“It is for Lord Lynsley to ask the questions,” said Mrs. Merlin softly, though there was no missing the note of authority. The iron fist in the velvet glove. Despite her age, thought the marquess, the elderly widow had not lost her touch. He steepled his fingers, hoping that he could prove as adept at dealing with the crisis. The traitor must not be allowed to slip through his hands.
“It is fair for her to ask, Charlotte.” He met Shannon’s spark with a show of calm. “I have received information that may indicate Siena has been seduced by the very man she was sent to stop. To be blunt, we fear she has abandoned her mission and gone over to the side of the enemy.”
“Never!” The cry resonated like steel against steel.
Lynsley felt his mouth thin to a grim line. “In our business, I have learned never to say never.”
Shannon colored slightly but did not lower her gaze.
Mrs. Merlin broke the taut silence. “Have you anything to say that might prove your assertion?”
She shook her head.
“Then you may return to your class.”
“Wait!” Shannon defied the dismissal to voice one last defense of her friend. “I would stake my life on the fact that she would never betray the Academy or her country. No one is more loyal than Siena.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Your own loyalty reflects well on what you have learned here.”
She looked loath to go, but a discreet gesture from the headmistress checked any further outburst. Squaring her shoulders, she snapped a salute and marched from the room.
“What do you think?” asked Mrs. Merlin, once the door fell shut.
A sigh escaped Lynsley’s lips. “I think that like most of the dilemmas we face, there is no clear answer. So I have a choice—either terminate the mission right now and pray that the earl is our man …”
Mrs. Merlin’s sober expression left no doubt that she understood the full import of his words. Difficult, dirty decisions were an integral part of their world.
“Or trust that Siena knows what she is doing.”
“And have you made up your mind?”
He shook his head. “Given the gravity of the situation, I think I had better head straight for Marquand Castle rather than return to London.I will assess the situation for myself before coming to a final decision.”
The notes of a Bach piano suite were nearly drowned out by the shuffle of cards and the drumming of rain against the windowpanes. Bad weather had canceled the outdoor activities planned for the afternoon, forcing the gentlemen to wander through the display rooms or while away the hours until supper at whist.
Like the skies, the jovial mood of the gathering had turned more somber. With the auction fast approaching, everyone’s nerves seemed more on edge. Siena had already overheard several heated arguments arise over trifling points of card play. She looked up from her reading and slanted a glance at the drawing-room doors, impatient for the earl to return from his private audience with the duke. The unremitting downpour had also forced a last-moment change in her next challenge, and though she was anxious to inform him of the details, there had been no opportunity for a council of war.
So far, their only encounter had been a meeting of the eyes from opposite ends of the breakfast room. Even from afar, his presence had brought a rush of warmth to her face. Last night…
With a swallowed sigh, Siena forced her eyes back to her book. She could not allow herself to daydream about Kirtland. The sound of his voice, the feel of his body at one with hers.
“Do you play the pianoforte, madam? Or was your schooling limited to skills of a more practical nature?”
The shadow that fell across her page was a chilling reminder that the traitor was still at large. Her suspicions were still only vague shapes, and time was running out to give them a name and a face.
Steeling her expression, she looked up. “Most ladies might well take offense at what you are implying, Mr. Orlov.”
“Most ladies do not possess your singular strength of character or sense of humor. Not to speak of your other, more obvious, charms.”
“You seem to take a perverse delight in trying to provoke me, sir. Is there a reason?”
Orlov assumed a look of injured innocence. “Why, to see the unique shade of pink that suffuses your cheeks when you are annoyed.”
Unsmiling, she met his gaze with a steady stare.
“You are quite provocative, madam.”
Enough, thought Siena. Setting her book aside, she decided it was time to rise to his challenge. “As a matter of fact, sir, I do play the pianoforte. Quite well I am told. Would you care to form your own opinion?”
If her change of tactics took him by surprise, the Russian hid it well. “It would give me great pleasure.”
