Slowly, her expression changed to a kind of horror.
Guessing her feelings, Lucien limped to her and put one arm around her shoulders in a brotherly hug. "Thank you, Kira," he said softly. "You're everything Kit said." Though he'd met her less than half an hour before, she seemed like an old friend.
He was looking around for Kit when danger reappeared. Most of the surviving Disciples were staring at the carnage, shocked and disbelieving. All except Lord Chiswick. In the lull after Mace's death, he had darted behind the altar and pulled out his own pistol. Keeping a wary eye on the gallery where Michael still stood, he pointed his gun at Lucien. "You've gone mad, Strathmore," he snapped. "Do you think we'll all stand still to be slaughtered?"
Lucien said under his breath, "Move away from me, Kira." While she withdrew from the line of fire, he dropped his useless pistol and raised his hands a little so that Chiswick could see that they were empty.
High above, Michael began to race around the gallery to a position where the altar wouldn't block his shot. But something in Chiswick's voice made Lucien think that the battle might be over. He said, "You think this is a senseless massacre?"
Pistol shaking, Chiswick said with an unconvincing show of nonchalance, "Christ, we were having a peaceful little orgy when you and your friends came and began shooting everyone in sight."
Michael reached a position where Chiswick was in his line of fire, but Lucien raised his hand in a signal to wait. To Chiswick he said harshly, "Are you claiming that you don't know that Mace kidnapped Cassie James two months ago and has kept her captive here? Or that he did his damnedest to kidnap her sister as well? Those things are facts, and he himself boasted to his captive that he had kidnapped, brutalized, and ultimately killed other women in the past."
Chiswick's jaw dropped. Across the room Sir James Westley exclaimed, "You've got it all wrong! The girls Mace hired for the solstice rituals were told to fight and scream and pretend to be captives. It was part of the fun. The rape of the Sabine women and all that, y'know." His mouth trembled. "I thought you were part of the show, until you started killing people."
Lucien shifted his hard stare to the baronet. "Would you have known the difference between a real and a pretend captive?"
"You mean they weren't...?" Westley's complexion took on a greenish hue. "I thought that Mace had hired Cassie James to entertain us for the evening. She's hardly the first actress to sell herself for the right price."
Kira had retreated into Kit's arms, but at Westley's statement she raised her head. "Not only did he tell me of his murders, but he said that my sister and I were to be the next victims," she said bitterly. "After the general rape, he and his closest cronies would have had a private little orgy of their own that would have ended with our deaths."
Her testimony left the surviving Disciples shaken. Chiswick's gaze went from Harford to Mace to Nunfield, and the shock in his eyes could not have been counterfeited. "I didn't know," he said with horror. "I swear to God that I didn't know."
Face implacable, Kira said, "Not consciously, perhaps, but by your cruelty and self-absorption, the whole rotten lot of you condoned Mace's behavior."
Chiswick's expression grayed.
Lucien said, "Think back and you may find it easier to believe."
After a painful hesitation, Chiswick nodded. "I always knew there was something a little strange going on with those three, but I thought it was merely family eccentricity between two brothers and their cousin." He straightened up, his gun sagging to the floor. "Though sometimes I wondered..."
Fragments of fact from his own investigation clicked into place in Lucien's mind, bringing near-certainty. "Did it ever occur to you that one of them might be a French spy?"
Chiswick looked startled. "Strange you should say that. I once overheard something that made me consider going to the authorities. Nunfield had access to information, Mace enjoyed confounding authority, and Roderick always needed money. But they were my friends, and I was reluctant to accuse them. Then the war ended, and the matter didn't seem worth pursuing. It... it never occurred to me that they might be murderers."
It made sense. Later Lucien would question Chiswick about the evidence of spying, but his intuition confirmed the other man's suspicion: the Phantom was not one man, but three, and all now lay dead. "I think their vices were multiple," he said dryly. "Though I didn't plan it this way, what happened tonight was justice, not slaughter."
