It made sense, now, Gabriel’s gruff Scottish man-of-all-work. “He seems quite devoted to you, my lord.”
“A good man, Mac. Loyal as the day is long.” He paused, and I wondered if he was thinking about his brother, who was so wretchedly disloyal. “I’ve instructed the men to practice on the grounds nearest Stranje House, which means they’ll be marching and practicing their drills and formations as close to Lady Daneska’s prison cell as is possible.”
“Excellent,” I said, and skimmed my hand over Zeus’s sleek neck.
“Aye, now if I could just settle Mrs. Evans.” He rubbed his neck. “I hired two girls from the village to help her in the kitchens and yet she still carries on as if I’ve asked her to feed Wellington’s entire army. I shall have to hire two more girls or I won’t hear the end of it.”
“Serving girls?” I turned to him in alarm. “And village maids at that. Then it is you who needs guarding, my lord, not I.”
He chuckled, and I wasn’t sure in that light, but I thought he might have turned a bit pink. “No, Tess. You’re the only lass with enough courage to look at me squarely. The two girls she hired cower like mice against the wall if I so much as walk down a hall. With these scars and this confounded limp”—he swatted at his thigh—“most women find me as frightening as one of those beasts in the Grimm brothers’ tales.”
Frighteningly beautiful.
My beast.
“Just as well,” I muttered. “See that they don’t find out exactly how beautiful you are, because if one of those cheeky girls dares flirt with you, I will march straight over and throttle her.”
I quite liked it when Gabriel smiled. It was a magnificent thing, not unlike the sun dawning. Which it did just then, in brilliant pink and orange streaks that chased away the gray.
“I must be going in now,” I said quietly. “Miss Stranje’s rules.”
“I’m serious about being circumspect while the troops are here.” He tucked my hair behind my ear, letting his fingers graze my cheeks a few moments longer than needed. “Promise you’ll guard yourself around them, so that I needn’t worry?”
I wanted to tease him, but he looked so very earnest that I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t, not with his fingers barely touching my cheek, just enough to completely muddle my senses and melt my wits down to the wick. All I could do was nod.
* * *
After breakfast that morning, Stranje House was as noisy and busy as the troops drilling next door at Ravencross Manor. Fortunately, Lord Ravencross lent us four of his strongest men to help carry the bits and pieces of Mr. Sinclair’s warship down to the beach, where the remainder of the construction would take place. Our shoreline is particularly rocky, especially near the caves, so we had to traverse some distance to a sandy outcropping beyond the rocks.
The hike up and down the cliffs was too narrow to carry anything bulkier than one of Lord Ravencross’s skiffs, which had been made over into pontoons. They would’ve been bulky enough if they’d still been skiffs with open hulls. But the mouths of each of these long boats had been tacked over with oilcloth and covered with pitch. Each boat had become a gigantic drum. It took two men, Captain Grey and Lord Wyatt, walking in careful alignment to carry down each pontoon.
Gabriel’s men carried down the boiler and the furnace in two pieces. Sinclair and Georgie planned to connect them later. There were several stacks of lumber, that Jane explained would be used to construct a deck across the top of the two pontoons, three long crankshafts, a basket of gears, two flywheels, and the entire conglomeration had to be hauled down a narrow winding path.
Georgie, Lord Wyatt, the captain, and Mr. Sinclair started right away on construction while Lady Jane and Sera took careful notes. I carried down the last of their copper piping and one of the pickling barrels we’d pilfered from our cook, Magda, to use as floats in case the ship sank.
Georgie was ecstatic that our miniature warship so closely resembled Robert Fulton’s pontoon warship, the Demologos. “Except our steam engine won’t fit belowdecks as it will on his, but ours will sit quite tidily suspended between the pontoons where the paddle wheel can turn unimpeded.”
“And we have no cannons,” observed Jane dryly.
Georgie did not like anyone criticizing their creation, not even Jane. “Naturally, our prototype is too small to bear the weight of a cannon. But we have our ballista.”
