“Terribly sorry, sir,” I stammered, and reached down with my tongs to pick up the roll.
He gave me a disgusted look, shaking out his napkin angrily. “I thought the Stonewall had a higher standard for quality,” he said, and the rest of his dinner party laughed.
It was then that I noticed the empty seat at his table. I went stiff.
Across the table, a man was staring directly at me. An older man with white hair and pale blue eyes. A man I’d thought about only in passing ever since leaving London.
Mr. John Radcliffe, financial banker for the King’s Club, and my father’s former colleague.
Lucy’s father.
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SEVENTEEN
I DROPPED THE BASKET of rolls. The other girls shrieked as I pushed past them, running for the door back into the kitchen. I looked frantically for Montgomery. In the commotion, he was heading back to the kitchen, too.
I burst through the door, found Montgomery, and pulled him into the closet.
“The man pursuing us,” I gasped. “It’s Radcliffe. I thought he was just a banker, easy swayed by the others. That article he wrote for the newspaper claimed he’d repented his connections with the King’s Club.”
“He must have written that article hoping that we’d see it,” Montgomery said, “and that it would throw us off his track. It worked, didn’t it? Whatever he’s planning, we’ve underestimated him. We’ve got to get out of here.”
I peeked into the kitchen, which was especially hectic after the incident.
“There’s no sign of Radcliffe yet,” I whispered. “We don’t know if he’s alone or has a team of men with him. He could have men already stationed at each of the doors.”
Montgomery studied the chaos in the kitchen. “He hasn’t sounded any kind of alarm, or announced that there’s fugitives loose in the building, so he must want to keep it quiet.”
“Why is he after us? Is this is all about Lucy? He said in the article how sick with worry he and her mother were.”
Montgomery raised an eyebrow. “How many times did your own father manipulate your love for him to get what he wanted? I’d wager whatever he wants, he’s only using Lucy to get it. Look—the back door!” It was wide open for more vegetable vendors to carry their wares in. “I say we make a run for it. Get back to Balthazar in the carriage and try to lose Radcliffe that way.”
“God, I hope this works,” I said, and took a deep breath.
“Now!” he whispered.
We shoved open the closet door, running as fast as we could through the kitchen, trying not to knock over the cooks at the oven or the men carrying crates of vegetables. There were yells of surprise—if Radcliffe didn’t know where we’d hidden before, he certainly would now.
Montgomery and I burst through the back door into the frigid night air, as commotion from the kitchen came behind us. “This way!” Montgomery called, and I ran after him. I tore off my apron, letting it fly behind me.
At the same time, a police alarm cranked to life down the street.
“So much for not sounding the alarm,” I muttered.
The sound of footsteps came behind us but I didn’t dare look back, not once, as we ran through the inn’s gardens and the maze of alleyways behind the fine shops. My eyes watered in the freezing air. At last we rounded a corner, where Balthazar waited with the carriage ahead.
“Ready the horse,” Montgomery called. “We’re leaving!”
A shot rang toward us, and Montgomery cried out.
I skidded to a stop. The sound tore into me as though I’d been the one hit. I whirled around. Blood poured out of Montgomery’s shoulder. A startled-looking officer with a shaking pistol stood a block away, no doubt summoned by the alarm.
“Balthazar, Montgomery’s been shot!” I yelled.
Balthazar steadied his rifle toward the officer, who leaped back to take cover behind a shop. It gave me just enough time to help Montgomery limp to the pony trap. Balthazar tossed me the rifle while he took up the reins.
“Go!” I cried. Balthazar whipped the horse, which tore into the narrow streets while Montgomery winced with pain. I remembered our quick, stolen kiss in the closet. I wasn’t ready for that to be the last.
The trap jostled as we rode onto uneven pavement, and I clutched the rifle harder. The world rushed by, flashes of store awnings and church doors and holiday wreaths. The fog was so thick I could barely make out anything but the buildings on either side of us.
“Are they following us?” I called.
