by May Burnett
“I suspect he is not a professional thief. This may be related to a recent diplomatic mission I undertook.”
“A spy?” The constable looked sceptical. “What use is a spy who does not speak our language and gets himself caught like that?”
“Not much,” Lucian agreed as he followed the constable towards the cell where the prisoner was kept. “Did anyone have a look at the man’s pistol? I take it very amiss that he pointed it at my wife, even if he dropped it in the end.”
“I heard it went off then? A mercy that he did not kill someone by accident,” the constable said. “Is it true that the prince regent attended your ball, my lord?”
“Yes, but he and his entourage left a good two hours before the shooting incident. This has nothing to do with his Royal Highness.”
The prisoner was locked up in a cell with stout iron bars. Lucian contemplated him through the bars; the man sat on the floor with his head down, ignoring the small wooden bench. He must be impervious to cold. After a minute, he lifted his head and stared at Lucian with despair.
So that was it. What had Major Kendorov called the fellow? Lucian could not recall the name, but before him was definitely that drunken officer who had lost the ruby earrings in St. Petersburg and then tried to buy them back once he’d sobered up.
“You are a long way from Russia,” he said in French.
The man glared. “It’s all your fault. And Kendorov—had he told me in time to whom he lost the rubies, I would not have had to come all this way. In wartime! My career is ruined.”
That was the least of the fellow’s problems, Lucian reflected. “Indeed, this is no time for an officer to leave Russia. Why did you not come straight to me and offer to buy the jewels back?”
The man only scowled. He likely had not enough blunt for that obvious solution. The constable looked threateningly at the foreigner, but did not interfere in a conversation that, from his expression, he did not understand.
Lucian persevered. “The earrings are a pretty bauble, but why would anyone go to such lengths to recover them?”
The man shrugged. “It does not matter any longer.”
“You have committed a capital crime in front of numerous witnesses. If you want to escape the hangman, I strongly advise you to be frank.”
“It matters little; I am already a dead man,” the Russian said. “The rubies were not mine to gamble away. I was too drunk and intent on the game to think what I was doing.”
“If they were not yours, to whom did they belong?”
“Princess Naryshkina.”
“The czar’s mistress?” Lucian was acquainted with that lady, who openly flaunted her long-time association with Alexander at court, even before her protector’s colourless German-born empress. “How did they fall into your hands?”
“Maria—the princess—gave me the earrings to pawn when I was in a temporary difficulty. That night I had just retrieved them from the moneylender. She had had them from His Majesty, but then he gives her jewels all the time. He had not gotten around to telling her that there is a legend attached to these particular stones.”
“Not that they bring danger or misfortune, I hope?” Lucian had heard of such cases, but surely that was mere superstition. Amanda was safe. He would make sure of it.
“On the contrary. It seems that as long as a lady keeps these rubies close, she will remain true to the lover who bestowed them on her. Alexander asked Maria to wear them to the opera.”
“And she had given them to you? Were you her lover, too?”
The Russian straightened and frowned. “I may be doomed and in prison, but you will not induce me to answer that question. Why she gave the rubies away is neither here nor there; she needs them back.”
“You lost them fair and square,” Lucian reminded him. “I see your problem, but had you not insisted on playing on when you were dead drunk and in over your head, you would have spared yourself all the rest. As for the assault on my wife, nothing you have said mitigates my anger over that. Why would you do something so hopelessly stupid?”
“I tried to get the jewels back right away,” the Russian said, almost sheepishly. “I sent my servant to intercept Kendorov—the damned major killed the man. I searched the house of your mistress and your own place, and could not find the jewels. Then you buried yourself in the countryside. Tonight was the first occasion where the jewels were visible in public. When I saw them dangling there, so close at last, I lost my head.”
So it had not been French agents rifling his papers after all, back in St. Petersburg. “Why are you still after them? It has been months since I left Russia with the earrings. Would not the czar have noticed their absence by now?”
“He’s very busy with the impending war, and Maria has ways of distracting him.”
“I see. I’ll recommend that your sentence be commuted to transportation, but you only have yourself to blame for being in this pickle.”
He motioned to the constable, who had been looking frustrated at his inability to follow the rapid French.
“So did you get summat useful out of the cove, my lord?”
“Yes, he was quite open. He is a Russian officer who lost my wife’s ruby earrings in a card game some months ago, and desperately wanted to get them back for his lover.”
“What a fool.” The constable shook his head in disgust. “No woman is worth sticking his head in a noose like that. He’d have done better to find some other woman and forget all about them rubies. Plenty of fish in the sea.”
“Indeed. But not all men are as sagacious as you, Constable.”
The man preened. “We’ll need a deposition for the magistrate, my lord.”
“I’ll have a talk with him myself later today.” Lucian was impatient to return to Amanda, to assure himself that she was all right. The wound in her ear was small and should heal with only a tiny scar, but even that was unpardonable.
Had he had the slightest inkling that the earrings might endanger his wife, he would rather have thrown them into the Baltic Sea than present them to her. It was not as though Amanda did not have a large selection of others jewels. But since the faithless princess had given the earrings away of her own free will, any problems she might have with her sovereign lover were not his or Amanda’s concern.
