Blood Lies
Page 36
“Cranston’s,” she replied. “It is quite nice, and their tea room has the most delicious pastries. I fear my figure will not survive if I remain there much longer.”
“I know that hotel,” he said. “And your figure could not be more perfect,” he heard himself say. “May I call on you tomorrow?”
She managed a pretty blush, followed by a coquettish smile. “I shall look forward to it, Lord Aubrey.”
He rose, for his mind now wondered about Elizabeth, and his instincts nagged him to engage in the task at hand: finding William Trent before he found them. “Ten tomorrow morning?” he asked.
“That would be a bit early. I have the funeral at nine. May I meet you for luncheon?”
“Is one tomorrow afternoon better?”
“Perfect,” she answered. “I shall be happy to continue our medical discussions. You are having your shoulder tended now, I hope.”
“Yes,” he answered, suddenly realising the seductive danger of such beautiful hands upon his bare skin. He pushed the imagery away as he kissed her hand. “If you will excuse me for now, I must make certain our tailor friend has not bought out the entire shop.”
She laughed, inwardly forced but subtle enough to fool a willing victim. As he walked away, she withdrew a mirrored compact from her purse and pretended to check her face. Behind, she could see the shadow of William Trent and one other—their great Prince—such an honour to have him near!
Well done, her prince told her, the deep, silken voice reaching into her mind. Very well done, Lorena, but do not press. If he suspects, you will lose your chance with the earl.
She closed the compact, and returned it to her bag. Inside, she saw her weapons: a small derringer which served when all else failed and, alongside it, the belladonna and opium mixture, which she had secretly infused into a kettle of water, two nights past. She hoped to have no need of it where the earl was concerned. His magnificent body would be so nice to manipulate, and she preferred her prey fully conscious and screaming.
The Crown Luncheon Room sat directly across from MacCallum’s on Argyle Street, and it was to a small, private room that Charles had taken Elizabeth. She seemed preoccupied, looking around her as they shared tea together.
“So many people,” she said.
“Which is why I asked for a private room, Princess. What troubles you?”
“It strikes me that William might suddenly appear from anywhere. Foolish, I know, but my earlier courage begins to fail me, Charles.”
He reached for her hand, his eyes on hers. “Look then at me, Beth, and trust in my guardianship. I will not permit him to harm you again—not ever. You know that, surely?”
“I do know it, but sometimes I wonder if he is not more than a man—more than…” her voice trailed off, and he could see dark thoughts cloud her sweet face. “You wished to speak to me more privately. This quiet room may be our best chance, but what is it you wish to say that cannot be overheard, Charles?”
“Perhaps, I wish only to declare my love for you,” he said casually, wondering if his true purpose for speaking to her might not be better postponed for a time when her thoughts were not fixed upon fear.
“And is that your declaration?”
Charles nearly said all that was in his heart, but so much he’d learnt from the meeting with the inner circle members now made him wonder if perhaps his love was truly what she most needed. It certainly was all that he needed, but Redwing clearly wanted a match between himself and Elizabeth. Would marrying Paul keep her safer?
“You know my feelings,” he said, gazing at the earl’s ring upon her hand.
“I do—or I believe I do. Now that you and Paul have become friends and even cousins, have your feelings altered?”
“If anything, my darling friend, my beautiful Princess, my feelings have grown deeper roots than ever I’d thought possible. Beth, I would marry you today, now, if you would have me. Do you not know that? Yet, I am all too aware that your intent has always been to call my newfound cousin your husband. If that is your true desire, then I shall find a way to be happy for you both, though I would never find love again.”
She grew silent for a moment, twisting the ring as if it burnt her skin. “If I said yes, that I would marry you, what then? Could you face your new cousin? Could I? And yet, Charles, there is growing within my mind, something new—a dreamy connexion which I am unable to understand.” Her lower lip trembled, a tiny movement he’d seen so many times before, and he longed to comfort her. “Charles, this strange memory will consume me, if I do not reconcile its truths. It is to my shame that I cannot tell you. You would think me mad.”
