Leo walked all day until it was nightfall. Then he set his steps toward the quay and the inns, feeling defeated.
“Ahoy, there! Out of the way!” A coachman, driving up the narrow street, cracked his whip and the team bolted forward, almost knocking Leo off his feet. He slid against the wall, breath heaving. When the carriage had passed, he slid slowly down the wall, back against the cool stone, and collapsed on the pavement.
Leo was exhausted. He felt drained, tired and without hope. And starving. He was in the expensive part of town, where even the coffeehouses charged ridiculous prices, and there was little hope of something as easy and familiar as pies. He was running low on funds, too. He considered ignoring the growing ache in his belly and started toward the quay.
As he neared the docks, he walked past a famous inn. The scent wafting out caught at him, making his stomach cramp with wanting. He gave up on his resolve to save his last silver coin. He went in.
Two bowls of stew and a glass of good claret later, he decided to leave. He stood and went to the counter, paid his dues and went outside.
As he looked up, he saw it.
A carriage, marked with the insignia of the Earl of Harwood. Glancing into the back, he saw the Lady Valeria, just alighting.
She is here! Staying in this inn!
Leo breathed out, awed at the good fortune that had brought him here, to this place, at this moment. An instant earlier or later, and he would have missed her.
If the Lady Valeria was here, she must have word of Alicia! She must have found her!
Hurrying in, Leo slapped the last of his coins on the counter. “I changed my mind,” he said to a grinning but bemused proprietor. “Put me up in the top room for the night.”
“Of course,” the proprietress said, and grinned at him as if he might have lost his wits.
“Thank you,” Leo said absently. He saw Lady Valeria alighting the stairs, a servant behind her, and followed them discreetly.
Having established she was in the main suite, he walked quickly up the stairs to his room, the smallest one – the one in the attic, under the thatch of the roof.
“I will follow her tomorrow,” he decided.
Because she must know where Alicia was. Revitalized and full of hope, Leo returned to the inn. He walked in cheerfully and went upstairs, his spirits soaring, his heart at ease. Now, he had a plan.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
ALONENESS
ALONENESS
The light from outside slanted in, silvering the guest bedroom at Roderick's London apartment with a ghostly light. It was dark outside, and late – even the night-watchman had done his final round.
Alicia, curled up on the plush, wide bed that had been Ada's, the coverlets around her, could not sleep. I don't think Leo can find me, here. The thought made her want to cry. If only she had stayed at the duke's house – however unpleasant – at least Leo would have guessed to look. Now, it seemed unlikely anyone would know where she was. Anyone, that was, except the duke himself – and Roderick.
Roderick was clearly caught in a dilemma. He had two choices. To save a woman he thought had betrayed him, or to offend a powerful acquaintance.
It seemed clear that Roderick would not support her, though from how uncomfortable he always looked, that he did not wish her ill. He had been very kind to her, bringing her here, seeing her every need was provided for. He had even offered to take her into town to shop for new clothes, though she saw how uncomfortable he was and declined it. She did not understand Roderick's state of mind. On the one hand, he seemed to care for her well-being. On the other, he acted as if she did not exist, and seemed almost frightened to talk to her even about trivialities.
Alicia sighed and crawled further into the vast bed, trying to get warm.
She did not know why she was being used as a pawn like this. Why would the duke wish to use her to hurt Leo, to manipulate Roderick?
Roderick had tried to talk to her that afternoon, seeming strangely subdued. She had questioned him, but he had seemed reluctant to tell her any details. All he had said was that she was in danger, and that, if anyone asked her anything, she should say that she agreed to end their betrothal. Why would she not agree, when the only man she wished to have in her life was Leo?
She felt tears start afresh as she thought of him. Where was Leo? Half of her wished he was here, in town, ready to come and save her, sword drawn. She imagined him climbing into her chamber, sword at his side, ready to defend her.
The moment she thought of that, she thought of Roderick facing him. Roderick, or the duke. Both seemed formidable enemies – even her own father had said Roderick was good. And the duke was known for dueling.
There was nothing she could imagine worse than Leo being killed, except Leo being killed because he came to save her.
She tried to imagine another scenario: Leo leaving for Germany.
Her mind built pictures of Leo on the ship deck, the wind ruffling his hair, already in her mind turned back to pale gold, the dye washed out. Leo, grinning as he exchanged a joke with the captain. Leo, legs astride to keep his balance at sea.
The images made her smile, much more so than the dueling images had. But there was another problem. They made her feel so alone. She would love to stand beside him on the ship, love to touch his hair as the wind ruffled it, to embrace him as the wind buffeted the ship and the waves rolled beneath them, carrying them to shore.
Alicia shut her eyes, tears leaking out below the lids.
She chuckled mirthlessly. A mere fortnight ago, she would not have thought it possible to miss him this much! She remembered what she had thought of him when he first arrived at Wilding: how his arrogance had dismayed her, how his quick wit had unsettled her.
She shook her head, smiling disbelievingly. How could she ever have disliked him for his arrogance? How could she have condemned his lordly ways, his quick repartee with strangers? They were so much a part of him, part of his bright, vital self.
