‘Would I be wasting my time with the likes of you if it wasn’t?’
Anger clouded Claus’s vision. Had he fallen so low that even a servant, albeit a senior one, dared to talk down to him? Well, not for long. He’d show him; he’d show everyone that he was a man to be reckoned with.
‘Get in.’ The man jerked his thumb in the direction of a waiting conveyance. ‘There’s a footman’s livery on the seat. Change into it, then get down on the floor and cover yourself with the blanket I’ve left for you.’
‘What am I—’
‘Don’t ask questions. Just do it. You’ll be told more once we’re in the pavilion grounds.’
Claus wasn’t in any position to bargain, or to insist. He sensed the man would simply shrug and drive away if he did, so he climbed into the carriage, exchanged his coat for that of a royal servant and lay down on the carriage floor with a sigh, covering himself with the blanket. He felt the conveyance dip as the man climbed onto the box seat and whipped up his horses.
Claus cursed at the state of the roads as he was jostled and jolted by the movement of the carriage when the wheels frequently hit potholes or the driver swerved to avoid obstacles. After what seemed like an eternity the carriage slowed, he heard muffled voices and the sound of gates swinging open. A short time later the carriage stopped altogether and the man opened the door.
‘Out you get, quick as you like.’
Claus’s body was stiff, but he didn’t need telling twice. He hopped to the ground, stretched his cramped limbs and discovered that he was in a very well maintained stable.
‘This way.’ Claus followed the man to a hidden door, which he pushed open. ‘Follow the tunnel. It will bring you out in the main gallery. The music room is the second on the left. Miss Kazan is in there now. You will need to bring her out the same way you went in. The carriage we came in is for your use but you will have to drive it yourself. Leave it at the mews at the Oak tavern on the seafront. They will return it.’
‘How do I subdue an unwilling female?’
The man shrugged. ‘I can’t do all your thinking for you. Depends how badly you want her back, I suppose. If you are seen in livery you will be mistaken for a legitimate servant, but try not to be seen. You won’t pass muster at close quarters. Either way, my job is done.’
‘Wait!’
But the man had gone and Claus felt ridiculously exposed, wondering if this was such a good idea after all. But he was stuck here in the pavilion grounds, and if he tried to leave in livery, presumably he would be asked what he thought he was about if he used the main entrance. There must be a separate way in and out for servants, but he had no idea where it was located and hadn’t thought to ask. Damn it, it was almost as if the man wanted him to be caught! Out of livery, in his tatty second coat that someone had vomited over the previous night—perhaps it had been him—he would never look like the gentleman that he aspired to be.
With no other choice available to him, and with his headache back with a vengeance, Claus took a deep breath and plunged into the tunnel. He had no light to guide him and it was pitch dark, so he felt his way along the walls, startled when something, probably a rat, scampered over his feet. The only way to get Amara to come with him, he decided, was to knock her out and throw her over his shoulder. Would he be able to negotiate his way back along this tunnel with a burden and no light? It seemed implausible, and he was beginning to harbour serious doubts about the entire venture.
The tunnel seemed to go on forever, and Claus’s concerns grew with each step. Would be never reach its end? Just as despair threatened, his groping hand fell upon solid wood. He found a handle, held his breath and turned it. The door opened on silent hinges, implying frequent use, and he peered around it into the most magnificent gallery. It was deadly quiet apart from the distant sound of a piano. He recognised Mrs Costas’s touch and a little optimism filtered through his desperation.
Unsure how long the gallery would remain uninhabited, Claus emerged into it and closed the concealed door quietly behind him. It blended in perfectly with the rest of the frescos adorning the walls and one would have to know it was there in order to find it. How many passed by it, oblivious to its presence, Claus wondered. He noted a very slight indentation, sufficient to accommodate one finger to unlatch it from this side. He tried it once, aware that he would have bigger concerns on his mind when he was next here and realising it would be better for him to be assured of his escape route.
It opened without any problems.
