“It is.” Edmund followed Amaya into the house and up the stairs to the drawing room. “In truth, this is no ordinary assignment. What I will tell you now must be held in strictest confidence.”
Amaya sat near the window and removed her bonnet, smoothing its ribbons. “You frighten me.”
“Did we not establish you are not afraid of anything?” Edmund said with a smile. “I know you are circumspect, and besides, it is not as if your English is good enough to tell anyone the truth.”
Amaya mock-snarled at him. “It is good enough for me to tell all the English señoritas that you are not to be trusted.”
Edmund clutched his waistcoat over his heart as if she had stabbed him. “Perish the thought!”
Amaya laughed. “So, tell me this great secret.”
“It is not precisely a secret so much as a diplomatic fiction. Everyone knows the Earl of Enderleigh is a naval man, and while he is intelligent and quick-thinking, he is no diplomat. That role will be played by Sir William Kynaston, who is a diplomat, and one with many years’ experience. Lord and Lady Enderleigh are…it is not exaggerating to call them a veiled threat. The King of Spain and his government are a fractious lot, and their dubious military assistance in the late Peninsular campaigns has left England even less well-disposed toward them than before. But it is to our advantage to see peace in Spain, and to that end, we are sending this diplomatic party, with Sir William to negotiate treaties and Lord and Lady Enderleigh to remind Spain that England is the superior power.”
“I wonder at Lord Enderleigh being willing to permit his wife to overshadow him.”
Edmund laughed. “Lord Enderleigh is a highly-rated Extraordinary Mover, and from what I have observed, he is confident in his talent and not at all afraid of coming second to his wife. But that is why you must not speak of this to anyone. My assessment is from personal observation, not the overt statements of the government. As far as Spain is concerned, England is sending two of its most respected Extraordinaries as a mark of, well, their own respect.”
“Even if everyone there will be aware of the truth,” Amaya said archly. “Your assessment seems most subtle. Another thing you learned from your club?”
For a moment, Edmund’s gaze sharpened, and he seemed about to speak. Then a lazy smile spread across his features, and he laughed. “You must give me credit for some intelligence,” he drawled. “Even I must accumulate knowledge after spending enough time surrounded by those who swim in it. Perhaps I am the grit in an oyster that time will turn into a pearl.”
“Perhaps,” Amaya said, feeling obscurely disappointed. “Though I like the man you are now.”
“High praise indeed.” Edmund set his hat on a table near the door. “Shall I ring for tea? I am certain Mary and Charles will be here shortly.”
“I feel the need for refreshment, after speaking with those men.” Amaya rose and smoothed her skirts. “In truth, I am grateful for your assistance, Mr. Hanley.”
“I am happy to be of service, Miss Salazar,” Edmund said with a bow. “And, well, I am not certain how you will feel about this, but Spain is in a sense your homeland. Had you any ideas about locating your father’s family?”
His words struck her like a fist to her stomach. “I had not considered,” she said faintly. “Should I?”
“That is your decision.” Edmund, having rung the bell, settled himself on the sofa with his legs outstretched, but his serious expression belied the ease with which he sat. “If you care for my opinion, I would wish to know.”
Amaya sat opposite him, feeling as if her body were far away and she was manipulating it like a Mover might a puppet. “Mrs. Neville said my father was from Toledo. I do not know where that is.”
“I will find you a map.” Edmund leaned forward. “No fear, yes?”
She blinked, coming back to herself. “No fear.” There was no reason to fear. It was her family, every bit as much as the Nevilles were. But the idea of meeting a cadre of relatives, English or Spanish, disturbed her calm for the rest of the day.
Chapter 4
In which Amaya meets the most dangerous woman in England
Amaya recognized the tall, brooding house whose curb the hackney drew up to; it was two houses to the right of the Gates residence, which Amaya had visited frequently because Bess and Eleanora Gates were close friends and fellow Speakers. This house had drawn her attention before because it was darker than the other houses on Grosvenor Square, and its windows had never been lit at any of the times Amaya had passed it. Despite its dour façade, Amaya was drawn to it—or perhaps it was because of its façade, which reminded her of the stony Inca city she had called home for thirteen years. Its dark stone, its relatively plain construction, gave her a twinge of homesickness.
