Fates for Apate

by Sue London

  “Do you like him?”

  “Jack, we barely exchanged three sentences.”

  “I think I like him.”

  “You didn’t talk to him at all!”

  “No, but George, when she talked about him, she had a look that I didn’t recognize. I feel sorry for Charlie, he seemed quite surprised by her marriage. He always discouraged her attentions, but now I wonder.”

  “Don’t worry about Charlie, he doesn’t suffer for lack of feminine companionship.”

  His wife blushed a rosy hue. “I doubt I want to know what you mean by that.”

  “Oh? With our guests otherwise occupied I hoped we could go upstairs and I could explain it in detail.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  George had expected hovering from Jack, but in the morning she merely received a note that said they should rest as long as needed and ring for anything they might like. George sent back a note of thanks and asked that the dress she won be redeemed as a suit of clothes for Casimir instead. Meals were routinely delivered on trays and the doctor arrived each morning to check on their progress. A different doctor than had removed her bullet, but Casimir insisted that her wound be inspected each day. The first time she saw the mess of bruises on Casimir’s torso she reconsidered her threat to kill Robert. He deserved a slow, suffering death for this.

  By the third day George felt a bit guilty hiding in the guest room of her friend’s enormous London townhome. As she was considering if they, or at least she, should go down for breakfast there was another knock on their door. When she answered it she found the cheeky servant she remembered stealing biscuits in the kitchen. He had clothing draped over his arm.

  “Good morning, my lady,” he said with a bow. “I am here to see to the gentleman. I am Mr. Whitman, the earl’s valet.”

  Casimir rose from the bed. “Excellent.”

  George took this as her signal that she should seek out Jack while the valet attended to her husband. “Send for me if you need anything?”

  “Of course, ukochany,” he said, cupping her cheek in his hand.

  She suspected that the endearment meant wife. He had called her that exclusively since coming to the townhouse. She missed hearing him call her Gini but was tentative about discussing her name. They had filled their time here with the same sort of nonsense entertainments as on the carriage ride, cards and chatting. It was as though they were both afraid to discuss anything of gravity.

  Now she would leave him to the care of the earl’s valet and finally face Jack again.

  *

  Casimir had enjoyed the good fortune of servants his entire life, but the earl’s staff was of a caliber he had rarely seen. The valet was at least as well dressed as Casimir himself usually was, but the man’s manner was so effortless that Casimir was almost instantly put at ease. Mr. Whitman measured, pinned, and discussed fit, then whisked the suit away for minor alteration while he sent in footmen with a bath. As Casimir sank his aching, bruised body into the hot water he thought that his life continued as it typically did. Beaten by what he assumed was a spymaster, then spoiled by the household of a wealthy British aristocrat. Most people would find such things alarming, but his entire life had held such a dichotomy and he had long ago learned to take things as they came. At the moment what had come was a warm and fragrant bath, which was certainly no hardship. Who knew what later would hold? All he could do was focus on what he wanted to make happen. The first was to find the right way to proceed with his wife. She still seemed skittish and a bit haunted. She had yet to tell him about either who this Robert person was to her, nor what had happened with her friends that she referred to as sisters when she wasn’t thinking. But for her, he could be patient. Would be patient. Then once he was more certain of their relationship he could focus on how to help his people, help Poland.

  Although the very first thing, now that he was feeling up to it, was to ingratiate himself to his host. That was also something he had more experience at than most. Within an hour Mr. Whitman had him dressed and on his way to finding his hosts and his wife.

  *

  The butler led George to an upstairs parlor and announced her. She stopped short in the doorway when she saw Sabre. She hadn’t expected the duchess to return from her honeymoon so soon. The petite woman stood and walked over to George, surprising her further by pulling her into a hug.

  “I’m still mad at you, you know,” she murmured into George’s shoulder.

  “I don’t think that has really changed since we were six and I put that frog in your shoe.”

  Sabre giggled. “So true.” Pulling back, the duchess searched George’s expression. “Jack is worried about you.”

