by Lang, Lily
Jane Cameron fell to the floor, dead, a red circle marking the spot where Sevigny’s bullet had entered her forehead.
Sevigny had not yet recognized her, but Tessa knew that it was only a matter of seconds. She raised her own pistol and fired.
She missed. Sevigny turned, disbelieving as he stared from Jane’s dead body to her stolen face, but Sebastian was already reacting, shaking off his loosened bonds. He raised the pistol he had taken from one of the hired thugs, just as Edward Ryder came running down the stairs of the office, alerted by the sound of the gunshots.
Sevigny lunged. He struck Edward with a force that sent them both flying to the ground, and then he vanished as he entered Edward and possessed him, their two bodies becoming one, and Tessa watched as her father’s eyes rolled back in his head for a second before opening.
“Father!” she screamed, as Sebastian lowered his weapon and took an uncertain step forward.
“Stay back,” said Sevigny in Edward’s voice, and Tessa screamed again, a sound of pure rage that echoed horribly through the workshop.
“Let him go!” she cried.
“Stay back,” said Sevigny again. “My men have surrounded you.”
Tessa barely noticed the five guards who had encircled them, their weapons drawn as they awaited the signal to fire. She took another step forward.
“Let go of my father, you murdering French bastard—”
But even as she watched, Edward’s eyes rolled back in his head for a brief, terrifying moment. And then Sevigny once again separated from Edward, whose psychic power must have been strong enough to eject Sevigny. The Frenchman fell out of Edward’s body with a hoarse shout of rage, and as he rolled on the ground Sebastian shot him, cleanly, in the forehead.
Tessa whirled, expecting the guards to fire, but as she watched, they dropped to the ground, one by one, unconscious.
She looked up at her father.
“Good riddance, I should think,” he said calmly.
“Father?” she asked uncertainly.
“The others are in the basement,” he said. When they continued to stare at him blankly, he said, “Peter, McGrigor, and young Hughes.”
“Father, what’s going on?”
Edward Ryder raised a bush red eyebrow. “I have been working for the Crown this entire time, Tessa,” he said. “I told you to stay out of it, if you will recall.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You didn’t really think that I would betray England, did you?”
“Well, I had hoped not, but—”
“After all I have done for my country?” Edward asked indignantly.
“But last week, I heard you speaking with Sevigny in the study.”
Edward Ryder sighed. “I suppose I had best explain from the beginning.”
Tessa nodded. “That would be optimal, Father,” she said. “I would not like to see you hang for high treason.”
“Hmph,” said Edward. “Well, when the members of the Omega Group disappeared one by one last year, young Hughes asked me to help him investigate. I eventually managed to persuade Sevigny that I wished to work for him in return for gold and riches.”
“I still don’t understand,” said Tessa. “If you were working for the Crown, why did you not kill Sevigny, or turn him in before?”
“Because I was still waiting to discover Sevigny’s plans,” said Edward patiently. “Though I began working for him over a year ago, he did not make me privy to his plans regarding the Neptune until the night you overheard us. Until then he merely wanted me to procure intelligence regarding the British navy and security on St. Helena.” He scowled. “Then, after he finally told me and gave me information about this place, you ran off to find Montague without a word to anyone. Sevigny was furious that I couldn’t control you. He trusted me even less afterwards.”
“You should have told me!”
“You should have asked,” said Edward. “Before you ran off with your half-brained notions to save Montague and stop Sevigny on your own.”
“You would have told me the truth if I had confronted you?” Tessa asked, skeptical.
“Well, no,” her father admitted. “But I would have done a better job of stopping you from running off.”
Sebastian spoke for the first time. “Then yesterday, at Somerset House—”
“I unlocked your memories deliberately, yes,” said Edward. “I always considered it a foolish idea that Tessa was not good enough for you. I rather thought that, after your memories were returned to you, you would agree with me.”