He walked confidently along the gallery. If anyone came up behind him or from the other direction he reasoned he would look less suspicious if he appeared to know where he was going. Miraculously, he reached the door to the music room without encountering anyone and stood outside for a moment, spellbound by the beautiful sound of Amara’s voice soaring melodically in perfect pitch.
Smiling to himself, he turned the handle.
‘Where are you off to?’ Sabine asked, glancing up at Chance, who was very formally attired for such an early hour.
‘Louis and I are off to Brighton to have a word with Drakos.’
‘Why?’ She placed her pen aside and abandoned her half-written letter.
Chance leaned over her and kissed her brow. ‘You spent half the night fretting that your friend would be no better off.’
‘I think her father will hold her partly responsible for the events of last night, even though she wasn’t in attendance, in which case we have inadvertently made matters worse for her,’ Sabine said glumly. She picked her pen up again and absently fiddled with the quill. ‘I know you think I am meddling, and perhaps it’s true, but…Oh, I don’t know. As I said before, I feel a great deal of sympathy for Amara, and for Louis too. It is so very obvious that they belong together—’
‘And the trivial possibility of upsetting the already delicate nature of Anglo-Greek relations will not stop you from trying to find a way for them to be together, one imagines.’
Chance sat on the arm of a chair and Sabine plopped herself on his knee. She adjusted the fall of his neckcloth and then wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘When I think how happy you and I are, I cannot seem to stop myself from wanting to do what I can to help others achieve a similar state of bliss.’
Chance kissed her neck. ‘Which is why I am meeting Louis in Brighton and we are going to the pavilion together.’ He tipped her off his lap. ‘If you will allow me to.’
‘What are you planning, Lord Jonas?’ Sabine asked, narrowing her eyes at him.
Chance shook his head. ‘I’m not prepared to tell you and get your hopes up if nothing comes of it. You will just have to exercise patience.’
Sabine pouted. ‘You ask a lot.’
‘I realise that patience is not your strong point,’ he replied, chuckling, ‘but it sometimes brings its own rewards.’
‘Oh, very well. Have your secrets. If you are attempting to help Amara, I cannot scold you for that.’ She made shooing motions with her hands and returned to the chair behind her escritoire. ‘Off you go. I shall see you later and I shall expect a full account of your activities.’
‘I’ll leave this chap with you.’ Ace looked up, tail spiralling when Chance ruffled his ears, and barked. Being told to stay, he flopped down in front of the French windows with a martyred sigh. That situation would allow him to keep a vigilant lookout for the local feline population that seemed indifferent to the huge dog’s presence. ‘He isn’t welcome at the pavilion. All that tail-wagging endangers the prince’s delicate porcelain, which has already suffered quite enough.’
Sabine laughed. ‘We shall be fine, shall we not, Ace?’
The dog, anxious to have his tummy tickled, forgot about marauding cats, rolled onto his back and waved his huge paws in the air.
‘Incorrigible beast!’ Chance said, smiling at his dog. ‘Until later, my love. Don’t worry if I am gone for a while.’
‘Very well, but have a care. Much as I want Amara to find happiness, I don’t w
ant you to place yourself in danger in pursuit of it.’
Chance drove into Brighton and collected Louis from his lodgings. Since they were familiar figures at the pavilion they were waved through the gates and their arrival went largely unnoticed.
‘Bed caught fire?’ their friend Eli asked them, emerging from the prince’s private quarters and grinning. ‘It’s only just after noon, in case you hadn’t noticed. Although I suppose I should not be surprised to see you here.’
‘What’s happening?’ Louis asked. ‘I assume the Greeks are still in residence.’
‘Christoforou is using all his diplomatic skills to make light of last night’s debacle. An unfortunate disagreement that got out of hand, he reckons, with no disrespect intended. Prinny pretends to be sympathetic, but Christoforou knows it’s a damage limitation exercise.’
‘Are the other two still here?’