The earrings were Amanda’s, and he could not ask her to give them back, for any reason. And if there were, by any chance, the remotest truth to that legend, he’d be a fool indeed to take them away from her.
No, that had to be mere superstition.
Chapter 30
When Lucian returned home, Amanda was tossing and turning, but he chose not to awaken her. She needed what rest she could get. It was barely three months since she had given birth to the twins, and she had worked hard over the previous few weeks. It was no wonder if her sleep was unquiet after being threatened with a deadly weapon and wounded.
A discreet knock on the door disturbed his reflections. His valet signalled to him, and he left Amanda to find out what his man wanted, closing the door behind him.
“My lord, there is an urgent message for my lady,” the servant said in a subdued voice.
“At seven in the morning, after a ball?” Who would dare?
“Quite so. The message is from the household of my lady’s aunt, Lady Budleigh. Apparently Sir Roderick, my lady’s uncle, has been taken ill since last night, and urgently wants to see the countess.”
The limpid gaze of his valet conveyed that he could not begin to guess why these uncouth persons would send such messages at such an early time of day, and would not presume to voice his speculations.
“Strange,” Lucian said. “Her ladyship cannot possibly be disturbed after the shock she had at the ball. Since I am already up, I’ll go and see what he wants.”
Only a twitch of the valet’s brow betrayed his surprise. “Very well, my lord. Shall I call the carriage?”
It was not very far, but Lucian had been up all night. By the time he was done with this n
ew complication, whatever it might be, he might well be grateful for the conveyance.
“Yes, please have it readied, and order breakfast against my return, in an hour.”
While he waited for the carriage, he recalled Amanda’s disquiet and uncharacteristic nervousness. Could it have anything to do with her uncle, rather than just that moronic Russian?
One of the first rules of diplomacy and business was not to go into any situation with insufficient knowledge of the facts. On balance, it might be better to have a word with Amanda before leaving the house. He took the stairs two at a time.
When he opened her bedroom door, she awoke with a start and a small scream, so unlike her usual behaviour that something had to be very much amiss. Her cursed uncle could wait.
“Amanda, my dear, no need for panic. It is only me; you are safe at home.”
“Oh.” She swallowed, rubbed her eyes, and passed a hand through her curls. She was still paler than usual.
“Is there any news?” she asked with studied casualness.
“About what?”
There was an awkward silence.
“In fact there is an urgent message,” he said when it was clear she was not going to speak. “Sir Roderick is ill and demands to speak to you.”
She paled more but did not say anything for several breaths.
“I was just about to go and see what ailed him when it occurred to me to consult you first,” Lucian said. “Whatever it is, tell me. I cannot help you, darling, if you keep secrets from me.”
Amanda’s hands clenched on the blanket. “Do you think he will die?”
“How should I know? If he does, it is no more than he deserves.”
“I did not do it for that,” she said, her eyes meeting his hesitantly. “Or only in part. He was going after Eve. He did not say a word, but the way he touched her, and smirked at me during their dance, was as clear as if he’d taken out an advertisement in the papers.”
Lucian only kept his voice calm through his long diplomatic practice. “Just what did you do, Amanda? Were you trying to kill him? You should have left it to me. I was already taking steps to ruin your uncle financially.”
“I did not know that,” she said with a little more spirit, “but it seemed only right that I should stop him. I remembered what your aunt said about sheep and wolves. If I cannot stop that degenerate from ruining my sister, I thought, I am indeed but a feeble creature.”
“Never that. Don’t keep me on tenterhooks, Amanda, what have you done?”
“You might as well sit; it’s a long story.” Amanda sat up herself, propping her back against the bed’s end with a pillow. She had calmed down and sounded resigned. He remained standing, watching her intently.
Amanda took a deep breath. “You told me that your father gave Amaryllis an old recipe book, so she could use it to rid herself of an unwanted babe. Not long afterwards, she supposedly poisoned his valet and tried to poison her father.”
Lucian started in surprise. Amanda was dealing in poisons? It was far worse than he’d feared. And entirely unlike her.
“I found the book among some other volumes when we cleared your sister’s room. From a few handwritten annotations, I deduced what she had likely administered to the valet and tried to give to your father. Let me show you.” Amanda jumped up and rummaged at the bottom of a heavy ornamented trunk. Despite the situation, Lucian’s gaze was drawn to her sweetly rounded bottom, its shape clearly visible under the silk nightgown.
“Here it is.” She straightened and handed him a book, which fell open, unprompted, to a particular page.
His brows rose. “For a bilious liver? What on earth?” As he read the ingredients and the caution at the end of the recipe, understanding dawned, but he still could not believe what was before his eyes.
“Don’t tell me this really works, Amanda. It sounds most outlandish, and none of the ingredients is deadly enough to affect a big man like your uncle, not even the spiders.”
