At the mention of her name Mary made an impatient wiggle. The baby climbed from Silence’s arms and sat beside her, though that certainly wouldn’t last long. Mary hated sitting still, except when looking through the little illustrated book Michael had given Silence. She loved the little men in their funny boats and the strange monsters that rose from the tiny cobalt sea…
Silence remembered with a pang that the book was back at the palace. She’d probably never see it again.
She sighed heavily and showed the baby her dolly. “Where is Lord Caire?”
“He’s riding outside,” Temperance replied. “He thought we might like the time alone together.”
Silence flushed, looking away from her sister’s too-perceptive sherry-brown eyes. Temperance always had been maddeningly helpful and levelheaded. “I should thank you, I know.”
Temperance pursed her lips thoughtfully, “But you won’t?”
“No, no, I will.” Silence took a deep breath, trying to organize her muddled thoughts. “Thank you, truly.”
“But?”
“But I didn’t need rescuing.”
Temperance simply looked at her, eyebrows slightly raised.
“I know,” Silence burst out. “He’s a pirate and… and a terrible, nasty person who hurt me badly before and I was in his clutches—”
Temperance cleared her throat delicately. “I heard you were rather enjoying his clutches.”
“Winter tattled, didn’t he?” Silence asked darkly.
A corner of Temperance’s mouth twitched. “It was Asa, actually. He sounded a bit like an elderly maiden with shocked sensibilities.”
Silence crossed her arms under her bosom and slumped rather mulishly in Caire’s rich carriage seat. “I suppose he and Concord are riding outside, too?”
“No.” Temperance shook her head. “Concord had to get back to the brewery. Asa rode with us as far as Chepping Wycombe last night, but then he muttered something about business that couldn’t wait and left.”
“Humph.” Silence didn’t know whether to be hurt that her rescue apparently didn’t rate very high on Asa’s to-do list or relieved that she wouldn’t have to face him again over luncheon. “Winter?”
“He had to stay at the home, naturally,” Temperance said gently. “They are rather short of help at the moment.”
And that was her fault, as well. Silence bit her lip, looking out the window as the gray scenery passed. The sun had risen fully, but it was rather defeated by the late winter landscape. The day looked cold and unwelcoming.
She’d made a muddle of this, she knew. She’d gone to Mickey O’Connor’s house initially intending to merely endure to the best of her ability—and she’d ended by calling him “Michael” and kissing him enthusiastically in his bedroom.
Well, but that was the thing, wasn’t it? He was no longer Charming Mickey O’Connor, infamous pirate, to her. She found him charming, yes, it was true, but charming in a much more intimate, personal way. She’d never been tempted by the pirate.
She was deeply tempted by the man.
“That dress is quite lovely,” Temperance observed in a carefully even tone.
Silence swallowed a lump in her throat. Her indigo dress was lovely—and she’d probably never have occasion to wear it again. He’d promised to take her to the opera once more and now he never would.
“He’s seduced you, hasn’t he?” Temperance asked quietly.
“Not in the way you mean,” Silence answered without looking away from the dismal view. “I haven’t gone to his bed. But, yes, I suppose I am seduced.”
“I don’t understand.”
Silence shook her head slowly. “He’s different than what everyone thinks him. Well, different and yet the same. He’s so… so much more. More charming, stronger, more clever. I don’t know if he has any sense of shame, but I do know he feels—and feels deeply. And… and that fascinates me—the difference between his public face and his private face.”
“None of that sounds like he cares at all for you,” Temperance said.
“Doesn’t it?” Silence stared at her lap. “I think he does care something for me, actually. You haven’t seen the way he’s taken care of me, after all. But I’m not sure that really matters in the end—whether he cares for me or not. It has no bearing on my feelings toward him.”
“Perhaps not,” Temperance said, her voice hard now. “But you must see that it has a great deal to do with how I feel about Mr. O’Connor. I don’t want to see you hurt again. And I’m not the only one who feels thusly. I’ve never seen Concord so beside himself.”
