by A. W. Exley
Another impediment was women being unable to vote. Perhaps she could be dictator of England for a few years to sort the country’s woes? Cara was sure Nate’s seed growing inside her fuelled such thoughts.
“My parents have renewed their pressure for me to marry. My sister Eleanor is nearly twenty and has not yet debuted.” Sadness weighted Sabine’s words.
Her injured bird’s words dragged Cara’s mind back from megalomania. It was a heavy responsibility for a noblewoman to have younger sisters. Most women debuted at eighteen and were engaged or married by twenty. Sabine’s sister would soon be considered on the shelf before she had even entered society.
“While you have been teaching sewing to the women in the Rookery, I have been giving much thought to your dilemma. It will require delicate handling, as you need to be declared deceased without a body. Although I do have some experience in that. Because you cannot swim, a terrible boating accident seems the best solution. But before we proceed, there is something I wish you to consider first.”
“I am afraid of the water, but not so much that I’ll enter a loveless marriage and be some man’s slave.” Sabine’s hands tightened on the parasol handle as though it were a sword she would use to defend herself.
Cara considered her next words. “What if there was the possibility of a match based on friendship that enabled you to lift up your sisters and at the same time live a peaceful and comfortable life with Esther?”
Sabine sucked in a breath and stared at Cara. “I would think you offer the impossible, and any such sham could only end in heartbreak and misery.”
“I wish we lived in a world where no one ever starved to death in a gutter and people could love whoever their hearts chose.” Thoughts of world domination swirled uppermost in her mind again. She even knew which artifact would whisper to her that it was entirely possible. Hatshepsut’s Collar had fuelled Queen Victoria’s mission to spread the British Empire to every corner of the globe.
Cara frowned at her burgeoning stomach, sure the idea originated behind her navel. You’re going to be trouble, she thought.
A sad smile touched Sabine’s lips. “You speak of a utopia that can only be found in the pages of a book.”
That was exactly what Nate had said when she ranted about how society forced people to hide who they truly were for fear of censure. “Perhaps. But if you don’t take one tiny step towards a new world, the change needed will never happen.”
“If I could have both Esther and my family, well… What a blessing that would be,” Sabine whispered.
The ducks had eaten their fill, and one by one they waddled down to the water’s edge and plopped into the river. Cara thought she walked like a duck these days. Her back ached as did her hips, and she had trouble keeping her mind on the topic under discussion.
After she had obtained Clarence’s agreement to the boxing match, he had requested her opinion, and possible assistance, on a delicate matter. While his new position as duke gave him freedom in some areas, he was also bound by duty and the weight of expectation in other ways. No one was ever really free; nobles simply wore more expensive chains.
“As much as it breaks my heart, you are not alone in loving someone society deems unacceptable. There is another in the same circumstances, although given far more latitude because of his position.” At least Loki had found a new world where he could freely love both Hone and Paniha. That was another option she could present to the noblewoman. Sabine and Esther could find a new and peaceful life with Hone’s tribe.
Sabine turned to consider the large form of Brick, reading under a spreading elm. “Would this gentleman with a similar dilemma by chance be the new Duke of Clarence?”
Cara studied her large and well-dressed bodyguard. Pregnancy provoked all sorts of maternal reactions deep insider her. Along with indigestion, she had a constant need to ensure a happy path for all her extended family. “Society adores Clarence and tolerates his affection for Brick, but it will never understand the depth of their love for each other. While Clarence has some liberties, many doors are closed to him and Brick. Clarence has found that his dukedom comes with the pressure to marry and present society with a suitable duchess to sit at his table.”
“I asked you to arrange my death, and you ask if I would like to be a duchess.” Sabine sighed and turned back to the river.
“I’m merely presenting you with options. Meet Clarence and talk to him. If there cannot be a friendship between you, then what I propose would never work.” There were wider implications, with the happiness of two couples at stake. It would be no easy thing to balance the needs of four people, but Clarence was wealthy enough that he could give Sabine and Esther their own household.
A long, gloved finger tapped on the silver parasol handle. “I need to discuss it with Esther. But I am prepared to meet him, far away from prying eyes of course. If not, we shall proceed with plans for my boating accident. We must have a solution before the end of the season.”
Cara rested a hand on her tummy. There, little one, we may yet secure a happy ending for both couples. “Thank you. You never know, you might be able to subvert society from within. It’s certainly my aim in helping women such as yourself. If enough of us break free of our cages, we just might bring all their stupid restrictions and rules tumbling down around their ears.”
“You are a dangerous woman, Lady Lyons,” Sabine said as she stood and opened her parasol.
“Why?” No one was in danger from her these days. Running and fighting would have to wait until after the baby made an appearance.
“Because you offer hope.” With that, Lady Sabine walked away.
Cara’s next trip for the day was to Nate’s solicitor. McToon positively grinned on seeing Cara. “Lady Lyons. I do adore the inventive methods you think up to enable me to charge your husband outrageous sums of money.”
The Scottish lawyer took her hand and led Cara to a chair. She was grateful to sit down and take the weight off her feet. Or she would be until her legs began to cramp and she would have to stand and walk around.