“I don’t know if it is effective, but someone believed in it,” Amanda said miserably. Lucian stared at the words scribbled at the bottom of the page. Was that his sister’s handwriting? It was so long ago since he’d last seen it, he could not tell.
“I gave my uncle fifteen drops in a half glass of red wine,” Amanda confessed, “just before that man threatened me with a gun, so I never saw him actually drink it.”
“That he is ill this morning would indicate that he did.”
“As long as he does not die, I still think it serves him right. It may even do his liver good.”
Lucian stared at his wife. She met his gaze unflinchingly. “If my uncle dies from this potion, I dare say I may be hanged for murder. But it will be worth it if Eve and other girls are safe from the wretch.”
“Nonsense. Nobody is going to accuse, arrest, or hang my wife. Did you hand him that glass yourself? Are there witnesses? It is surprising he would accept any drink directly from you.”
“I substituted my glass for his as I exchanged a few words with the men at his table. The light was dim, and the incident with the pistol occurred right afterwards, close by. I doubt if anyone can swear that I did not take my own glass when I moved away.”
“You are a dangerous woman, Amanda.” He flicked through the pages. Against Freckles. To Cure the Clap. To Restore Manly Vigour.
“Most of the recipes are disgusting, with animal ingredients, like the spiders in this one,” Amanda explained. “But the salve against burns worked very well when we used it on the under cook at Racking. Cook immediately made a larger batch.
“Interesting.” He handed the book back to her. “Keep it safe; I’ll have a closer look at it when we have time. Don’t burn or destroy it.” More than one old friend might be helped by the recipe against clap, if it should be at all effective. “I’ll go and see if your uncle is still alive. I don’t care if he dies, but it would be inconvenient if he blabs beforehand. With luck, he’ll be cold before I get there.”
Amanda shuddered. “I never wanted to kill him, just render him harmless to Eve and other unsuspecting girls.”
Lucian had to smile at her innocence. “Most men would not want to live with an, ah, permanently shrivelled manhood. If you should ever feel tempted to use this potion on me, I would prefer you use hemlock or strychnine instead.”
Her eyes opened wide in shock. “That is a very poor jest, Lucian. I swear to you, on my children’s head, that I will never use the potion on you. Not even if you flaunt a dozen mistresses in my face.”
“I suppose that must reassure me,” he murmured. As she still looked uncertain and worried, he clasped her in his arms and kissed her soundly. “Don’t fret, my dear; I have long experience dealing with unpleasant situations. Go back to sleep, if you can, or have breakfast—have some ready for me when I return. This should not take very long.”
“You don’t think I ought to come with you?”
“You have nothing to do with the ravings of a crazy man. Forget him. Even if you have not killed him, he will never bother you again.”
She thought it over but shook her head. “No, Lucian, I must do this. If I grow to rely on you to slay my dragons, I’ll always remain the timid lamb at heart, and never become a power in my own right. Even if the worst happens, I need to see what I wrought.”
She seemed to be serious. “I don’t see you as weak or helpless in the least, Amanda, and if you are this dangerous at eighteen, what will you be at thirty or sixty? The mind boggles. But consider—whatever you uncle does or says, this encounter will require self-control. If you see him, can you refrain from blurting anything compromising? I shall you keep you safe, whatever happens, but it will be easier if you admit nothing. Stout denial, combined with rank, will get one out of almost any mess.”
“You speak from experience, I gather.” Amanda rang the bell for her maid. “I will hurry if you’ll wait for me. And I shall do my best not to betray myself. You’ll see that I am an apt pupil in matters of intrigue. Thank you,
Lucian, for being so understanding.”
As the maid bustled in to help her mistress dress, surprised that she was getting up so early, Lucian informed the butler that there would be a slight delay. Should he have put his foot down, insisted that Amanda remain safe at home?
No, the assertive side of his young wife should be encouraged, not stifled. When he was no longer alive, she would need every bit of the strength and determination, as well as deviousness, she was developing now.
But in the meantime, he would make the most of their years together and teach her everything he knew.
She was already teaching him that old dogs could learn new tricks, like fidelity and even . . . his mind shied away from the concept. Time enough to talk of feelings and hopes when they had vanquished this challenge.
Shrivelled Roderick’s privates, had she? His lips curled reluctantly. In the unlikely case that the old recipe had proved effective, Amanda had dealt her uncle a far more appropriate punishment than anything Lucian had contemplated.
Chapter 31
Lucian and Amanda left the house some thirty minutes later, in silence. “Your aunt and mother may be there, and your cousin,” he warned when they were seated in the carriage, keeping his voice low. “What of Eve? I hope she knows nothing of this?”
“No, my maid told me she is asleep in her room. I don’t want her to learn what I did and why, Lucian. She likely is not even aware how men and women fit together, or that someone she considers a benign relative might have had designs on her. Our mother does not believe in giving such information before the wedding night.”
“Such total ignorance must have made your first experience even worse.”
Amanda preferred not to think about that. She had to focus on the present. “Why do you suppose he asked for me? Can he have guessed or seen . . .”
“We must hope he is merely guessing, based on his guilty conscience.”
