Nero's Fiddle

by A. W. Exley

  Voices announced Nate’s return to London as he walked through the house issuing orders. Cara rose from her desk and left her study. With a firm decision in her heart, she could now face her husband.

  He stopped on seeing her, his hands clasped behind his back. “I have missed you.”

  A tiny smile tugged at her lips. It melted her heart when he momentarily lost his cool composure and the small boy peeked out. “I have missed you too.”

  He arched one dark eyebrow. “You seem… content.”

  “What you did was before I met you and cannot be changed. I understand part of why you took down Brandt.” She thought of wee Rachel with one arm and could remove Brandt’s spleen through his throat for what he did. “But promise me now nothing like that will ever happen again without me knowing beforehand. I want, demand, to be involved.”

  He nodded. “Full disclosure, remember? But I cannot change events that have already played out.”

  She had learned much on each of her visits to the Rookery, like how the annual death toll of fifteen hundred dropped to under a thousand since the change of regime and continued to decline. She found comfort by focusing on the positive outcomes. “I met Liam; apart from the divine accent, I think he’s very gallant.” She fanned herself with one hand as she remembered her guide.

  Nate’s dark brows drew together in a scowl. “He’s a rogue, watch him; but he cares deeply for his people.” He sent a caress along their bond before he reached for her physically.

  She took his hand in hers and ran her thumbs over his palm. “I’m going to teach the little ones to read, I want them to have choices.”

  Nate relaxed his pose under her touch and a smile quirked his lips. “Just what the world needs, more smart women who can fight their way out of a corner. I’ll talk to Liam about finding space for you to use.”

  “Thank you.” Now she needed to find a way to make learning fun so the children didn’t wise up to her too quickly.

  He held his arms open and she went to him. As he held her tight, she let loose a sigh and her body hummed. She was learning that relationships were hard work, but these moments of quiet peace made it worthwhile.

  “What plans do you have?” Nate asked as he pushed around the papers stacked on his desk, looking for anything urgent. One caught his attention and he extracted it from the pile.

  Cara perched on a corner of the desk. “I need to go see McToon and decide what to do with my Soho house. It’s evicted the only tenant we could find.”

  His gaze flicked from lines of text up to her. “You talk about that house as though it lived.”

  “I think it does, and it has always hated me. In hindsight, perhaps it has absorbed an artifact? My father buried the Heart in the basement, who knows what might have leeched into the brickwork.” She chewed her bottom lip. “I know I searched the house, but I can’t help thinking there is something else there.”

  He dropped the memo and brushed a thumb over the back of her knuckles. “Are you all right to go back?”

  She shrugged. “Yes. I’m not fond of the cellar, though, after what happened down there.”

  A brief smile quirked his lips. “Weaver tried to cave my head in with a dock exoskeleton, so I understand the sentiment.”

  “I shan’t go alone, I have Brick and I’ll hide behind him if the house gives me any trouble. On the off chance it does try to electrocute me, I would be grateful if you kept me alive.”

  “Always,” he whispered, and dropped a kiss on her hand before releasing her.

  Nate folded Cara in his embrace and his lips slid over hers in a gentle tease, somewhat placating her concern. She sighed and leaned into the kiss, over far too soon.

  He pulled back from her. “I have several meetings today, including one with Victoria. I’ll tell you all the details over dinner.”

  Late that night, she awoke to find herself alone. She pulled a velvet robe tight around her naked figure and padded down to the study on bare feet. The household slumbered except for Nate and one lone man standing guard in the entrance way. They dimmed the lights at night and the bulbs threw long shadows, illuminating the face of the man outside the study door.

  She nodded as she pushed the door open and crept into Nate’s domain. The deep green walls absorbed the light and gave nothing back, the only illumination the dance of firelight and the single beam from the lamp.

  He sat at the desk, papers scattered around him, a small red box open in front of him and his head in his hands.

