“Please, dear Emilia,” he whispered, “do not amuse me. I nearly dropped you. And that would be tragic – I think that drop goes all the way to the dining area,” he added.
“Since I can't see past the roof beams, I don't know.”
He laughed again, this time more quietly. “Point taken. There.”
He deposited her onto her feet so lightly that she scarcely felt it. Then he moved so that he stood beside her, a solid support. He placed his arm around her as if they were waltzing together, to guide her. Together they surveyed the place.
The railing that was all that stood between them and three floors of inn building was a single plank on uprights. The drop below it was sheer and nothing blocked it – if Oscar had indeed dropped her, she would have slid all the way down.
“Thank you for supporting me.”
He smiled. She heard it, even though she didn't see it. “I would do anything to keep you safe – do you think I would let you slide under that railing and shatter like prize porcelain? You are, of course,” he added gently.
Emilia turned to him. Her eyes were soft. She could not see him clearly, but she could see his smile and blue eyes. “Thank you, dear,” she said softly.
“Don't mention it. Now, this is your room, I gather...”
“My room?”
“Yes. We're staying the night here. Perhaps more, perhaps less. We'll see tomorrow.”
“When it's light.”
“When that. Indeed.”
“Where will you sleep?”
“Upstairs in the hayloft,” he said mildly.
She gaped at him. “Upstairs in the hayloft? You're...” He was the son of a duke! He'd probably slept in silk sheets. He would actually go sleep in the hay?
He grinned and raised a shoulder and a brow. “I've done worse.”
“You have?”
“Mm. I was entrusted some strange tasks in my membership,” he added. “I shall talk of that tomorrow. Now, we must sleep.”
“I agree,” she whispered softly.
“Well, then,” he said.
“Well, then.”
He leaned forward and she leaned forward. They kissed. It was a gentle kiss, a touch of lips one on the other. Warm, close and tender.
“Goodnight.”
He slipped away up to the hayloft, leaving her staring after him. Her heart was filled with joy and wonder, her face with a grin. I think I am in love with this Oscar.
The fact that she knew so little about him, the fact that he was involved in a shadowy brotherhood of insurrectionists, as he said, who wanted to control England, the fact he was a danger...it meant nothing anymore.
Whoever he was, whatever he did or said or stood for, she was in love with him. She also had no idea how that would develop – all she knew was that it could never change. Love never dies.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
FINDING MORE FACTS
FINDING MORE FACTS
In the tiny parlor at the top of the house, Graham Everett, Lord Everett, sighed.
“Then you will know why I knew,” he continued.
“Knew what?” Evelyn asked quietly.
“Why I knew you meant him – Lord Sumpter, I mean. It's obvious. You are related to his family. You care for Lady Sumpter – yes, I do remember Lady Sumpter was Henry's sister, which makes you his cousin and a cousin to her. You want to know how he died. Simple.”
“Yes.”
“Well, it was an accident. That's all I know. Not how he died – that was a duel, like people say – but that he died was an accident. He didn't need to.”
“Why not?”
He sighed. “He picked a bad fight. He knew he did. He thought he couldn't win.”
“How do you know?”
“He told me.” He was crying now, Evelyn noticed, tears running down his face.
“What happened?”
“I was at home. Not here, in Yorkshire. My other home. Gully Place. Yes, romantic, isn't it?” he pulled a face. “It's named because of the gullies – we're on the rocky side of the Downs there, you see. Lovely cliffs. You'd like it. Anyhow – where was I?”
“Lord Sumpter's death,” she said blandly. She glanced at the clock. It was late – she had arrived, she guessed, shortly after seven of the clock. It was now eight. In four more hours, she would need to leave before Bronson was concerned. If Lord Everett was deliberately delaying or distracting, that was no good sign.
“Yes. I was at home in Yorkshire and he came to see me. I remember the day as if it was now – he ran upstairs to my quarters, wild-eyed. Said I had to help. He needed help.” He shook his head. The tears were flowing and he wiped them with a kerchief, sniffing loudly.
“He was worried about the duel, yes?”
“Terrified,” he nodded. “Like he thought he would die. For which I don't blame him.”
“He did not say who he faced?”
“No,” he shook his head, biting his lip. “I think he didn't know.”
Evelyn stared at him. “He didn't know?”
“No. Well, he knew who it was. But he didn't know his name, see. He said he was a well-known swordsman, excellent shooter. He knew all that, though, so he must've known.”
“Possibly.”
Lord Everett sniffed. “I remember sitting with him. Trying to rationalize things. He was my closest friend – how could I let him kill himself? – and so I told him, try and stop it. Was there no way to back out of it? He said no.” Lord Everett shook his head. “He said he had to do it. He was honor-bound. Said he couldn't refuse. I asked if I could help. He said no. He said it wouldn't be permitted.”
“Not permitted?” Evelyn stared. She was starting to put facts together. A man who everyone knew, but no one knew who he was. A set of rules. An affair involving honor.
Her heart almost stopped when she realized what that meant. She stood. She was so worried now.
“My lady?”
“Lord Everett?”
“What is the matter?”
