eighteen
CARLTON HOUSE
Everyone’s nerves teeter on edge as we prepare for the soirée at Carlton House.
Maya won’t stop meditating even though it is time to leave. Miss Stranje keeps popping into our room with last-minute instructions. Sera sits on the bed, staring blankly. A ring of tiny white rosebuds decorates her hair—a perfect complement to her blue silk gown and nearly transparent overdress. She wears an angelic ensemble, and yet she seems to be staring into a dark unseen chasm.
“Stop worrying, Sera. Everything will be all right. You’ll see
.” I finish hiding my lock picks inside the hollow quills of two ostrich feathers. “Come help me arrange these in my hair. I can’t very well ask Alice to do it.”
Miss Stranje ordered me to devise some way, other than my reticule, for transporting the lock picks into Carlton House. “You won’t want to be weighed down by your purse all night. And if the picks slip out of their pouch, the clinking might arouse suspicion. We don’t want people to think you’re absconding with the silver.”
“I have a bad feeling about all this.” Sera sighs, and rouses herself to come help me. “What if Alice told them something that tips Daneska to tonight’s plan?”
Last night, Captain Grey had Alice followed, and they saw her talking with an agent of the Iron Crown. Captain Grey’s men followed her contact past London Bridge north of the river. Unfortunately, the fellow entered a tavern and they lost sight of him, surmising that, like the other fellow, he exited through a rear door and vanished into the dark narrow streets of Spitalfields.
“Alice can’t have overheard our plans. She wasn’t here.” I sit in a chair and hand my disguised picks to Sera.
“I know. But no one can predict how Daneska will react to hearing we intend to trap her.” Sera studies the feathers. “That’s not the only problem with this dreadful evening. Think of it, Jane, there will be dozens and dozens of guests at the palace, and I won’t know anyone—”
“You know all of us.” I twist in the chair and smile up at her.
She isn’t convinced. “Hold still.”
“Tonight will turn out fine, you’ll see. Besides, Tess hasn’t had a bad dream about it.” I secretly cross my fingers, hoping that’s true. “It’s going to be a lovely evening. How often do we get to dine with the Prince?”
“I would be perfectly contented to never have that honor.” Sera secures the last feather in my hair and arranges the curls falling over my shoulder. “There. Your picks are tucked in and no one will guess what they are.”
I hug her. “It’s time for us to go down.”
Gently tugging Maya back to the real world, I hand her the flute case. “You will amaze everyone.”
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