by Regina Scott
She swallowed. “Well, neither of us has to worry about that. This is our last case.”
He was silent, and alarm rose in her. “Allister? This is our last case, is it not? We’ve caught your Skull. What more must be done?”
He pressed a kiss against her temple before answering. The sweet touch brought her no comfort. “I must go by the Office and interrogate him,” he said soothingly. “Once I know he acted alone, I can be satisfied.”
Somehow, Joanna was afraid neither of them would be satisfied.
* * * *
Once Joanna was safely home, Allister hastened to the War Office. Every time he replayed the scene outside the pastry shop, he grew cold inside. He’d seen the flash of the knife. She had nearly been killed, would have been killed had he not leaped to push her aside. As he strode down the marble halls to Lord Hastings’ office, his fists balled at his sides. The Skull would pay.
Davis glanced up from his questioning as Allister entered. Daremier sat calmly in a high-backed wooden chair, a burly soldier on either side, a bored expression on his cadaverous face. Lord Hastings stood nearby, mouth set in grim lines. Davis hurried to Allister’s side.
“You won’t like this,” he said without preamble.
“He had conspirators,” Allister guessed, feeling his body chill all over again.
“Worse,” Davis replied. “We can’t hold him. He is completely innocent.”
Chapter Nine
Allister stared at Davis. “Are you mad? Since when is threatening a woman with a knife innocent?”
Davis grimaced. “We thought we saw a knife, old chap. But we searched him thoroughly. He carried no weapon.”
“So he threw it away, stuck it in a wall, passed it to a friend,” Allister ranted. “Damn it, Davy, we can’t let him get away again!”
“I told you you wouldn’t like it,” Davis replied. “We have no evidence he was armed.”
“We all jolly well saw something flash in the light,” Allister countered.
“What we saw,” his friend said, “was apparently this.” He handed Allister a slender silver case. Allister took it, watching it flash obligingly in the lamp light. Flipping open the lid, he found simple calling cards, black ink on embossed linen. He pulled out several, only to find that each bore a different name. The top card had a small hand-drawn skull in the corner.
“Quite a catch,” Davis commented. “Several of the lads are chasing down those names. We know one belongs to a prominent eastside physician. Explains how the bugger slips in and out so easily. He has dual citizenship.”
“And this isn’t enough?” Allister demanded.
Davis shook his head. “Nothing illegal about using more than one name, Trev. And you know we have no witnesses to his earlier crimes – just supposition. In this case, apparently all he was going to do was give Joanna a calling card, the one with the skull on it. He says he merely wanted her to pass it on to you. The miscreant probably thought to shake you up a bit. Face it – the villain has us.”
“I want to talk to him,” Allister said.
Davis glanced over his shoulder to where Daremier sat with pursed lips. “Are you sure that’s wise? You are a bit involved in this case, as his lordship has pointed out.”
Allister didn’t repeat his request. He pushed past Davis to confront his enemy of so many years.
Daremier raised his head to meet his gaze. His black eyes sparkled with malevolent amusement; his thin lips curled in a sneer.
“Good afternoon, Baron Trevithan,” he said in perfect English. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Allister glared down at him. Every other time he’d gotten close to the villain he’d been calm, cool, ready for the deadly game they played. Now his anger boiled within him, clouding his mind, hampering his reasoning. Some part of him recognized the problem and cautioned retreat. The rest of him cried out for blood.
He put his hands on the arms of the chair and bent to put his face within six inches of the Skull’s.
“I want you,” he spat out, “to stay away from Joanna Lindby.”
Daremier didn’t even blink. “Your charming fiancée? Certainly, my lord. And may I wish you every happiness.”
“Don’t wish me anything,” Allister told him. “Don’t come near me, don’t even think about me. From now on, as far as you’re concerned, me and mine cease to exist.”
Daremier smiled. “I could only hope.”
Allister’s fists tightened on the arms of the chair. Lord Hastings stepped forward and laid a hand on his shoulder.
