“I heal fast,” said Noel.
Darcy stepped back and held up his hands as though to ward Noel off. “There’s a devil in you.”
“Now, Darcy, don’t get superstitious on me,” said Noel.
But Darcy’s face was mottled with red. His eyes blazed with fear. “Witch!”
“That’s not true. I’m—” Noel lost his breath and had to sag momentarily against the doorjamb to rest.
The sound of hurrying footsteps whipped Darcy’s head around. He glanced once more at Noel and fled.
“Darcy!”
Jack came into sight, already garbed in a resplendent coat of emerald green. Crimson bows had been tied around both sleeves, and his wide petticoat breeches were peacock blue. His shoes had high red heels, and large bows adorned them as well. A small-sword hung at his side. His face had been painted very white, then rouged. He wore, of all things, a beauty patch on his cheek. He was followed timorously by a round-eyed Hal, who hung back. At the sight of Noel, Jack’s hurried stride faltered. He came to a halt a healthy distance away and stared.
“Told you!” quavered Hal.
“Stay away from him. Jack,” called Darcy from far down the corridor. “He’s a witch.”
“Nonsense,” said Jack, his deep voice echoing off the walls. “Both of you keep out of the ale tonight. You’ve had too much already.”
Ignoring their indignant protests, he walked toward Noel. “My poor fellow,” he said gently, “you’ll do yourself harm getting up like this. You need to rest. Let me help you back to bed.”
Noel put out a hand to stop Jack from steering him back into the room. “I’m fine,” he said. “Just a little wobbly, but I’ll be all right as soon as I’ve had something to eat.”
Jack laughed, but his eyes were puzzled as he said, “As hungry as ever, eh? That’s a good sign, I suppose. But you’re in a bad way, my boy. You must lie down again.”
“No. I’ll be all right,” repeated Noel stubbornly. “How long till curtain?”
Consternation entered Jack’s expression. “That’s no longer for you to worry about. We’ll manage without—”
“No!” said Noel. “I’ll do my part. I gave my word. You said I—”
“I said many things this afternoon, which I now regret,” said Jack. “My cursed temper gets away from me too often. I thought you were playing a game with us. But the man who stabbed you—”
“An old enemy,” said Noel.
Jack blinked and looked more astonished than ever. “Your brother, more like.”
It was Noel’s turn to stare. “You saw him?”
“Who hasn’t? He’s one of the guests, a favorite of the king’s. Everyone is speculating on what brought on the fight, but at least our little company knows now why you were so eager to use us to gain access to Clarendon House.”
There was no point in denying that anymore. Noel said, “I still intend to do the play. I asked for the job in good faith. I hoped my…brother would be here tonight, but I didn’t expect this.” Ruefully he gestured at his bandaged chest.
“Obviously,” said Jack dryly. “I think now, however, that you should return to bed. Your fever gives you the illusion of strength, but soon your weakness will conquer you again and bring you down. If you swoon and fall, you could lose the last few drops of blood you have. We had the devil’s own time stopping the flow.”
“I’m surprised I wasn’t leeched,” said Noel.
“We talked about sending for a barber, but there wasn’t time with His Lordship wanting to give us our instructions for the evening. We bundled you in here and left you in God’s hands. Now go and lie down like a good fellow and leave us to our work.”
“Jack, listen. I know my part. I’ll be able to—”
Jack gripped Noel by his arms and shoved him gently back into the room, where he pushed him into a sitting position on the cot. “You’re stouthearted and you mean well, but it’s not to be. After all the drama this afternoon, with ladies fainting at the sight of blood and Lady Kemble losing her diamond earrings, the lord chancellor wants light entertainment, something more appropriate for the garden setting.”
Noel scowled, feeling his future sink further. “I’m sure His Lordship would do anything to avoid a political drama about betrayal at the highest levels,” he muttered.
Jack blanched. “Noel, you talk treason.”