Her hands were twisting now, as if some horrid thought plagued her. Sinclair took her hands to help calm her, noticing that they trembled. “My darling, you can tell me anything. Anything. If it helps, I, too, have something to tell which most would say makes me mad.”
“Did you hear anything, Charles? That night in the cottage?”
“I thought you had no memory of that night,” he said, for she had denied knowing much of that wild night’s dangers. He had hoped the drugs had made this true.
“That is what I told everyone at the castle, for I am not sure that it was not all a dream. I do remember you, carrying me in your arms and laying me upon a soft bed. And I think a woman spoke, and she gave us tea. She called me your wife. But surely that was a dream, and in many ways, a wonderful one.”
“If I said it was not a dream, would it cause you to worry?”
“Are you saying it happened?” she whispered, her eyes wide.
He nodded, keeping careful watch on her face. “It did. Elizabeth, if you can bear it, I shall tell you all that occurred that night, beginning with our arrival at Drummond Castle.”
She thought about this for a moment, her breath becoming more rapid, but she squeezed his hand and nodded. “Yes. I think I can bear it, if you are with me. Tell me, Charles. Please.”
“Very well, but I shall stop if I see it distresses you. Our balloon escape had left both you and Paul exhausted, and I believe your mind had been forced to recall things beneath the abbey—in that devilish place—that you have long tried to forget. Your foot, too, pained you and drained your energies, and Paul’s wound continued to bleed, which I know terrified you.”
She nodded once more. “Yes, it did. Though, to be honest, I remember very little of our mad journey. I do recall Mr. Reid showing me landscapes that only a hawk or an eagle might see. So magnificent, yet dizzying!”
“Yes, you often complained that the heights went to your head, but they did so to mine as well. I’m no aeronaut, I fear. Reid is more acclimated to that rarified air than I, nor shall I ever be. He is a brave and faithful friend, and I look forward to buying him his own balloon one day, now that I can afford it.”
She smiled. “A just and well-earned reward. But what after?”
“We came to the castle late on the next evening, and your grandfather had marshalled his forces to meet us at our landing, and they conveyed us all to our rooms that night. Once he knew that you and Paul were being tended, and that Paul’s injuries did not threaten his life, James gave me my reading assignment: a box filled with papers that Mr. Kepelheim had collected revealing my true history and connexion to James and to Paul—and even to you, my darling. I cannot tell you how this worked on my mind, Beth! And bless the Lord’s provision that it did, for it was because I could not rest, but thought to walk that night, that I discovered Dr. Lemuel’s malicious intent.”
“I remember nothing of that,” she said. “Unless a vague notion of movement in a carriage counts as memory.”
“I wish you had no memory at all of his deeds, darling. Lemuel was blackmailed into abducting you, and I believe his purpose was to hand you over to William or to his agent. Paul wanted to go after you, but his injury had made him weak, so James—the dear man whom I may now call
Uncle—put me upon his swiftest horse and sent me into the night to rescue you.”
“My Captain,” she said softly as she clutched his hands. “You are so brave! And yet, I fear when you risk your life.”
“Your life, little one, is a life worth the risk,” he replied, kissing her small hand. “But though I have always felt at home in the saddle, the ride was a wild one. The full moon shone upon the road as I followed the carriage’s dusty path, eventually catching it thanks to Clever Girl’s sure-footedness and unfailing heart. And when I confronted him at last, Lemuel confessed his guilt, believing his complicity somehow sensible, given his sorry state and secrets. You need not know them, just know that he meant to murder me and hand you to some unseen person. But as I stood there, not ten feet from the man’s front door, someone else shot him! And he fell at my feet, dead.”
“What?” she exclaimed, keeping her voice as low as possible, but believing she now knew why he had wanted to conduct this conversation in private. “Did you see the assassin?”
