by Lynn Vieh
“Lord Dredmore and Miss Kittredge to see Lord Walsh,” I told the old winge before he could open his mouth. “On quite urgent business.”
The butler reared back, the skin surrounding his nose drawing up as he ignored me and addressed Dredmore. “The master is not receiving, milord.”
Dredmore brushed past him. “He will see me now.”
“It’s a terribly private family matter,” I told the outraged butler as I followed suit. “We’ll wait for him in his study.”
It took Lord Walsh less than three minutes to stalk into the room and slam the doors behind him. There was egg yolk on his chin and he still wore his morning jacket and what looked like fur-lined bed slippers. “Lucien. Good God, man, what is the meaning of this?”
“Your wife came to see me this morning, Lord Walsh.” I waited for him to lower himself to notice me. “She believes your deceased first wife has cast a spell on her. But as it turns out, you’re the one who has been bespelled.”
The first tinge of purple bloomed in his florid cheeks. “How dare you—”
“With very little trepidation, actually.” I closed the distance between us and lifted my skirts. “But I do apologize in advance for my actions.”
I kicked him in the groin with as much force as I could muster, and stepped back as he shrieked and dropped to the carpet. He didn’t vomit, however, which annoyed me. “I see you’re going to be difficult. Lucien, please hold his head for a moment.”
Dredmore came up from behind and clapped his hands over Walsh’s ears.
“Thank you.” I grabbed the man’s chin and inserted two of my fingers into his mouth, pushing them back as far as I could until he gagged. “Watch your boots.” I sidestepped the spew of Walsh’s breakfast, waiting until he coughed out a gleaming red stone. Using a kerchief to pick it up, I wrapped it carefully before passing it to Dredmore. “Don’t swallow this.”
“I’ve no desire to.” He pocketed the bundle.
Lord Walsh finished vomiting shortly thereafter and, once Lucien had helped him to his feet, began to make his own apologies. “I say. Terribly sorry. Must have eaten something that was . . .” He trailed off as he looked at both of us with visible bewilderment. “Do I know you?”
“Dad? What the devil?” A bleary-eyed Montrose burst into the room, tottering a little as he rushed to his father’s side.
“You can come in, too, Miss Walsh,” I told the woman hovering outside the door. “This concerns you as well.”
The timid Miranda tiptoed in, her hands worrying at the edges of her lace fichu while she surveyed the messy scene. “It seems my father is ill,” she said, her voice wavering. “You should perhaps leave so that we might attend to him.”
“There’s nothing wrong with Lord Walsh anymore,” I assured her. “I helped him get the spirit stone you shoved down his throat out of his belly.”
“He will suffer some gaps in his memory,” Dredmore added, “but they should not be permanent.”
As Miranda shrank back, I eyed the mess on the floor. “You’ll probably want to have the carpet cleaned right away. When egg yolk dries it’s as hard to comb out as plaster on cashmere.” Dredmore got to the door before Miranda and closed it. “Thank you, Lucien.”
He leaned back against the door. “My pleasure, Charmian.”
Miranda skittered away from him, going to stand behind a wingbacked chair. “Monty, call for the nobbers. Hurry.”
“Dredmore is a deathmage, Monty. I wouldn’t twitch an eyelash.” I went to Miranda, and dragged her over to face the still-wheezing Nolan Walsh. “It’s time to tell your father exactly what you and your husband have been up to.”
“My husband is dead,” she protested, at the same moment Lord Walsh said, “My daughter is a widow.”
“On the contrary, her husband is still alive and hiding somewhere in the city,” I told him. “He’s probably too young to be a Lost Timer, but I expect his Talian father was.”
Miranda gaped at me. “My dear Lestin died in battle.”
“Your husband faked his death to get out of the militia, come to Toriana, and—with your help—begin the groundwork for the Reaper invasion.” I nodded at Nolan Walsh. “While he didn’t have any powers for Zarath to use, I imagine your father’s wealth, power, and influence proved quite useful, once the Aramanthan took control of his mind and body.”