“I do, actually,” said Sebastian, looking nearly as bemused as Tessa felt. “I intend to marry her. If she will have me.”
Tessa scowled at him. “This is hardly the time, Sebastian,” she said. “We ought to free the others first, and clean up this mess here. And someone really ought to contact the authorities.”
“I will,” said Edward. “Admiral Calder will wish to know about the Neptune and see that it is properly destroyed. He will also see to it that Sevigny’s conspirators here in England and abroad are found and arrested.”
They rounded up the hired thugs, bound them together with rigging rope, and left them in the workshop. In the basement they found the others that Sevigny had held captive for so long: the second Howard brother Peter, and Dr. McGrigor, and Francis, half-starved from his year of captivity but otherwise unharmed. When he saw Sebastian he smiled weakly, and Sebastian clasped his old friend’s hand very tightly.
The carriage that had brought Tessa and Sebastian to the docks had room only for four. Edward agreed to drive the others to the Horse Guards to speak with his superiors in the army and relate the whole sorry tale. He intended, he said, to return to his rooms at a nearby inn, and told Sebastian rather sternly that Tessa was to be deposited there.
Then he climbed into the driver’s seat of the carriage, and with a last wave, he was gone.
It was nearly dawn as Tessa and Sebastian stood in the road, watching the carriage depart. When it had turned a corner and disappeared, they made their way inland, away from the waterfront and toward busier streets, where they were to hail a hackney.
“Where will you go now?” Tessa asked, as they walked. The predawn air was chilly, and she shivered a little, drawing her ill-fitting clothes more tightly around her. “Montague House has all but burnt to the ground.”
“As you very wisely pointed out to me a few nights ago,” said Sebastian, “I have an estate in the country. I believe I shall return to Grenville Park until a new house is built here.”
“I see,” said Tessa.
“Will you come with me?” Sebastian asked quietly. “Grenville Park has been too long without a mistress.”
She held her hands out to him and drew his fingers to her lips.
“You know I cannot,” she said.
They had reached a large thoroughfare, and even in the early morning, carriages, carts and people were already pushing their way through the streets.
“What I know,” said Sebastian, “is that I absolutely cannot live with you.”
“You are being absurd,” said Tessa, though her heart clenched. She did not know how long she could continue resisting him; she could already feel her resolve weakening.
Before he could respond, he caught sight of a hackney cab a further down the street, and gestured toward it. It came to a stop, and they crossed the street until they were standing before it.
“Need a lift?” the driver asked.
“Yes, thank you,” Sebastian said.
He opened the door and helped Tessa inside. She barely glanced around at the interior of the dingy little cab, but instead leaned her head back wearily and allowed her eyelids to droop shut.
She could hear Sebastian murmuring instructions to the driver, and then he climbed up into the cab beside her, his weight making the entire vehicle shift. Then he pulled the door shut and the carriage set off.
For a long time they were silent as the carriage made its slow, tortuous way through the London
streets. Tessa kept her eyes shut, hoping Sebastian would think she was asleep and cease pressing her.
Though they sat mere inches from each other, they were not touching, and each clatter of the horse’s hooves against the street seemed to bear her farther and farther away from him, away from that dark, tender moment in time when they had slept in each other’s arms and been one.
But she had let him go once before and she was strong; she would find the strength to let him go a second time.
Finally, he spoke.
“I love you, you know,” he said. “I won’t ever stop loving you.”
She opened her eyes. He watched her, his dark, scarred face unreadable in the shadows.
Then he reached out and cradled her face in the palms of his large callused hands and brushed his thumb lightly over her cheekbones.
“You love me,” he said. “You have never stopped loving me. So marry me, Tessa. Come home with me to Grenville.”
She shook her head helplessly and looked out the windows to buy herself time. The carriage moved westward past narrow houses and cozy-looking inns. Not a quay or glimpse of the river in sight. They had left the docklands behind.
She bolted upright in the seat.