“No, Miss,” Balthazar said. “I would smell their horses.”
It was a small relief, with Montgomery bleeding.
“It’s only my shoulder,” he mumbled, eyes shut in pain. “I’ll be fine.”
“You’ve been shot!”
“It’s hardly the first time.”
Balthazar jerked the trap down a side road, then another. We left the city with no sign of Radcliffe in pursuit, but Balthazar wove in and out of small hamlets to throw them off, just in case. I was vaguely aware of the view changing from city to villages to endless moors, though my attention was far more on Montgomery. Under Balthazar’s lead the horse calmed to a quick but steady speed, and I did what I could to tend to the wound, then stroked Montgomery’s head.
“Another few hours,” I said. “Just hold on. I think we got away.”
“We have to get back to Ballentyne.” Montgomery coughed. “He won’t find us there.”
“Are you sure? The Radcliffe family has lots of connections and resources.”
“So does the von Stein family. He didn’t find us before and he won’t now. Ballentyne Manor isn’t even in Elizabeth’s name. Valentina was the only way he might have discovered our whereabouts, but she certainly isn’t going to tell him now.” He placed a hand over mine, too weak to squeeze it for reassurance. “The rest of Elizabeth’s servants are loyal. As long as we remain at Ballentyne, we’ll be safe.”
I bit my lip, watching the moors pass. “I don’t understand what he wants from us. He doesn’t care about the science; he was only after the profitability. Now that the science is gone, there’s no money to be made from it.”
Montgomery clutched his shoulder. “You did murder three of his colleagues.”
I stared at him. “You think this is about revenge?” It hadn’t ever occurred to me that Radcliffe had considered Dr. Hastings, Isambard Lessing, and Inspector Newcastle anything other than business associates. But there had been that photograph of them as young men in the hallways of King’s College. They had known each other for decades. Had they been close associates? Even confidants? Friends?
“It’s the only thing I can fathom,” Montgomery said. “We could discuss it with Lucy. She knows him better than anyone.”
“She’s been so distraught over Edward that any more bad news will crush her.” I let out a frustrated sigh. “I suppose it doesn’t matter what he wants, does it? As long as we stay at Ballentyne, he won’t find us. Maybe Lucy doesn’t even need to know he’s the one after us.”
Soon Quick appeared on the horizon, and I knew we were getting close. I’d never been so relieved to see the familiar shape of Ballentyne on the horizon. Elizabeth would tend to Montgomery. We’d be safe, once more, within those walls. In a way, it felt like coming home.
Balthazar pulled the pony trap as close to the front as he could and leaped out to help me carry Montgomery to the front door. We put his arms around each of our shoulders, hobbling up the steps. It was strange that Lucy and Elizabeth weren’t already rushing out the front door to help us. Surely they’d been keeping a lookout. But the house was eerily quiet as I pounded on the door.
“Elizabeth!” I yelled. “It’s me. Montgomery’s wounded!”
Montgomery winced in pain. Still, no one came to the door.
“Where would they have gone?” I ask
ed.
I pounded on the door harder, and to my surprise it gave an inch. Unlocked. Fear crept up my back as I pushed the groaning hinges open another inch, just wide enough to peer within.
“Juliet, wait,” Montgomery said. “Something’s wrong. Let Balthazar go first.”
Balthazar pushed open the door, taking a few steps inside. “Hello?” he called.
The only response was silence. He poked his head out again.
“Stay here, Miss. I’m going to check the kitchen and upstairs bedrooms.”
I nodded, pacing slightly, not sure if I should worry more about Montgomery’s labored breathing or the fact that the entire house seemed to have vanished. We waited twenty minutes, then thirty, and still there was no sign of Balthazar.
“I can’t stand this,” I said. “Something must have happened to him. I’m going in.”
Montgomery shot me a look. “Like hell you are.”
“You aren’t exactly in a position to stop me. Stay here and try not to freeze.”