“That’s enough, Trevithan. Let us carry on from here.”
There was nothing left for him. He had no choice. The fact was totally unsatisfying. He forced himself to straighten. Daremier watched him.
“It would give me great pleasure to leave you with your doubts,” the Frenchman said. “But I’ve enjoyed our association over the years. It’s rare one meets a truly worthy gamesman. I offer you this gift to consider. If I am the spy you all think I am, why would I oppose your wedding? You obviously love this woman. Britain’s most talented secret agent, safely married and raising a family? Unable to continue his work? Surely your enemies would only breathe a sigh of relief.”
Allister stared at him, emotions warring. His instincts said the man was right, but how could he fully believe a spy who’d made a career of lying? Was there such a thing as honor among thieves?
“Come on, Trev,” Davis urged at his elbow. “I’ll walk you out.”
Allister turned on his heel and left.
In the corridor, Davis pulled him up short. “Did you hear the arrogance? You can’t let him get away with it, Trev! You can’t leave the Service now. We’ve got to stop him.”
Allister shook his head. “I’m done, Davy. This whole mess proves it. I’ve lost the knack.”
“Nonsense,” Davis argued. “You’re just frustrated. The answer isn’t to relax; it’s to go after the bugger.”
“My heart’s not in it,” Allister replied with a sigh. “I can’t run the risk of anything happening to Joanna.”
“It still could, you know,” Davis reminded him. “Daremier denies sending the note or the scarab. But someone sent them.”
Allister chilled. “You think he’s lying? Or is there someone else?” When Davis did not answer, he ran his hand back through his hair in despair. “Curse it all, Davy, I’m a mess. Look at me – I can’t think, I can’t act. All I know is, if I lose Joanna, I might as well lose my life.”
Davis regarded him fixedly, then he barked out a laugh. “Daremier is right. I don’t know what it is about you, my lad, but I can’t torture you either. I sent the note, Trev.”
Allister started. “What?”
“I sent the note,” Davis repeated, though he had the good sense to avoid Allister’s outraged glare. “I had a friend write it so you wouldn’t recognize the hand.”
“Why?” Allister demanded. “What could you possibly hope to gain by it?”
Davis shrugged. “I knew you admired the chit, but I couldn’t really believe it was love. I thought you were smarting over losing Daremier. I thought if you were presented with a mystery, you’d rise to the occasion. Instead, you just sank deeper. If this is love, old chap, it isn’t very inspiring.”
“On the contrary,” Allister told him, “I find it quite illuminating.” He cocked his head and eyed his partner. “I ought to plant you a facer, but instead I’ll thank you. I wasn’t sure whether I was running away either. Now I know. It’s love, Davy. She knows the truth about me, and she isn’t afraid of it. In fact, I wonder whether she wouldn’t make a better agent than I ever was. She’s sharp and sweet and passionate. I can’t imagine a life without her. The excitement, the adventure, none of this will be worth anything if it costs me Joanna. I’m done for, old man. I’m ready to live a normal life.”
Davis nodded. “So I gathered. Which is why I must remind you of the scarab. Someone sent it, old chap. I know I didn’t, and it looks as if Daremier didn’t
either. You haven’t found our villain yet, Trev. You can’t quit.”
* * * *
Joanna wanted so badly to unburden herself to her mother, but she knew she could not do so without giving the game away. Her mother had no idea of her involvement with the Service. She had been careful to make everything appear normal, telling her mother she was going shopping with Allister for household items for their future home. But now that Allister had so much as admitted he was going to continue his dangerous work, she didn’t know what to do.
She had lost. She had tried to show she could be part of his world, but still he shut her out. She had thought she had made progress for a time. Certainly his declaration in the carriage had warmed her heart. Yet he was not willing to leave the excitement behind. She could not compete with the Service after all. The villain had been caught – she had no mystery left to make her attractive. She had fought the battle and lost, and she had no other strategy to help her win the war.