“My father said you are to bring me to his inn!” she exclaimed. “Where are you taking me?”
“Later,” he said, “I will bring you to his inn, so that he can give you away when we are married. I’ll have Canterbury draw up a special license.”
“We are not getting married, by special license or otherwise!” cried Tessa in frustration.
“Of course we are,” he said. “You love me. I love you. Nothing could be simpler.”
She began to say something else, but the carriage passed an enormous mansion facing a green park and she choked on a wave of outrage at his audacity. They were in Mayfair.
“Your house burned down,” she said, through gritted teeth. “Or have you forgotten?”
“I am hardly likely to forget,” said Sebastian, raising a dark eyebrow.
The carriage drew up before a terraced townhouse and came to a halt.
“There you are, guv’nor,” called the driver from the top of the cab.
Sebastian pushed the door open. Grabbing hold of the front of Tessa’s shirt, he climbed out, dragging her out with him. For a man with a damaged leg, he was very good at keeping his balance while holding on to a struggling, unwilling captive.
“Thank you,” said Sebastian to the driver. “If you will be so good as to wait a moment, the maitre’d will bring you a guinea.”
“Where is this?” Tessa demanded, trying to wriggle free without hurting his injured leg.
“Mivart’s Hotel,” said Sebastian.
“I don’t want to go inside,” she said. “We cannot possibly go inside there, dressed as we are.”
“Nonsense,” said Sebastian. “I am Grenville, and you are to be my countess. We shall go anywhere we like, dressed in anything we please.”
He hauled her up the steps, and when they reached the top he knocked imperiously on the door. It swung open immediately, revealing a porter whose eyes widened in shock and disgust when he caught sight of them. He was about to slam the door shut again when Sebastian slammed his free hand against the wood.
“I am Grenville,” he announced. “As Montague House has just burned down, I require a room for me and my lady. Our coachman also needs to be paid.”
The porter’s eyes widened further, but this time he must have recognized Sebastian’s scar for he immediately bowed.
“Yes, my lord,” he said. “Of course. At once.”
He took a step back to admit them inside. Sebastian, still keeping a firm grip on Tessa, dragged her inside.
She found herself inside a magnificently furnished front hall with glittering chandeliers dripping with crystals and a shallow, curving stairway. The rug beneath their feet was thick and luxurious, and Tessa watched with horror as their feet left dusty, muddy prints.
“I am beginning to think it is rather a good thing I am so ugly,” Sebastian was saying. “I am instantly recognizable.”
Tessa scowled at him. “This isn’t going to work,” she hissed, as the porter hastened away, no doubt to fetch the maitre’d.
“On the contrary,” said Sebastian, beginning to look quite cheerful. “I believe this is going to work quite well.”
“You are absolutely insane.”
“If I am, it is entirely your fault, I assure you. I was quite sane before I met you.”
“If you don’t let me go,” she whispered vehemently, “I shall scream.”
“No, you won’t,” said Sebastian. “You wouldn’t want to make people think worse of me than they already do.”
A maitre’d appeared, bowing very low as he murmured welcoming words. To the man’s credit he did not even glance at the appalling state of their clothes and their persons, only led them up the stairs and down a wide, spacious hall to a pair of double doors.
“Have baths drawn for my lady and myself,” said Sebastian, and the man bowed and hastened away to do his bidding, lowly serf to the lord of the manor.
The room was large and lovely, but Tessa barely noticed as she turned her agitated gaze to Sebastian.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked.
“Because we are both disgusting and require a bath,” he said calmly.
He refused to say another word until two enormous footmen had filled two hot baths and a small, mousy housemaid had appeared to help Tessa undress and wash.
Tessa was perfectly capable of washing herself, but she had to admit it was lovely to have someone help her unknot the heavy tangle of her hair. As she sank into the hot water and allowed the maid to lather her hair and scrub her back with a rose-scented soap, something finally eased within her.
