The Chimera smiled again, looking almost cheerful. “I’ve considered that. But I am not mad, you see. I am finally free. I do not work for that plebian emperor any longer. I am, shall we say, more of a bounty seeker now.”
Stanton snorted. “There has been a bounty on the Prince Regent since he was twelve. He is too well protected.”
The Chimera widened his eyes. “Fat Prinny? Is that who you think I’m after? I’m disappointed in you, Wyndham. I’d heard you were much more intelligent than that. Of course, it explains how I was able to catch you in this little wasp trap of mine.”
He squatted before Stanton and patted his boot fondly. Stanton held very still, waiting for the moment, but the Chimera stayed just out of kicking range.
“You know,” the Chimera mused aloud, “When I sent her to you, I didn’t intend for you to make the poor girl your whore, Wyndham. She was only supposed to take the story to your attention, then go home to her safe, quiet slow starvation with the shreds of her reputation intact. You made a public spectacle of her, dragging her to this den of filth, forcing her into your bed, parading her before the world in those disgusting gowns that you purchased for her . . . have you no shame at all, my lord?”
It was all sickeningly true, and eventually, if he survived, Stanton fully intended to feel very bad about his actions. At the moment, only one item penetrated his focus. “When you sent her to me?”
The Chimera nodded. “I was recruiting behind a most revolting public house when I saw her hiding next to the privy, listening. I followed her home to kill her—because I felt in a killing mood, you see—”
Stanton didn’t let his dismay show. How close Alicia had come to death that night!
“Then I thought better of it, and made use of her. Much the same as you did, in the end. Isn’t it interesting that we both used her, Wyndham, but that you hurt her the most?” He lovingly traced his facial scars with the tips of his fingers. “Who’s the monster now, do you think?”
More scalding truth. Later, Stanton planned on feeling very, very bad for what he had done to Alicia.
Later.
“And you seduced her. Did she fall in love with you while you put her in my path again and again, like a pretty little worm on your hook?” He shook his head in disbelief. “You English are so sentimental, and your women are ridiculously emotional.” He pressed his hands over his heart. “Oh, my dearest,” he said in high, quavering voice—a flawless imitation of Millie, Alicia’s companion—“do you really think my lady ought to take her story to Lord Wyndham himself? He’s such dark, brooding fellow!”
The truth struck Stanton hard, and he saw Reardon flinch as well. The distinctive voice Alicia had heard behind the pub—an intentional imitation of one of Prinny’s closest friends. They had forgotten something very, very important when they had dismissed the Chimera’s ability to take a disguise—the man was a perfect mimic. Their stupidity had kept this game going on far longer than it should have—and caused Alicia far too much pain in the process.
Later.
Now, they needed to get their hands—preferably their fists—on this suppurating madman.
“I’ve sent a letter to my beloved daughter, Julia, telling her to stay right where she is and to remain with the party at all times, her and her three little friends. I want them sitting in the front row, cheering on the flames that will burn you to death. Won’t that sit well with them later, when they sift your charred bones from the ashes?”
The Chimera grinned merrily and strolled from the shed. Just at the door, he turned. “I was going to cut your throats while you slept and then I decided to save it for when you woke. I didn’t realize that my little smoke-bomb would steal your voices so thoroughly that a dog wouldn’t hear you from outside this door. I rather like the idea of you burning to death wide awake and screaming without a sound.” He tilted his head, his scars giving his face the appearance of a death mask in the shadow. “And then I shall make off with your precious explosives and armament inventor, the esteemed Mr. Forsythe. Napoleon has wanted him for a long time and will reward me very handsomely, but your mad genius never leaves his damned tower . . . until now.”
He left with a cheerful wave. They heard a clang and a click as the Chimera locked them in.
Dane swore raspily and long. Marcus shook his head. “We ought to have seen that coming, I suppose, although I didn’t even know there was a bounty on Forsythe.”
Stanton nodded, regret and fury turning him colder than ever. “There has been one for longer than I’ve been the Falcon . . . but Forsythe keeps to the Tower of London. There seemed to be no need for alarm.”
