“I should have. Maybe I would have, if things had turned out differently. I was thinking it through, trying to find a way to do what I wanted whilst remaining in the ton. If I had stayed in the background as a designer and investor and didn’t serve customers myself, our marriage would have been possible—but I’m driven by magic. If I don’t use my hands, if I don’t work with tools almost every day, I...” He shook his head again. “In any event, suddenly, like magic—” His voice caught. “The decision was taken out of my hands.”
“In what way?”
“Andromeda, I heard that you had bedded another man.”
“What?” Her voice rose an octave. “Who told you that?”
“Donald Crockett,” he said. “I was an idiot to believe him, but when you flirted with him and others―” He groaned at her expression. “I thought you didn’t really love me. I thought you just...”
“Just what?”
“Wanted to bed someone. Anyone.” The anguish on her face made him want to howl.
She clenched her fists. “How could you think such a thing of me?” The fire, which until now had been nothing but a faint glow of coals, sizzled into life at her rage.
“Many people are like that when it comes to carnal desires,” he said. “Men more often than women, and I myself was no angel, but I thought I had the wrong idea of fairy wantonness, that it meant fairy blood made a woman wanton in general, not that it made her desire for her true love more powerful...” He groaned again. “It was a stupid conclusion. There was never a breath of scandal about your mother.”
“Very stupid,” Andromeda said through gritted teeth. “Just whom did Mr. Crockett say I had bedded?”
“Himself,” Fen said.
She went very white. Her eyes flicked toward the fire. She said, “Hush,” and it subsided to a faint glow again. After a long, silent moment, she said, “I thought he was my friend.”
Fen snorted. “His own friend, more like. He said it because he didn’t succeed where I would have—not that I was attempting to seduce you, but how was he to know that? He’s proud of his prowess with women, so it hit him where it hurt most.” He paused. “He pretends it was for my own good, but that’s nothing but an excuse.”
“So that’s why you shunned me.”
“To my great shame, yes.”
“And that’s why you well-nigh called me a whore last night.” She paused. “I had―supposedly―made one foolish mistake, and you wouldn’t even speak to me.”
He nodded. “I was an immature, jealous fool.”
“You didn’t think to ask me if it was true?”
“I—I trusted Crocket. He was my close friend. It never occurred to me that he would lie to me.”
“While you had no difficulty believing that I would betray you.”
He said nothing, for there was nothing to say.
“That’s not love, Fen. You didn’t love me then, and what you feel for me now isn’t love, either.”
“I did love you,” Fen said. “I do. If you knew how I felt, how hard I had to control myself, control my knives—”
Her eyes widened.
“Don’t look at me like that. I would have killed myself before harming you,” he said.
“So that’s why you stood so still. Only your hands twitched ever so slightly. That’s why you turned away.”
“Yes,” he said eagerly. “I had no choice. Think what would have happened if I’d been unable to stop my knives from leaping into my hands. If someone—anyone in the vicinity—had taken offense, had tried to fight me...” He let out a long breath. “I’m sure you can imagine.”
“I’m glad to know you have such great control over your magic,” she said, “but that’s self-preservation. It has nothing to do with love.” She stood, cool and indifferent, utterly sure of herself, her mastery of her anger so great that the fire lay quiescent—or perhaps she simply didn’t care. “I should like to send a message to my father.”
It took a couple of seconds to muster an answer. She had rejected him so quickly and so completely that he couldn’t believe it. He’d hoped she would understand. That she would rage for a moment or two and then melt into his arms. It seemed he was as much of a fool as always.
“Why?” he managed. “In another day, maybe two, you will go home.” And after that he would never see her again. Wild thoughts of abducting her and forcing her to listen to him, to believe he really loved her, crowded his mind.
“Surely it’s obvious,” she said, her nose in the air. “I want him to know I’m safe.”
At least she wasn’t demanding to go home; he might have another day or two to win her over. She wasn’t going to like his answer, though.