“I promise, that if I see you again, I shall love you for who you are,” she said, levelly. “Not for who I think you should be. I love you, Leo Grey. Exactly as you are.”
As she said it, she knew that it was true. She felt her whole body relax, her vision starting to blur as her body settled to sleep. How could she have ever thought otherwise? The gentle, kindly Leo she loved, that was true. But she also loved the wild, untamed Leo. The Leo who could be arrogant sometimes, but who was also undoubtedly brave. They were both essential to his nature, both two sides of the same person, two aspects of the same quality.
“I know I will see you again. I love you,” she whispered.
Her mind filled with Leo, her heart warm with the love she felt for him, she was soon drifting in a deep and restful sleep.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CROSSING THE LIMIT
CROSSING THE LIMIT
The London night was dark, and, in the Kensington district, lamps burning outside almost all the doors, it seemed that there were no stars. The cold, dark blankness suited the duke's mood. There were some things too dark to be put down on paper. The Duke of Lennox, sitting in his office, his gown pulled tight around him against the chilly evening air, dwelt on such dark thoughts. That man wronged me. Now he evades me. He took something of mine, and now, I have taken something that belongs to him.
The fact that the Lady Alicia had been, to all appearance, eloping with Lord Grey made her twice the prize he thought he had obtained.
At first, he had seen only her value as a bargaining tool. Now, as his obsession with Lord Grey became darker, he found his thoughts of her ran down darker channels.
He clenched a fist, trying to ignore the rising tide of longing. Lady Alicia was so innocent. Pretty, delicate and naïve, there was something about the combination – and the red hair and pale skin, of course, one could not neglect those – which made her irresistible.
But still, the duke was not a man to be easily distracted. Especially where matters of business w
ere under debate. And this was a matter of business.
Lady Alicia was a prisoner of necessity. She was a link to Roderick, a tool for bargaining with a friend. Though, the duke reflected, that seemed to be working rather less well than he had expected.
It surprised him. He himself had been betrothed, though the lady had died, and, while it had been a blow at the time, he had forgotten it, lost beneath the blur of gambling, drinking and women. And of course, the company of friends. Of all the people he knew, Roderick was one of the few he trusted.
Feeling uncharacteristically moved, he realized that he was rather fond of Roderick. He did not want to settle these debts without at least appearing to be fair. Lady Alicia was a perfect way to force his hand. But, so far, Roderick's hand had not been forced, and he seemed to be unusually stubborn where the subject of Alicia was concerned.
As he thought about it, a smile played on his lips. He could not help that the thought excited him. Somehow the mix of his anger with Leo Grey, his dark obsession, and his desire for Alicia had welded into a need to cause her pain.
He was sure Barnett could conjure some awful threat, and some relatively non-invasive way to make Alicia scream.
Roderick would do anything to relieve Alicia's pain. His devotion to her was clear, despite her betrayal of him.
The duke smiled. He would convince Roderick to pay his debts, he would satisfy his dark cravings, and get a chance to hit out at Leo Grey.
The thought of it pleased him.
He sat a while and allowed his mind to wander, to finalize his plans. Barnett and his men could restrain Lord Roderick, and he and Barnett would then show him what it meant not to pay what he owed.
The duke was surprised at how satisfied he felt. One move, three pieces taken. That is quite a game of draughts.
A small part of him was surprised by the dark turn this game had taken. Usually a rational man, the fact that this obsession with Leo Grey had ultimately turned into something much more sinister, much more irrational, would have worried him. At that moment, it did not. The part of him that would have questioned that in the past now simply wanted to bring this episode to a conclusion. And it seemed he had a means to conclude it profitably indeed.
The duke sighed. He felt peaceful. If he had thought about it, that would have surprised him, too. He did not think about it.
It would be profitable – he could see no drawbacks. Not even the problem that what he did was illegal seemed insurmountable: The problem of being found out did not particularly bother him. Alicia was in a private house – Roderick's London rooms – and no one would witness them. Alicia would have no visible scars, and so who would believe her word?
The next day he would be closer than he had been for weeks to the solution to all his worries.
All he needed was his men, a weapon, and some pretext to bring Alicia downstairs. Roderick could be immobilized somehow, and then all would work as he wished it to.
For there was money to be made, and debts to settle. And it was not just monetary debts, the duke thought grimly. The debt of Leo Grey would also be paid. In full.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
DELIVERY
DELIVERY
“Is this the apartment of Roderick Drosty, heir to the Duke of Darbyshire?”
“It is, Madam.”
Lady Valeria, tall and iced with dignity, stepped delicately out of the hired carriage and onto the gray cobbled street.
“Well, then. Leave me here,” she said briskly.
“Very good, Madam.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, passing up the fare, and a little extra, to the coachman. Then she turned and walked the narrow drive to the front door.
Taking a deep breath, Valeria knocked at the door.
“Good morning.” A kindly-looking man answered the door, head tonsured with baldness, back stooped with long years of servitude.
“Good morning,” Valeria agreed politely. “May I speak with Lord Roderick?”
