Sabine touched the dagger to the mummy, and Cliff snapped out of his erotic imaginings. “Um, shouldn’t we take it…”
Ignoring him, Sabine sliced through the top layer of wrappings and began to unravel the mummy. Bits of tattered cloth fell to the floor. Layer after layer, she unwound the strips of linen, revealing only more cloth underneath. When at last she reached the middle, the final bit of fabric simply unfolded in her hands.
“I’m disappointed,” Cliff said. “He could have at least put some fake bones inside.”
“All I care about is the clue.” She turned over the cloth. “No writing on this bit. Dammit, are we going to have to search every scrap?”
“Wait, don’t move.”
Sabine froze. “What?”
Cliff reached for a small strip that had caught in her skirts. He lifted it to the light. A single line had been written on it in the old duke’s scratchy handwriting. “Slot four receives rotor number two.”
“That’s all?” Sabine snatched the fabric from Cliff’s hands to examine it for herself. “But what about the settings? Even with the wheels in the right locations, we can’t break the code unless we know the initial settings.”
“Where’s the next bit of wrapping?” His gaze dropped to the mess on the floor. “I guess we should start looking.”
They pawed through the ruins of the mummy, finding no other markings anywhere on the cloth. After several minutes, they both sat back with a sigh.
“What have we missed?” Sabine wondered. “I swear we’ve been through every scrap of wrapping at least twice over.”
“I agree. I think we’ve found all there was to find.”
“Your Grace?” Campbell’s voice called. “Miss Diebin? Did you find… oh.” The curator stumbled to a halt beside the mess that had once been a fake mummy.
“The piece was terribly made, we discovered,” Cliff said matter-of-factly. “Completely disintegrated in our hands. We’ll have to dispose of the remains, I’m afraid.”
“Oh. Uh… Yes. I will have one of the boys tidy up the debris. Is there, er, anything else I can do for you?”
“Yes, there is. Did the duke leave anything else to the museum? Perhaps in conjunction with this sad mummy? Other artifacts? Papers? Records?”
“Nothing I am aware of. I can show you the record books from the time of the donation if that will be of use to you.”
“Please.”
They left the ruined mummy behind, except for the scrap with the clue, which Sabine tucked underneath her corset. Campbell led them back upstairs to an office crammed with books, binders, and papers. He scanned one of the shelves briefly, pulled out a thick logbook and flipped through several pages.
“Here you are. Mummy donation from the Duke of Hartleigh.” He sniffed. “That’s odd.”
“What?” Cliff asked.
“The object is listed as coming from his personal collection, but above that someone wrote a different location and crossed it out. It appears to say ‘London Library.’”
Cliff and Sabine exchanged a look. An instant later, they both grinned.
“Well,” Sabine said. “The duchess will be happy.”
27
Before the crew had even descended the ladder to lash Die Fledermaus to her moorings, a petite figure vaulted onto the deck and brandished a pistol at Sabine.
“Where is the duchess?”
Sabine surveyed the slight woman from beneath arched brows. The duchess’ companion wore a boy’s shirt and trousers, but an elegant pair of high-heeled boots. Her dark hair had been pulled back into a simple knot, and her golden skin was tinged pink from her fury.
“Do you hold her hostage?” Luella demanded. “Release her this instant or I will shoot you and all your men!”
“That seems rather drastic,” Sabine replied dryly.
“Luella!” Amy came flying up the stairs, but staggered to a halt at the sight in front of her. “Lu? Goodness. You’re wearing trousers!”
“Amy!” Luella dropped the pistol and ran to embrace the duchess. “I was so worried.”
Amy stroked her hair. “I’m fine, dearest. Merely annoyed. But you. Look at you!”
Luella took a step back, looking down at her clothing. “I know. It’s so uncivilized. But I spent so many days fretting and contemplating how I could possibly track you down. When we saw the airship returning at last, I knew I had to do something. And it seemed uncouth to storm a dirigible in a dress.”