Her father was not a traitor and he was safe.
As for Sebastian…
Her heart nearly skidded to a stop as she thought of what he had said to her. I love you, he had said, his heart in his eyes.
She knew that he told the truth. He loved her.
And she loved him. She loved him so much that she could no longer think of her love as something distinct from herself. Instead, her love for him seemed as much a part of her as her eyes or her hands or the beating of her heart.
And because she loved him, she must let him go.
When Tessa emerged from her bath, wrapped in a thick Turkish towel, she sent the maid away and went to search for her clothes, only to find that they were gone.
She whirled around. Sebastian sat in a chair by the window, wrapped in an extremely expensive looking brocade robe and nursing a glass of something golden. His damp hair curled at the tips.
“Where are my clothes?” she asked.
He tilted his glass back and regarded her cheerfully.
“I burned them,” he said.
“You burned them?”
“Well, I told that little maid to bring them down to the kitchen and burn them,” he clarified. “You didn’t want to continue wearing Jane’s clothes, did you? Especially not in the lamentable state they were in.”
She didn’t want to wear Jane Cameron’s clothes, but still… “What am I supposed to wear, then?”
Sebastian shrugged. “Nothing, for now,” he said. He smiled, a cat toying with a mouse. “You needn’t worry about me. I certainly don’t mind.”
She sank down onto the edge of the massive canopied bed, her shoulders hunching. “Oh, Sebastian.”
“Excellent idea,” he said, rising to his feet and setting aside his glass so he could climb onto the other side of the bed. “I’m exhausted. We should get some rest.”
She shook her head. “Don’t do this, Sebastian,” her voice nearly inaudible. “Please.”
He had stretched full length across the bed now and watched her, the brief flash of easy humor gone now from his serious dark eyes. “Why?”
“Why?” She twisted her hands together in agitation. “I already told you why. Y
ou are Grenville. You cannot marry someone like me.”
“Someone like you?” he asked quietly. “Someone who is loyal and good and loving?”
“Someone who is common and poor and plain!” she cried. “Someone who can bring you no lands or wealth or connections.”
“Lands and wealth and connections mean nothing to me,” he said quietly. “I would give up all that I already have, if you wish it. I never wanted Grenville. But I don’t think that it is me you are truly worried about, is it? It’s you.”
She shook her head, feeling the heavy damp locks of her hair clinging to the bare skin of her shoulders. “What are you talking about?” she asked, but her heart pounded painfully fast.
“You’re not afraid I will be judged for marrying you,” he said. “You’re afraid you cannot measure up. That Wellington was right. Not that you will not make a suitable countess, but that you will not make a suitable wife. You do not truly believe I will always love you.”
She drew a breath, feeling as though he had slapped her.
“Well, stop it, Tessa,” he said. “Stop being afraid. I love you. I will never stop loving you. When you left me last time you were only nineteen, but you’re too old now to be such a coward. You’re too old to be a martyr for love again. It was an idiotic thing to do last time, but now it would be a selfish thing as well.”
Tessa stared at him. He was wrong. He did not understand what he was talking about. How could he? Despite his childhood, he had been raised in wealth and privilege. How could he understand what it was like to be powerless against the cruelty of the world?
Then she looked at him. His eyes darkened with compassion and understanding.
And that was when she knew.
He did understand. He understood because he had been a small, orphaned boy adrift in a terrifying new country, and because he had been a damaged and badly broken man adrift in a glittering and hypocritical society. He understood the world was capricious and cruel, and that it was not possible to protect yourself entirely from pain.
You could only hold fast to the love you were lucky enough to find.
She had been afraid, and now she saw she was wrong and foolish to be afraid, because the love they shared was bigger and stronger than all the world. Her hand went to her mouth as she looked into his dark, tender eyes, and for the first time she realized that leaving him wasn’t an act of courage, it was an act of cowardice. Because it hadn’t only been him for whom she had been afraid.