Chiswick looked down at his pistol, then holstered it. "This wasn't loaded, you know. It was only part of the costume."
Which explained why he hadn't shot Lucien. It was also further evidence that Chiswick had not been part of Mace's violent inner circle.
Michael had descended from the gallery, alert but no longer in battle mode. He asked, "Has everything been resolved to your satisfaction?"
Lucien laid his hand on the other man's forearm. "It has. Thank you, Michael. God knows what would have happened without your marksmanship."
His friend smiled. "Think nothing of it. I'm always looking for a chance to atone for my sins." He moved away to look more closely at the warrior statues.
Now that the danger had passed, Lucien was physically and emotionally drained. His shoulder ached where Kira had clubbed him, his ankle hurt like the devil, and the prolonged anxiety of the night had taken a heavy toll. Instinctively he turned to Kit, needing to hold her.
She was with Kira, the identical faces like mirror images of each other. Though the twins were not clinging as desperately as they had earlier, it was obvious they were bound by an emotional intimacy that shut out everyone else.
Hesitantly he said, "Are you all right, Kit? Mace didn't hurt you?"
She looked at him, her gray eyes opaque and unreadable. "I'm fine, thank you. He didn't have time to do anything."
Worse than the formality of her words was the bitter knowledge that she had deliberately cut the silent ties that had been growing between them. He had not realized how strong they had become until now, when they were gone, leaving an icy void.
It was his worst fear come true. She had become the center of his life, yet for her, he scarcely existed. She no longer needed him now that she had her twin again.
He wondered where Jason would fit into the equation. Perhaps he didn't want as much from Kira as Lucien needed from Kit; if so, he might be perfectly happy, not knowing what he was missing. But Lucien wanted more, and he felt bleakly certain that he would never get it. If pressed, Kit might agree to marry him, from gratitude if for no other reason. But in every meaningful way she was gone, for she had never really been his.
Damming the pain before it could drown him, Lucien looked back at Chiswick. "We're leaving now. Do you want to take care of this mess? You were part of it, so you and the others have the most to lose if a public scandal results."
Chiswick looked startled, then thoughtful. "If it was announced that Nunfield, Mace, and Harford died in a carriage accident because of the icy weather, it would be sad, but not scandalous." He glanced at his fellows. "Do you agree?"
There were murmurs of relief. Judging by the faces of the other Disciples, the night's events had persuaded this particular lot of rakes to stick to more conventional vices in the future.
"Speaking of carriages," Chiswick said, "mine has special wheels that make it travel well in ice and snow. If you like, you can borrow it for the ladies." He glanced at Kit and Kira. "I think they have endured quite enough for one night."
Lucien accepted the offer, and within a quarter of an hour they were on their way. Even when he helped Kit into the carriage, she would not meet his gaze. She couldn't have been more reserved if they had just been introduced.
Michael drove the carriage while Lucien and Jason rode behind with the extra horses. The sleet and freezing rain had stopped and the temperature had fallen, turning the world to a glittering fantasy land of ice.
Lucien welcomed the biting cold, for it matched the chill in his heart. He thought back to the night at E
ton when he had decided to become Lucifer—cool, ironic, detached, as far above the pain of loss as the clouds sailing through the sky. It had worked then, and it would work now, for he had had so many years of practice.
After the pain was firmly locked away, he discovered a weary sense of peace. Though Kit had slipped away, taking his dreams with her, tonight he had found a measure of absolution for his failure to save his sister's life.
Chapter 39
At first Kit and Kira did not speak, content merely to hold hands as the carriage rumbled through the icy ruts. Rather than try to find her lost clothing in the maze of tunnels, Kit wore her outrageous costume under a warm cloak that Chiswick had given her. His usual cynical detachment had vanished; she guessed that he was trying to make amends for his failure to recognize the full depravity of his fellow Hellions.
Ruthlessly she suppressed her memory of the moment when Lucien had hugged Kira and said that she was everything Kit had described. After all, she had expected something like that. If she allowed herself to feel the pain, she would disintegrate, and for that she would rather be alone. Now she would rejoice in her sister's survival. There would be time enough for anguish later.