Lord Walsh looked horrified. “Miranda, what have you done?”
A transformation not unlike that of an Aramanthan possession came over Walsh’s shy daughter. “You think money can buy anything, Father? We live every day under Her Majesty’s grinding boot heel. The Reapers are coming to save us. They will muster our forces, crush the Empire, and end the occupation. Toriana will finally be free.”
“Is that what they told you?” Dredmore sounded scathing. “The Reapers have no motive to fight for our liberation. Their sole interest in Toriana is to occupy it, and use its citizens and resources to ignite another mage war. Had your plan been successful, Miss Walsh, they would have burned their way across our country, and installed their own tyrants as our rulers.”
“All Torians would have been bespelled and turned into mindless, thoughtless slaves,” I put in. “Rather like you.”
“You know nothing about our plans.” She struggled viciously against my hold. “You think you can stop them? It’s too late. The ships are almost here.”
“They’re still a fortnight from shore,” I corrected her. “By the time they arrive I expect the coastal fleet will be waiting to greet them.” I glanced at Dredmore. “You can arrange a proper reception, can’t you, milord?”
His upper lip curled. “Indeed.”
Miranda screamed something wholly unladylike as she hooked her fingers into claws and lunged for my eyes.
I put an end to that nonsense by slapping her. “You might have pulled it off, had you left your stepmother alone. But you hated her for taking your mother’s place, and you feared she might discover that Lord Walsh had been possessed. It wouldn’t have mattered if she had, you know.” I looked up to see Lady Diana standing in the doorway. “No one would have believed her.”
“My father should never have married that sniveling bitch.” Hatred contorted Miranda’s half-red face. “Always pretending to be so kind and sweet and loving. All she was interested in was his fortune.”
“My family was.” Lady Diana joined us. “I married so I wouldn’t end an old maid.” She looked at her husband. “Nolan, I expect you have business to attend to in town. If you would send for our physick before you leave, I would greatly appreciate it. Montrose, please escort your sister to her room and sit with her until the whitecart arrives.”
“You can’t put me in hospital,” Miranda shouted.
“Of course not,” Diana soothed. “There’s a lovely little place called Havenwood, not far from my father’s country estate near Settle. Some of the best families in Rumsen have sent their troubled relations there to recuperate.”
Miranda grabbed her brother’s jacket. “Monty, you have to help me. Please. They’re going to ruin everything.”
“We’ll talk about it upstairs.” Montrose guided her out of the room.
Lord Walsh gave Dredmore a desperate look. “My lord, if you would be so kind as to accompany me, and provide some explanation to our mutual friends and associates . . .”
“It would be my pleasure. Lady Walsh.” Lucien inclined his head that way, and then came to me. “Miss Kittredge.” He raised my hand to his lips and kissed it like a perfect gentleman. Then he nipped one of my knuckles. “I will be calling on you later.”
“Meet me down at the docks instead,” I murmured back.
Once the men left the room, Lady Diana rang for the housekeeper, who summoned maids to remove the carpet and apply citrus oil to the floor to remove any lingering stains and odors. The butler himself delivered a tea cart generously piled with a beautiful cream tea.
“With Lord Walsh’s compliments, Miss Kittredge.” He bowed to me as if
I were royalty before he addressed Diana. “Milady, when the physick arrives, do you wish to speak with him?”
“Not at all,” Diana said. “Inform Dr. Elgis that he is to remove Miss Miranda and have her immediately and securely transported to Havenwood for whatever treatment she requires. You might mention that Lord Walsh expects her stay to be of some duration.”
“Yes, milady.” The butler bowed his way out of the study.
“What about the husband in hiding?” I asked.
“Lestin?” Diana picked up the teapot. “Without Miranda to supply him with his needs, I expect he will show his face here quite soon. We have footmen to deal with that. Sugar?”
“No, thank you. Such an unusual name, Lestin.” I thought for a moment. “An abbreviated form of Celestino, isn’t it?”
“I believe it is.” She filled two cups and handed one to me. “You might have warned me of your intentions this morning, Miss Kittredge.”