“I did not. With this killer nearby, I realised our only chance was to flee, but the moon hid within the cloudy night, and I lost all sense of direction. You could not walk, and I feared taking you into unknown paths with my poor sense of our location. Knowing we might not make it back to the castle before the same or even another marksman found us, I thought it better to return Clever Girl to the duke as our messenger, so I sent her flying over the hills. I then took charge of the doctor’s horses and carriage, turning back toward what I hoped would be our salvation. I was completely out of my depth. The heaths and hillsides all look alike to my London eyes, and with no moon to guide me, nor seeing the castle in the distance, I must have turned left when it was right I had wanted, and we became entirely lost.”
“Oh, my poor Captain! How terrifying for you!”
“I am only glad you were not awake to see my face, for I was terrified, Beth, for you. I had no idea what drug Lemuel had given you, or if you would ever awaken again. I only thought to find the castle and hope. And then, ahead, I saw a farm with a small light burning. I stopped, knocked upon that weathered door, and found—or so I had thought—a refuge from the night. The couple welcomed us, once we told them we were guests at the castle, and the husband told me we had strayed far to the south. He promised to draw me a map the next morning at dawning, and he and his wife offered to let us sleep in their son’s small cottage until then. The horses had gone as far as they could without rest, so I had no choice but to accept. The wife, when she saw your injury, understood why you had fainted, or so I had told her. She saw, too, the ring upon your hand—and seeing it and perhaps my honest emotions—she asked if we were newlyweds. I told her yes, Beth. And though the idea of it is more than welcome to my heart, I did it so that they would permit us to remain together. I would not have allowed you to sleep unguarded. Not then. Not that night. Not ever, if my fondest wishes could come true.”
She closed her eyes, her hands still in his own, and those slender hands had begun to tremble once more.
“Shall I go on? I fear this drags at your brave heart, little one.”
She found her composure and nodded. “Yes. Speak until I stop you. I think I know where this is headed, and Charles, I am suddenly very afraid.”
“Then, dearest, let us wait until you are stronger.”
“No. I must know. I must have these misty memories verified.”
He shook his head. “No, not now. We shall speak more of this later, darling. We have already left our friends too long without us, and it may not be wise to leave Paul unguarded.”
Her chin flew up, her eyes moist, but her expression defiant. “Do you mean William? Do you think he would—would hurt him, here, in so public a venue?”
“I think a devious man would use softer ammunition to inflict new wounds. I hope I am wrong, but I find it curious that this Dr. MacKey has so conveniently come into his life, and that she has already drawn him from your side. I do not say this to alarm you, for Paul’s heart and affections where you are concerned are ever true, but I have seen many evil women in my line of work, and that one wears the look of a predator.”
She considered this, and he could see that his words troubled her. “Yes, she does bear that look. In truth, my experience with such women is rather sparse. My entire life has been spent with family, but there is something unsettling about this doctor. Hers is a look I have seen before, though I cannot recall where. Very well. We shall postpone our conversation for now, but promise me that you will return to it as soon as possible, Charles, for it grows upon me, this memory—this strange dream.”
“Tonight then,” he said. “If you will give me your hand after supper, we shall take a walk in the moonlight and speak more.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “Tonight.”
CHAPTER Twenty
Evening fell at the castle, and the duke was glad to see his nephew’s wound healing nicely and colour returning to the young earl’s face. The company had gathered for supper, and the new marquess sat opposite Elizabeth with Kepelheim to his right. The earl sat beside the duchess with the duke at the head. A muscular young man named Algernon Dryden had also joined the castle’s guest list along with Malcolm Risling, who sat to Kepelheim’s right near the duke with Dryden opposite twixt the earl and Drummond. Both men had served as agents with the circle for over a decade. Dryden was their expert on munitions and artillery but also served as Kepelheim’s assistant, whilst Risling provided expertise in ancient languages and semiotics. Dryden and Risling had arrived just after noon, and both listened attentively to the conversation.