“Do you know why he didn't know who it was? This is important. Please, tell me.”
He stared at her. “Very well,” he licked his lips. “I don't actually remember if he said aught about it.” He looked very nervous. Then he laughed. “I remember something, though.”
“Yes?” Evelyn was desperate. “What is that?” If her guess was right, then Emilia could die. She needed to know.
“I remember when Lucian was there. We were talking. I asked if I could help and he refused. I asked if anyone we knew could help, and he refused. Therefore, in desperation, I asked if he knew anything which meant he had an advantage. You know, the things you know about someone – their handedness, left or right – their strength, their injuries from the past – anything which helps in a fight, especially a sword fight. I remember him laughing, then.”
“Why did he laugh?”
“He said the man was short.” Graham Everett chuckled. “It was ridiculous how that made us both laugh, then. Two grown men, giggling like schoolboys. It was because we were so tense, of course. You know, before a battle, men often will laugh. About the silliest things, though.”
Evelyn nodded. “I know what worry does to human minds,” she agreed. She knew that because, right now, she was very worried indeed. Her heart thudded, she had to leave. She could not believe what he had told her, for it confirmed all her terror.
There was only one way for Lucian to have known everything about the man – his skill, his personality, his attributes – even his height, but not to know who he was or what he looked like. Or his name.
Because he was wearing a mask.
Like the man in the woods. Like all the men in the woods had been. Like Oscar.
She thanked Lord Everett and ran blindly to the door. She had to leave, now. Emilia was facing some terrible fate.
CHAPTER THIRTY
AN UNEXPECTED MOMENT
AN UNEXPECTED MOMENT
“You are an early riser, it seems?”
Oscar r
aised a brow at Emilia. She was standing in the hallway of the inn. It was early, and she had risen feeling tired and sore. She had not bothered to disrobe to sleep – had simply taken off bonnet, cloak and shoes, splashed water on her face and fallen asleep. That was why she had woken so stiff and aching, she guessed. As well as early.
“You slept well?” she asked archly, answering his question with one of her own.
He grinned, though it seemed forced. “Indeed. As well as you may imagine.” He paused. “Allow me to not recommend a loft full of hay as the best place to sleep – most in-conducive of the activity, I found it.”
She grinned. “Good.”
He stared at her. “Good? How so? Do you delight in torture of me?”
She laughed. “No. By no means. But if you have not slept, you will be tired, and weary...and then you will be too tired not to tell me all of the things you keep a secret.”
He blinked. “Intelligent. I like that.”
She blushed. “I'm glad my plan is wise.”
“I did not say I liked your plan.”
The blush deepened. “Well, sir, I think it is neither wise nor particularly advised to fill up the hallway of a busy inn. Nor to miss breaking our fast. Shall we?”
She gestured to the door on her right. It appeared to lead into the dining area. They could hear muttered conversation and the dull thud as if of pitchers placed on a table. They heard a laugh, too.
“Indeed, we shall.”
Together they walked in to the dining area.
Emilia froze. Oscar looked at her. They were of a height, so their gazes met exactly.
“What is it, dear lady?”
She cleared her throat. She looked around. The room was floored with bare flagstone, the rafters bare beam. The walls were rough plaster. All that would have been overlooked, had not the dining tables been rough board surfaces with no covers, the seats long wooden benches. The fare hard bread and tea so dark it looked like oil, and the customers farming hands and plowmen.
“Might we discuss the matter out of doors, Lord Oscar?”
He inclined his head gravely. “As you say, dear lady.”
Clinging to his arm, Emilia made herself walk from the room, though her legs had gone stiff with distaste.
She drew him through the front door and toward the stable. He looked into her eyes with a bewildered stare.
“What?”
“Oscar,” she hissed. “I cannot eat in there.”
“What?” he was still looking at her as if she was touched in the wits. “Why not?”
“Why not?” she whispered. “Oscar! Have you gone mad?”
“Why, no,” he shrugged. “At least, I don't think so. I would have noticed something like that.”
“It's filthy! And those people eat like...like farm animals!” she said the worst thing she could think of.
Oscar was laughing. He leaned against the side wall of the stable and his shoulders shook with laughter. He looked quite helpless with it.
“Oscar, stop it!” she warned. “I mean it. Really, I do. If you insist on eating in that cesspit, I will sit out here and wait. I'm not coming anywhere near it.”
“Emilia...” he said gently. “Won't you just...”
“No,” she said. She was staring into his blue eyes and in that moment she honestly felt she could draw back her arm and slap him. “I will not be persuaded. I have limits, even if you don't. I shan't bend my limits and you cannot persuade me to. I am who I am.”
Oscar sighed. “Emilia, my sweet. I would never, ever wish to alter you. Not in any way. You are perfect: haughty as a monarch and fussy as a pope, you might be, but perfect.”
Emilia glared at him. “And flattery will get you nowhere, either.”
Oscar smiled, though it was a wan smile. “Very well,” he sighed. “You win. But don't think I shall let you starve.”
“I am quite sure you are capable of such atrocities,” she said thinly. She stood with her back to him, looking out across the fields.
