Clockwork Blue (The Lumière Chronicles)

by Gloria Harchar

  He thought of what Maestro had said and tight anxiety roped around his throat. "You simply must get over your envy because we must start working together."

  "Bah, quit thinking everyone wants to be like you!"

  "Glissando, I'm trying to tell you—"

  "That you're too vain? I already know."

  He ignored the baiting and continued, "I need your help with a plan I have."

  Interest flared in Glissando's cherub features. "Why didn't you say so?"

  "I was trying to. Now, my plan involves getting Nicola to give up her ridiculous hats, and perhaps even improve the Black Falcon's reputation."

  "I don't know how we're going to do either of those things."

  "My idea has to do with us posing as gossiping old women. Would that break any law that you know of?"

  "Nooo," Glissando responded thoughtfully, and then smiled, his bruised face lighting up enough to hide the dark swelling. "I'm beginning to like how you think, old man."

  Lady Kensington patted Nicola's arm. "You lucky gel. A Cinderella story if I ever lived and breathed."

  Nicola tried to smile as she glanced away from the small crowd attending the wedding breakfast. If only it were true.

  Malcolm had invited several prominent people from the village of Chatsworth to Windmere. Unfortunately, Lady Kensington was in their numbers. Nicola briefly wondered where he was. She'd seen him a few moments ago, talking to Mr. Campbell. And where were the pixies? Would they leave, now that she was buckled? To her surprise, the thought brought a stab of unhappiness.

  Garlands of roses, pansies and daffodils, intertwined with English ivy, had been artistically arranged around an ornate crystal bowl of cranberry and strawberry ratafia.

  An assortment of caked sugar loafs; pastries and treacle decorated the long table, as well as a large bowl of plum pudding. Macedonia of fruit, meringues a la crème and a chocolate cream completed the sweets. Guests milled about the dining room, their dainty plates filled with confections. Nicola gave her dish to a passing servant, suddenly not hungry.

  Lady Kensington gave a condescending smile. "Now you won't have to design those tedious hats."

  A wave of heat touched Nicola's cheeks. More than once she had wondered if her hats were good, but she wasn't about to let this old goat see her insecurities. "On the contrary, milady, I intend to continue."

  Lady Kensington's jaw slackened. "Don't say that you're going to work like a commoner."

  "No, she's going to play like an indulged countess," Malcolm replied. He walked up behind Nicola, grasped her hand and pulled her near. She could feel the heat of him; savor his masculine scent of bay rum. "Nicola enjoys her hobby. What's more, I would never dream of depriving the world of the beauty and joy that Nicola gives with her exquisite hats."

  "Oh!" Lady Kensington stared at him as if he'd just grown feathers.

  "If I were you, I would take supreme care with the creations you buy from Nicola. She is a true artist."

  "I'm sure you are correct," Lady Kensington said with a thoughtful frown.

  "As a matter of fact, her hats are complete to a shade."

  "You mean like the gypsy hat I bought last week? It was rather plain—"

  Malcolm gave Lady Kensington an enigmatic stare. "Plain is all the crack."

  "I suppose I must purchase the one that tempted me the other day; the one I thought might be too gaudy. Though it was a little lopsided."

  Nicola started to tell Lady Kensington how wonderful that would be.

  In warning, Falcon squeezed her arm. "You're too late. I know for a fact it's no longer available."

  Lady Kensington blinked. "It's not?"

  Confused, Nicola glanced up at him, wondering why he fibbed. Did he want her to sell hats or not? She considered interrupting and correcting him, but instead she waited to see how the scenario played out.

  "You refer to the hat with the flowers and gears?" Malcolm asked.

  Lady Kensington's widened eyes mirrored Nicola's own surprise. "Why, yes."

  He motioned to a willowy woman Nicola recognized as the Viscountess Ballard.

  The woman was talking to an older woman Nicola didn't recognize. As soon as the Viscountess saw Malcolm, her smile wavered. Warily she glanced behind her, and then pointed to herself. At Malcolm's nod, her face fell. With jerky movements, she excused herself from the elderly woman and approached as if she were on her way to the gallows. The elderly woman frowned after her.

  Malcolm gestured toward Lady Celeste, ignoring her doomed expression. "You buy my wife's hats frequently, is that not so?"

  It wasn't true! Nicola squirmed in embarrassment. No, nobody at this breakfast had bought a hat from her except the condescending Lady Kensington. She hadn't had many customers, which was why she was so excited about the new shop. In time she could build up her clientele, so why didn't he leave it be? Why, oh why was he doing this?

  Malcolm rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "In fact, your husband told me just the other day how much you admire Nicola's hats."

  Lady Celeste fidgeted her feet and hands. Then, her gaze flitted over her shoulder and she smiled tremulously. "Y-yes, you have. I-I do."

  Puzzled, Nicola followed the Viscountess's glance toward Lord Ballard. The man chatted with a group of guests, unaware of his wife's predicament. The poor woman was forever nervous that Falcon would expose the viscount's background as a former cotton mill steward. Nicola decided then and there that she would start rectifying her husband's black reputation.