‘Yes, but they are being kept apart. I gather Christoforou banged their heads together this morning and ordered them to kiss and make up, but it was a waste of his breath. They can’t be civil to each other, not even to save face.’ Eli frowned. ‘What have you set in motion, Chance, you and the delightful Mrs Kendal?’
‘Us?’ Chance chuckled. ‘Let’s just say that we’re doing our bit to make Prinny come out of this smelling of roses.’
‘Well, in that case, you’re halfway to succeeding. He’s in an excellent mood and, naturally, privately claiming credit for exposing the Greeks as unscrupulous bounders who are not to be trusted in polite society.’
Chance rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, naturally.’ His expression sobered. ‘We need a private word with Drakos. Will that be possible?’
Eli shrugged. ‘I don’t see why not. Should I ask why?’
‘Best not.’
‘I’ll show you where he’s being caged.’
They made their way along corridors and up flights of stairs until they reached the bedchambers reserved for visiting dignitaries. Eli nodded towards a door.
‘Best of luck. I have a feeling you’re going to need it.’
‘Ready?’ Chance asked Louis after Eli had left them.
‘Let’s do it.’
Chance rapped at the door, and received no reply. They could hear someone moving about within. They also detected groaning and what sounded like Greek swearing. Eventually the door was pulled open by a dishevelled Drakos, sporting cuts to his face and the beginnings of a black eye. He scowled at them and opened his mouth, presumably to let forth with more cursing, but appeared to remember just in time where he was.
‘Yes,’ he said curtly.
‘I am Lord Jonas Dayton.’
Drakos treated Chance to a scathing look. ‘I know who you are.’
‘This is Mr Harland. We require a moment of your time.’
‘To gloat, I suppose.’
‘I hope we are not that shallow.’ Several people walked down the corridor, pausing to watch them with undisguised interest. ‘May we speak with you inside, or would you prefer for everyone to hear what we have to say?’
Drakos muttered something, his lips almost completely hidden behind a thick, drooping moustache, before pulling the door fully open and jerking his head, which Chance took as an invitation to enter. The elegant room was a shambles, smelling of a rancid body and strong liquor. Chance fought the urge to open the window and instead nodded to the arrangement of chairs in front of the fireplace.
‘What do you want?’ Drakos asked ungraciously. He perched on the arm of a chair and crossed his arms across his broad torso.
‘Miss Kazan is residing with us,’ Chance said without preamble.
Drakos scowled at the mention of her name. ‘She should not be in this godforsaken town at all, much less showing herself at the prince’s court. Her father will be furious.’
‘She is here in the company of her aunt, and no boundaries have been crossed.’ Chance paused. ‘She has told us that you have been loyal to her father for many years and that he trusts you implicitly, which is why he used his influence to have you appointed to this diplomatic mission.’
Drakos conceded the point with the suggestion of a smile. ‘Miss Kazan understands me well.’
‘Whereas you have blotted your copybook at the first hurdle.’
‘What?’ Drakos frowned and Chance realised he wouldn’t understand the colloquialism.
‘You have created a diplomatic situation that makes your position here—and anywhere else in England—untenable,’ he said.
‘I did not create anything. It’s that rogue Estevan who caused the problem by making unfounded claims about Miss Kazan’s affections. You heard him.’ Drakos stood, starting to get worked up again. ‘I have waited patiently. My master promised that she would be mine when the time came for her to marry. Mine!’ he shouted, prodding his chest with a thick forefinger in case Chance and Louis remained in any doubt about his claims. ‘But then he decided to become friendly with his oldest enemy, who has misinterpreted the situation with regard to Miss Kazan, and look where that has landed us.’
‘Either way,’ Louis said calmly, ‘Kazan will not be best pleased when he realises what a mess the two of you have made of this mission. Estevan will take his son back because he is his son, but do you really imagine that Kazan will be equally understanding in your case?’
‘You know nothing.’ But Drakos’s protest sounded lame.
‘You have destroyed Greece’s credibility in the eyes of the British people, turned yourself into a laughing stock and also widened the existing wedge between Kazan and Estevan,’ Chance added. ‘We are aware of Kazan’s plans for the future of Greece, which required him to swallow his pride, make peace with Estevan and join forces with him. That will now be impossible, and whom do you think he will blame?’