  George rolled her eyes. “That hasn’t changed in all this time, either. She didn’t call you back to London, did she?”

  Sabre shook her head, taking George’s hand and leading her over to join the conversation circle with Jack. “No, Quince had to come in for a key vote. Marrying while Parliament was in session might not have been my brightest idea.”

  Jack smiled at George. “Quince makes her mind go all fuzzy.”

  “That’s not true!” Sabre defended herself.

  Jack rolled her eyes at Sabre. And just like that everything was normal again. George picked up the tiny pillow on her seat and hugged it to her waist while leaning back in the relaxed pose that irritated her more formal friends, waiting for them to tease her about it. Normal was good. Normal was very good. If the duke were responsible for Sabre’s turn of mood, as Jack had predicted he would be, then she would kiss him the next time she saw him. As her friends continued to chat and tease she thought that so far she liked both of their husbands. She wondered what they might think of hers. The butler appeared in the doorway again.

  “Announcing Mister Casimir Rokiczana.” The pronunciation had been reasonable.

  Then Casimir appeared, looking as freshly turned out as he had at any ball in Vienna. His image perfection, his movement graceful, no one seeing him now would guess at how badly he had been injured only a few days ago. She recognized the smile he cast on the Haberdashers. He planned to build a new bevy of feminine admirers. She wondered how her friends would react to his attentions.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  It had been heartening to hear Gini’s laughter as he approached the room, and now to see her spread out on her chair like a naughty, playful child brought a smile to his lips. Her friends looked at him curiously, as he expected they might. He turned his attention first to his wife, bowing over her hand and complimenting her beauty in Polish. It had been a purposeful ploy to indicate an impenetrable intimacy since he was almost certain neither of her friends understood his language. She raised a brow but smiled sweetly at him. She stood, tucking her hand in his elbow.

  “Sabre, Jack, may I present my husband, Mister Rokiczana. Casimir, may I present her honorable Jacqueline Wolfe, Countess of Harrington, and her grace Sabrina Bittlesworth, Duchess of Beloin.”

  He bowed over both of her friend’s hands, gauging their response to him. Still curious, neither openly hostile. Excellent.

  “Don’t let me interrupt your conversation, ladies, it sounded like you were having a delightful time.” Casimir said.

  His wife encouraged him to sit on the settee and perched herself next to him. “We were just recalling the Frost Fair last year.”

  “Frost Fair?” he asked politely.

  “When the Thames river freezes solid, London holds a fair,” the countess explained.

  “We, of course, were not allowed to go,” the duchess added.

  “Yet you did,” Casimir replied in a conspiratorial tone, to match the spirit of their gathering.

  “Oh yes, we did,” Gini agreed with a grin. “Another one of Sabre’s masterful plans.”

  “Which almost came to naught when Tyche threw a shoe,” Sabre reminded them.

  “The goddess of luck?” Casimir asked.

  “Well, yes,” Jack said, looking abashed, “but also my horse.”
>
  “We had to leave her at a vendor stall,” Gini said, “and hope she was still there when we got back.”

  Casimir smiled. “Tyche or the countess?”

  “Tyche,” Gini clarified.

  “Although, of course, I considered leaving Jack,” Sabre admonished.

  “Then who would have saved you from that paper that blew off the bonfire?”

  “I suppose you do have your uses.”

  “I wish your reflexes weren’t so quick,” Gini complained. “It would have been entertaining to see how Sabre dealt with a flaming tail.”

  “Like a phoenix, I would have risen from the Frost Fair anew.”

  Gini burst into laughter, then held her side at the pain. “You are so full of yourself, Sabre.”

  “The correct address is ‘you are full of yourself, your grace’.”

  Gini looked at him. “Marrying a duke was probably the worst thing that could have happened. She was impossible enough as it was.”

  “She could have married a prince,” the countess pointed out.

  The duchess gave a dramatic sigh. “One should always have something to aspire to.”