“I don’t think it’s a wise idea,” he said, and then the door opened and Harry came in carrying a basket with plates, cutlery, and several steaming pork pies.
Andromeda narrowed her eyes at Fen, making it clear that this discussion wasn’t over. Then she turned to Harry with every sign of delight. “That smells wonderful!” she said. “I’m ravenous.” She even helped him set out the plates and cutlery, and showed no surprise that the supposed valet intended to join them at the table. This was certainly a far cry from the haughty woman who had spoken of him with such derision at the ball last night. He didn’t understand her at all.
She took a seat, ate two of the pies, and carried on a cheerful conversation with Harry. Fen found that his appetite had largely deserted him.
Harry glanced from Fen to Andromeda and back, and raised his brows. If he insisted on posing as a servant, he should wipe that smirk off his face. He grinned and indicated the screen with a jut of his chin. “Fine job, young Belch.”
Andromeda set down her knife and fork and smiled back. “Thank you, Mr. Witherstone. I’m happy with it, too.” The smile vanished as she turned to Fen, taking up the cause she’d set aside only while wolfing down her supper. “There’s no reason why Papa should be made to worry any longer. I shall write in my own hand, telling him that I am well, and that I shall return soon.” She pondered. “I shall ask him not to tell my aunt, if that’s what you’re worried about. She won’t be able to keep quiet about it, but Papa will.”
“It’s too risky,” Fen said, half wishing he could agree. He didn’t want to make her any more upset with him than she already was. Perhaps if he acquiesced in this small way, and...
“Why? You can send it with a boy who will deliver it and then leave quickly, before anyone has a chance to ask where it came from.”
“What if someone pursues the messenger and catches him?”
“Papa won’t be at the Home Office at this time of night,” she said. “We’ll send it to his house. Papa only has one footman, and he’s too old to run after anyone.”
Fen’s mind stuttered. “Your father... works at the Home Office?” He shot a glance at Harry, who choked on a bite of pie. “Since when?”
“A couple of months,” she said. “It’s something to do with codes, I believe. Not so much deciphering but inventing new ones.” She whacked the coughing, sputtering Harry on the back.
“Is that so,” Fen muttered. “Is that... so.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“WHAT ABOUT IT?” Andromeda snapped. She’d had to call on all her training to remain pleasant during supper; one didn’t bring up controversial subjects at mealtime nor with servants listening. Between fury and dismay, she wanted to throw something at Fen and then hit him over the head as well, and in the meantime she had to send silent commands to the fire to desist. Years of practicing to become the perfect lady had stood her in good stead, but now his grave expression nearly overset her. “What does it matter where my father works? He was a code breaker before he retired.”
Fen shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, but we can’t send him a message just now.”
“Why not?”
“It’s too risky,” Fen said again.
“Why?” she hissed, more enraged by the second. “That’s no explanation.” She glanced
at Witherstone for support, but he pursed his lips doubtfully. She glared from one man to the other, but both were silent.
“What if Slough has someone watching the house?” Fen asked at last.
Witherstone nodded. “He’s right, I’m afraid. Slough will guess you would want to reassure the old man, assuming you’re still alive and well.” Before she could muster another argument, the valet glanced toward the door and put up a hand. He went out and reappeared a second later. “We have a visitor.”
Sure enough, Donald Crockett’s voice bellowed from below. “Trent, I demand to search the place, and by God, if you’ve got Miss Gibbons here, I’ll make you pay.”
“How did he get in?” Fen said. “We’re closed.”
“I was carrying the food,” Witherstone said. “Hadn’t got round to locking the door again.”
Fen cursed under his breath. “I may have to let him come up. Clear the table—no, make it look as if he interrupted me eating alone. Get rid of everything that shows Miss Gibbons was here. Hide her in the wardrobe.”
“Why should I hide?” Andromeda said. “Why not admit to Mr. Crockett that I’m here?”