“I had to wear trousers, too,” Amy confided. “I had nothing but an evening gown until the crew took me out shopping. It was mortifying.”
“Was it? I’d like to see what you look like in trousers.”
“Perhaps in private, dearest. Never in front of all these people again. It’s fine, perhaps, for a pirate, but a duchess? Never. Now, you must take me home. I am in desperate need of a cup of tea and a long bath.”
Luella linked her arm through Amy’s and walked her toward the ladder. “I would be delighted to assist you with both those things.”
They shared a suggestive look. “I’d hoped you would be. And I need a list of all upcoming events. I want to get Hartleigh married before he and the captain decide they like one another again.”
Sabine lowered herself to the ground with a rope, rather than waiting for the other women to clear the ladder, and set to work securing her ship. The task failed to distract her from her own frustrated thoughts. She did like Hartleigh. All too much.
He made her want to care. About him, about Lola, about all sorts of people. Sabine had to fight the urge to grin like a fool thinking about how a woman who barely knew how to hold a pistol had brazenly stormed her ship out of love for the duchess. Sabine was surrounded by love—lover-to-lover, father-to-daughter, friend-to-friend. Hartleigh practically oozed love, and it was, oh, so tempting.
Be my friend. Be my lover. Let me close.
She ought to send him away. Or leave him here while she chased after the Heart on her own. He was too much of a distraction. Annoying, confounding, and enticing all at once. He never listened to reason, and now he had her questioning her every assumption. Given the way she’d been behaving lately, the questioning was entirely valid. She’d been stupidly rash at the museum yesterday, wanting it over with. Wanting away from him. Wanting to protect the sad remnants of her heart.
“You gonna finish that, Captain?”
Sabine blinked and looked up at Hawkes. “Sorry. Yes.” She tugged the rope taut and began to tie a knot. “Could you run down to the village and see if you could find a few people to work in the kitchen while we’re here? Tell them I expect to stay only a few days this time, but I will pay the full weekly rate.”
“Sure thing, Captain. And then I’ll be back to take up my butler duties.”
“Thank you. I suppose once we’re finished sorting the house I’ll have to see about hiring a full-time staff. No sense in making the place livable and then not living in it.”
Although if Hartleigh were to change his mind about faking his death and remain in the dower house… No, he wouldn’t do that. He still bristled every time she used his title. She could retire here, with a big library and a pretty little English garden. Safely far from Redbeard’s empire, with the backing of an adoring public. The reclusive ex-pirate.
Suddenly, the life she’d once envisioned as her chance to relax and be free sounded very lonely.
Sabine forced her mind back to her work, checking over every aspect of the ship before she declared everything satisfactory. She’d leave the crew the choice to bunk on Die Fledermaus or to take a room in the house. Her choice had been made long ago. Today she was taking a long, hot bath, eating a proper dinner, and then sleeping in her giant, comfortable, ducal bed. Alone.
She dug the toe of her boot into the gravel of the drive, sending rocks skittering.
Stop thinking about him. Stop remembering his hands and his mouth.
Oh, dear God, his mouth. That dangerous, clever tongue. The goofy grin on his f
ace afterwards, as if she’d just pleasured him. She owed him. She owed him and he’d spurned her.
Why did that hurt? She should be happy that he’d asked nothing of her. She should be thankful not to be choking on his probably enormous and demanding cock.
“This is not helpful, Sabine,” she scolded herself, storming up the path to the front of the house.
She tugged her small purse from underneath her corset and removed the key to her front door. No one waited inside to greet her. She hadn’t even entrusted the key to Hawkes, who should have been opening the house for her. She’d requested kitchen staff, but she’d be drawing her own bath and preparing her own bed. One hundred rooms. One woman.
Which was fine, really. Better than a crowded airship where her cabin was taken by a duchess and a little girl, leaving Sabine to sleep on the floor in Nicole and Ben’s room.