The silence was broken when Kira said in a shaking voice, "I just killed a man. I keep seeing the blood, and his face..."
"Good riddance," Kit said tartly. "Quite apart from Mace's other sins, he was in the process of trying to knife Lucien. It's all very well to forgive one's enemies, but not until after they've been safely hung."
Her sister's faint smile faded quickly. "He never raped me, he never even kissed me. I suppose he was saving that for his grand finale. But being forced to play his loathsome games was almost as bad. I felt helpless, soiled."
"Yet you survived and kept your sanity as well," Kit said quietly. "Few women could have been as strong."
"I never could have done it without you. No matter how dreadful things were, I knew that on some level you were always with me. When it became unendurable, I drew on your strength. I also knew that if I could stay alive long enough, you would find me." Kira's clasp tightened. "And you did."
"I had help." Kit glanced at her sister, seeing the familiar profile outlined against the window. Though in principle she didn't believe in revenge, in this case she applauded it. Surely Kira's act of vengeful justice had restored some of what Mace had taken away.
"And very impressive help it was," Kira said, sounding more like herself. "Tell me everything that happened."
For her twin Kit recounted everything, except for her relationship with Lucien. That was too painful to discuss.
Kira swore when she learned about Jason's imprisonment and escape, but didn't interrupt. At the end she exclaimed, "My shy, straitlaced little sister played in The Gypsy Lass?"
"And cut my hair and got tattooed with that damned butterfly so that no one would notice any difference," Kit said acerbically.
Kira chuckled. "How were your notices?"
"The critics said I was in good form." Kit shrugged. "I merely pretended that I was you. The audience saw what they expected of Cassie James."
"Maybe you should take my place permanently," Kira suggested. "I'm not going to continue acting, but it would be a pity to retire Cassie right when fame is there for the plucking."
Startled, Kit said, "You're going to leave the stage?"
"I've had enough. Sometimes it was wonderful. There's nothing like knowing you hold an audience in the palm of your hand. But the theater world is narrow and self-absorbed and takes itself far too seriously. I was often impatient with it."
"You never hinted at that before."
Kira's fingers moved restlessly within her sister's. "I didn't want to admit that it was a mistake to become an actress. And it wasn't a complete mistake—having done it, I can now walk away with no regrets." A warmer note entered her voice. "A good thing I've had enough, because continuing to act wouldn't be fair to Jason. Theater people should marry only other theater people."
"So you are going to marry him?"
"There's nothing on earth I want more. After I met him, damn his stubborn American hide, no one else would do. I assume he feels the same, or he never would have come for me." An anxious note sounded in her voice. "You like him, don't you? It would be dreadful if you didn't."
"I like him very much. The two of you should suit wonderfully."
"He has the ability to be emotionally intimate. That's rare in a man. I think it was because his mother raised him—he takes women seriously." Kira chuckled. "He probably didn't mention it, but he's also done rather well with his shipping business. Can you believe it? A Travers male who knows how to make money instead of wasting it! Papa would have considered that heresy."
"Obviously, two generations in America have improved the stock," Kit agreed. "But why did you refuse him three years ago? He said that you didn't want to leave England, but surely, since you loved him so much..."
"I couldn't bear to be so far from you, of course." Kira's clasp tightened again. "It was bad enough being separated when we were both in England, but to have a whole ocean between us... As much as I loved Jason, I simply couldn't go with him."
Kit was so moved that at first she couldn't reply. "I would have felt that way," she said quietly, "but I didn't know you did." She hesitated, wondering if she should ask the question that had nagged at her since she met Jason.
Inevitably, Kira noticed. "What are you not saying?"
"Why didn't you tell him about me?" Kit asked, trying to repress the hurt. "He knew I existed, but not that we were twins, much less what that means. Were you ashamed of me?"
"Kit, no! How could you think such a thing?"
"Why else would you keep silent?"