“Until now,” Reardon said. “Do you think Forsythe could be forced to work for Napoleon?”
Stanton shrugged. “I think Forsythe would die first— unless Napoleon gave him some irresistible puzzle to solve. Forsythe isn’t the most political of men.”
Then something else that the Chimera said came back to Stanton.
Julia “and her three little friends.”
Alicia had come back to him—just in time to watch him die.
Alicia took the note from Julia and gazed at it in horror. “We’re simply supposed to sit there, like dolls on display, while he does something horrible to our men?”
“At the Prince’s table, in full view of everyone at all times. All four of us—which means that he is still watching, if he knows you are back with us.”
“That’s why he wants us out there during the fireworks display. He wants to watch something—but what?”
“Well, I won’t do it. I love Wyndham—” Lady Reardon made a small happy sound. Alicia glanced askance at her. “Yes, we can go into more detail later. As I was saying, I love Wyndham, but I don’t work for your Four Horsemen. I will take no part in some hideous mockery of a party while Wyndham is captured—”
Julia took her hand, hard. “Alicia, look at me. If we do not obey to the letter, he will kill them all. I know him.”
Alicia looked back at Julia, her emotions raw upon her face. “Julia, he’s going to kill them anyway.”
Julia looked away. “I know.” Then she looked back. “But as long as he thinks we’re being good little dolls, we might find something, some way—”
A footman tapped on the door, then opened it. “My ladies, there is a Lady Alberta Lawrence here to see you.”
Alicia looked up in surprise to see Alberta rush into the room. Just as Alicia gained her feet, Alberta flung herself tearfully into Alicia’s arms, nearly knocking the two of them back to the sofa.
“Alberta! What is wrong? Is the family all right? Oh, Alberta, what are you doing here?”
Across from them, Willa frowned. “Is this one of your sisters, Alicia? She ought not to be in Cross’s house.”
Alicia gazed back worriedly over the sobbing Alberta’s shoulder. “I don’t know what would make her come here. It must be something awful.”
Black fears of the vicious man who had accosted her in Cross’s garden swept into her mind. Someone like that was capable of anything—someone like that must know that her family lived close by. She pushed Alberta back gently but firmly. “Alberta, you must take a breath and tell me what has happened.” She gave her sister a little shake for emphasis. “Now.”
Alberta gulped a few more breaths and sniffed mightily. Four dainty handkerchiefs were instantly offered. Taking one, Alberta’s eyes widened as she apparently took in her sister’s companions for the first time. “Oh! I’m so sorry to have interrupted. It was terribly rude of me—”
“Stop wasting time and get on with it, girl,” Julia said briskly but gently. “You’re worrying your sister.”
Alberta’s gaze flicked from Julia to Willa to Olivia and then back to Alicia. She leaned forward. “Are they who I think they are?”
Alicia sent an apologetic glance toward the other women as Alberta’s resounding whisper carried clearly through the room. “Yes, Alberta, they are. And they’re very nice too, so please get on with it!�
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Alberta nodded, blew her nose energetically, and settled back on the sofa. “I am ruined,” she stated with finality.
Alicia’s relief that apparently no one was dead was tempered with guilt and regret. “Oh, Alberta. You didn’t, did you?”
“I did. I walked out of our house and right over onto Lord Cross’s land and into his house. Papa said that was enough to ruin any girl, so that’s what I did.”
Alicia stared at her sister in disbelief. On one hand, Alberta was no more ruined than when she’d crawled out of bed this morning. On the other hand, if anyone were to spot a young, unmarried girl of good family in this house and carry tales—yes, that would cinch matters indeed.
“But why would you do such a thing? You know perfectly well what I’ve been through. Why would you do that to yourself?” And to the rest of the family—although Alicia truly wasn’t in a position to judge on that count, was she?
“Christopher’s papa let him propose finally—”
“But that’s wonderful! You’ve been waiting for Christopher forever!”