She took two steps into the foyer and froze. A heavy silence filled the air. The hall was as empty as she’d left it. No furnishings or statues filled the once-opulent space. The tiled floor was bare of rugs, and the walls uncovered by paintings or mirrors. Nothing obviously out of place.
So why was her skin crawling?
Sabine skirted past the wide staircase toward the most organized section of the house, her sense of unease increasing with every step. She opened the door to the library and pushed the button that turned on the electric lights.
“Gott im Himmel,” she cursed.
All her carefully sorted stacks of papers were gone, torn to ribbons, the tables they had sat upon smashed to kindling. Toppled shelves covered the floor, their books scattered and damaged. Sabine dashed to the next room over, finding more of the same. Furniture upended. Papers and artifacts strewn about. She tiptoed over shattered glass and ceramics, climbed over twisted bits of metal. All of Hartleigh’s organization, gone. All their hard work, laid waste.
She picked up half of a broken vase and hurled it at the wall. The tinkle of splintering china eased some of her anger, but none of her fear. Her enemies had been here, in her home. Tearing through her possessions, no doubt in search of the key to the Heart of Ra.
The hairs on her arms stood on end. Did they know of the machine? Did they really think she’d be so stupid as to leave it or the coded document behind? She kept the paper on her at all times, and the machine was currently with Hartleigh, who had planned to clean and oil it before setting the wheels.
“Oh, God. Cliff. Lola.” Sabine tore from the room, her pounding footsteps echoing through the empty halls.
They’d arrived during daylight hours, on a clear day. Luella’s words rang in Sabine’s head. When we saw the airship returning at last…
Anyone watching the house would know. Would have seen Sabine go off alone, her hands empty. Would have seen Cliff head for the dower house, his arms full of a spider case and a strange wooden box.
No, no, no.
How could she have done this? She did care. She’d allowed him to worm his way into her life. And now she’d put him in danger. Again. She’d failed him.
She failed everyone.
Her legs pumped faster.
28
For a split second, Cliff thought Sabine was going to fling herself into his arms and begin to sob.
The next instant, she grabbed hold of his lapels, dragging him toward the study door, and he wondered what could possibly have triggered such a thought. Sabine didn’t sob. She fought. If something upset her, she attacked it. At the moment, he couldn’t tell whether or not she was attacking him.
“Out, get out,” she demanded. “Now. Get Lola. Get the duchess and Lady Luella. We need to leave.”
“Whoa.” Cliff yanked his coat from her fingers. She tried to grab his arm and he dodged, smashing his thigh against his desk. “Ow. What’s wrong? What happened?”
“The house. It was ransacked. We have to go. They could be anywhere. They could be here.”
“Ransacked?” He slipped behind the desk to prevent her trying to force him out the door again.
Sabine flattened her hands on the top of the desk, scattering the papers he’d been planning to glance over. He caught one that looked to have come from the US before it fluttered to the floor. He needed to check up on his business. He still wasn’t ready to sell. He didn’t know if he would ever be.
“Someone tore it apart,” Sabine explained, her words sharp and rapid. “Looking for clues. Looking for the machine, maybe. They know we’re here. We’re in danger. We need to leave now. No arguments. Get Lola. I’ll tell the duchess.”
“No.”
Her fist thumped on the wood. “Goddammit, Hartleigh, why do you always do this? Is it too many centuries of ancestral inbreeding making your brain say, ‘I’m a duke and I don’t have to listen to anyone but myself’?”
“Show me the house. Then we’ll discuss it.”
She spun away, her hands clenching. “You are impossible! We need to leave, and I can’t leave without you.”
“Of course you can.”
“No, I can’t. You were right. We’re friends. I care. I can’t leave you in danger.”
The corners of Cliff’s mouth ticked upward. He stepped around the desk, laying a hand on her shoulder. He tried to turn her to face him, but she resisted.
“I don’t think we’re in danger. This house is untouched. No one has reported anything suspicious. We’re surrounded by Amy’s long-time employees and behind locked doors.”