“The Earl and Countess cannot have lived here long,” she told Edmund.
“They have not. This is a temporary residence before the diplomatic party leaves for Spain.” Edmund climbed down from the hackney and offered Amaya his hand. “You are not apprehensive, are you?”
“Should I be?”
“Of course not.” Edmund lightly kicked the sole of his boot against the doorstep, though it did not appear dirty. “But some people are afraid of the Countess regardless.”
Amaya felt a twinge of sympathy for this unknown woman. No one had ever been afraid of Amaya’s talent, only of her martial prowess, and she felt it would be very hard to know others feared her for something she had not chosen. “I understand. It makes me grateful that so few of the Englishmen and women I meet know what it means that I am a jaguar warrior, because some of those who do fear me as well.”
“Which is another reason I believe you and Lady Enderleigh will suit.”
The door opened, and a footman showed them inside, accepting Edmund’s hat with a placid expression. The hall was larger than the Hanleys’, and brightly lit, which was such a contrast to its forbidding exterior Amaya gawked at the sparkling chandelier before gaining control of herself. The scent of roses filled the air, rising from an arrangement of pink and red blooms on a pedestal between two closed doors to Amaya’s left. Roses were not a flower that grew in her lost home, and Amaya had become very fond of their robust, sweet scent. It increased her desire to know the Countess; this was one more thing they had in common, assuming Lady Enderleigh had chosen the flowers.
Ahead, stairs rose out of sight, their glossy wood gleaming with the pale reflection of the light high above. The floorboards, a lighter brown than the stairs, also reflected the lights like tiny dim stars. Amaya could see no way to raise or lower the chandelier, and wondered how it was lit. Then she remembered a Scorcher would have no difficulty with something so simple.
She followed the footman, who walked toward the stairs, but turned left down a hallway before reaching them. Amaya admired the paintings hanging on the walls, which represented country houses of varying degrees of size and elegance. She liked English architecture for its regularity, though she was certain the Incas were more competent in how well they fitted irregular blocks with six or seven corners together. The English would never dream of such complexity; they turned their architectural efforts in other directions, such as glass windows and garden follies.
They passed an open doorway on the left side of the hall, through which Amaya saw a long table and many chairs lined up along both its sides. The table shone with polish and the light coming in from windows on the room’s far side. Opposite this doorway stood a closed door the footman now opened. “Lady Enderleigh,” he said, “Miss Salazar and Mr. Hanley.”
Though the weather was clement, this room was very warm due to a fire burning high in the fireplace. Two windows illuminated the comfortable sofas facing each other near the fire, as did a pair of lamps on cabinets near the door. A bookcase between the windows stood handy for a reader who might choose to sit beside it. The fire burned hot enough that its smell filled the room—not the smell of smoke or resin, but the clean hot scent of the flame. Amaya had rarely smelled a fire
so pure.
A woman seated on a sofa, her body angled toward the fireplace, rose awkwardly when they entered. “Mr. Hanley, welcome,” she said. “And Miss Salazar. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Amaya examined this woman whom Mary Hanley had called, upon hearing what Amaya proposed, the most dangerous woman in England. Lady Enderleigh looked no different from anyone else. She wore her chestnut hair plainly arranged, with no curls or bands, and her gown was of fine blue wool with short puffed sleeves, over which she wore a shawl that did not quite match the gown. Sharp grey eyes examined Amaya every bit as closely as Amaya regarded her, though Lady Enderleigh’s somewhat heavy eyebrows and strong chin gave her the unexpected look of a hawk stooping to prey.
“I apologize for the heat,” Lady Enderleigh said. “I fear I am frequently cold these days. Dr. Hays says it is a usual change, and there is nothing to be done.” She smiled. “It is at least something I am capable of managing for myself.”
“That is fortunate,” Amaya said. “The coldness, it is true many women with child feel it, or feel they are too warm, but it cannot be helped without hurting you.”