Noel looked up earnestly and took the risk of candor. “The people are against Clarendon. They resent the way he’s conducting the war with Holland. They resent this house and the money he’s spent on it. Fifty thousand pounds to build it, while the king’s bankrupt and begging. Hear me! I could wager you that in a year or so this house will be torn down by angry people, and I’d win the bet. Clarendon was a good adviser to the king in the past, but his judgment has grown corrupt.”
Jack glanced uneasily at the door. “I have no part in politics. I warned you not to embroil us in any intrigues.”
“Someone has to make the king see the truth about Clarendon,” said Noel urgently. “You already planned to perform Julius Caesar. It’s perfect for the purpose. Why not stick to your original plan?”
“Because we’ve taken His Lordship’s gold, and we’re bound to perform what His Lordship wants,” said Jack tightly. “Will was right to doubt you from the first.”
“I’m just trying to help.”
“Perhaps. And perhaps you’re lying again,” said Jack. “Whatever your game, it’s too serious for my blood. You’ve lost enough of yours for one day. Why don’t you take the opportunity to slip out while we entertain the court? Let it go.”
Noel met his eyes. “I can’t.”
Jack sighed. “And I cannot help you. We are going to perform two acts of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. God keep you. Good-bye.”
“Jack, wait—”
But the actor turned away. Springing up, Noel caught his sleeve.
Jack turned on him furiously. “In God’s name, leave us be!” he said. “You are worse than a gadfly, stinging here and there. You damned near got us discharged this afternoon, spilling your blood all over the flagstones, and me and Will having to explain what the devil you were doing accosting one of His Lordship’s guests in the first place. By God, I tell you that were you not half-dead already, I’d take my sword to you. Now you’ve done enough harm, and that’s an end to it. We’ll see no more of you.”
“Jack, wait. I’m sorry. I—”
But Jack wrenched free of Noel’s grip. He walked out without looking back, and Noel was left standing in the room with the taste of failure bitter in his mouth.
Even if he got near Leon again between now and morning, they had nowhere to return to.
Chapter 14
The late-summer twilight lingered for hours. The court sat in the soft evening air, torchlight sparking brilliant highlights in their jewels and glowing richly upon silks and satins. The play sounded like a success from the frequent sounds of laughter. Noel skulked in the shadows, watching the audience play cards and murmur among themselves. Only now and then did they pay attention to the performance, calling out remarks or making crude jokes that evoked laughter and stopped the play. To Noel’s surprise the actors seemed unperturbed by these interruptions. They would shoot back retorts—entirely in character—that brought more laughter. He realized that he would have been thrown completely by this type of performing; he probably would have lost his lines and his temper both.
Right now, however, he was more concerned with his twin. Leon, who possessed the infuriating catlike knack of always landing on his feet, had already insinuated himself into the king’s friendship. From his hiding place in the fragrant shrubbery Noel watched Leon nibbling comfits and guzzling wine. Now and then the king would lean over and murmur a remark in Leon’s ear, and they would laugh together. Both of them had a lady on their laps. The king’s companion was feeding him grapes, followed by teasing little kisses. Leon’s companion had, beneath the cover of the shadows and an artful placement of her fan, let
a breast slip free of her bodice.
Noel’s frown deepened. With the queen not present to maintain decorum, everyone seemed to be having a splendid time, except for the host, who looked as though someone had punched him in the stomach. Lord Clarendon tried to pretend to watch the play, but his gaze strayed constantly to Leon.
Noel knew that the lord chancellor had already fallen from favor. It didn’t have to be written on a sign. The king’s behavior tonight, ignoring his host and pandering to Leon, made it clear. Clarendon might keep his office for a while, but Leon had cost him the king’s friendship. Without that, Clarendon’s political enemies would pull him down soon enough.
Which all meant that Noel’s attempts to right the bobble in history had been in vain. Leon had effortlessly fixed what Noel had messed up.