Her mother’s cheerful attitude did nothing to help. Lady Lindby bustled about the house finishing the wedding preparations, chattering happily all the while. Joanna stitched slowly on her lace nightgown, wondering whether she would ever get to wear it. Her glance fell on the diamond ring again, glinting in the candle light. It should be a symbol of their love. It was only a piece of stone, as cold as her heart. She was so lost in her misery that her mother had to speak twice before she realized she was being questioned.
“I’m sorry, Mother,” she said. “I guess I was wool gathering.”
“That’s to be expected, dear,” her mother replied with a smile. “Lord Trevithan is a handsome fellow. And so considerate.”
Joanna’s smile was tight. “Yes, he is. What did you want to ask me?”
“Oh, nothing. I simply wanted to let you know I sent an acknowledgment to Eugennia Welch.”
Joanna blinked. “Eugennia Welch?”
“Yes, dear. For that package. I must remember to tell Lord Trevithan that he was mistaken. The gift wasn’t from his family, it was from your friend Miss Welch. She had it shipped all the way from that Egyptian expedition she’s sponsoring. Can you imagine?”
“No,” Joanna managed. “I can’t.”
“I saw her companion, Miss Tindale, at the booksellers today when you were out. She asked after the package. I can’t understand how I could have gotten things so mixed up, but there you have it.”
“You’re sure?” Joanna pressed, mind whirling. “Mother, you’re positive? Eugennia Welch sent us a dead insect?”
“Goodness, was that what it was?” Her mother raised her eyebrows in obvious surprise. “I knew your friend was a bit odd, but a dead insect? Why would she have to ship to Egypt for that? If she wished to give you a dead insect, she could certainly have found an English one for less trouble.”
She continued on, but Joanna barely heard her. What did it mean? The insect had been an innocent gift, sent by an eccentric friend. What about the note? Was the Skull innocent after all? Was this a mystery she could use to her advantage?
Suddenly she froze. The devious direction of her thoughts appalled her. Was she truly willing to hold Allister by deceit, to keep him in a constant state of worry if that meant she kept him at her side? What had her doubts driven her to?
She had wondered why she had never met his friends. Now she knew he had been forced to rely on only a few intimates to stay alive. It was not that he was incapable of having friends, but that he had put his duty before the luxury. She had been afraid he would bore easily in their marriage and blamed him for that shortcoming. The problem was and always had been within her. She had to believe herself worthy of his love.
By the time Allister joined them that evening, she knew what she had to do. Allister had shown his true colors. It was time she showed hers. She would do something clever to show him she understood his life and to give him a chance to freely admit he loved her. If instead he rejected her, she would know this marriage was not meant to be.
It took little to get her mother to leave her alone with him. It took less to get him to talk about the Skull.
“I spoke with the villain,” he admitted when she asked. “The result is not satisfactory.”
Joanna swallowed. Though he did not seem pleased by the result, still she sensed a finality. He had come to a decision. “Then you will continue your work,” she said.
He nodded. “I have little choice. However, I want you to know that one mystery has been solved. It appears that the Skull did not send the note. I am satisfied that the person who sent it poses no danger.”
Joanna frowned at his insistence. “Then why do you persist?”
“That still leaves the gift,” he explained. “There appears to be some reason to suspect that it is from a hostile source.” He rose and went to stand opposite her. She tensed to hear his decision. He would tell her he meant to continue his work, that his duty would always come first.
When he spoke, the words were worse than she could have imagined. “Therefore,” he said, “I have no choice but to postpone our wedding.”
She had feared it was coming, but the verdict still stunned her. Her fingers tightened around each other in her lap, squeezing the diamond until it cut into her skin. He could be acting out of concern for her safety, or he could be acting out of a desire to end their connection. She almost told him the truth; that would have been easy. But if she did, she would never be certain of his love. She had to get him to see her for who she was, for what she offered. She had to follow through on her plan.
