Behind the Mask (House of Lords)

by Brooke, Meg

  Udad started. “I know this word, poison,” he said, spitting out the word as though it left a bad taste in his mouth. “He die from poison?” he asked, looking up at Colin.

  “I believe so, yes,” Colin said. He almost added that he would like the village doctor to examine the body, but that would be impossible now. The princess and her retinue would be arriving in just a few hours, and the thought of either bringing the doctor here or somehow spiriting the body out of Sidney Park and into Porter-on-Bolling was ludicrous. Still, they could not leave it in the tunnel. Colin looked up at the man holding the lantern. “Go back and bring four men to carry the body,” he said. “We’ll put it in the dressing room for now.” The guard nodded and disappeared back down the tunnel.

  “Where will you put our friend here?” Leo asked.

  Realizing they were speaking of him, Udad looked from Colin to Leo and back. “I stay with him,” he said determinedly. “I make him ready for...for...”

  “Burial,” Colin finished. “I suppose that’s all right. But Mr. Udad, we’ll have to lock you in with him, and you won’t be able to come out until tonight when it’s time to bury him.”

  “Is all right,” Udad said, tears brimming in his eyes again. “His mother, she want me to be with him now.”

  “Of course,” Colin said, surprised at the kindness he heard in his tone. He wondered if Lord Pennethorne would have given a captured terrorist the right to clean and prepare his slain fellow’s body for burial. Probably not. Perhaps he was growing soft. Still, he could not bear to look at the man’s grief and not allow him at least this small mercy. Another reason he would never be a successful spy.

  Now they heard the sound of running boots echoing down the passage. In a moment five red-coated men appeared and gathered around the body. Leo pulled Udad back and held him by the shoulders as the soldiers lifted the body and bore it away.

  “I think that’s enough for one morning,” Colin said stiffly, and taking Udad by the arm he led the rest of the group back down the tunnel and out into the cold room.

  When Eleanor woke the sun was streaming through the windows and the other side of the bed was empty. She rolled over into the space Colin had occupied, breathing in his scent.

  Someone had picked up all his clothes and her nightgown and draped them over the back of a chair. For a moment she allowed herself to hope that it had been Colin, but then she saw the tray on the little desk by the window and realized Lily had already been in. Hopefully it had been after Colin left, for though Eleanor did not really mind Lily knowing she had slept in the altogether, having her maid walk in while Colin was still in bed beside her was too embarrassing to consider. But Lily was a smart woman—she would know that the rules were different now that Eleanor was a married woman.

  Indeed, Lily seemed to have grasped the situation, for Eleanor saw her robe lying at the foot of the bed. She got up and slipped into it, then crossed to the desk, pouring herself a cup of coffee that was still mercifully hot.

  As though she had somehow sensed that Eleanor was awake, Lily bustled into the room. “Good morning, My Lady,” she said, sweeping the pile of clothes from the chair and taking them into the dressing room. When she came back out she was carrying Eleanor’s pale gray walking dress.

  “Is my mother about yet, Lily?” Eleanor asked as she sat down at the dressing table.

  “Yes, My Lady, though she’s in her sitting room writing letters now.”

  “Good,” Eleanor said. She was not quite ready to face the preparations for the princess’s visit yet. What was more, seeing her mother after her wedding night, no matter her state of disgrace beforehand, held very little appeal.

  When Lily had finished her hair and done up the last button on the walking dress Eleanor went to her desk. “Take the tray away, please, Lily. I will write letters this morning, I think, and meet with Mrs. Clarence later.”

  “Very good, My Lady,” her maid said.

  It was only when the door had closed and Eleanor was alone again that she forced herself to pull a piece of paper from the drawer. How did one write a letter announcing one’s downfall to one’s friends? Eleanor was not sure even the most masterful governess could have taught her that sort of etiquette. Still, there was nothing else to be done. She could hardly allow her friends to hear of her marriage via country gossip. And she had to inform Clarissa and Cynthia and Imogen that she would be going to Staffordshire and then to Brussels. She had imagined a few days earlier that she could somehow avoid this odious task, but she knew she knew she was wrong. So she picked up her pen and did not allow herself to quibble. Dear Cynthia, she wrote, I hope all is well. I have some news that may surprise you...