Noel knew he should be grateful, but despite his relief, all he could feel was a burning resentment. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Leon was the one who always tried to change history and destroy the future, and Noel was always the one who struggled to put everything back in place. But this time their roles had been reversed.
It seemed to prove, more strongly than ever, that Noel had become the copy.
Fresh anger boiled through him, and his hands curled into fists. He tried to tell himself it didn’t matter as long as history was saved.
But it did matter; it mattered to him personally.
He couldn’t face the idea of having made the sacrificial decision to reenter the past and fix the time distortion, only to have become the bad guy. Leon had always been a pest, true, but because Leon was malicious and self-serving it had been natural to hate him, natural to punish him, natural to stop his activities. Now, in some ironic twist of fate, Leon—who had lied, cheated, stolen, manipulated, and murdered his way through time—had ended up the good guy.
It made no sense, but that was the way it was.
Noel tightened his lips and shifted his position in the shrubbery. It seemed incredible that even Leon could get away with stabbing him in broad daylight in Clarendon’s backyard in front of numerous witnesses, but as long as Leon thought he was dead, that gave Noel a slight advantage.
He needed every advantage he could gain, because he still intended to take Leon back to the twenty-sixth century.
While the party went on, Noel gripped the hilt of his sword. He wished Leon would act like a normal human being for once and step into the bushes to take a whiz. Then he could ambush his twin and haul him off.
But Leon remained stuck to the king’s side like a leech. Noel knew if he attempted an abduction, the king’s guards would have his head on a pike before he could turn around.
Wishing he had some of Leon’s telepathic abilities, Noel glared at his twin from his place of concealment. “Take a walk. Your bladder must be bursting,” he whispered. “Entice the woman into the shrubbery. Do something.”
But Leon lolled in his chair, stealing kisses, giggling, and stuffing himself with food and drink as though he had all the time in the world.
The play ended, and musicians took the actors’ place. A few people commenced dancing, but the king was yawning. Noel forced himself to perk up and pay attention. If the king was tired and left, the party would have to break up.
At midnight, Clarendon rose to his feet. “Would Your Majesty care for a light supper of cold lobster and—”
“Hmm? No, thank you,” said the king. “We shall be going home shortly. Direct our carriage to be ready in half an hour.”
Even in the torchlight Clarendon looked pale. He bowed, struggling to keep his composure. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
The king turned to Leon. “You shall join us in our carriage, Leon.”
“I’m honored, Your Majesty.” The fatuous self-satisfaction in Leon’s voice made Noel mouth silent curses to himself.
The king laughed and pinched the woman he’d been fondling all evening. “A little impromptu party in the moonlight, eh, my dear?”
She giggled behind her fan. “Indeed, Your Majesty. I love carriage rides best of all.”
Disgusted, Noel backed away and slipped around the end of the house. He had a plan now, at least. It was desperate and foolhardy, but that hardly mattered as long as it worked.
The king’s guards played dice with the grooms and coachmen in the torchlit stable yard. Noel took a moment to straighten his clothes and tip his hat to a jaunty angle.
Drawing in a deep breath, he strolled into the light with a hand on his sword hilt and a supercilious smirk on his face.
One of the grooms saw him, and scrambled to his feet hastily. “Lord Nardek,” he said, tugging his forelock in respect while the others abandoned their dice and rose to attention.
“Carry on,” said Noel. “I don’t mean to interrupt your game. I just have some special instructions from the king—”
“You men!” said the ringing tones of one of Clarendon’s footmen. “The king wants his carriage in half an hour. Look sharp!”
Seeing Noel as he came up, he stopped in obvious confusion and bowed. “Your pardon, I’m sure, Lord Nardek.”
“Stay,” said Noel when the man would have retreated. “You can reinforce what I say. The king asked me to convey certain private instructions for his journey home.”
“Yes, my lord?”
“Uh, there are some ladies involved. A special side trip in the moonlight…some dawdling…privacy…that sort of thing.”