  "I am the most fortunate of women," she said. "My dear, sweet husband never denies me anything. He has even purchased a beautiful Georgian-style establishment for me to open my new millinery."

  Lady Kensington's eyes widened. "A doting husband, you say? I would have never expected it from Falcon."

  "Nor I," Lady Celeste agreed in surprise.

  Lady Kensington patted her sausage curls. "I'm anxious to visit your new establishment, Lady Nicola. I remember the creation with little corkscrews, and the more I think of it, the more I want it." She turned toward the Viscountess Ballard. "You didn't, by chance, purchase that one also?"

  Lady Celeste glanced at Falcon, who gave a discreet nod, before replying, "Y-yes, I believe I did."

  Lady Kensington scowled, her disappointment apparent. "Of all the hats there, that one showed the most promise. Ah, you are so lucky to have it, Celeste."

  "I am lucky," Lady Celeste agreed, her eyes widening as she agreed.

  "Next time," Falcon said with a polite smile.

  "Yes, I suppose so," Lady Kensington responded, looking distracted. "I will bring Lady Whitley to the shop with me next week. Ah, there she is. I must tell her. If you'll excuse me?"

  He gave a slight bow. "Of course."

  A yearning glance toward the door told Nicola Lady Celeste wanted to bolt too, but obviously she had not the nerve.

  "You may see to your husband, Viscountess," Falcon told her gently.

  Nicola needed to take drastic measures to peel away the darkness, to shed a new light on her husband. He didn't deserve the black reputation he'd been given—and he didn't need it like he thought he did. "May I speak with you privately for a moment?" she asked Lady Celeste. "Woman talk," she added for Malcolm's benefit.

  He gave her a sharp glance that she ignored. She took Viscountess Ballard's arm and guided her into the hall and a small, deserted alcove. "Lady Celeste, I feel that you are apprehensive, and I want to put you at ease. Please don't think my husband would ever betray yours."

  Lady Celeste's eyes rounded and her mouth worked. "You know?" she gasped and mopped her brow with a handkerchief. "Good heavens, we're done for."

  "I do know. But rest assured, your secret is safe. I promise, and I've never broken a pledge."

  A fine tremor swept the woman. "The Black Falcon would never agree to such a vow. He—"

  "Has he threatened you?" Nicola frowned, not believing it for a moment. No, Malcolm relied on his black reputation instead.

&nb
sp; "In so many words."

  "Tell me how."

  Lady Celeste shifted her weight. "He congratulated Sidney on his rise in station."

  Nicola frowned, confused. "Felicitations? That doesn't sound like a threat to me."

  "You are extremely innocent, my lady." Lady Celeste toyed with the lace on the dainty reticule from where it dangled on her wrist. "The threat is in the fact that he knows. And he reminded me that he knew. Why, shortly afterward he asked me to include you on my guest list. How could I refuse, knowing he held the future of my family in his palm?"

  Nicola shook her head. "You could have just said no."

  "And be at Falcon's mercy?" Lady Celeste pressed her lips together. "You don't know what it's like to be the victim of a cut direct."

  "And I say you are reading malicious intent that's nonexistent." She wondered what she could say to convince the woman—because she didn't believe, not for one moment, that Malcolm would ever ruin someone on a whim. "Has he ever betrayed you?"

  "Well, not me, personally." Lady Celeste fidgeted and averted her eyes. "But you know he was accused of killing his brother for the title, do you not?"

  Nicola waved her hand. "Of course I know, and it's all rubbish. It was a hunting accident."

  "I'm sorry to disagree with you, but I don't believe it. How can you be sure? You didn't even know him, and everyone who did believed him guilty. It was only because of the family name that he wasn't sent to prison."

  "Pish-posh. I will not believe for a moment, no, not even a smidgen of a moment, that Malcolm could kill his own brother." She took the other woman by the hand and walked her toward the settee, wondering just how far she should go with the tall tale she was about to give. "Sit down, Lady Celeste, I've got something to tell you." Nicola sat next to the Viscountess and angled herself on the seat so she could look directly in the woman's eyes.

  "What I'm about to do is drastic, but I know you won't be persuaded otherwise."

  Lady Celeste pressed her lips together.

  "I'm going to confide a secret to you, something so dark that it will ruin me for the rest of my life and will probably ruin poor Malcolm, for that matter. This secret you can hold over my head if it will make you feel more... balanced."

  Lady Celeste's mouth softened. "Good heavens, Lady Nicola, you mustn't do anything so rash."

  "Why? I trust you implicitly, and I'm hoping that you will, in turn, trust Malcolm."

  "Whatever can it be?" Lady Celeste's expression held dread and more than just a little curiosity.

  "Malcolm and I are active in the Luddite Rebellion." She hoped that Falcon never discovered her fib.

  Lady Celeste brought her hand to her throat. "Oh, my! You're not talking about those protests in the streets."

  "Yes."

  Her eyes were as round as shillings. "But those are the people who break looms and destroy property."