“Tickets selling well?” she asked.
McToon rubbed his hands together. “Like bags of hot chestnuts on a snowy winter’s day.”
He walked behind his desk and picked up a sheet of paper. “In all, you advised we had 200 tickets to sell. The plan being to sell six or seven a day for the month leading up to the event. Sales were slow at first.”
Cara had expected that. In the first week, they had made forty-five tickets available and only sold thirty. She was trying not to panic now they had less than a week to go. “And now?”
He wiggled large grey eyebrows. “Those who do not possess a ticket are hounding my secretary with ever increasing offers to procure one.”
Cara let out a sigh of relief. As the evening drew near, the papers had been full of speculation about the bout. Some claimed it would never happen, that the duke was far too refined and dignified to strip to the waist and battle Viscount Lyons. At the same time, people wanted a ticket to view the spectacle if it did go ahead. “Any requests from Spain yet?”
Her plan unfolded exactly as she intended except for one little detail. She couldn’t flush out the count; he had to come forward on his own.
McToon winked. “Count Mancilla’s agent applied for a ticket just this morning. Apparently he arrives in London this week, assuming his man secured him a seat.”
She was one step closer to her goal. “That’s excellent news. Thank you for your tireless work, Mr McToon.”
“Thank you, Lady Lyons. You do keep us busy in this office.” The solicitor handed over a sheet of paper to Cara. He had detailed every ticket sold, the price, and the holder.
Her eyes widened as she scanned down the list. Prices skyrocketed as the day drew closer and fewer tickets were left. “This is more than enough to build a new classroom in the Rookery and pay for a teacher. Even once we take off your retainer.”
McToon winked. “Always a delight doing business w
ith you. I’ll have the final list of ticket holders to you the evening that we close off.”
Early July, Lowestoft
Today was a momentous occasion—Rachel’s ninth birthday and her first as part of their family. To help her celebrate, Nate had scooped up an airship full of her friends from the St Giles Rookery for a special visit. The Hellcat landed, and as soon as the crew extended the gangplank, girls and boys tumbled down amid squeals of laughter.
“Are you sure this was a good idea? We don’t want you overexerting yourself,” Amy said from beside Cara as they watched the children swarm over the lawn. The old house was invaded by little people, just what they needed to clear the last of the cobwebs from the sombre mansion.
Cara did suspect she’d bitten off more than she could chew, but Nate had a large contingent of men on the estate. If they could handle riots and bounty hunters, surely they could wrangle a dozen excitable children. “I thought it might be good practice, and besides, Rachel hasn’t seen her friends for months.”
Laughter turned to awed oohs and aahs as Rachel held up her new prosthetic, a birthday gift from Nate and the hard-working engineers he employed. This one was more ornate than the functional metal arm she had used for the last few months. Roses and climbing vines were etched into the metal in an intricate design.
Rachel pushed all the buttons and turned all the dials to show her friends what the arm could do and the secrets it contained.
“Be careful or they’ll all be wanting one,” Amy said with grim humour.
Since the weather cooperated, they had the party outside on the lawn. Cara approached Rachel with her present and handed it to her adopted daughter.
“Happy birthday,” she said as she kissed Rachel’s cheek.
The girl tore off the wrapping amid giggles and then fell silent. She lifted the item from the paper and held it up. Cara had her modiste make a jacket for Rachel. It was made of hundreds of small leather petals, each embroidered in blue and green to resemble a peacock feather. Overall, the jacket appeared to be made of dragon scales.
“It’s just like Pavlin,” Rachel whispered, then she threw her arms around Cara and hugged her.
“Speaking of Pavlin, have you introduced your friends to the very special residents we have here?” Cara winked. This was the part of the day she most anticipated.
“Pavlin!” Rachel called, her focus on the wide-open barn.
“Do you have a dog?” one girl asked Rachel.
Rachel grinned. “No.”
The dragon emerged from the barn and sunlight shot over her scales, making the green eyes appear to wink as she moved. She carried her right wing at an awkward angle, the steel rod still holding the bone straight.
“It’s not real,” a boy yelled, but he held his spot and didn’t approach the creature.
Rachel walked to her best friend and draped an arm around Pavlin’s neck. “Everybody, this is Pavlin. You have to be very gentle around her, as bad men broke her wing. But Aunty Amy fixed it. Soon she will be able to fly again with the rest of her family.”
“What family?” a curious child asked. Wide eyes fixed on the mythical animal before her.
At that moment, Kirill bellowed from above, and then he and Calypso landed with a thud that rattled through the children’s feet.
Children reacted in a variety of ways. Some screeched, others whooped, some giggled, and one boy wet himself.
“Oh dear,” Amy muttered, then she took the boy by the hand to clean him up inside.
Cara did the introductions. “This is Kirill, he’s in charge. And this is Calypso, Pavlin’s sister. They have kindly agreed to give you rides this afternoon, but only on the ground. No flying allowed.”
Cries of excitement turned to moans of disappointment. For children who didn’t even know about dragons five minutes ago, their expectations soared high awfully fast.