  She padded closer. “What’s keeping you awake so late?”

  He looked up and his hungry stare roamed her body for a moment. Then he sighed, pushed back the chair, and beckoned for her to sit on his lap. “I am kept awake by a surplus of possibilities. Like a general faced with a war on many different fronts, the time has come to pull back, regroup and pick a direction to strike.”

  She nestled into him and he slipped his arms around her. “You’re playing general now? Does this mean you have a plan for the army sitting in St Giles Rookery?”

  He gave a short laugh. “No, that is my contingency plan. Like when you wear your pistols, you might never use them, but there is a comfort in knowing they are within reach.”

  A chill of premonition shot down her spine. He will use his army, one day. “So start at the beginning of what is preying on your mind. Full disclosure, remember?”

  His voice rumbled through his chest as he spoke. “The long range airships have been tested and are ready to go. We can open up trade routes to the farthest corners of the Earth, such as Australia and Asia.”

  The behemoths rivalled a naval frigate in size. Their construction dominated time, money, and gossip in the Lyons empire for the last six months. On the first test run, the massive ship blotted out the sun and nearly caused a panic in the rural village where Nate had it built. “Will those routes be financially viable?”

  “Not just viable, lucrative. We could transport emigrants who don’t want to spend three months in a leaky ship’s hold and bring back a wealth of stock and gems from the new countries.”

  Her hand rested over his heart. She found comfort in the single beat resonating between their bodies. “So definitely worth pursuing. What else is worrying you? Problems in Lowestoft with the local thug?” Her hand played with the buttons on his waistcoat as they talked.

  “No, he’s a gnat and Jackson will squash him.” He paused as though reluctant to breach the next subject. After several heartbeats, he pointed to the red box. “That contains the prime minister’s idea of a joke. Palmerston has sent me papers concerning Poor Law reforms along with a Writ of Summons instructing me to take up my seat in parliament.” His hand stroked her back through the thick robe. “I think I’d rather take up residence in the Rookery than play politician.”

  She remained silent, lost in thought about the night he claimed St Giles as his own. A brutal business, and one she would gladly see him relinquish. He called it war, but she saw the blood spilled on the ground when he struck like a beast in the dark. The only way to alleviate the unease in her mind was to concentrate on the good the change wrought rather than the profit.

  “Unfortunately, Palmerston has Victoria’s backing on this one. She called me in today to tell me it’s time to take up my family seat in the House of Lords.”

  Having pushed open his waistcoat, she turned her attention to the tiny shell fastenings on his shirt. “Why this push into the realm of politics?”

  He gave a sigh. “As you know, my endeavours have always been on an individual, rather than national, scale and based on pure self-interest. Victoria thinks it is time I grew up and took an interest in the land that gave me my title.”

  She looked up; a smile danced over her lips. She could imagine the queen gave Nate a proper scolding about his activities. “I can’t imagine you discussing law reforms with a bunch of stuffy old toffs.”

  “Neither can I, but there are those complaining about the seat remaining empty when I am in town. I have a po
tential excuse though. Victoria has offered to expand my intelligence role. She would give me a diplomatic posting, which would explain why I am absent from the House.”

  Cara’s mind jumped to the obvious conclusion. “She wants you as spy master?”

  He nodded.

  Cara tapped a fingernail on his chest, thinking. “Spy master would give you the freedom to travel and would also give us a cover for gathering the artifacts.”

  “My thoughts exactly. But there is only one of me. Taking up such a role would mean pulling back from other areas of business. I can’t afford the time to establish the new trade routes.”

  They sat cut off from the world in the small pool of light, as though nothing existed beyond them. The deep of night, while the rest of England slept, was the best time to ponder plans for the future.

  An idea sprang into her mind, one that would solve two problems. “Then give Loki the responsibility. Send him to off to the Pacific Ocean, I’m sure the women there would appreciate his presence.”