The man looked around, then came to a decision. “The young lord does not wish to be disturbed, Madam.”
Valeria blinked. She had not expected such opposition.
“Very well,” she said frostily. “But inform him of my visit,” she said, and reached into her purse for a calling card, adding, “tell him Alicia’s mother called.”
She left the calling card with the man, who took it, bowing low. Lady Valeria was a true lady, with all the ability to induce blind obedience and terror that conferred.
“Very good, Ma'am.”
Lady Valeria was already stepping lightly down the stairs and onto the path.
Sitting on the pavement across from the carriage, part-concealed by a topiary plant-pot, Leo breathed out sharply.
Lady Valeria believed Alicia was with Roderick Drosty? But why? Was there any reason to expect that, or was it simply the assumption she had made?
“Well,” he mused, head aching as he tried to think above the noise and bustle of the street, “is there a reason why she might be here? She is not at the duke's.”
As he thought about it, he realized how it had happened. The duke and Roderick gambled together. The duke must have captured Alicia with the hopes of using her as some kind of leverage.
His mind stopped, arrested midway in its convoluted thoughts by a greater realization. Alicia must be here! Or, at least, there was a strong possibility of it.
“Alicia...” he whispered. Her name was perfume and evening air, the sweetness of her. Before he had really thought about it, Leo found himself walking across the street, toward the apartment.
“Good day,” he said, when the man appeared. “I have come to see Lord Roderick.”
He saw the man's brow crease, reading the frustration and despair as if he spoke them aloud.
“Lord Roderick does...” he began.
“...not wish to be disturbed. I know,” Leo completed the sentence over his shoulder, already walking across the hall and to the stairs.
“Sir!” the man shouted behind Leo, as he climbed lightly up the staircase, though Leo hardly looked like a sir just then.
“I shall tell him you tried to stop me. I mean no harm. Lord Roderick knows me well,” Leo called lightly down, not turning. He reached the landing and faced the great door to the main parlor. He pulled it open. As he heard the man run up, trying to apprehend him, he slammed it shut.
Then he turned around. The scene in the room hit him like a bullet in the chest.
He stood in the doorway, rooted momentarily to the spot.
Before him, Alicia sat on the settee. Her mouth was covered with a kerchief. The man before her was engaged in tying a rope around her wrists. When Leo appeared in the doorway, he turned around.
“You!”
Both men shouted it at once. Leo, and the Duke of Lennox. The man's face twisted with anger as he leaped at Leo, who, dancing nimbly aside, only had the briefest moment to wonder, as he drew his sword, how the man had recognized him. He did not even have the right hair.
Glancing around the room to judge the best vantage point, Leo caught sight of another surprise. In the corner, standing very still, was Roderick Drosty, pale and threatened by five men with pistols.
“What the deuce?” Leo began. Then Leo had no time to think.
The duke was upon him, his sword a circle of cold steel.
Leo, quickly becoming desperate as he was backed against the yellow silk wall of Lord Roderick's parlor room, fought off the blows, striking desperately against the wild strokes of his assailant. The man fought like a man possessed.
“Leo,” Alicia whispered, voice hoarse. She could hardly believe it. How did he found me? And, now that he had, how could she bear him to be harmed here? Her hands not yet bound, she pulled the kerchief from her face, and stood, already running across the room.
“Leo!” she shouted. “Look out!”
As she shouted it, the duke delivered the blow. It sliced down, chopping into Leo's upper arm, disabling his sword hand. He scre
amed, thinly, and blood spurted forth from the wound.
“Leo!” Alicia screamed. She fell on the duke from behind, fists flying.
The duke turned around, sword in hand. Blind with rage, he swung at her, likely not knowing what he did. He missed, and reversed the stroke.
“That is quite enough!” a voice cracked from the other side of the room.
Alicia turned. Roderick stood there.
He was holding a pistol, which he pointed at the duke.
“That woman is my friend. That man is... I do not know him. But I will not have you murdering my guests! Now, take your things, sheathe your sword and leave. Now.”
Alicia clapped her hands over her mouth to stop herself from crying. Her legs were giving way under her. She struggled a few paces across the room and then collapsed, beside Leo. He was prone, his hand to his shoulder, which was bleeding profusely, dark blood staining the cream white of his shirt and soaking his gold and green brocade waistcoat.
“I...” the duke began, vehemently. Then the wild light in his eyes seemed to go out. He sheathed his sword. He stooped. He walked to the door. It seemed he had suddenly come back to himself, for he turned in the doorway.
“I shall leave. You shall hear more of this, Roderick. And at least, do not harbor my enemies. That man there is Leo Grey, and we have unfinished business, mark my words.”
He looked darkly at Leo. Then he donned his coat and hat. He left.
They heard his footsteps echo down the hall.
“Whew,” Roderick breathed. He sank into the settle, breath labored. “My dear lady...” he began, solicitous of Alicia's sudden faintness.
“There is nothing the matter with me!” Alicia said, valiantly, though her voice was weak and trembled, “What of him?” She indicated Leo, desperately. “I pray you, someone... fetch a surgeon at once!”
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