I took a sip. “It is possible I could have convinced you that Miranda was responsible for the attacks on your person,” I agreed. “But the fact that she arranged for her father to be possessed to assist in an invasion of the city?” I set down my cup. “That you had to hear from her own lips.”
“I expect you are right.” She left her own tea untouched. “Lord Walsh and I are exceedingly grateful for the discreet manner in which you have acted on our behalf.”
I gave her the answer to the question she wasn’t asking. “I’ve worked before for other families on the Hill, milady. I know how things are done here.” When she reached for her reticule, I shook my head. “This morning I refused to provide you with my services, so no payment is necessary.”
The tight lines round the corners of her mouth smoothed away. “Is there nothing I can do for you?”
“At times my work requires me to make inquiries. I am always discreet, of course, but as an ordinary cit I am denied access to certain circles.” I sipped my tea before I added, “Under such circumstances, I would be most appreciative if I could rely upon your counsel and assistance.”
“Were he to discover such an arrangement, my husband would absolutely forbid it.” She smiled. “I will have to see to it that he never does. Would you care for a crumpet?”
Chapter Fourteen
Lady Diana did not provide me with her carriage when I left her home—that would have overstepped the limits of ton gratitude—but she instructed the butler to summon a cab and have it take me wherever I wished.
“Where to, miss?” the driver asked as he helped me inside.
Somewhere in the city Dredmore and Walsh were no doubt astonishing the Tillers with news of the Reapers’ planned invasion. Even if I could find the secret meeting place of the spiritborn, as a female I would likely not be permitted entrance.
Not that I cared to be privy to Tiller secrets. I had my own to sort out.
“Drive to the docks,” I told the man. “But don’t rush. I’m in no hurry.”
He touched his cap before he closed the door.
As the cab headed down from the Hill, I reached up and curled my fingers over my pendant. I felt the movement of the gears inside, assuring me that it still functioned as my parents had intended. The chain snapped as I jerked it from my neck and tossed it onto the back-facing seat.
My grandfather appeared in the next instant, his white hair neatly slicked back, his old-fashioned suit exquisitely pressed. “I’m not going to hurt you, lass. In fact, if you’ll give a moment to explain, I may be of some considerable assistance to—”
“Save the speech, Harry,” I said, cutting him off. “Traveling back through time didn’t rob me of my memories.”
He hid his dismay by becoming chatty. “Well, then, you’ve time enough to stop the invasion. You should start with Walsh and his daughter, but steer clear of that wretched Dredmore. Perhaps that Inspector Doyle fellow can be recruited to assist you. He seems a clearheaded chap. Why are you scowling like that? I like Arthur’s boy. Young Thomas has great potential.”
“You know very well that I’ve already been to see Nolan Walsh, and that Miranda has dealt with. You were there with me, old man.” I leaned forward. “As you’ve been with me every day and night since I was a little gel.”
“All right, then.” He sat back and folded his arms. “I’ve watched over you. You’re my granddaughter, Charm. No crime in that, is there?”
“You’re lying to me again, Harry,” I said with great patience. “You never had a choice in the matter.”
“Whatever you think, Charm.” He lifted the edge of the window shade and pretended to admire the scenery. “I say, are we near that fruit market? I smell peaches.”
“Hedger gave it away when he called my pendant ‘a ginny bauble,’ ” I said. “Certainly there are ladies among the ton who wear tiny flasks fashioned to look like bracelets and watches and pendants, and I presumed he mistook it for something like those. But I misheard him. It’s his accent; it’s almost as bad as Wrecker’s.”
“I just now realized, I’ve never seen your office.” Harry gave me an inveigling look. “We should take a ride over that way. I’ve time enough for a tour.”
“Hedger didn’t say ginny bauble, did he?” I waited, but my grandfather only stared at the floor of the carriage. “He said genie bottle.”
Harry made a halfhearted attempt to continue the ruse. “Don’t be foolish, gel. There is no such thing.”
“My parents did make the pendant to contain a spirit, but it wasn’t mine.” I watched his face. “They used it to capture and imprison the spirit of the Aramanthan they feared most. They used it on you, Harry.”