Fen shot her an astonished glare. “Why in Hades would I do that?”
“Didn’t you say you needed a reliable witness? Someone to convince your father?”
Fen’s face darkened. “After what I told you about Crockett, you consider him reliable?
“He may be a liar and a lecher, but he’s not a traitor, and besides that, he cares about me!” she said.
Fen left, slamming the door behind him.
Witherstone opened the wardrobe as if that horrid interchange hadn’t taken place. Andromeda glanced inside. “This is a ridiculous hiding place. If Mr. Crockett comes up here, it’s the first place he’ll look.”
“Right, but there’s a secret panel.” The valet slid a foot under the wardrobe and at the same time reached between the coats hanging inside. A panel slid softly across. “Gather your things, like his lordship said.”
“I don’t see why I should hide,” Andromeda muttered. How dared Fen order her about and slam the door in her face?
It dawned on her then that Fen was jealous of Donald. She couldn’t suppress a tiny huff.
But that didn’t explain why he was being so stubborn about sending a message to her father. If he thought he could believe horrid things about her for years and then order her about, he had another think coming.
Witherstone shrugged. “Maybe you won’t have to.” He went to the door and opened it a little. Andromeda crept up beside him the better to hear.
Voices rose from below. “I think I was right in the first place,” Donald said. “I think the girl is here.”
“You’re a lunatic, Crockett,” Fen said. “Go to hell and stay there.”
“I may be mistaken,” Donald said stiffly, “but your behavior this morning was so contradictory that I felt it to be my duty to return.”
“What behavior? If you’d heard what she said at the ball last night, you’d know I’m the last person Miss Gibbons wishes to associate with.”
How sweet of Donald to come looking for her, Andromeda thought. Maybe he wanted to make up for defaming her five years ago, or maybe he had just become a better person. She should probably be angry at him about the past, but all she felt was a vague disappointment. Every single ounce of her rage, bottled up for now, was directed at Fen.
“Perhaps, but I think you still want her,” Donald said. “In fact, I think you saw her last night, realized it was your last chance to get her, and abducted her.”
She muffled a gasp. Where had Donald got that crazy notion? How she wished Fen loved her that much!
“First you throttled me because of Miss Gibbons,” Donald went on, “and then you pretended not to care what happened to her. It doesn’t add up.”
So their brawl hadn’t been over another woman after all. A tiny candle of love lit itself deep inside her.
“I throttled you because you played me for a fool,” Fen said.
Ah, to be sure—pride, not love, still drove Fen, as it had both him and Donald years ago. She had no need to snuff the candle, as it went out on its own.
“And I considered it tactless to show too much concern while her betrothed was there,” Fen added.
“Bollocks,” retorted Donald. “I went to get Colonel Gibbons, but he wasn’t at home. I demand to search the premises in his stead.”
How thoughtful of Donald! “See?” she whispered to Witherstone. “He can take a message to my father, and it will be perfectly safe.”
The valet got between her and the door. “Let his lordship make that decision.”
Fen said, “Out, Crockett, before I finish what I started this morning.”
Sounds of a struggle rose from below. “How dare you get in my way!” Andromeda hissed, trying to push past Witherstone.
The valet didn’t budge. “Stop it, girl. Don’t play the fool because you’re upset with Fen. He’s doing his best to keep you safe.”
“I’m not playing the fool, and—
A curse burst from Fen, silencing her.
“Surely that’s not necessary,” came Lord Slough’s hateful drawl. “As her betrothed, I shall soon take her father’s place.”
Oh God, oh God. Lord Slough was here again!
“Into the wardrobe you go,” Witherstone said.
Andromeda gathered her wits. “We have to get rid of anything belonging to me.” Her eyes lit upon the shift and gown, the slippers, the reticule... The wool gown wouldn’t burn well; she would have to bring it into the wardrobe. She tossed her slippers and reticule onto the grate, added the crumpled shift, and whispered, “Oh, please let there be some live coals left. Burn quickly, please!”