“Hardly comparable to the thirty-two guns Fulton’s ship will hold,” Lord Wyatt teased.
Mr. Sinclair sprang to Georgie’s defense. “Last I heard, the Demologos won’t bear up under the weight of those two hundred-pounders he intended to mount fore and aft. Had to leave ’em off.” He twirled a screwdriver, pensively gazing off in the distance. “Still, with thirty guns she’ll be a beauty.”
“I like ours,” muttered Georgie, tightening a fitting.
Unbeknownst to Georgie, Lord Wyatt smiled fondly at the back of her head. “Aye, she’s a beauty all right.”
I took my leave, as it was well past time to bring Lady Daneska her breakfast.
Cook filled Daneska’s bowl of gruel while I poured the wine for her, and I hurried to carry it down the stone steps to the dungeon. When I opened the door, she seemed startled to see me and quickly pulled the blanket up to her neck. Mercurial as ever, her surprise changed to a pout. “I thought you weren’t coming.”
“I’m late, I know. But look, I’ve brought you a peace offering. A dried plum. I had to slip it out of the pantry without Cook noticing. You know how she watches over every grain of rice.”
Daneska’s iron bracelets rattled when she snatched it from the tray and tore it in half with her teeth, chewing the leathery fruit while she sneered at me. “I suppose you expect me to thank you for this one measly prune.”
“No. I merely felt bad for my long delay in bringing your food.”
“Oh, yes, you are so very concerned for my welfare.” She held out her manacled wrists. “If that is true, unlock these and let me go.”
I said nothing, but backed away and leaned against the wall.
“But no, you would rather let Ghost slit my throat, n’est-ce pas?” She gulped down half the wine and wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “Voilà, no more trouble from the Lady Daneska. All of you will rejoice.” She lifted her goblet in a toast.
“I offered to help.”
She rolled her eyes at me and guzzled the rest of the wine.
“Tell me where he is and I will end him.”
“You?” She slammed the cup down. “Fah. He is not your straw mannequin that he may be so easily slain.” She took the hunk of bread and shoved the tray with the bowl of gruel untouched back to me. The pewter goblet clinked onto its side. “Take it and go.”
“As you wish.”
“Wait.” She leaned and grabbed the edge of the tray, smiling slyly up at me as if she had a secret she wished to share. “Did you think about what I said? Did you think about Napoleon’s offer? We could escape, together, you and I. I know where there is a boat. We could return to Paris. Think, Tessika, you would be a national treasure, feted and cosseted. Fine wines. Divine food, not this bland English fare, and—”
I knew what she would say next. “The richest silks…”
“Yes, of course.” She leaned back, realizing that somehow she’d gone too far. She didn’t wait for my answer and she shoved the tray again, this time with her foot, sending it slopping across the floor.
“The rats will like that.”
“Go away. I have a headache. All that shouting and thump-thump-thumping of soldiers’ feet, that is your doing, I suppose?” she snarled.
“I had nothing to do with that. The Lord Lieutenant called out the militia, not I.”
“But you tricked him into doing it, didn’t you?”
“You had more to do with it than I did,” I snapped. “We know why you’re here—to prepare the way for Napoleon to attack Britain. Did you think the government wouldn’t do anything about it? Of course, they ca
lled out the militia. Here, and all along the coast.”
I snatched up the tray and left her cell before she could tell that I was lying.
The next morning, I refused to speak to her. I delivered her tray and said nothing.
“I don’t hear any more hammering in the yard,” she said almost cheerfully. When I didn’t answer, she conjectured on her own. “Perhaps they have finished work on Mr. Sinclair’s project?”
I crossed my arms and pressed my lips together.
“How very clever you all are to help him. What is it? I wonder.” She ate very daintily that morning, dabbing her mouth when it needed to be wiped and, instead of gulping everything down as if it were her last meal, she dawdled. “Could it be his uncle’s famous underwater boat … what is it they called it?”