  Just as she finished the third letter, this one to Clarissa, the door flew open and Colin came in, Leo at his shoulder. Eleanor leaped from her chair, panic rising up inside her as she saw the expression on her brother’s face.

  “What’s happened?” she demanded.

  Leo looked at Colin, who said, “We’ve discovered another body.”

  Eleanor heard herself gasp. “Not—”

  “No, not one of my men,” Colin said. “One of the assassins. We found him in the tunnel this morning, though from the look of it he’s been dead since last night.

  Eleanor put her hand on the back of her chair to steady herself. “How...how did he get there?” she asked.

  Colin frowned, and she saw that he had no answer to her question, which was perhaps more terrifying than any explanation he could have given.

  “You’re perfectly safe, Eleanor,” Leo said.

  “I’m not worried about myself,” Eleanor said, glancing at the jewelry box in which her father’s pistol was hidden. “But the girls, and mother—”

  “Are safe as well. No harm will come to them,” Colin assured her. He came over and took her hand.

  She looked up at him. “What will happen to the...to the dead man?” she asked weakly.

  “We’ll bury him tonight, after dark. The man we have in custody is his cousin. He’ll prepare the body.”

  How terrible, Eleanor thought, to have come so far only to lose someone you held dear. She felt a sudden pang of sympathy for the man who had tried to attack her. She turned away from Colin, embarrassed by the feelings she knew he would not share. How could a member of the Foreign Service feel anything but disdain for an assassin?

  Her knees shaking, Eleanor lowered herself back into her chair. “This is a nightmare,” she said. Then, looking past Colin to her brother, she added, “I must go to mother. There are a thousand things to be done before the princess arrives.” Colin was still holding her hand, and as she rose she squeezed his fingers. “I will see you both this afternoon,” she said. Then she fled, unable to bear the thought of allowing her husband to see her fear.

  TWENTY

  After ensuring that Udad had, in fact, been locked in with his cousin, Colin went out and called for his horse. There was little time before the princess’s arrival, but his errand could not be put off. He rode the six miles to Havenhall with all haste, and when he arrived he was pleased to find Toby Hollier alone in the stables, currying a beautiful dappled mare in his shirtsleeves.

  “Lord Pierce,” Hollier said coolly. “My felicitations on your marriage.”

  Colin had not expected a warm greeting. He said calmly, “Thank you, Mr. Hollier, but I am afraid this is not a social call.”

  Hollier nodded. He set the currycomb down on a stool and led Colin towards the entrance to the stables, where they sat on two low benches. Hollier took a flask from inside his coat and took a long sip, then offered it to Colin, who, thinking of the way his two victims had died, waved a hand. “No, thank you,” he said. “Mr. Hollier, I need you to tell me about your time in Algeria.”

  Looking thoughtful, Hollier was silent for a few moments. “This is about the White Hand, isn’t it?” he asked at last.

  “How do you know about him?”

  “Everyone in Algeria knew. I was there just after those
French officers were killed.”

  “By the White Hand?”

  “That’s what everyone believed.”

  “He’s killed two more men now, one of mine and one of his own,” Colin said, looking pointedly at Hollier.

  The other man shook his head sadly. “I’ll tell you, I was never more frightened in my life than in those days. The whole city of Algiers was on edge. I hardly left my lodgings. But that didn’t stop me from being taken by the Serraray.”

  Colin gaped at him. “You were captured?”

  Hollier nodded. “We went out to meet with the French dignitaries, my partner and I. They found us in one of the back alleys after we had taken a wrong turn. Andrew was killed in the scuffle, but I ended up in the back room of a seedy tearoom in one of the slums. They wanted information, and I, coward that I was, was only too happy to give them what I knew. But it was not enough.” He paused, looking out the door into the stableyard. At last he went on, “Do you know why they call him the White Hand?”