My grandfather opened his mouth, closed it, and hung his head.
“That’s how you knew everything that has happened to me,” I continued. “You’ve been hanging about my neck all this time, unable to escape the nightstone.”
“I did try, quite often, those first ten years.” He sat back. “I might have overcome your mother’s magic, or your father’s science, but the two together were beyond me. And then there was you and your devilish gift.”
“Every time you tried to cast a spell to release yourself, my power broke it.” I moved over and sat beside him. “Why, Harry? Why would Mum and Da do such a terrible thing to you?”
“I’m to blame for it, not them.” He shriveled down against the seat. “It was when I came to live in Toriana. I fear I was a little too eager to see Rachel. I hadn’t, you know, not since she was an infant. Without thinking I called on her, and, well, she took the news that I was her father, an Aramanthan, and a spy for the Crown rather poorly.”
I nodded. “Did she reject you?”
“She told me to get out and never darken their doorstep again.” He made a face. “Then, when I wouldn’t leave, your father tried to shoot me.”
“Go on.”
“I made several more attempts to speak to your mother. I even sent her the nightstone pendant as proof of my affection, but she still refused to see me.” He rasped a hand over his cheek. “I couldn’t accept the idea that my own daughter would reject me, Charm. I didn’t consider how much a stranger I was to her. And then there was you, my only grandchild.” Harry spread his hands. “Since Rachel wanted nothing to do with me, I began visiting you in your nursery at night. I hardly thought it would upset anyone.”
“Until Mum caught you at it,” I guessed.
“It terrified her to see me there, standing by your little bed,” he admitted. “She ordered me from the house and forbid me from having any more contact with her or you. I’m afraid by then I’d grown very fond of you, and I lost my temper with her. I told Rachel that if I wished to see you that I would, any time I wished, and there was nothing she or your father could do to stop me.”
I closed my eyes for a moment. “Oh, Harry.”
“Christopher, your father, already hated me because I couldn’t be explained by his science. When Rachel went to him and repeated my threats . . .” He made a helpless gesture. “I’d say that
was when they decided to do something about me.”
I didn’t understand how such a powerful being could be so foolish. “Why didn’t you just leave us alone?”
“I didn’t mean to frighten your mother, so I intended to leave off, but I got into a spot of trouble while I was carrying out my duties for the Crown.” He ran a finger across his neck. “My host body was murdered.”
“The police came to our house that night to give Mum the news,” I recalled. “She and Da left me with the maid so they could go to the morgue and identify you.”
He nodded. “I was there in spirit, of course, waiting for nightfall so I could move on to another body. As soon as I saw Rachel come into the room with your father, I presumed she had forgiven me.” He heaved a sigh. “I didn’t realize how much they had meddled with the nightstone until the spell your mother cast dragged me into its confines. Once there, I discovered I had no means of communicating with you, Rachel, or anyone in the outside world.”
“And they knew my power would keep you trapped in it.” I felt more regret than anger now. “They made me your warden without ever telling me.”
“They thought it the right thing to do, I’m sure,” he chided. “Rachel had learned a little about the Aramanthan from Arthur Doyle. She must have known that once my host body died I would need another.”
I nodded. “So by putting you in the pendant, and having me keep you there all this time, they assured that you would never possess another mortal.”
“They saw to it that I would never possess you, gel,” he corrected. “That was your mother’s greatest fear.”
I hadn’t thought of that. “Did you ever want to possess me?”
“Take on the body of a young, impulsive female with no money, no connections, and no prospects in a ridiculously primitive, utterly repressed society under empirical occupation?” He shuddered. “I’d sooner inhabit a stray pup. At least I’d eat better.”
“Then you won’t mind if I pop you back into the genie bottle?” I asked sweetly as I reached for my pendant.
He looked hurt. “You wouldn’t. Not after all we’ve been through these past two weeks. That haven’t happened yet.” He made a disgusted sound. “This is why I hate time travel. Everything you say about time is wrong and right.”