  The countess laughed. “Good Lord, does Quince know you plan to off him if a prince should come along?”

  “He can prove his love to me by living through all my diabolical plots.”

  The countess smirked. “After what Robert put him through I can’t imagine you tormenting him with diabolical plots any time soon.”

  Casimir watched carefully to see how the duchess would react. It seemed this ‘Robert’ had a free hand with who he tormented. Gini’s friend made a moue of displeasure.

  “We needn’t bring that up, Jack.”

  Gini looked back and forth between her friends. “What did Robert do to the duke?”

  The countess looked at the duchess, and the duchess stared at Gini with an arched eyebrow.

  His Gini nearly wriggled like a puppy on the seat. “Sabre, you know I hate secrets.”

  “No, you love secrets. You’re the spy, you figure it out.”

  Gini huffed and flung herself back so that she was draped over the settee in a dramatic pose, wrist to forehead. “You do hate me now.”

  Casimir patted her hand. “Of course they don’t hate you, love. How could they? You brought me to them.”

  The countess and duchess laughed at his outrageous statement, as he knew they would. Gini sat up with a rueful grin and captured his hand with her own. Her behavior was shocking for a fashionable European parlor, but he found that holding her hand while her friends laughed was among the finer things in life.

  *

  When Gideon entered the front hall he heard laughter. Not just Jack, but a number of people. He didn’t remember Jack saying that she was hosting an entertainment today. He looked questioningly at Dibbs.

  “The duchess called today, my lord, and the Rokiczanas have joined them.

  “It sounds as though the girls have settled their differences.”

  “Just so, my lord.”

  “Send a note around to Quince that I have his wife. He would have come with me if he’d known.”

  “As you wish, my lord.”

  After handing his gloves and outerwear over to the butler, Gideon trotted up the steps two at a time. The scene that greeted him was heartening. The Rokiczanas lounged together on a settee with both Sabre and Jack seated on the nearby sofa. It looked quite the coze.

  Sabre noticed him first. “Hullo, my lord. Join us.”

  Jack jumped up. “Giddy! You’re home.”

  Mr. Rokiczana rose as well, nodding to the earl.

  Gideon leaned down to kiss his wife’s cheek. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t call me that in company.”

  “Fiddlesticks. The Haberdashers are family.”

  “Ah,” he said, holding his hand out to shake Mr. Rokiczana’s, “it seems we are brothers.”

  “Perhaps only cousins,” Mr. Rokiczana offered as a compromise while they shook.

  “Casimir excels at diplomacy,” George acknowledged.

  Gideon hadn’t been sure what to expect of this third Haberdasher. Jack was impulsive, Sabre was downright blustery, but their friend George seemed the most withdrawn of the three. Quiet and watchful.

  He sat in the free chair next to his wife’s seat. “I hope it’s all right, your grace, but I sent a note to your husband to tell him that you were here in case he wished to join us.”

  “Of course! Perhaps now we can finally have that nuncheon.”

  Jack stood again. “I should go talk to cook.”

  Gideon and Casimir both stood politely as the countess left the room. Although he was tempted to follow his wife, Gideon decided instead to remain and watch the interaction of the friends. Jack seemed to want reassurance that George was all right and perhaps he could see things that Jack herself wasn’t seeing.

  “We were debating the virtues of horse racing,” Mr. Rokiczana said, drawing the earl into the conversation. “Whether horseback or curricle racing is a more defining assessment of one’s skill.”

  “I’m sure my wife had much to say on the subject. What is your opinion, Mr. Rokiczana?”

  “As I have limited experience with racing, I defer to those wiser on the subject than myself.”

  Gideon looked at George. “I see your husband does indeed excel at diplomacy.”

  “Indeed. I have good reason to believe he knows more about racing horses than he lets on.”

  “Because I caught up with your carriage? That wasn’t racing. That was just determination.”

  Sabre perked up. “Oh, this sounds a story. Why were you racing after George’s carriage?”