The clothing caught fire with a whoosh. “Thank you,” she breathed, not caring whether Witherstone heard. What else? The poultry knife still lay on Fen’s dressing table. She tiptoed across the carpet and snatched it up.
“Good one,” Witherstone said, all pretense of gentility gone from his voice. “If he should chance to find you—which he won’t, love, so don’t worry—give him one to the gut.”
She shuddered, both at the ease with which Witherstone spoke of murder and the thought of what she might have to do. She scooped up the gown and climbed into the wardrobe, squeezing past the coats to the secret compartment behind. Oh, horrid—it was cramped and stuffy. Witherstone slid the panel across, and she couldn’t quite stifle a whimper.
“There, there, ducky, it won’t be for long. You won’t suffocate, ’cause there’s breathin’ ’oles at the top, and you won’t get stuck, ’cause it opens easy from inside—just pull the latch up.”
The panel clicked shut, followed by the sound of the wardrobe doors closing. Her heart pounded, and outside in the room, the fire crackled and hissed. “Hush,” she whispered. Her breathing was much too fast. She couldn’t calm down.
She slid her fingers under her neckcloth to grasp the locket, but knew immediately that whatever magic it had held before was now gone.
Something tugged on her breeches. She squelched a yelp, and then a tiny hand slipped into hers, and relief coursed through her. She wasn’t alone, and somehow she knew she would be safe.
“Thank you, Cuff,” she said.
“Do feel free,” Fen said, glancing about the bedchamber. They had already been through the work area and the rest of this floor. They’d found Harry calmly ironing shirts in his bedchamber, and no sign of Andromeda.
Slough, damn his eyes, had skulked outside the shop, waiting to gauge Fen’s response to Crockett’s accusation before coming in to take over—but his search was so cursory as to be laughable. It quickly became clear to Fen that although the earl’s suspicions were aroused, he didn’t want to find Andromeda in front of so many witnesses. It made complete sense; whether or not he believed Andromeda was here, he couldn’t chance a confrontation—or a murder―with so many people about.
The fire made tiny sizzling sounds. F
en was willing to bet Andromeda had encouraged it to destroy some of her clothes. Her magic was already coming in useful. The poultry knife was no longer on the dressing table, but he sensed its uneasiness, which probably meant Andromeda was gripping it in fear. God grant that she wouldn’t try to use it. That was just the sort of foolishness Harry would suggest.
“Search wherever you like―in the wardrobe, under the bed, in the chest of drawers,” Fen said. “But be careful, or my personal hobgoblin may bite you.”
“You needn’t resort to sarcasm.” Donald Crockett was practically pouting by now. “I meant well.”
A pity that Crockett had chosen such an inconvenient moment to have good intentions. He’d had five years to gain a conscience; why now?
“I fear we are wasting our time,” Lord Slough said now. “Poor Colonel Gibbons; I had hoped we could restore his daughter to him.”
The fire crackled and popped. Was Andromeda panicking in that cramped space? Surely Harry had told her there were air holes at the top. She must be terrified Slough would find her. She couldn’t know that Fen and at least three of his tools were fully prepared to skewer Slough here and now, if necessary. Hold on, sweetheart. It won’t be long.
“There’s no one here,” Slough said after a glance into the cupboard. “It’s a good thing you didn’t raise Gibbons’ hopes for nothing, Crockett. The poor man is in enough anguish as it is.”
The fire crackled even more, and flames flared up. Fen didn’t blame her for worrying about her father. What a pity he couldn’t let her write that message...
Ah. Perhaps he could... but just not send it. Surely that would be better than revealing his appalling suspicion. Better to know the truth first; Andromeda needn’t suffer for nothing.
After glancing under the bed, Crockett stood. “I beg your pardon, Lord Slough, for causing you any inconvenience.”
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