The heavy eyebrows rose. “Oh? Dr. Hays did not say—that is, I believed it simply impossible.” Lady Enderleigh touched her lips lightly. “I beg your pardon. Please, be seated.”
Amaya sat opposite the Countess with Edmund at her side. Lady Enderleigh appeared to be in her seventh month and was moving as heavily as should be expected of a woman in her condition. She pulled the shawl closer around her shoulders as she sat. “So what is it you would do to make me feel less chilled?” Lady Enderleigh asked.
Amaya perched on the edge of her seat and clasped her hands in her lap. “There is a difference between the body and the air,” she said. “You feel something is warm when it is hotter than you, and a thing feels cold when it is colder than you. It is in your head that you are cold now, though, not in your body. So it is that I can tell your head it is wrong. But that is danger. The head—it is that we know little of it, and small changes can make large problems.”
“I can imagine it.” Lady Enderleigh leaned back slightly and rested one hand on the sofa’s arm. “Mr. Hanley tells me you are experienced at assisting women giving birth.”
Amaya shot a quick glance at Edmund, wondering what else he had told Lady Enderleigh. “I have done it sometimes. With the Sapa Inca’s wives, three, and with Mrs. Charles Hanley this past month. It is for women only to attend the Sapa Inca’s wives, of course, and I am—was—the only Extraordinary Shaper among my people.”
“He told me that, as well.” Lady Enderleigh twitched the shawl closer. “Do you miss your people terribly? Your family?”
No one aside from the Hanleys had ever asked that question. Amaya’s throat closed unexpectedly, and she swallowed before answering. “I have no family there. My parents and brother and sister were all killed, and I am alone among the Incas.”
“I had heard that. But the Incas cared for you, made you one of them, so surely you left friends behind?” Lady Enderleigh’s cheeks became a delicate pink. “I apologize, that was presumptuous of me. It is simply that I have made a home for myself at sea, amongst people who are not my blood relations, and I wondered if perhaps you felt the same. I know I miss my friends already, and I have not been torn from them as you were.”
Amaya nodded. “They are all I know. Yupanqui and Quri, they are my…you do not have a word. We are together as warriors, live together, fight together. Inkasisa, she is the Sapa Inca’s sister but she is also a Scorcher—she is a friend from when I live with the Incas. And Kichka…” She had not spoken of Kichka to the Hanleys, not even to Bess. She would not see him again, and it was better she forget what tenderness had passed between them. “He is also a friend,” she finished.
“And you cannot return? I am afraid I know little of your situation, other than that your removal from Peru was rather abrupt and in a way that means the Incas are lost to you.”
Amaya nodded. “But I have friends here,” she said, feeling obscurely as if she should reassure the Countess. “And family. I learned my mother was English, and she has family here.” At the moment, her uncertainty about accepting that family seemed irrelevant.
“How astonishing,” Lady Enderleigh said. “And a possible family in Spain, Mr. Hanley tells me.” A faint look of distaste tightened her features and vanished. “I hope for your sake they are wonderful people. I know from experience that blood relations are not enough to guarantee a pleasant intimacy.”
“You do not like your family?” Amaya ventured.
“My father was not happy with my decision to join the Royal Navy,” Lady Enderleigh said with a reflective smile, “and my mother follows where he leads. I fear even my success, my marriage, and my elevation in rank were not enough to appease him.” She removed her hand from the armrest and touched her belly absently, suggesting to Amaya that she did not realize she had done so. “Perhaps if I produce talented offspring, he will change his mind. I, however, have not changed mine, and I have no interest in regaining his…oh, if I say ‘affection’ the word will curdle in my mouth. His regard, perhaps?”
Amaya glanced at Edmund again. The Countess was more forthcoming than Amaya was accustomed to. She liked the woman’s forthright speech even as it puzzled her that Lady Enderleigh could be so unguarded with a woman she did not know.
Lady Enderleigh abruptly leaned forward. “I am making poor Mr. Hanley uncomfortable,” she said, lowering those heavy brows until she looked very fierce. “I apologize for speaking so frankly, but if I am to trust my most intimate self to you, Miss Salazar, I would like there to be no false reserve between us.”