I went to the pony trap and took out a blanket and two rifles. I pushed one into Montgomery’s hand, and then cracked the other one to make certain it was loaded. I took a deep breath and stepped into the foyer.
My boots echoed on the stone floors. The electric lights weren’t working, and the grand fire looked as though it had been out for hours. When I pressed my hand against it, the ashes were cold. I dusted off my hand, heart pounding in my ears, as I headed for the stairs to the second floor with only the mottled light of day through the windows to light my way.
I was halfway up the stairs when a pot dropped in the kitchen, and I whirled around.
“Balthazar?” I called. “Is that you?”
I slowly descended the stairs, crossing the foyer to the rear hallway that led to the kitchen. I kept the rifle cocked and aimed in front of me, though without the electric lights, it was black as night. I could make out only the shadows of doorways off the hall until I entered the kitchen, where a few small windows let in shadowy light.
A small pot rested on the floor.
“Balthazar?” I called again, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
I felt a presence behind me. Heard the scuff of a boot. Startled, I tried to turn, but strong hands were on me too fast, tearing the rifle out of my arms. The smell of woodsmoke and meat clogged my throat.
“Hello, my love.”
The hands turned me around, and I was looking at Edward, but it wasn’t Edward at all. The features were the same, his body hadn’t swelled in size, and yet every part of me knew it was the Beast.
“Did you miss me?” he said with a curling smile.
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EIGHTEEN
“DON’T LOOK QUITE THE same, do I?” he added at my shocked silence. “We’ve finally melded, Edward and I. He won physically, but I won mentally. My mind in his body—a bit of a sacrifice, but nothing I can’t work with.”
A thousand fears flowed into my chest. Somehow, the Beast had defeated Edward. He’d won possession of Edward’s body and broken free of his chains, and for all I knew had slaughtered Lucy and the rest of the household. Sweat broke out on my forehead. I knew I should fear him, and I did—but I also felt a terrible kinship.
You and I, the Beast had once said, are more alike than you want to believe.
“How did you break the chains?” I whispered, taking a step back, but the kitchen table prevented me from going any further.
His yellow eyes reflected in the low light—the only part of him that hadn’t belonged to Edward. “I didn’t have to. Lucy unlocked them. She was convinced Edward was still in here, but I had long ago won the battle. It was easy to pose as him, delirious and weak. She planned to slit his throat, reassuring him the entire time it would be only temporary and the mistress of this house would bring him back to life. A neat trick, I must say. But she couldn’t bring herself to kill him. Such a naïve soul.” He took a step closer. “That’s when I dropped the pretense and made myself known.”
Fury flooded my veins. “What did you do with her?”
He clutched the rifle so casually. “It’s sweet how much you care about your friend.”
He was taunting me now, and it made my blood boil. “Where is she, and Elizabeth, and Balthazar?”
“That lumbering puppy should have smelled me a mile away. I suppose he was too distracted by his master bleeding out on the front porch.” He leaned toward me, bracing either arm on the table at my side. “Oh yes, I’ve a keen nose, too.”
“Where are they?” I seethed.
He was only inches away now, close enough to feel the heat coming from his skin. I had always expected the Beast to be cold, but he was burning up with fury, just like I was.
“Don’t worry about them, my love.”
“Stop calling me that! You aren’t even a true person. Edward told us that you’re a manifestation of a disease, a strain of rabies and malaria and damaged animal organs. You’re a virus attacking a host. You can’t live on your own because you were never real!”
His yellow eyes flashed like I’d slapped him.
“Disease?” he whispered. “Yes, it’s true. Perhaps I am born of disease, but what are you born of, Juliet? My perverse nature may be physical, whereas yours is psychological—but no less potent. At least my identity is based in the flesh. Yours is nothing more than ideas your father put in your mind.” He cocked his head. “Has Montgomery told you the secret he’s been keeping from you all these years?”
I clenched my jaw, trying to withhold my fury.