Silence winced. “Was he very angry?”
“I think it was mostly worry, but of course he showed it as anger—he is a man after all. It took Winter half the night to convince Concord to go home to his family. Otherwise your Mr. O’Connor might be sporting a blackened eye this morning.”
“Oh, dear.”
“Asa was quite upset, I think, though one can never quite tell with him, and Winter… Silence, Winter has been terribly grim. He loves you, you know, in his own quiet way, and I think he’s spent the time you were away worrying constantly.”
Silence closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I never meant to make Winter worry. But Michael said we were in danger. And last night proved his concern quite real.” Her lips trembled again at the memory of Fionnula’s poor, ruined face. “The Vicar’s men killed the girl who’d been looking after Mary.”
“I’m so sorry,” Temperance said sincerely. “Caire and Asa have been watching Mickey O’Connor’s house for the last two days, waiting for a chance to come and get you out. When they saw the smoke and the commotion, they sent for Winter and went inside.”
Silence nodded. “The guards were killed at the front doors. Otherwise they would never have made it past the front hall.”
They didn’t say anything for a while, Silence thinking of Fionnula and worrying about Michael, still in danger from his enemies. Mary played for a bit, then let her dolly fall to the floor and knelt on the seat to look out the window.
Finally Silence sighed and glanced over at her sister. Temperance seemed younger somehow, she realized. She wasn’t more than eight-and-twenty of course, but for many years Temperance had been so grave, so mature and… and stodgy. “Marriage suits you.”
She had the satisfaction of watching her elder sister blush. “Oh! Thank you.”
Silence smiled a little. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Being loved. Loving in return.”
Lord Caire might be an intimidating man, but when he looked at Temperance something seemed to go still behind his eyes and he became entirely focused on her. Silence shivered. Had William loved her with such all-consuming devotion? She realized, a little sadly, that no, he hadn’t. She might’ve built a life around him—and the dream of him—but he had always been quite autonomous.
“It’s simply wonderful,” Temperance said, interrupting her gloomy thoughts. “Sometimes I find myself just looking at him and smiling. He’ll catch me and give me the most puzzled look and I can’t help laughing in his face and then he…” She shook her head and stopped. “Well, marriage is wonderful. I never knew it before.”
“You didn’t love Benjamin as you do Lord Caire,” Silence murmured. Temperance had been married very briefly when she was only a girl.
“No, I didn’t,” Temperance said quietly. “I never knew I could be this close to another person. It was such a surprise to me. But it’s not a surprise for you. You had this same thing with William.”
Temperance’s voice was gentle, but Silence still braced herself for the arrow of pain at the mention of William’s name. Strangely though, the hit wasn’t as bad as she expected. Oh, the pain of William’s loss was still there, of course. Perhaps it always would be. But it was dulled now and a little distant.
The pain that was close and immediate was the loss of Michael.
Silence sat stunned at the thought. She’d become intimate with him, it was true, but she never believed that Mic
hael might mean something permanent to her. The notion was disquieting. After this morning she wasn’t even sure she’d see him again.
“Silence?” Temperance asked tentatively.
Silence sighed and shook her head. “Oh, I’ve created a mess!”
Her sister smiled. “It can’t be as bad as all that.”
Silence gave her a speaking glance. “I think I may be falling in love with a pirate.”
Temperance blinked. “Oh.”
“Yes, oh.” Silence leaned her head back against the squabs. “He’s entirely the wrong man for me. Not like William who was calm and kind and—”
“And good,” Temperance put in drily.
Silence glanced at her helplessly. “What am I to do? I’m not even sure I’ll see him again.”
“You won’t want to hear this,” Temperance said gently.
Silence scrunched her nose and turned back to the gloomy view. Still, she couldn’t ignore Temperance’s words:
“But perhaps it’s for the best.”