  "Indeed. That is how Malcolm and I met, actually—over an axe and a loom." Not exactly, but who would quibble? "In defense, I can say it is all for a good cause, although the results can be a bit unruly at times."

  "But … why would the Earl trouble himself?"

  "See, that is what I'm trying to tell you. He feels sorry for the stockingers who are starving. Although I must say that he wants to settle the matter in Parliament rather than on the streets. As a matter of fact, he has taken a young man under his wing and is coaching him on the finer aspects of the law and how to negotiate." She didn't mention the strange fighting methods Malcolm was teaching Ramsey.

  "Perhaps I misjudged him," Lady Celeste said slowly, using her gloved finger to draw circles in the satin fabric of the divan. "You have certainly shed a different light on him."

  Nicola spun a world globe on a stand and then turned to look at Lady Celeste. "Think about it. People believe the worst in him because he doesn't correct the misconceptions. He's not the sort to spout his good deeds."

  "I'm beginning to understand that."

  "Nicola."

  They both jumped at the sound of Malcolm's voice.

  He scowled fiercely and straightened his cravat in an uncharacteristically restless gesture. "You're needed in the foyer. The guests are leaving."

  Obviously he wanted her to do the farewells. With a bright smile, she wondered if all men felt inept at social functions. "Oh, then I'll bid them farewell."

  "I-I must leave also," Lady Celeste said.

  Nicola gently squeezed the woman's tiny hand. "I'm so glad we're neighbors. We'll have to get together for tea soon."

  "I, uh, don't know," Lady Celeste said, casting a furtive glance at Malcolm who hovered like a dark cloud.

  Something seemed to snap in Nicola. "Yes, I insist you come. And bring Sidney," Nicola added, naming Lady Celeste's husband." She took the timid woman by the arm and escorted her to the door, ever conscious of the glittering disapproval shining from Malcolm's silvery eyes—which she ignored. "Why, Malcolm recently told me how nice it would be if we could arrange a friendly game of whist, didn't you, dear?" She turned toward him, daring him with a look to say different.

  The air seemed to thicken as Nicola waited for his response. Would he disagree—call her a liar? Had she assumed too much?

  "As you wish," he said, giving her a bow. Nicola saw the promise of retribution written briefly in his eyes.

  Celeste exhaled and returned her expectant nod. "Well, then. Sidney and I look forward to hearing from you. Congratulations on your nuptials, my lord. I do look forward to seeing you again."

  She smiled sweetly at Malcolm.

  Malcolm blinked, startled. "Appreciate it," he replied.

  Inclining his head, Malcolm watched Lady Celeste vanish through the doorway, his jaw slack. Then he turned to Nicola with a frown. "What has gotten into her? Is she feeling well?"

  Nicola grinned, suddenly feeling giddy, as if she'd drunk too much sherry. "She must have caught a glimpse of my dear pixies."

  "Don't start with that rubbish. What did you say to her?"

  "Why, nothing, my lord. Shall we say farewell to our guests?" She brushed by him and walked to the doorway.

  The heels of his Wellington boots clicked against the mahogany flooring as he followed her. "Why do I have the feeling you're hiding something from me?"

  "Perhaps because I am."

  "That's not a way to start our partnership."

  She decided the best way to handle the situation was to change the subject. "Speaking of partnerships, what really happened between you and Thomas Hill?" Smaller problems first.

  "Nothing that's any concern to you."

  "Nor to anybody else," she murmured. "It is as I thought. Don't worry, my lord, I'll take care of everything."

  He frowned. "What are you planning?"

  "Retribution, my lord. Isn't that something you're fond of?"

  "Are you meddling in my affairs?"

  "Of course," she replied as she walked toward the corridor leading to the ballroom. "Isn't that what a wife is supposed to do?"

  "No, your responsibility is much more important." He grasped her elbow and stepped in close, his gaze as warm as a furnace fire.

  "What?" she asked, suddenly breathless.

  He tilted her chin.

  The broad finger he ran across her cheek made her tremble with excitement. Anticipation roiled inside of her just thinking about lying next to him, skin to skin. Would he take his time with her? Was he looking forward to the encounter? Would she be able to please him? Would he appreciate her in that manner? As for that matter, how would she even know what to do?

  Her attempt to swallow didn't alleviate her suddenly dry throat, but she rallied, deciding to call his hand. "I think you're all bluff."

  "Excuse me?"

  "You do not plan to spend time with me twice daily to create a babe."

  He raised his brows. "The night I announced our betrothal, you gave me a piece of advice. Now I'm giving it back to you."

  "Which is?" she asked.

  "Don't be so certain
you know me." He swiveled on his heel and made for the departing guests.

  Chapter 13

  Long shadows stretched where the wall sconces in the corridor leading to the stairs couldn't reach. The day had faded in almost a blink of an eye. After breakfast all the guests had left, and Nicola managed to slip away from Windmere to spend the remainder of the day setting up her millinery shop. She'd been careful to go in the back way so that nobody would think it strange she wasn't spending time with her new husband.