Seeing Siena approach, the Swedish countess rushed through the last stanza of the melody and quickly tucked her sheets of music away. “I am sure the guests will be delighted to hear another style of play,” she said, lingering only long enough to flash a grateful smile.
Engrossed in their cards, the gentlemen did not look as if they would notice an artillery salvo going off in the room, much less a change in musicians, thought Siena.
Which suited her own plan of attack quite well. “Have you a particular piece you wish to hear?” she asked Orlov as she took her place on the bench.
“Perhaps something by Beethoven. I find his Sturm und Drang so much more interesting than the music of Bach. Don’t you?”
“Actually, I prefer order and harmony to thunder and lightning, sir.” She set her fingers on the keys. Black and white. If only her dealing with the Russian could be so defined.
“Ah.” He rested a hand upon the instrument. “Are we speaking of music, madam? Or something else?”
Siena gave a guarded smile as she nodded at the gentle men engaged in whist. “Rather than keep playing a game of blindman’s bluff, I am suggesting we lay our cards on the table, Mr. Orlov. Who knows, perhaps we can work together, rather them distract each other from pursuing the prize we have come for.”
“An interesting proposal.” The Russian picked out an imaginary tune on the polished wood. Scarlatti. So he knew his way around the keyboard. “What is it you seek?”
“I have made no secret of it—a rich protector.”
“Such as the Earl of Kirtland?”
“He is extremely wealthy.”
“And extremely unreliable, according to his superiors in the British army. Who also used such words as unpredictable, unsteady. And most of all, untrustworthy.”
“His past is of little concern to me.” Siena could not help coming to the earl’s defense. “Besides, it seems to me that his transgressions were more deserving of commendation than of censure.”
He cocked a sidelong look at her. “Dear me, have you fallen in love with him? That could present a complication.”
Her fingers suddenly stumbled over the smooth keys, striking a wrong note. “To what?”
Orlov did not answer her directly. “If it’s protection you are seeking, the earl may not be the wisest choice.”
“Is that a threat?”
The Russian took a moment to toy with his watch. An Imperial eagle, a gilded bear, a carnelian wolf. The man seemed to enjoy the subtle flashing of talons and teeth.
“Call it a friendly warning. Allowing your feelings to come into play may interfere with your ability to perform the duty you have come here for.”
Caught between Lynsley’s oblique orders to be on guard against Orlov and the Russian’s deliberately ominous double entendres, Siena knew she had little room for mistake. “Duty? That is a rather strange choice of words.”
“Ah. My English is sometimes suspect.”
Despite the air of nonchalance, Siena sensed a coiled tension in him. Like a predator ready to strike when the moment was right. “Not to speak of your reasons for being here,” she countered. “I am curious, Mr. Orlov—just who is this mysterious collector you represent?”
“Let us jus
t say, someone who is concerned with the earl and a certain piece of parchment.”
“I am tired of riddles and innuendoes, sir. I don’t mean to let anyone stand between me and my objective here. So if we cannot be frank with each other, I shall have to assume that you are not only Kirtland’s enemy, but mine as well.”
The Russian shifted slightly, a rippling of wool stretching across the breadth of his shoulders. The show of muscle belied his silky pretense. “I should hate for you to think that.”
“What are you looking to gain by eliminating the earl?” she pressed.
“One less skilled competitor.”
“There are others.” Taking a gamble, Siena seized the offensive. “I, too, have a warning. Some of them may be more dangerous than you think.”
For an instant, his arrogance looked somewhat shaken.
They eyed each other, wary, watchful, waiting to see who would make the next move.
“Might I be allowed to enjoy the music, too?” Dunster approached, a scowl marring the symmetry of his features. “Or is this a private duet?”
Segueing from Beethoven to Bach, Siena quickly cornposed her expression to a welcoming smile. “Not at all. Indeed, if you have a piece you wish to hear, I shall be happy to play it.”