“Ah, he hasn’t. I didn’t think you’d be standing here if he had.”
“If you know it, just tell me,” I snapped. “Stop toying with me.”
“But that’s what I do, my love. Cat and mouse. Predator and prey.” He straightened, the rifle still in one hand. “Unfortunately, I’m growing tired of games. They are childish things, and we are both adults, are we not?” He leaned in, his lips only a breath away from my jaw, and fear knifed in my stomach.
“I saw Montgomery in your father’s laboratory,” he whispered in my ear. “He didn’t know I was watching. He burned an entire file along with a letter. I only saw the first line. To my daughter, it said. It’s time for you to know the truth.”
I drew in a sharp breath. Montgomery had burned a letter that my father had written to me? What had it said, and what were in those files? I’d never felt so confused.
“You’re lying,” I seethed. “Just like you always are. Tell me where Lucy and Elizabeth are.”
“I could take you to them, but I’m not sure you would like it. Did you know there’s a cellar here filled with corpses? Makes me wonder what exactly the mistress has been getting up to—she might be a woman after my own heart. In any case, there was plenty of room for more bodies.”
For a moment, the world seemed to stop. I blinked, replaying his words back through my head, refusing to believe them. Had he killed them?
“No!” I hurled myself at him, clawing his face, but he caught my wrists and laughed low in his throat.
“Don’t act so surprised.” He fought me off easily, then took my hands in his, pulling me into a waltz around the room. “Remember when we kissed beneath the mistletoe at the ball in London? How badly I wanted to dance with you then. Now we can forever. This house can be ours, our private escape from the world.”
“You’re mad!” I yelled. “I’ll kill you if you’ve hurt them!”
“You can certainly try.”
My heart was pounding, telling me to get away from him, but he was too strong. I balled my fists, ready to tear him apart with whatever I could get my hands on in McKenna’s kitchen. The iron skillet. A rolling pin. I just had to get close enough to the cabinets.
A gunshot blasted through the kitchen.
The Beast went stiff. I screamed in shock and pushed away fro
m him as his dark blood splattered onto my dress. The floor was already slick with drops of blood. He lunged for me but I ducked his hand.
“Juliet!” Montgomery slumped in the doorway, one arm bandaged while the other held the rifle. “This way—run!”
I shoved at the Beast, who clawed his fingernails at me. With a growl, I dug my fingers into the mess of his shoulder where the shotgun blast had hit. He roared, and I was able to shove him to the ground, tripping over him in my heavy skirts, and raced toward the door.
“Outside,” I said. “We can lose him in the gardens.”
“The wind is too strong. It will carry our scent.”
Angry cries came from the kitchen, amid the clashing of pots and pans. I cringed; all I wanted to do was pull myself into a ball and hide from the world.
“Over here,” a small voice said.
I whipped my head around the vast foyer, but saw no one. Had someone survived the Beast’s wrath? Montgomery pointed to the dusty tapestries flanking the grand fireplace. One of the tapestries ruffled, and a little face stared out at us. One milky white eye, the other dark brown.
“Hensley!” I helped Montgomery hobble to the tapestry. It hid a wooden panel that slid open to admit us to the secret passageways. I lifted my skirts to climb in, and tried to help Montgomery, but he was too heavy. To my surprise, Hensley—though he barely came up to Montgomery’s ribs—easily lifted him over the panel and into the tunnel. I slid the panel closed, and we were bathed in darkness.
“This way,” came Hensley’s disembodied voice.
“Hensley, are you alone? Is anyone else alive?”
“Shh,” he said. “That creature will hear us. He doesn’t know about the narrow rooms.”
He moved almost too fast for us to follow. My thoughts were in a daze, as I stumbled over loose bricks. How could I kill the Beast, with Montgomery wounded, and only a little boy to help? If I offered to stay with the Beast, waltz with him like a mad woman around the kitchen, would he let Montgomery go?
Hensley hurried down a flight of narrow stairs that Montgomery struggled with.
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