  Nate gave a rumble of laughter. “Loki and responsibility don’t normally belong in the same sentence.”

  Her fingers undid the last button on his shirt and she slid a hand against his warm flesh. “Give him the chance. You might be surprised what a bit of responsibility does for that one. He’s smart and can think on his feet, he’ll do well if you expect more of him. Plus he’s always looking for a chance to show off his linguistic skills. He can talk his way into trade deals.”

  Nate pulled the tie on her robe and slid the velvet off her shoulder; his lips trailed fire over her collar bone. “I could bring him in as a full partner and increase his percentage in Lyons Cargo, see what he does with the opportunity.”

  Cara arched her neck to give him better access. “See, a problem discussed is a problem halved.”

  He scooped his arms under her body and stood, lifting her to his chest. “Now, I have another problem we can discuss upstairs.”

  Thursday 9th January, 1862

  Cara sat once more at the desk with her father’s notebook spread in front of her, along with the two ancient volumes given to her by the mad Countess de Sal. The small collection of books had become her guide to identify and find the unusual artifacts. What worried her was how many were out there that her father never located but merely alluded to. Where were they and who held them?

  Nate stood behind her, and ran strong fingers along her tight shoulder muscles. “How goes the collection?”

  She closed the book and tossed it onto the growing pile of reference material. “We’re nearly done.”

  Week by week, she worked her way through her father’s coded entries. Once she located a piece, Nate uplifted the artifact from its hidden resting place, and they locked it away in the secure underground chamber, far below their feet at Lowestoft.

  “There are only three more to hunt down, including Boudicca’s Cuff, which you need to retrieve from its purchaser.” She dropped her head forward as he massaged her stiff neck.

  “I’m working on it, but the man has the luck of the cuff on his side and I cannot win a bet against him.”

  “If you can’t win it, why don’t you just steal it back?” She stared at him, wondering who this man was, that he could bring the most notorious breeding ground of crime under his grasp but baulked at stealing a trifle they needed.

  “My wife is recommending larceny?” He arched one eyebrow.

  “Use the skills you have at your disposal.” She batted a hand at him. “The next artifact is strange. If I have decoded Father’s notes correctly it’s hidden in the opera house in Covent Garden, but that can’t be right. He concealed them in bank vaults and cellars. Places where they lay in the dark, cold and quiet.”

  “And this is the complete opposite, light, loud and crowded.” He ran a hand down her spine as he ran over the options. “Perhaps this particular artifact is better hidden in confusion and would draw attention to itself alone in a basement or vault.”

  She chewed her bottom lip, the change of location had to be significant. “The home of the royal opera is a strange place to conceal an artifact, but it makes sense when you put it like that.”

  He returned to massaging the kinks from her body after long hours at the desk.

  She hummed as he worked magic with his fingers. “I assume we’ll break in when the theatre is empty?”

  Fingers moved up to the base of her skull, thumbs working through her hair. “Where would be the fun in that? Let’s make an evening of it. What are we looking for?”

  “Helen of Troy’s fan. According to the book, it is said to attract admirers, inspire love, and make men your willing supplicants.” Cara imagined having such an object might be handy. That would shake things up around here.

  “Well, she certainly did that. How did it end up at the theatre?”

  She forgot the book, her eyes closed as Nate massaged her scalp. A purr welled up in her throat. “Father was unclear on that. Reading between the lines, he had his eye on a singer and perhaps planned to gift it to her.”

  “Given he placed it in such a public spot, I wonder if it’s still there.”

  “I guess we’ll find out. The notebook says it’s concealed in a box he used to frequent. Behind one of the decorative roses is a small panel at the front that can be removed. Behind that is a coded safe that should contain the fan. If it hasn’t already been discovered.” She picked up a tiny gold key. “This was stuck to the page about the fan.”

  “Good. It will be the perfect opportunity to show off my viscountess.” He laced his fingers around her neck. “Wear your dragon diamonds with that new red velvet dress. I want to see you wrapped in fire.”