Drakos looked furtive as he ran a hand through his thick hair. ‘I am not to blame!’ he repeated savagely.
‘I have no doubt that you were provoked,’ Chance said, ‘but that will cut no ice with your employer, whom I understand rewards loyalty but is ruthless if he thinks he has been betrayed.’
‘You will not be able to go back to Greece,’ Louis added. ‘But I expect you already know that. Your employer has used you for his own ends. He never had the slightest intention of allowing you to marry his daughter. He always had greater ambitions for her and intended to use her to cement his own position. Kazan is nothing if not ambitious.’
‘Nonsense!’ But there was little conviction behind the protest.
‘We asked Miss Kazan about the arrangement with yourself and she knew absolutely nothing about it. Not to put too fine a point on it, she was horrified by the prospect. She was, however, aware of the agreement that had been reached between her father and Estevan, and she is not happy about that, either.’
Drakos grunted. ‘She shows good judgement, at least in that respect.’
‘That left Kazan with a problem.’ Chance continued to drive his point home. ‘He cannot abide a disobedient daughter, but he needed her to do as she was told willingly in order to seal the bargain with Estevan, whose son was very keen to marry her.’
‘The man is a bully and a tyrant,’ Drakos complained.
‘One assumes that was Estevan’s price for joining forces with his enemy, even if he could see the sense in so doing.’ Chance commented. Drakos growled but remained sullenly silent, kicking absently at the fringe of a rug. ‘Amara knew she had no choice, but found herself in a bargaining position. So she and Mrs Costas jointly persuaded her father to allow her to go to Italy and then on to England to sing in public. Kazan probably thought it would do Greece’s reputation no harm to have one of its own publicly feted.’
Drakos shook his head. ‘Why should I believe anything you say?’
‘I don’t care in the slightest whether you believe me or not,’ Chance replied easily. ‘But I would recommend that you think about your own situation. As I say, Kazan does not have a forgiving nature, but I am sure I am not telling you something you don’t already know full
well. You are aware how swift and brutal his punishments can be since you have carried many of them out on his behalf, and you must also be aware that years of loyal service will count for nothing now that you have ruined his most grandiose plans to date. A situation he has worked towards bringing about for years, one imagines.’
‘That imagination of yours will be the death of you,’ Drakos sneered.
‘You will not be permitted to return to Greece, you must be aware of that,’ Louis reiterated, ‘but we can help you to disappear and provide you with the means to live in modest style. Kazan’s reach is long but his plans have collapsed and he will have more important matters on his mind than running you to ground.’
Chance stopped talking and allowed a long silence as Drakos mulled over his options, which were precious few. He muttered another long stream of expletives in Greek, then let out a protracted sigh.
‘What do you want in return?’ he asked.
‘Details of Kazan’s illegal activities,’ Chance replied, fixing the man with a look of steely determination.
‘Why?’
‘We have our reasons.’
Drakos shook his head. ‘I will be a dead man.’
‘You have already done enough to sign your own death warrant. This is your only chance.’
‘Antiquities.’ Drakos allowed another protracted silence before drawing the word out, as though it was too painful to pass his lips. Chance nodded at Louis, his suspicions confirmed. ‘You will think it…hypocritical, I think is your word…that Kazan cares so much about those marbles falling into English hands when he sells off all our treasures to the highest bidder. Had he got to those marbles first, they would have been sold too, Greek heritage be damned. He holds a massive grudge against this country and the very thought of any of our treasures falling into its hands sends him into a rage—unless of course he sent them here himself in return for a handsome profit.’
‘Who does he sell to?’ Louis asked.
‘There are collectors all over the world. Anything to do with the Acropolis and the Parthenon is highly sought after. New discoveries are being made all the time and there is little that Kazan will not do to supply the demand.’
Amara (Carlton House Cartel Book 2) Page 21