I kept mum and stared at the window, wondering just how much she had seen of Sinclair’s warship.
Daneska took her sweet time sipping the wine and soaking little hunks of bread in it. “Or perhaps it is just a copy of one of his uncle’s gunships, the one that runs on steam.”
“Are you quite finished?” I snapped up the tray and jerked the cup from her hand.
The next day was worse.
I trudged down the dark stairs into the chilly bowels of Stranje House carrying Daneska her food, thinking I would have to agree to go with her if, according to our plan, I was ever going to help her escape. When I unlocked the door, she didn’t look up. She sat holding her knees, staring glumly at the wall across from her. She didn’t greet me, didn’t say anything, no clever insults, no biting remarks, not even so much as a sneer when I set the tray down.
“Are you ill?” I asked.
“No.” Daneska’s listless response was devoid of her normally vibrant accent. Straightway she reached for the port and gulped down half the glass. “I am as good as dead.”
“Don’t be silly,” I said. Even though she was my enemy, I hated seeing her like this. “I told you, I won’t let Lucien kill you. We’ve posted a guard. One of us stands watch in the corridor at all times.”
“Oh, yes, my guards,” she scoffed. “Ha! Ten men couldn’t stop him, let alone one little girl. No, I am doomed.” She slammed down the empty glass and shoved the gruel across the tray. “Take it away. I haven’t the stomach for it today.”
“At least keep the bread. You may feel hungry later.”
“What does it matter?” She rested her head on her knees. “I will die soon. I know because I saw him last night.”
“You can’t have.” Incredulous, I looked about the cell as if he might still be here. “Ghost? Here? How? We saw no one coming or going.”
Without making an effort to move her arms, she turned her head and pointed a finger. “There, at the window.”
“It can’t be. You must’ve dreamed it.”
She smiled as if I’d said something funny, but she didn’t have the strength to bother laughing. “I’m not like you, Tessika. I have no dreams. Besides, did I imagine that new streak on my little peephole to the world?”
“You’re only saying that to trick me into believing you.”
Except the window did look different. I hurried to the wall and hoisted myself up to have a closer look. “You put that there.”
“To what end?”
“How should I know? Another of your schemes.” I inspected the new mark and saw right away it wasn’t a smear at all.
“Think what you will.” She leaned her head on her knees again. “It’s on the outside.”
With my palm, I scrubbed a wider opening, which proved that someone had indeed cleaned off a small circle on the glass outside. The circle was just large enough to see into her dungeon. I let go of the sill and dropped to the floor.
“I told you,” she said without looking at me.
“Did he say anything?”
At least that won a sneer out of her. “Don’t be daft. How could he?”
“Lovers have many ways of communicating. His eyes. A hand gesture. Something. He must have given you an indication of his plans.”
She just shook her head.
I slapped my hand against the wall. “What do you think his intentions are?”
“The same as they were yesterday.”
I roared with frustration. “For once, Dani, I wish you would give me a straight answer.”
“I have no answer to give.” It was just plaintive enough to be the truth.
“Then at least tell me what you decided about my offer to help you. Together we might be able to kill him.”
A shrug.
“That’s it?” I wanted to shake her.
She didn’t look at me. She swept her hand over the woolen blanket on her pallet, smoothing out the small lumps and ripples.
“Very well, have it your way.” I snatched up her tray and tossed the bread in her lap. “I’ve decided without you. In fact, I decided a long time ago. You may stop worrying. I’m going to kill Lucien.”
I tromped out, slamming the heavy door with a deafening clunk, and locked her in. Chains clattered as she got to her feet. “No, Tessika. Wait! You don’t understand what you’re up against. You cannot do this.”
I wheeled around and stared at her through the bars. “Watch me.”
“He’s clever. And strong. Almost inhumanly so. He’ll kill you, Tessika. Mark my words. Don’t go after him, or you’ll die.”
I ignored her and took off down the hall, charging upstairs ahead of Sera and Miss Stranje.