In quiet moments, when Nate couldn’t see, Cara had advanced her breaking in of the dragons. Kirill and Calypso both sat quietly with her on their backs and appeared comfortable walking around with a human on board. Since children were much lighter, that had given her an idea of the highlight for Rachel’s birthday party.
With her daughter sworn to secrecy, they had practiced in private. Not that Cara would ever admit it, but she was close to giving up riding until after the baby was born. She still enjoyed the activity, but the dismount was difficult. As her stomach grew bigger, she could no longer lean forward enough to swing her leg over the back.
Amy and Jackson helped three children onto Kirill’s back, and the dragon obediently walked around the lawn like a fairground attraction.
Nate fixed Cara with a sternly arched eyebrow. “Dragon rides?”
Cara schooled her features to a serious look and bit the inside of her mouth to stop from laughing. “Yes. I thought pony rides too unsafe since you don’t like Rachel off the lead line.”
He rested a hand on her nape and used gentle pressure to pull her head closer until their foreheads touched. “You are incorrigible and a bad influence on the children,” he whispered.
Cara grinned and tilted her head to kiss him. “Did you honestly expect anything else? You have met my nan and my aunt, haven’t you?”
A sudden twinge raced outward from her spine and around one side of her tummy. Cara sucked in a breath at the sharp twist of pain.
“What happened?” Nate asked. He wrapped an arm around her waist and led her towards the set out chairs.
“Is Cara all right?” Amy had returned with a clean child and shoved him at Jackson as she rushed over.
“I’m fine. It was just a twinge.” Cara tried to wave them away, but she leaned heavily on Nate until she could lower herself into a chair. Her breath came in shorter gasps and her heart raced until the last trace of pain disappeared.
Amy poured a glass of lemonade and pressed it into Cara’s hand.
“A twinge? The way a knife to the gut is only a scratch?” Nate narrowed his eyes at her.
It was pointless hiding anything from him, since he felt it too. “Yes, a twinge. I’m reliably informed actual childbirth is far more painful.”
The villainous viscount blanched. “We need to see if Malachi has found anything yet.”
16
Mid-July
Days passed in a blur for Cara, made the worse by a lack of sleep. She found her pregnant belly uncomfortable at night and had taken to surrounding herself with pillows to support the weight and provide some relief. To add to her growing horrors, a bleeding nose became a regular occurrence and ruined her favourite pillow.
Cara now relied on the occasional burst of enthusiasm to give her enough energy to tackle the day. That and a nap after lunch helped, when she could manage to snatch a couple of hours of sleep before the baby roused her with hiccups.
This evening, last-minute preparations for the grand event were underway. With Brick busy tending to Clarence, Jackson was reinstated as her constant shadow.
“At least you can’t run away any more,” he sniggered as they walked at a slow pace to the end of the driveway to the duke’s palatial home.
“I could faint and make you carry me,” she said.
On the roadside, Inspector Fraser, clad in a tweed three-piece suit, stood to one side of the ornate iron gates. His freshly starched collar stood to attention, and a checked necktie held the two sides closed with the end tucked into his waistcoat. The gold chain of a pocket watch draped from button hole to pocket. He looked handsome in a slightly uptight, badge-carrying-policeman kind of way.
Uniformed lines of Her Majesty’s Enforcers stretched back along both sides of the roads. Their dark-blue uniforms were freshly pressed and black boots highly polished. Even their silver badges shone like stars in the sky. Lights flared into life along both sides of the road as day edged towards twilight and dusk fell.
Fraser doffed his bowler hat as Cara approached. “Lady Lyons. You have created quite a stir here, and I will be most upset if you cause a riot this eve
ning.”
“Oh? Don’t want to scuff your shiny shoes?” she teased.
“No. Riots mean paperwork, and that would put me home late for dinner.” He pulled on the watch chain and checked the time.
“I wouldn’t want to be responsible for keeping Faith waiting. Let us hope the ton behave themselves.” Cara surveyed the queue of fashionable people and carriages waiting to pass through the gates.
Two of Nate’s imposing men stopped all traffic to check that attendees held a ticket and that the ticket number matched the name of the holder. They had already found three counterfeit tickets and ejected the holders amid tears and tantrums.
More of Nate’s men would swell the numbers of Clarence’s retainers to ensure people behaved once inside. They didn’t want overwrought women throwing themselves at the combatants.
“Who would have thought watching Nate get pummelled by the duke would be so popular?” she murmured.
Fraser’s lips twitched and humour sparkled in his eyes. “I wish I had a ticket.”
Cara batted his arm. “You had only to ask. I’m sure Nate would love to see you cheering him on.”
Fraser laughed. The warm sound made Cara like him a little more. “Cheering on the Duke of Clarence? I most certainly would.”
Jackson tugged on her arm. “Come on, doll. You need to waddle back before the boss starts asking for you again.”
Cara heaved a sigh. While Nate tried to curb his protective instincts, he had taken to asking for her at least a hundred times a day with minor questions just to check on her. “Honestly, it’s not like I’m going to pick up my skirts and leg it.” Once, she ran to escape when cornered, but there was no escaping motherhood.