“You were kidnapped from a house more crowded than this one.”
“Yes. In the midst of a party. A big event full of noise and distractions. This is a normal, quiet day. We can see approaching visitors from quite a distance. Would you like me to set a lookout? Then you can show me what happened at your house and we can determine what to do next.”
“You are irritatingly reasonable,” she replied. The volume of her voice had dropped, and her words came slower, less panicky. She’d been genuinely afraid. Perhaps his initial thought about her sobbing had been closer to the truth than he’d realized.
“I try to be reasonable. You’re the only one who thinks I’m irritating.”
Sabine turned to face him. “That seems extremely unlikely. Now, I’m going to explain the situation calmly and then you’re going to do as I say.”
Cliff leaned back against the desk, crossing his arms. “I’d rather we compromise, but go ahead.”
“The house is a disaster. I’m certain they were looking for the Sphinx device, though I don’t know if they know exactly what to look for. Many of the papers were torn up, so they may have been looking for a cipher on paper. Regardless, you have the device, and that puts you in danger. Where is it?”
“In the bottom left drawer of the desk. The drawer was just the right size and I wanted it out of sight. Also it’s locked in.” Cliff patted the small pocket in his waistcoat where he’d put the key. “How did the burglars get in, and did they take anything?”
“How could I possibly know if they took anything from the enormous piles of junk in that house? I didn’t see an entry point, but I didn’t wait to look. I ran straight here. Anyone within miles would have been able to see us arrive. Anyone watching this house knows we are here and they must know we have the device with us. Do you see why we have to leave at once? We’ll get back on the ship and fly off. We’ll fly all night to hide our destination. The duchess can give her servants leave to go visit family. Get everyone away.”
“What about London and the library?”
“We’ll have to sneak in.”
Not again. Cliff was fed up with sneaking and lying. It always seemed to land him in trouble. “I have an alternative suggestion.”
“It had better involve leaving.”
“It does, actually, but not secretly. We pack up our things and we all go to London. Rent a house. Act like we plan to stay awhile. Then we take Lola sightseeing. Visit shops and museums. Let Amy escort us around to wherever she thinks is fashionable. London Library becomes just another stop along the way.
We don’t appear to be running to or from anywhere. Anyone watching can’t tell when we’ve gotten the clue. We lull them into complacency. Meanwhile, we have the settings for the wheels, we decode your message, and then one night we vanish. Your ship swoops down in the night and whisks us away to get the Heart of Ra and then we go celebrate. You with tons of money and Lola with a special new battery.”
Sabine pursed her lips. “What prevents them from attacking us while we’re happily sightseeing?”
“They’ve failed twice to kidnap us. Only you and I know all the clues to use the device, so they need us alive. Most sensible plan to me is to watch us and follow wherever we go.”
She considered him for a moment, then shook her head. “No. We’re leaving. Let’s go.”
Cliff jogged to follow as she strode out the door. “Sabine.”
“No, Cliff. It’s not safe. They’ll kill you to get to me. They must know by now.”
“Know what, that we’re lovers?”
She froze.
“Well, we are,” he said. “Or am I misremembering what happened in the pirate room?”
“That was a mistake. It might have worked if you had let me reciprocate…”
“I don’t want your pity sex,” he growled, spinning away and storming back into the study. He closed the door firmly behind him, shutting her and everyone else out.
Dammit, why did he only like women who were entirely wrong for him? Maybe he ought to have been chasing after farmer’s daughters like people had suggested. Or maybe he would be best served to go back to his habit of keeping all sexual encounters strictly business. Maybe Sabine’s plan had been better than his after all.
He crossed the room to the tiny niche that held the telephone. He’d call down to the train station at the village and spread the word that due to a burglary all locals should be on the lookout for suspicious persons. He’d instruct the household staff to set an overnight watch, just in case. Then he’d make additional phone calls to arrange for passage to London the next morning and to rent a house for the duration of their stay. If he had time, he’d call Chicago and check up on his company.
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