They pattered up behind me. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
“Ghost. He’s been here.” At Stranje House. I took the risers two at a time. “He knows she’s here.”
And he’d violated my sanctuary.
I rushed into the gallery, plopped the tray on a side table, ran the length of the hall, and burst out the garden door. I dashed to the side of the house that held the dungeon, to the spot where Lucien had trespassed.
Breathing in short heaves like a furious wolf, I stared at the narrow rectangle of glass that looked in on Daneska’s dungeon. Sera ran up beside me.
“Dani said she saw him out here.” I pointed at the smeared glass and started to walk toward it. “Maybe she lied.”
There was a chance.
Daneska was the daughter of lies.
And just this once, I hoped she remained true to her birthright.
Please be a lie.
Sera caught my arm and yanked me back. “Look.” She pointed at the ground and I saw I was about to trample a footprint. “And the grass has been flattened here, where he knelt and wiped the window to see her more clearly.”
“Then it’s true.”
“Yes. I’m afraid so.” She scoured the ground for more hints.
I wondered—nay, I hoped—was this only a bad dream?
“I’m sorry, Tess, but this is most definitely a man’s boot print.”
“How did he know she was here?”
“It’s possible he followed Captain Grey and Lord Wyatt after they captured her. Or one of his men may have followed them.” Sera wandered to some nearby bushes and found a broken branch. She searched the ground beneath it, following what few scattered prints she could find. “Or he may have simply guessed this is where the captain and Lord Wyatt would bring her.”
“What of Phobos and Tromos? Why didn’t they raise an alarm?”
She glanced sympathetically at me. “He lived across from Stranje House. He’s familiar with the dogs. Not only that, he would’ve dealt with them in the past when he and Dani had their assignations. I’m sure he had a simple solution.” Sera searched through nearby bushes and lifted out a soiled oilcloth. She sniffed it. “And here it is. He came prepared. Meat.”
“Those traitors!” I spun around, looking for my shadow dogs. “I’d wondered where they’d gotten off to this morning. They weren’t there for my run. They’ve feasted on his bribery and now they’re hiding from me. As well they should.”
Miss Stranje had caught up to us. “You mustn’t be so sever
e on them. They’re loyal, you know they are. If they realized we were being threatened, they would protect us with their lives. But I’m afraid when it comes to fresh meat, they’re easily distracted.”
Sera found more signs that had seemed completely invisible to me until she pointed them out. She spotted another partial boot imprint here, an overturned stone there, and another broken twig. “It is too bad we haven’t had rain,” she mumbled. “It would be much easier to follow his trail.”
We tracked him to the secluded side of the house that hid our knife-throwing targets and the panel I used to slip in and out of Stranje House. She stopped and spent several minutes checking the ground around it and the edges of the small opening.
At length Sera stood and turned to me, her brow puckered and her lips pursed. “Do you think it’s possible that when Lady Daneska lived here, she showed Ghost our secret passages?”
“Yes.” I swore silently. My fists flexed open and shut. “And for all we know, he could still be in there now.”
Miss Stranje’s hand flew to her temple and she rubbed it as if in pain.
“Surely he wouldn’t be that bold,” Sera said.
Miss Stranje glanced at me, her expression grim. “Bold? Yes. I wouldn’t put it past him. He would take pleasure in the audacity of hiding here in the bosom of his enemy. But he’s not stupid, and this may be too risky, even for him.”
“One way to find out.” I lunged for the panel.
She grabbed my arm. “That would be suicide.”
“Not with this.” I yanked my dagger out of the sheath.
“Even with that.” She gave my arm a shake. “Think, Tess. He’d hear you coming. There are too many crevices and corners for him to hide in those dark passages. That little knife is hardly enough to protect you against the likes of him.”
I clamped my teeth together. That was the second time today someone predicted I’d lose against him. I gritted my teeth and ground out, “But he might be in there … in my … my places.” My fortress. He has invaded my refuge. I wanted to howl my anger.
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