After a long silence Kira said haltingly, "I hate having to admit this—it sounds so horribly petty. But... I was afraid he would prefer you to me."
Kit sat bolt upright. "Have you run mad? No man has ever preferred me to you!"
"It's not a joking matter," Kira snapped. "I hate your false modesty. It's bad enough that you can out-think and out-talk me—you don't have to out-humble me as well."
Kit gasped at the sheer unfairness of the remark. "If I'm humble, it's because I have plenty of reason to be," she said, her voice trembling as she thought of Lucien. "I've spent my whole life trailing around in your shadow. The quiet twin. The dull twin. The twin who isn't Kristine, who looks exactly the same except that for some reason she isn't as pretty. I haven't minded that, but you have no right to accuse me of hypocrisy!"
Kira bit her lip. "Oh, Kit, I'm so sorry. My nerves are a wreck, but I shouldn't take it out on you of all people."
They went into each other's arms again, tears very close to the surface. Kit thought of their childhood, when they would creep into the same bed and sleep together like kittens. Impossible to imagine her life without her twin.
Eventually Kit disengaged herself. "Have you ever noticed that when we've been apart, we always have some stupid little disagreement shortly after we're reunited?"
Kira settled back and took her sister's hand again. "You're right, it happens every time. Why do you think that's so?"
"Because we miss each other so much." After a peaceful silence, Kit added, "I still can't believe you thought I could ever be a rival for Jason. Firstly, I would never, ever do that to you, and secondly, that man adores the water you walk on."
"I knew you wouldn't deliberately try to win him away, but men are always so intrigued by you," Kira said ruefully. "I'm such a frivolous creature. You're wiser, stronger, and you have a quality of female mystery that drives men wild. I didn't really doubt either Jason or you—but because you're both so important to me, I couldn't help worrying a little."
"Are we talking about the same person?" Kit said incredulously. "Me as a mysterious enchanter of men? You're off your head, big sister! Back in Kendal, you were always the one who was surrounded three deep by admirers."
Kira shrugged. "They were boys, not men, and they found it
easier to talk to a chatterbox like me. Oh, some of them fancied me, but half were hanging about as a way to get closer to you. Your intelligence intimidated them all fearfully, you know. I always knew you would come into your own when you were older and could meet men who were mature and confident."
"What about Philip Burke?" Kit asked, feeling a faint twinge even now. "I wanted desperately for him to notice me, but he didn't know that I was alive."
"Him? Oh, he was just one of those people, the sort that can't deal with identical twins," Kira said dismissively. "Since he needed something to do while visiting Kendal, he decided to dangle after me. So he did, which meant that you became invisible to him. I'm sorry that upset you, but honestly, he wasn't worth it. Those people never are."
"To think that I pined over him for one whole summer, yet missed something so obvious! You overrate my intelligence."
"No, I don't." Kira sighed. "I'm not as strong as you, Kit. I knew that Jane was right when she insisted that we separate and learn to lead independent lives after Papa died. I tried my best, but I just couldn't manage as well as you. Professionally, you became an influential writer, read and respected by the most prominent men in the kingdom. Even more important, you were always so calm, so confident, so comfortable with yourself. Not at all like me."
"But you were a much greater success!" Kit retorted. "You made ten times the money I did. It was you who paid off most of Papa's debts, and you had so many friends and admirers."
Kira shrugged. "I did well enough as an actress, but as a person I was a fraud—incomplete. I desperately wanted to find someone who would love and take care of me. That was why it was so dreadful to fall in love with an American. It was unthinkable to leave England, yet sending Jason away was almost as bad."
Again Kit had the sense that they were talking about two different people. "You really thought that I was successfully independent? I love Jane, and living with her has been very comfortable, but I would have accepted her offer of a home even if she'd been Caligula. When I left Westmoreland, I couldn't endure the thought of living alone or going among strangers. I had such respect for your courage in entering a whole new world. I spent four years lurking in my room, writing essays, which is about as far from real life as one can get."
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