“The lady is making free with her talents,” quipped the Russian. “But alas, not for long, I imagine. By the by, how is your private competition coming, Lord Dunster? Any clear favorites?”
Siena answered for him. “Not as of yet. All the gentlemen are still in the running.”
“That certainly makes the last few challenges even more intense.” Orlov fixed the other man with a smile. “What is the next one?”
“As you say, it’s a private affair.” The marquess tossed back the last of his port—not the first, to judge by the redness rimming his eyes. “I believe I would like to hear something decidedly English.”
She switched in midnote to a country ballad.
“I should not have thought ‘The Rose of Sharon’ would be in your repertoire, madam.”
The Russian raised a brow. “Sentimental songs seem rather out of tune with your usual pragmatism.”
Siena added a crescendo to the refrain.
“On that note, I shall take my leave.” Rising with a languid grace, Orlov performed an elaborate flourish that allowed his lips to linger by her ear for a fraction. “I am not your biggest worry, madam. For that I suggest you look closer to home.”
“Mongrel,” snapped Dunster as he assumed the vacated seat. He appeared to have recovered much of his usual bravado, yet the lingering bouts of brooding were out of character. Perhaps the mostly masculine company did not agree with him, or perhaps the stress of the auction was taking its toll.
Or perhaps there were other pressures coming to bear.
Wondering whether she had been too quick to dismiss him as the prime suspect, Siena decided to try to smooth over their differences. “Thank you for coming to my rescue, sir. I feared you might still be harboring some resentment over our earlier misunderstanding.”
He replied with a sulky grunt, neither yea nor nay.
“Come, let us have no hard feelings, sir.” A flutter of lashes fanned the sultry heat of her tone. “Surely a man of the world like you understands that I could not afford to show favorites so early in the game.”
Dunster preened, his pride proving easy to placate. “You might have managed to be a bit more accommodating.”
“Sometimes anger can serve as a certain spice, making reconciliation all the more tasty.”
“What is planned for tonight?”
“On account of the weather, I have made a change to the order of the challenges. Instead of venturing outdoors, we will have a more intimate interlude. One by one, the six of you will meet with me privately, in a room I have prepared specially for the occasion. We will be telling fortunes.”
“Are you predicting that my chances at victory are going to improve?”
“We shall see what secrets the crystal ball reveals. I trust you won’t be disappointed.”
Dunster looked to be savoring the prospect, but his grin abruptly gave way to a grimace. “Let us hope the glass reflects that Kirtland’s luck is on the wane. For one who was adamantly opposed to your proposal, he seems to be having a change of heart about playing to win.”
“Don’t worry about the earl.” Siena didn’t need to look up to sense he had entered the room. Even from a distance she felt the vibrations of his presence resonate through her fingertips. “He squeezed off several good shots, so I was in no position to deny his victory in the shooting match. But he is not really any competition to you.”
Kirtland approached the pianoforte, two drinks in hand. “Your glass appears empty,” he said, offering one of them to Dunster.
“It won’t be for long.” The marquess did not bother to repress a snigger. “In the meantime, however, I shall avail myself of your hospitality.”
The port was gone in a gulp.
Siena left off playing. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I must begin preparing for tonight’s game. The duke’s secretary has kindly consented to let me gather a bouquet of flowers from the conservatory, and I wish to take advantage of what little light is left in the day.”
She hoped the earl would take the hint. Orlov’s words had added an even greater urgency to her mission. There was now little doubt in her mind that he had been the intruder at her London residence, the one who had tossed her the hint of Kirtland’s guilt. But who was he working for? Lynsley must have some suspicions… If only he had been more forthcoming. Somehow she must find a way to cut through the shadows and fight her way to the truth.
Fencing with phantoms was beginning to sap her strength.
“I don’t believe it!” The knifepoint dug into the wood with a satisfying thwack.
“Not for an instant.”
Sofia eyed the quivering blade. “That’s ten demerits for damage to school property, you know.”