“I am not uncomfortable, and you forget, my lady, that I am not unfamiliar with your history,” Edmund said with a lopsided smile.
“Very true. Then I withdraw my apology.” Lady Enderleigh turned her attention on Amaya, who did feel uncomfortable, but only because Lady Enderleigh’s regard made her feel exposed, her nerves bared to the world. “Miss Salazar, let me be even more frank. I have been quite well these past several months, but my husband is concerned for my health as I draw near my confinement. He—and I admit to agreeing with him—would prefer not to rely on chance or a Spanish midwife to attend me. If something were to go wrong…well. You see why I have need of an Extraordinary Shaper.” She smiled as wryly as Edmund had. “I am extremely valuable to my country, and they would prefer not to lose me.”
“And valuable to yourself,” Amaya said.
“Indeed.” Lady Enderleigh’s expression changed. For the space of half a breath, she looked very young and very uncertain. Then the moment passed, and she was herself again. “You are quiet,” she said, “but I believe it is because you observe and study before you speak. I find that admirable. Will you join us? Be my companion? Because I would like to know you better.”
“And because I do not fear you,” Amaya said, making a guess.
Lady Enderleigh’s eyelids drooped as she cast her gaze down, a moment’s discomposure that disappeared as fast as her uncertainty. “Burns do not heal the way other injuries do,” she said. “I imagine you know that.”
Amaya shrugged. “Burns do not. But an Extraordinary Shaper, our bodies are not the same as yours. We do not burn the same.”
“But that is not why you do not fear me,” Lady Enderleigh said.
Amaya turned to Edmund, who was watching this interchange in expressionless silence. “You say we are both danger and we are both innocent of malice,” she said. “Say why I am danger.”
Edmund blinked at her impulsive request, but did not hesitate. “Miss Salazar is trained to fight,” he said. “She had no experience with civilized society before coming to live in England. She has taken lives even as you have, my lady. And like you, she has never taken a life except in battle. You are both dangerous in theory, true, but you are neither of you to be feared.”
Lady Enderleigh’s hand, which had closed tightly on the armrest, relaxed. “
Then you do understand,” she said. “I hoped you would.”
“We are the same that way,” Amaya said. “And I tell—told Mr. Hanley I fear nothing, so I should not start by fearing you.”
That made Lady Enderleigh laugh. “I think we will suit admirably,” she said. She offered Amaya her hand, which was brown from the sun and small and well-shaped. “I am glad Mr. Hanley suggested this solution.”
“Mr. Hanley is very intelligent. So he tells me,” Amaya said.
Edmund chuckled. “Fortunately Lady Enderleigh knows I am of the most moderate temperament, and not at all proud, or you would convince her I am the most arrogant of men.”
“You are not the man about town you would like others to believe, true,” Lady Enderleigh said, surprising Amaya that Lady Enderleigh, too, had seen past Edmund’s cultivated demeanor. “Tell me, Mr. Hanley, is it true Sir William wishes to use me as a bludgeon to keep our Spanish friends in check?”
Edmund did not flinch. He regarded Lady Enderleigh with unruffled calm, but one hand closed into a fist. “I am certain Sir William would never consider—”
“Mr. Hanley,” Lady Enderleigh said, “do not try to deceive me. There is only one reason Lord Enderleigh and I would be removed from Hyperion when the entire fleet is out searching for Napoleon. I would simply like to know what will be secretly expected of me.”
Edmund pursed his lips and made his fist relax, spreading both hands on his knees in a gesture of apology. “Not a bludgeon,” he said, “so much as a burning arrow, if you will pardon the comparison. I believe he would like King Ferdinand to consider carefully the consequences of defying England. Acting is unnecessary; you need only be present.”
Lady Enderleigh made a sour face. “That is what Miles feared,” she murmured, half to herself. “And yet we are sworn to do our duty.”
Amaya felt a surge of compassion for the Countess. “It is not so bad,” she said. “When you are feared, they do not make the little demands that pick and pick at you like birds with beaks.” She tapped the cushion between herself and Edmund for emphasis.
Liberating Fight Page 5