“Emilia...” he sighed. “I am sure you know you're being foolish. They are just farmers. They cannot harm you, you know. I'd be there to protect you.”
That did it. “You and your fine words of protection! Why do you think I'm scared? You are not my knight in shining armor, whatever you pretend to be! If you cared one whit for me then you would understand why I do not wish to go anywhere near the place.” She felt her temper snap. “I am tired. I haven't washed. I haven't slept. I am running for my life. I'm hungry, cold, miserable, confused, and sad. And you think I want to sit there and eat pigswill? You think the only reason I do not is because I'm scared? You're a fool, Oscar. And why should I trust you? You're also a stranger!”
Oscar stared at her. He blinked. He stared again. He tried to speak but no sound came out. He shrugged.
“Very well,” he said thinly. He turned his back.
“Oscar,” Emilia raised her hands to her face, covering her cheeks, which flamed red with contrition and regret. “I should never have said those things. You know I didn't mean...”
“I know you meant all of them,” he said in a quiet voice. “And I know they're true, which is why I think I should leave you alone.”
Emilia stepped back as he turned away again and then walked, slowly and resolutely to the front door of the inn, leaving her alone.
As she saw him go inside and wipe his feet, very carefully, on the mat and then turn toward the dining area, then vanish, she stiffened her back.
“Well,” she said in a small voice. “That is it, then.” She turned away and looked out over the fields, watching the wind blow across the grass. It was a cold, high wind, and it bent and raised the stalks like breath on soft hair. She felt like it blew through her, filling the emptiness left inside her.
“Oscar...” she breathed. She felt tears start then, running down her face, making it colder in the cold, rising wind. She shook her head. She was not going to cry. She hardly knew him! He was a stranger! She would not let him make her cry, not when the only reason she had cried for many months had been for Lucian.
“I have been very foolish,” she said in a small voice. “I should never have come with him.”
She had come because of danger. A danger he had warned her of. Why?
Why did he warn me? Why, now I think of it, did he know about it when I never told him about the intruder? And why did he think I was there to harm them? Unless...unless...
At that moment, Emilia felt someone grab her arm, hard, from behind.
She screamed and tried to break the grip, but whoever it was tightened it.
“Oscar?” she whispered. “Is that you?”
Whoever it was simply laughed. All the hair on her head stood on end. That laugh! She had heard it so many times now. It was etched within her.
She screamed again. Then something hit her very hard on the back of the head and everything went silent.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
A SUDDEN SHOCK
A SUDDEN SHOCK
Evelyn and Lord Everett took her carriage back to her house. After surprise on the part of Bronson, and quick introductions, they had conducted a search of the streets around St. James' park. With Evelyn and Bronson, Graham Everett and Jarvis and Hudson to help, there was almost no one – flower-sellers, boot-polishing boys, watchmen and newspaper-sellers – whom they did not question. However, no one had seen anyone of the description of Emilia and Oscar leave.
They had returned to Evelyn's mansion after midnight, exhausted and frantic. Graham Everett and his butler stayed the night with them.
Evelyn had woken before any of them – she had barely slept. She appeared in the breakfast room weary but alert at half-past seven the next morning, long golden hair loose, dressed in an old muslin gown with patterns of golden leaves. She sat, worried and drawn, sipping tea.
“My lady?”
She looked up, blue eyes still tired. “Lord Everett?”
He was in the doorway, dressed in gray jacket a
nd hose and looking much better than she had seen him look. Surprisingly, he was not tired.
“I apologize for the intrusion,” he said gently. “I did not think anyone awake.”
She gave a weary cough of laughter. “I'm not awake – I did not sleep.”
He grinned. “I am sorry to hear it, dear lady. I did. Most deeply – thank you for extending your hospitality to me.”
“It would have been most remiss of me to send you back after all your help,” Evelyn said warmly. “Since you are here, do sit down.”
“Thank you.” He smiled and drew out a seat opposite her.
“I think cook has prepared the usual,” Evelyn smiled. “There is kedgeree on the sideboard, and bread here in the basket, if you prefer a lighter meal. We have butter and jam, and eggs and ham and cheese.” She was glad for the company – speaking to someone else was a distraction from the worry that had plagued her all that night while Bronson slept. She was starting to like Lord Everett – he was a quick thinking sort.
Lord Everett blinked. “I shall have some kedgeree. I've not had that in years...”
Evelyn bit her lip, watching him try not to eat too fast – she suspected he had not had a decent meal in years and her heart, which had already softened considerably, melted a little more. She could not believe any ill of this man.
“Well,” he said, pausing for breath after a moment and looking up. “We should discuss plans for today. The rescue effort.”
Evelyn swallowed. “I know. I was trying to forget. I am so worried already.”
“Sorry, my lady,” he said, swallowing another mouthful of his breakfast. He had almost finished the kedgeree and had taken some bread from the basket to add to the meal. “I did not mean to cause distress.”
“No, Lord Everett. You did not distress me. I was already that. I simply do not know where to start looking.”
“I do,” he said. “At least, I have an idea.”
Evelyn stared at him. “How...how can you know?”
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