Chapter Thirteen
An army appeared at the base of the mountain, mounted men in armor and warriors on foot, carrying shields and swords. Quickly, Clever John ran down the mountain and led his army into battle to defend the kingdom. The shouts of men and the screams of horses were heard for miles around. When the shadows began to grow long, Clever John looked up and saw that his enemy was defeated. Only then did he notice the blue feather stuck in the links of the armor covering his right arm….
—from Clever John
Naturally, Lord Caire would have an overwhelmingly elegant country residence. Silence listlessly perused the great library in Lord Caire’s country manor, hoping for something—anything—to distract her from thoughts of Michael. The late afternoon sun shone in the glass doors, illuminating the great bookshelves that lined three walls of the room.
She’d heard no word from Michael in the week since she’d hastily left his palace.
She really ought to be more grateful. Huntington Manor was huge and rambling with lovely food and servants to take care of her every need. Actually she hadn’t quite gotten used to the servants. The butler was a terribly daunting elderly man and Silence found herself flushing furiously every time she had to speak to him. Oddly, Temperance seemed right at home as the new Lady Caire. One would think she’d always been a baron’s wife from the ease with which she consulted with the cook about meals and the housekeeper about decorations and such.
Silence shook her head and trailed her fingers over the spines of the books lined up like soldiers. The library, like everything else in Caire’s country estate, was magnificently appointed. Histories, poetry, philosophy, and even a few works of fiction could be found here. She should be happy to have the chance to simply sit and read. She had no chores here, no tasks or worries.
“Gah!” Mary said, patting the glass on the French doors. They looked out over a terrace bordered by a mown lawn. Mary was carefully walking down the glass doors, admiring the view and the crows on the lawn.
Silence turned back to the bookshelf and pulled out a book at random. It was a treatise on Latin history—or so she thought. Her Latin was rather poor. She wrinkled her nose and replaced the book.
A week and no word from Michael. Well, it was silly to expect otherwise, wasn’t it? He’d sent her away with Caire and her brothers and even though he’d done so to protect her, perhaps he’d been secretly relieved to see her go. Without her around he could have tarts in his palace once again—two at a time in his bed, if he wished!—and go back to his wastrel pirate ways.
Silence kicked the lower shelf.
“Goggie!” Mary Darling said from behind her.
“No, sweetie,” Silence said, “those are crows.”
“Goggie!”
A thump came from the windows.
Silence turned, alarmed that Mary might’ve fallen, but the toddler was still standing against the windows. And on the other side was a very familiar dog wagging his tail like mad.
“Lad?” Silence whispered. She swiftly crossed to the glass doors and looked out. Dusk was gathering, but she thought she saw something flash in the trees beyond the lawn. “Oh, my goodness.”
There were guards, of course. The first thing Lord Caire had done on reaching his country residence was hire several strong men from the village to patrol the grounds. Silence craned her neck and saw two men just disappearing around the far corner of the house. She knew from watching them that they wouldn’t be back around to this side again for another ten minutes or more.
That is, if they didn’t reverse their course.
Hastily she found a pencil and flipped through the Latin book until she found a blank page. Silence wrote a short note to Temperance and left the book on a table, opened to the note. Then she scooped Mary up in her arms and went out the French doors. Lad immediately began jumping around them like a maddened hare, but fortunately he seemed to know enough not to bark.
“Where is he?” she hissed at the dog, feeling like a fool.
Lad pricked his ears forward and then turned to look at the trees.
Well, that was clear enough.
Silence darted across the lawn, arriving at the tree line breathless and with her heart beating in a staccato rhythm. She peered into the dark copse, but didn’t see anyone. Disappointment seeped into her chest. Perhaps she’d been mistaken at the flash. Perhaps Lad had somehow followed them from London. Perhaps—
A hand clamped over her mouth.
“Hush,” Michael murmured.
She nodded.