Alberta shot Alicia a quelling glance. “Christopher’s papa allowed him to propose on the condition that I give my word that I would publicly denounce you and that I would never again acknowledge your existence and that from this day forward you would be worse than dead to me.”
Alicia sat back. Oh, no. “Oh, Alberta. You refused, didn’t you?”
Willa came to sit on Alberta’s other side and put an arm about her. “Of course she did! Who wouldn’t refuse such a ridiculous demand? Alberta, I hope you put Christopher in his place immediately!”
Alberta shrugged, a bit embarrassed. “I didn’t precisely do it immediately. It was after the shouting and the throwing things and the slamming of the doors—”
“Heavens,” Julia said with a frown. “Your father is a beast, isn’t he?”
“Oh, no, that wasn’t Papa,” Alberta said earnestly. “That was me.”
Alicia smiled ruefully at her new friends. “The red hair comes with a temper, I fear.”
Olivia leaned forward, ready for a good story as always. “So what happened next? After the shouting and so on?”
Alberta dabbed at her eyes. “I told Papa and Christopher and Christopher’s papa that if they wanted me not to speak to Alicia then they had better cut out my tongue, for I would never agree to it.” She leaned into Alicia. “For a moment there, I thought Papa was going to do it.”
Alicia wrapped her arms about Alberta. “Darling, I appreciate that you fought for me, but I think perhaps you’d better go home and agree to Christopher’s demands.”
Willa frowned at her. “She should do no such thing! If I had a sister, I wouldn’t let anyone keep me from her.”
Alicia sighed. “If you had a sister like me, you might rethink that stance.”
Willa reached across to lay one hand over Alicia’s. “No I wouldn’t. Not for a single bloody instant.”
Alberta gasped slightly at Willa’s language, then giggled. Then she sat up, wiped her eyes one last time, and took a deep breath. “What’s done is done, and I don’t honestly know if I regret it. If Christopher thought I was capable of swearing to such a thing, then he didn’t know me at all.”
She looked down at herself with a sigh. “I don’t know if he really loved me, or if he simply wanted me. You know, Alicia, when you look like we do . . .”
Alicia went very still. When you look like we do. Oh, yes, it could work . . .
Julia never missed a thing. She leaned forward. “Alicia, what are you thinking?”
Alicia shook off the thought. “No. No, we can still get Alberta out of this mess.”
Julia’s eyes narrowed. She looked from one sister’s face to the other’s. “I see. Yes, it might work.”
Alicia held up her hand. “No, Julia. No. Alberta isn’t part of this.”
Julia tilted her head. “This is larger than simply one girl’s reputation. Larger than simply four lives at stake. I would risk far more than that to have—to have a good resolution to this affair.”
Alberta leaned toward Julia. “What am I not a part of?”
Julia gazed at Alberta. “Something very important. Something much more important than distancing yourself from Christopher and your father—although it would accomplish that as well.”
Alicia glared at Julia. “No.”
Olivia and Willa waited, carefully silent, but Alicia could see the hope in Olivia’s eyes and the desperate worry in Willa’s. Her own frantic fears threatened to drown her.
But she was the eldest. It was her duty to protect her sisters and she’d done a poor job of it so far.
Julia sat back. “Alicia, you know we must.”
How could she bring in her sister, endangering her so? Yet the stakes were so very high. Alicia finally realized how it must have been for Stanton. In order to stop a madman from aiding Napoleon, he’d had to be willing to sacrifice anything.
No wonder he’d never dared allow himself to love.
Alberta, perhaps realizing for the first time that something rather more desperate than a singed reputation was at stake, looked from one woman to the other. Alberta’s jaw hardened and Alicia saw the classic Lawrence stubbornness rise in her sister’s eyes.
Alberta turned to Julia. “What must we do?
32
Alicia made her way through the dark wood by touch and memory. She’d climbed out her bedroom window many times to spy on Lord Cross’s notorious parties.
“These are my woods,” she had told Julia when she had objected. “These are my hills. What servant could find his way in the dark to the precisely perfect place to watch the house, without giving himself away?”