The coachmen grinned and nudged each other. The captain of the guard cleared his throat. “We understand perfectly.”
“Well, it sounds charming, but it’s new to me,” said Noel. “Since I’m invited along. I’d like to know whether I’m expected to enjoy myself while being driven fast over rough roads with a pack of mounted horsemen around me or—”
“Ahem,” said the captain while the men snickered among themselves. “If the king desires, we can arrange for two coaches. The king’s royal coach with his outriders will take the official route homeward, while a private coach can drive about the countryside as long as there’s moonlight enough to show the coachman the road.”
“But is it safe?” asked Noel. “I mean with all these highwaymen being hanged today…”
“Well, there ye are, sir,” piped up a groom. “With ’em all ’anged, who’s to rob ye?”
“I can divide my forces,” began the captain, but Noel held up his hand imperiously.
“Nonsense. I quite like this idea of driving about incognito. And the groom is correct. There should be no danger at all.”
“Very little, sir. Besides, His Majesty is very handy with arms.”
“As am I.” Noel nodded. “Very good. I think a route along the river would be pleasant.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Then it’s settled. Make the arrangements, Captain. I appreciate your discretion.”
The captain bowed, and Noel walked away.
He kept his back straight and put a swagger in his stride, imitating Leon as best he could. But all the while he was thinking about the king’s reputed prowess with weapons. He had succeeded in getting rid of the guards, but if the king or Leon shot him, his plan would still fail.
But what if I can’t die? he asked himself with a sour inner flippancy.
He touched his wounded shoulder, which felt hardly sore at all now beneath the bandage. He might heal impossibly fast, but he still felt mortality hanging around his neck. He knew that if either man shot him in a vital place, he could indeed die.
Better not to think about it at all. Better to just act, because he was too desperate to play it safe now.
As soon as he reached the cover of darkness, he nipped around to the rear of the stables and plunged inside. The warm, sweaty interior was pungent with the smells of animal, oiled leather, hay, and dung. The great beasts nickered and shuffled about their stalls. Noel forced himself to move quietly so as not to alarm them, yet he couldn’t dawdle now. If he was to steal a horse, he had to do so before the grooms came in to harness a t
eam.
Murmuring soothingly to a horse, he groped around in the shadowy darkness and managed to fumble a bridle onto the animal’s head. Taking a saddle off a wall hook, he held it over one arm while he coaxed the snorting horse from its stall and out the back door.
Just as he closed the door, torchlight flared inside the stables, and the grooms came in.
Startled, Noel gave a sharp tug on the reins and led his mount down the stretch of lawn toward the rear of the property.
Within the cover of a small copse of trees, he saddled the horse, his nervousness and haste making the animal fretful and hard to handle. Finally, however, he got the girth fastened snugly and swung himself up.
The horse was a tall, long-legged hunter. As soon as Noel found his stirrups and gathered the reins, the horse strode out, ears forward, head alert and tossing with eagerness to go.
Touching the pistol in his pocket for reassurance, Noel touched his heels to the horse and galloped away.
He was riding up and down along a level stretch of road a short while later, seeking a good ambush spot, when a pistol retort crashed out. His horse reared in fright, and Noel heard the pistol ball whiz by dangerously close to his head.
His heart in his mouth, he clung desperately to the reins, trying to control his mount.
A gruff voice called out, “You there! Stand and deliver!”
Still struggling with his horse, which swung around and tried to buck, Noel could make no sense of the command. “What?”
“I said to stand and deliver! Are you daft? Stick tight afore I puts the next ball right between your eyes.”
It was definitely a threat, but Noel was too furious at this interruption to pay heed to the danger he was in. “Are you holding me up?”
“Aye, what do you think?”
A horse and rider emerged from the darkness beneath the trees. The moonlight revealed a man swathed in a cloak. His hat was pulled down low, and a scarf concealed his face to his eyes. He held a pistol aimed at Noel, who sat motionless on his now-calm horse.
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