He lifted his hand and then just watched her. He was different—his clothing dark and plainer than any she’d ever seen on him. His coat was brown, his hat a simple black tricorne. And he’d covered his extravagant hair with an anonymous white wig, making his face appear leaner, his cheekbones sharper. His black eyebrows winging up so starkly against the white of the wig made him look more Satanic, more stern than ever.
“Will ye come with me?” he whispered.
And she answered without hesitation. “Yes, please.”
WINTER SIGHED SILENTLY as he watched another elegantly dressed lady pick her way down the narrow alley leading to the Home for Unfortunate Infants and Foundling Children. Lady Penelope wore an elaborately worked yellow silk gown with an embroidered jacket, and a velvet cloak thrown over her shoulders. The lady held her skirts high as she carefully stepped along, the jewels on her slippers winking in the sunlight. Behind her, Miss Greaves trailed, much less richly dressed and holding a silly little white dog in her arms. Winter eyed the winking jewels on the slippers sourly. The cost of those slippers could probably keep the home in coal and candles for an entire year.
At least he no longer had to worry about Silence, now that Caire and Temperance had her safely hidden at Caire’s. Still that didn’t quite make another day wasted with silly society ladies bearable.
“Oh, they do look splendid, don’t they?” Nell Jones commented beside him.
Winter coughed. “Indeed.”
“The children are so looking forward to singing for the ladies,” Nell said. “And they’ve become quite good at singing the same words at almost the same time.”
Winter arched an eyebrow. The last time he’d passed the classroom while the children were practicing, the sound had not been exactly melodious.
“And Joseph Tinbox has memorized the psalm he is to recite,” Nell went on. “If only we have enough biscuits for all the ladies! That last batch didn’t turn out quite right.”
Winter, having spent years dining upon the products of inexperienced cooks—the girls of the home did most of the cooking—knew better than to ask what exactly had happened to the last batch of biscuits. “I’m sure the biscuits will do very well.”
Nell flashed him one of her quick smiles. “Well, I just hope so. I wouldn’t want to let you down, sir.”
“You won’t, Nell. That I’m quite certain of,” Winter said as he stepped forward to welcome Lady Penelope Chadwicke
and her outrageously expensive slippers.
“Oh, thank you, Mr. Makepeace!” Lady Penelope exclaimed. She wrinkled her nose as she let her skirts drop. “I do think you should do something to make the street cleaner. Perhaps you could see about having it repaved?”
“The home is only temporarily housed on this street, Penelope, dear,” Miss Greaves murmured. “Perhaps we should save large projects like repaving the street for the permanent residence.”
Winter shot Miss Greaves a grateful look. The lady smiled shyly back at him and he noticed that her eyes were a rather lovely dark gray.
“Oh, I suppose that’s the practical thing to do,” Lady Penelope said with a pout. “But I do think practical things are so boring, don’t you, Mr. Makepeace?”
Winter opened his mouth, a little bemused by this frivolity, but was saved from having to reply by the sound of hooves clattering on cobblestones.
A trio of mounted soldiers pulled their horses to a halt before the home. The lead soldier, riding a huge black horse nodded formally.
“Sir, ladies. Have I the honor of addressing Mr. Winter Makepeace?”
Winter felt everything within him still. He looked up into the man’s face. The officer wore the standard white wig like his men. Beneath, his pale blue eyes were sharp and intelligent. His face was long, with deep lines incised on either side of his mouth, giving the impression of a man who had been so hardened by life that he no longer made concessions for those less capable than himself.
“I am Winter Makepeace.”
The officer nodded. “Permit me then to introduce myself. I am Captain Jonathan Trevillion of the 4th Dragoons.”
“How do you do?” Winter said quietly. The ladies still stood by him, looking curiously up at the soldiers, but he made no move to introduce them to Captain Trevillion.
The other man noticed the omission with a tightening of his thin lips. “My men and I have orders to arrest any criminals we discover in St. Giles, with particular attention paid to the murderer called the Ghost of St. Giles.”
“Murderer?” Nell exclaimed. “But the Ghost has never been proved to murder anyone!”
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