Julia wouldn’t have agreed if she hadn’t been so desperately worried. Alicia played on that shamelessly. “I know where he is. I am the only one who has a double to be at Prinny’s table. I am going, Julia. The most you can do is get out of my way.”
Julia had the last word, however. “What do you think you’ll manage to do when you find him?”
Alicia gave her a brief hug. “I’ll think of something,” she said. “I always do.”
Now, she was not so sure. She slowly climbed the hill, taking a path much more overgrown than it had been when she was a child. She’d dressed in her darkest green, hoping to conceal herself, but there was precious little green in the wood at the moment. She had tied her hair back tightly, but the bare branches snagged and teased strands of it down nonetheless.
At last, she had worked her way around to the bottom of the far side of the hill. She knew what was going on at the house. Prince George had declared the weather fine enough—one suspected any weather would have been fine enough—to dine outside so that the spectacle could be enjoyed over dessert. Ladies would be rolled in fur and some gentlemen as well, and all would smile and suffer and exclaim upon the fine evening.
That would all stop when dessert was brought out. Alicia only hoped that no one would notice that the girl on the giant tray, masked and covered in strategically placed spiced fruit, who was carried in by six footmen and whose distinctive red hair was spread in a great fiery fan around her head, was not the scandalous Lady Alicia—as carefully arranged gossip would have it—but truly her virtuous and pure sister Lady Alberta.
The ruination of two sisters would certainly take Antonia down as well.
Yet Alicia was having a difficult time comparing that loss to the loss of Wyndham, damn it.
She looked up to the top of the hill. A figure stood silhouetted against the sky, although from the angle of the house he would be shaded by the hill behind him. It was a smallish figure, compared to Wyndham at least, but Julia had prepared her for that.
“He is ill and not himself, but he has the strength of madness on his side. Do not underestimate him. Do not let him close to you.”
As she worked her way around the small ravine that carried away the runoff from the hill, she heard the cries of startled titillation coming from Cross’s
party.
It seemed dessert had been served. Alicia prayed that none of the drunken guests would stick their forks in anything that wasn’t fruit.
Deep in the ravine, where it could not be seen from any angle unless one was right upon it, there burned a small, bright fire. A large bundle of some kind lay next to it. Alicia approached cautiously. It seemed that no one was about— and Julia had been quite sure that the comte had no minions at the moment . . .
In the folds of the blanket-wrapped mass, Alicia spotted a shock of white hair. The dark bundle on the ground was Mr. Forsythe. She knelt quickly and put one hand gently over his mouth before he could recognize her. She put a finger to her lips. Forsythe’s brilliant eyes flashed at her impatiently. She removed her hand. “Right,” she whispered. “Are you hurt?”
“I fear I am, pretty fire-goddess. He broke my legs, you see. Two swift blows with an iron rod. He says I can still work crippled, so he’s going to let them heal wrong on the voyage to Paris. That way he needn’t worry about me escaping.” Forsythe raised his bushy brows. “Do you think that fellow might not be quite right in the head?”
Alicia kept her gaze on the capering figure on the hilltop. “I am quite sure he is not, but neither is he stupid. Have you seen Wyndham or any others of the Four?”
Forsythe blinked up at her. “I think the comte is not the only one who is not stupid. And no, I’ve not seen them. Are they missing?”
Alicia couldn’t allow the panic to rise. “You stay here and keepwarm. I will . . . I will figure something out.”
The Chimera could have been well gone with Forsythe by now—so something else was keeping him here. Why would he stay simply to watch the festivities below?
He was watching—waiting—but for what?
Why don’t you simply ask him?
Even as Alicia stood and began to make her way closer to the madman, her mind was cataloguing that idea under things best thought through first. She pulled the letter opener from her bodice. It seemed a pitiful thing now—here in the dark, heading for a madman. A pistol would be worse, for she was a poor shot indeed.
Celeste Bradley - [Royal Four 04] Page 26