“I understand, Allister,” she said quietly, reaching into the pocket of her gown. “And I think you should see this.” She handed him a note. “It arrived this afternoon. The perpetrator asks you to meet at midnight tonight or our future happiness is in jeopardy.”
Chapter Ten
“This is it, then,” Davis hissed to Allister as they waited just outside the churchyard. “We’ve got men surrounding the place. Whoever is doing this won’t get away this time.”
“You’d better be right,” Allister murmured, watching the dark shadows among the moonlit gravestones. “I can’t take much more of this. You should have seen Joanna’s face when I told her we had to postpone the wedding. I couldn’t have hurt her more if I’d struck her.”
“Surely she understands the necessity,” Davis replied. “You are trying to save her life.”
“She understands,” Allister said. “She’s too intelligent not to understand. Too brave as well. She wanted to come with me tonight.”
Davis chuckled. “Pluck to the backbone, that one. You’ve found yourself a gem, Allister. Let’s see what we can do to make sure you keep her.”
“Hst.” The sharp sound brought them both to the alert. A moment later and a climbing boy darted into their hiding place in the alley.
“Look lively, me lords,” he proclaimed in an excited whisper. “Someone’s entered the churchyard from the High Street side. ‘Is lordship says go.”
Allister nodded, moving easily out of the alley toward the cemetery. How many times had he done this over the years, crossed the space knowing he might meet his doom? It could have been a dinner party for the Duke of Milan, the fall threshing in Normandy, a crowded tavern in Portsmouth. The place or occasion didn’t matter. In fact, they all tended to run together. Only this time was different.
This time was for Joanna.
He slipped through the wrought iron gate, giving it an extra push to make sure it squeaked loudly enough to be heard by the occupants, living and dead. He strolled casually through the tombstones and monuments, every sense alert. The faintest of breezes set the trees to rustling and caressed his cheek. A cat darted away from his approach. He could smell the musty odor of fresh-turned earth.
A cloaked figure waited for him in the shadow of the church’s cross. There was no answering rush in his blood. He felt only determination as he approached it. Tonight the game would end, one way or the other. He would not return from this churchyard without knowing
Joanna was safe.
He stopped within five feet of the creature and bowed, keeping his eyes trained on the slender figure. His mind sorted through faces and physiques of his adversaries, trying to find a match.
“Good evening,” he said. “As you can see, I’ve come as you asked.”
“Are you alone?” the figure rasped out.
Allister frowned. He should know that voice. It surely belonged to a woman, though it was deepened and rough-edged. He decided not to lie, evading the question instead.
“Shall we get down to it?” he asked. “What do you want of me?”
His enemy paused, then raised gloved hands to lower the hood. Black hair glinted in the pale moonlight.
“Good evening, Allister,” Joanna murmured. “What I want is your love.”
She watched as Allister recoiled, face paling.
“Joanna! Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?” He strode forward and pulled the hood back over her hair. “I told you not to come. We have to get out of here before the villain arrives.”
She pulled away from his outstretched arm, wanting only to feel it about her. “The villain has arrived, Allister. I wrote that note.”
He stared at her. “Impossible. I swear I’d know your hand.”
“Very well. I had the footman write it. And it cost me most of my pin money, and a promise in writing that he wouldn’t be sacked if you found out.”
“I don’t understand.” He frowned. “You knew I wanted to catch the miscreant who sent that insect. Why would you want to hinder that?”
“My friend Eugennia Welch sent that insect,” she informed him. “Mother talked to her companion this afternoon while we were catching the Skull.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded. “Why did you put me though all this?”
She peered closer. His color had returned; indeed, it had heightened. His blue eyes snapped fire, and his powerful body towered over her. “What exactly did I put you through, Allister? I was under the impression you enjoyed this sort of thing.”
“Enjoy it? Are you mad?” He ran a hand back through his hair. “I’ve been worried sick since the moment that first note appeared. I can’t concentrate; I certainly can’t track a criminal. For the first time in my life, I want out of the Service. This is no longer a game, Joanna. This is real. And it scares the life out of me.”