“Sod school property.”
“And ten demerits for language unbecoming to a lady.” Seeing Shannon on the verge of another oath, her roommate hastened to add, “I’m not making light of the matter. I am as concerned as you are about Siena. But carving the wainscoting into kindling won’t serve any useful purpose.”
Shannon bit her lip.
“And you—I swear, you are even more headstrong than she is. I worry about both of you.”
“Neither of us has your steady disposition,” she said, sighing.
“If you are implying I have no fire inside, I shall turn that blade on your backside. I must have a steady nerve and an even temper to keep you two out of trouble.”
Much of the anger faded from Shannon’s face. “You are a true friend, Fifi. I know I am a trial at times.”
“Yes, but things would get dreadfully dull around here without you challenging authority.”
Sofia pulled the knife from the paneling. “So, tell me what is happening.”
“Lord Lynsley fears Siena is now allied with the enemy.”
Sofia frowned. “Like you, I cannot believe that of her.”
“Siena would never be seduced by evil.”
“And yet,” said Sofia slowly, “we are taught never to say never.”
“That is just what Lynsley said.” Shannon wanted to object, but the arguments seemed to die on her lips. “You think it possible?” she whispered after a long moment.
“I—I cannot say.”
“There is only one way to know for sure—and that is to go and find her.”
“Impossible!”
“She’s in trouble. She may need help.”
“Lud, you will be, too, if you attempt such a thing.” Sofia pulled a small dog-eared manual from the desk drawer and slapped it against her palm. “Need you reread the Academy’s rules of engagement? By now, we all should know by heart the risks involved when we undertake a mission.”
“Yes, but I have also read the great Sun Tzu, who said that war was
an art as well as a science. Sometimes one must ignore all the standard tactics and act on intuition.”
Looking torn between two codes of honor, Sofia let the book slip through her fingers. “Even if I agreed with taking such a dangerous risk,” she said slowly, “Mrs. Merlin is not about to offer you the details of where Siena is along with a fresh-baked strawberry tart.”
“She doesn’t have to. I overheard where Siena is.” Shannon set her jaw. “Marquand Castle.”
“For God’s sake, Nonnie! You are already on disciplinary probation. If you break yet another rule …”
“To hell with the rules.” Shannon already had her chest of weapons open and was sorting through the choices. “If they wish to give me the boot, let them.” A snub-nosed pistol went into her saddlebags, along with several iron batons, a thin poniard, and a set of picklocks. “I’m not afraid of having to survive on my own in the outside world if it comes to that.”
“You won’t be alone. Though it’s a pity to throw years of rigorous training out the window.” Sofia tossed over a set of grappling hooks and a coil of rope from her own supplies. “Here, you may have need of these.”
“Thanks, Fifi. Anything else you can think of?”
“Merlin’s magic wand?” Though her friend essayed a game grin, she looked as though a noose were tightening around her neck.
“I shall have to settle for Excalibur.” Her sword, a sleek sliver of Damascene steel, cut back and forth through the air.
“Having seen you in action, I have high hopes that our futures are riding on more than a wing and a prayer.” Sofia blew out a breath.
“I trust you are planning to wait until dark before sneaking out to the stables.”
“I mean to go after the grooms sit down for their supper.” Shannon sheathed her blade.
“It’s a pity that Guillermo is the instructor on duty. He doesn’t like me very much these days on account of that little incident with the smoke bomb.”
“I’ll come with you. He owes me a favor—a rather large favor—so he’ll have to turn a blind eye.”
“As for Mrs. Merlin and the others …”
Sofia dismissed the concern with a shrug. “Don’t worry about that. I shall consider it a test of my oratorical skills to convince them your absence is the result of some silly wager.” She tapped at her chin. “I am sure I’ll come up with a suitably outrageous one by morning.”
Merlins Maidens - The Spy Wore Silk - Pickens, Andrea Page 23