  The Rokiczanas exchanged looks. Finally Mr. Rokiczana said, “I’d learned that the letter I’d given her might put her in danger.”

  “So you raced after her carriage? How romantic.”

  George smiled at her husband. “The driver wouldn’t stop so Casimir had to climb in through the window.”

  Sabre’s lower lip pouted. “Quince has never done anything like that for me.”

  Gideon laughed. “I don’t recommend you suggest it to him.”

  “But it sounds terribly romantic.”

  Gideon sobered. “And don’t recommend it to Jack, either.”

  Now Mr. Rokiczana laughed. “I think you’d have an easier time wrestling the horses to the ground than fitting through those tiny windows, my lord.”

  “Most likely,” Gideon agreed.

  “Did you have an opinion on horseback versus curricle racing?” Mr. Rokiczana not only excelled at diplomacy, he was a natural politician, gently turning the conversation in what he considered the most productive direction. Or at least away from the least productive.

  “My considered opinion,” Gideon said, easing into the tone he used in Parliament, “is that curricle racing proves the better test of a man’s, or woman’s, skill. A horseback race can be won with an excellent beast and a rider who simply doesn’t fall off.”

  “A perfectly logical argument,” the duchess agreed. “But I think the only way we can be sure is to test it.”

  “Beg pardon?”

  “Test it. Use the same course, the same horses, and have the riders go over the same ground.”

  Gideon suspected he had been trapped. He looked at Mr. Rokiczana but the young man was just as stunned at the suggestion.

  The duchess continued, “I’m sure Jack would relish the chance-”

  “No,” Gideon said flatly.

  “But she would love i!”

  “If you think I would allow my pregnant wife to engage in dangerous sporting events then we aren’t as well acquainted as I thought.”

  George spoke up. “Jack’s pregnant?”

  Sabre’s attention immediately shifted. “She didn’t tell you? I assumed you already knew by the time I came back to Town.”

  “No, I… We played a game where I was to guess what had happened to everyone, with a slight hint. She…” George was obviously
thinking through the hints that Jack had given her, checking to see if she had only guessed wrong and Jack had been trying to tell her within the rules of their game.

  While his wife was distracted with her remembrances, Casimir said, “Congratulations, my lord. When is the happy event expected?”

  “November.”

  “Delightful, just in time for the Christmas season.”

  George finally stopped trying to remember her conversation and smiled at Gideon. “Yes, congratulations, my lord.”

  Sabre piped up again, “Then did she tell you about the time she saved Gideon from smugglers?”

  Gideon threw his arms in the air. “It’s apparent I need to leave.”

  Mr. Rokiczana rose when the earl did, as propriety dictated.

  “Would you care to join me for a drink?”

  “That would be most pleasant, my lord.”

  “You never invite me to drink with you, Gideon,” Sabre teased.

  “I’m afraid you would be bent on drinking me under the table.”

  The duchess chuckled and Gideon beat a hasty retreat with Mr. Rokiczana at his heels.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Accepting the earl’s invitation to join him in a drink had been a difficult decision. On the one hand, Casimir was sure that his wife didn’t prefer to be left alone with her more judgmental friend. On the other hand, accepting the hospitality of their host would make their stay easier. As much as his heart told him to protect Gini, his wit and instincts told him to follow the earl. The earl who was now rifling through his tray of liquors in the study.

  “What is your poison, Mr. Rokiczana?”

  Although tempted to encourage the earl to use his first name, Casimir sensed that the earl was at heart a traditionalist, and that it would be best not to become overly familiar too quickly. “Vodka if you have it, my lord.”

  The earl shifted a few more bottles around and muttered, “One would presume I did.” More loudly he called, “Dibbs!”

  The butler appeared at the door. “Yes, my lord?”

  “Do we have vodka?”

  “Chilling in the cellar, my lord.”

  “Perfect. I will need some for Mr. Rokiczana. And Dibbs, do I like vodka?”