  Colin shook his head.

  Hollier rolled up the left sleeve of his shirt and held out his arm. Raised against the flesh of his forearm, the puckered skin of a burn scar stood out in the shape of a hand. “It’s because the brand they use is heated white hot before...before it is put to use. They let you watch them stoke the fire and lay the brand in it. They sit there as it gets hotter and hotter, not speaking. Then they look right into your eyes as they hold it to your flesh. They don’t do it to torment you. By the time they did this, they knew they would get no more out of me. They do it so that you have to live with the shame, so that everyone will know that you broke. I will have to go the rest of my life with the mark of my guilt burned onto my body.” He broke off, looking away again.

  Colin was silent for a long moment. Then he stood. “I am sorry, Mr. Hollier.”

  “You suspected me, didn’t you?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “I’m not offended, Lord Pierce,” Hollier said, rising slowly and rolling down his sleeve. “It was a logical conclusion,” he added as he buttoned the cuff again. “But if the White Hand is here, you must stop him. He is a reckless, heartless bastard.”

  “I mean to, Mr. Hollier,” Colin said.

  “Good.”

  The two men shook hands, and Colin got back on his horse. He looked back as he rode away, but Hollier had disappeared back into the stables.

  Heavy storm clouds began rolling in over the flatlands to the east after luncheon, but the rain mercifully held off, and though the gray masses in the sky were threatening and the air thick with the promise of rain, Colin somehow managed to find himself standing out on the dry gravel before the house at half past three that afternoon.

  “How fortunate the rain has held off,” Lady Sidney said as she looked down the drive, her eyes fixed on the parade of carriages rolling through the gates. “I suppose the clouds will break open any moment, which will ruin my plans for tea on the terrace, but it cannot be helped,” she sighed.

  Colin tried to hide a smirk as he thought of the other inconveniences the rain would pose. He had a man to bury later, and sodden earth would not make the job easier. He could hardly say such a thing to Lady Sidney, however, and so he merely smiled and nodded as Eleanor came to stand beside him. “Where did you go this morning?” she asked.

  “Around the property,” he lied smoothly. He could not imagine telling her whom he had seen. Colin planned to keep the secret Toby Hollier hid as long as he could. “Is everything ready?” he asked softly.

  She nodded, brushing a stray hair from her face. Still, she looked rather frazzled as she said, “There was a problem with the seating for dinner.”

  He raised an eyebrow and gave her a curious look.

  “I forgot that I moved up in the order of precedence when I married you,” she grumbled. “Thank God for Mrs. Clarence. We had to completely redo the seating and the order in which the couples will enter the dining room.

  He grinned. “I apologize for the inconvenience of my title,” he said.

  Shrugging elegantly, she said, “At least I outrank Lady Pennethorne now. Her father was an earl, you know, but the wife of an earl’s eldest son is still above the daughter of one.”

  “Lady Pennethorne?” he asked.

  She nodded. “She and her husband are coming to dinner tomorrow night, and to the masquerade on Saturday.”

  Colin stifled a groan. If there was anything that could possibly make the current situation worse, it was the arrival of Lord Pennethorne, who would have a thousand suggestions.

  The first carriage rolled to a stop. Colin saw Strathmore and Crawley riding behind it. One of the footmen stepped forward, opened the door, and lowered the stairs.

  Then Sir John Conroy himself stepped out, glaring imperiously at the crowd assembled to welcome his mistress and her daughter. He was an imposing man, tall and vain-looking, his ambition written in his handsome features. But the habit he had of looking down his nose at everyone he addressed made him appear rather less attractive than he might otherwise have been, and his pompousness lessened the gravitas he might otherwise have commanded. Still, one could not fault his correctness as he snapped his heels together and held out his hand for the Duchess of Kent.