“Any sign of Trent?” Drummond asked as he sliced into that evening’s roast beef and rosemary potatoes.
“No, sir,” Sinclair replied. “But it would have been foolish for him to show himself in the open. It makes me wonder if there was another reason that we were lured to Glasgow this morning,” he added, glancing at his cousin.
Paul had said little, but his cousin’s suggestion that their trip to the city had been for a darker purpose disturbed him. “I fear that Charles may be right,” he replied with a frown. “We met someone there, and though she seemed harmless enough, a serendipitous meeting with a physician with ties to Briarcliff now strikes me as contrived.”
The duke’s dark brows shot up. “A woman doctor, you say? Now that is interesting. Who is she and how is she tied to your estate?”
“Assuming she was honest, her family is from Glencoe.”
“And her name?” the duke pressed.
Beth had been quiet since their return, and Sinclair noticed she ate little. “Is everything all right, Princess?” he asked her.
Elizabeth took a sip of water. “Yes, I suppose so. Grandfather, this woman calls herself Lorena MacKey, and she made quite an impression on my cousin. Did she not, Lord Aubrey?”
The earl’s face pinked slightly with embarrassment. “She struck me as singular,” he said vaguely.
“Singularly attractive?” the duke asked.
“Singularly educated,” Aubrey replied quickly. “Anyone else ready for wine?” he asked, rising suddenly.
Beth stood as well, setting aside the serviette she’d held on her lap, but her balance shifted strangely as she pushed the chair out of her way, and she nearly fell. The earl caught her in his arms, and everyone rushed to make sure she had not been injured. “Darling, are you ill?” Aubrey asked. “You should not have gone into town this morning. It’s too soon after all that’s happened.”
She seemed unsteady, and he gently assisted her back into the chair. Her eyes were unfocused, and Sinclair knelt beside her. He touched her face. “You’re warm, Beth. I fear our cousin is right. You should not have gone shopping this morning. Perhaps, you should retire early.”
“No, I’m all right,” she argued. “Just a slight headache. I am sorry, Mr. Dryden, Mr. Risling. I am not ordinarily such poor company.”
“Not ill,” she said. “As I’m sure my grandfather has told you, it has been an adventurous few days. Something I’m not as accustomed to as you brave men of the circle. If you will excuse me, I shall follow Charles’s advice and see if a short nap might help. Do forgive me for ruining supper, Grandfather.”
“Never ruined, Princess. Not with your beauty to enhance the meal.” The duke called for Laurence to fetch Mrs. MacAnder, who entered now with her medical bag. “Mrs. Mac, give our girl a once-over, won’t you? Charles, do you mind helping Beth upstairs?”
“I can walk on my own,” the duchess protested, but Sinclair put his arm around her nonetheless.
“Lean on me,” he whispered sweetly. “I shan’t be long,” he told the men. “I look forward to hearing the latest news from London,” he finished as he led Beth out of the dining hall.
MacAnder followed, her hand on the duchess’s small wrist as they walked. “Your pulse is a bit quick, my lady,” she said. “I noticed you’d eaten very little. Was the food not to your liking? I can have Mrs. Calhoun make up something else, if you wish.”
“I’m just not hungry, Mrs. MacAnder. We had a rather large luncheon in Glasgow.”
Charles kept his arm around her waist as they navigated the long hallways toward the main staircase. “It’s true,” he explained. “We enjoyed a delicious meal at a place called The Royal.”
The housekeeper’s face widened into a grin. “Aye, that’s the place to eat if you’re a man who likes good, stout food. I imagine many o’ your policemen friends would enjoy Mrs. McGregor’s fare, sir. Is she still the manageress?”
“She is,” Sinclair answered as they neared the staircase. “In fact, we dined near a table of her regulars. A party of veterans from the Glasgow Highlanders regiment. Riflemen who served alongside the Royal Scots Fusiliers at the Battle of Inkerman in ’54. Brave men.”