  London, Friday 10th January, 1862

  he horses trotted along Bow Street. Moonlight slid over bronze rumps and gave off golden flashes against the passing buildings. They joined the queue of carriages waiting to discharge passengers under the portico of the opera house. Cara craned her head out the window to watch as some poor noble decided to beat the crowd by being lowered from airship onto the roof. The woman in full evening gown swayed back and forth with the slight wind. Her ostrich feather headpiece disappeared on a gust and her skirts blew up around her waist to reveal lacy drawers. Cara couldn’t help the laugh that welled up. Probably not the entrance she planned on making.

  Nate shook his head. “They are far too high. What were they thinking trying to drop passengers from that height? Their captain must be an idiot if he can’t hover lower than that.”

  As Cara stepped to the pavement, screams came from above as staff tried to winch the woman to the flat roof. A crowd gathered to witness the impromptu show and ruin the woman’s reputation by discussing her undergarments.

  “So we won’t be doing that next time?” she asked.

  He gave a huff. “I think we shall, just to show them how it should be done.”

  “Well, you don’t have to worry about the wind lifting my dress and showing my drawers.” She leaned in close to him. “You know I don’t wear any.”

  “It’s one of the many reasons why I love you,” he whispered. He took her arm and escorted her up the wide stairs into the foyer.

  The roof was three stories above their heads with rose-coloured marble columns to hold it aloft. Chains lowered chandeliers closer to the patrons. Thousands of tiny lights and crystals glittered and threw sparks around the soaring space.

  Nate slid Cara’s cloak from her shoulders, revealing the deep red velvet dress clinging to her form. Embroidered gold-thread flames licked around the hem of the train and reached up to encircle her waist and side, the perfect complement to the dragon diamonds around her neck. The scale backing threw molten claws whenever the light caught the gems.

  Curious and hostile glances alike followed them as they wound their way up the stairs. Brick the bodyguard trailed behind, resplendent in formal wear and enjoying his change from working the docks strapped in a metal exoskeleton.

  Nate’s box was positioned close to th
e stage and Brick swung the door open. He did quick visual sweep around the plush interior before he stood back to admit them. The box was furnished in deep red, from striped wallpaper to curtains, and even the velvet on the chairs. The little room had two rows of three chairs at the front. The back half held a sideboard for serving drinks and food. A champagne bucket stood in a tall steel frame.

  “I could disappear in here,” Cara said. “I match the curtains and walls.” She ran a hand down the heavy drape held back with a golden cord.

  “Oh, I would find you.” Nate poured champagne into two flutes and offered one to Cara. “Brick will wait until the show is underway and then see if the box your father used is occupied tonight.”

  “What if there are people in there?” she asked, sipping her drink.

  “He will inform them the box is unavailable.”

  The orchestra below played a few bars, alerting patrons that the show would soon begin.

  “Bodyguards really are handy.” Cara took her seat at the front of the box, aware of curious eyes glancing their way. She was grateful for the way each box was angled, giving the occupants a degree of privacy from those around. They could see out, but only those directly opposite could see in, and even then, only the front row of chairs was visible. Those seated below could only see her when she stood or leaned over the railing.

  The curtain rose on stage and La Traviata began. Cara watched with rapt attention as the story of the famous courtesan unfolded. Brick slunk back in during the second act. He whispered that he moved on the box’s occupants during the short intermission and stayed a while longer to ensure no one slipped back in.

  “Are you coming to retrieve the item?” Nate asked from beside her.

  Below, the curtain dropped on the empty stage, the only way they could pry Cara from her seat. “Yes, I could do with a stretch.”

  They strolled down the corridor, ignoring the other nobles who didn’t know quite how to cope with their presence. Nate ignored them and Cara practiced her poker face. The press of people thinned as they reached the end of the hall. Nate opened the door while Brick stood guard.