  Though she was nearly fifty, Marie-Louise Victoria, Duchess of Kent, was still a beautiful woman, with pale alabaster skin and dark, glossy hair. She looked adoringly at Conroy as he handed her down, but it was clear that her concern was mainly for her daughter, who now waited for Sir John to offer his hand. When she emerged, the fifteen-year-old princess smiled broadly, clearly relieved to be out of the confines of the carriage.

  Tiny and birdlike, with dainty features and dark, intelligent eyes, the Princess Victoria was her mother in miniature, though she had her father’s chin. Colin had not seen her for seven years, but she had scarcely grown an inch in that time, and was still childlike and innocent looking. Still, she grinned as she came forward to greet Lady Sidney. As she did, another person emerged from the carriage: Baroness Lehzen, Victoria’s governess. The baroness stood silently beside Sir John as the princess and her mother stopped before the receiving line.

  “Your Royal Highness,” Lady Sidney said, curtseying deeply. Her daughters followed her example, and Colin and Leo bowed. “It is a great honor to welcome you to Sidney Park.”

  The princess nodded seriously. Behind her, the members of her small retinue were emerging from their carriages. In addition to the princess, her mother, and their household comptroller, they would also be hosting two ladies attached to the duchess’s household, their husbands, and the princess’s governess. Ignoring all the noise of their arrival, the princess said, “Thank you, Lady Sidney. I am pleased to be here.”

  “May I present my children, ma’am? My son, Leopold, Viscount Sidney, and my daughters, Lady Pierce, Maris and Georgina.”

  “Lady Pierce?” the Duchess of Kent said in her heavily accented English.

  “She and Lord Colin Pierce have just been married,” Lady Sidney said vaguely as she gestured for Colin to step forward.

  “Lord Pierce,” the duchess said warmly, taking his hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you again.”

  “I am surprised you remember me, Your Grace. It was long ago.”

  “Not that long,” she said. “I never forget a handsome face.”

  “Well, shall we go in? I’m sure you are quite exhausted after your journey.”

  The princess smiled and nodded eagerly. “And famished,” she said, sounding once more like a girl of fifteen. Lady Sidney gestured for her to precede them into the house, and everyone lined up to follow. Colin held back, however, seeing that Strathmore and Crawley were waiting with Sir John.

  “Everything quiet?” he asked when they were away from the crowd.

  Crawley, a large, swarthy young man with hooded, dark eyes, said, “We had an uneventful journey. There hasn’t been a single problem since I joined the party at Hafeley. It sounds as though you have been having all the f
un here,” he added.

  “I wouldn’t call it fun, exactly. There have been a few...complications.”

  “Since I left this morning?” Strathmore groaned.

  “I’m afraid so. Come into the library and I’ll acquaint you with the most recent developments,” Colin said.

  Sir John looked rather displeased, but as Colin led them into the house he reflected internally that he could have changed his mind and gone back to London. He had made his bed; now he would have to lie in it.

  When the tea had been poured and the various people who had accompanied the princess were settled in the drawing room, Eleanor found herself seated beside young Victoria, who smiled prettily but looked rather nervous.

  “Have you been enjoying your journey?” Eleanor asked.

  Victoria glanced across the room, where her mother was absorbed in conversation with Eleanor’s mother. “No,” she admitted. “I dislike traveling. But my mother insists, and she always gets what she wants.” Eleanor must have looked taken aback at this remark, for the princess added quickly, “But I’m sure she has my best interests at heart.”

  “Of course,” Eleanor said.

  The princess lapsed into silence, and Eleanor had no choice but to sit and sip her tea quietly. She felt a surge of relief when Maris and Georgina came to take over and she could escape across the room, where Baroness Lehzen was sitting with Lady Winifred Gascoyne, whose husband was a close confidante of Sir John Conroy’s. The ladies chatted amiably about the other houses they had visited, declaring dutifully that Sidney Park was no doubt the most beautiful of them all. Eleanor received their praise politely. Inside, however, she was longing to escape, to have just a moment’s peace to think about everything that had happened today.