He held her to his chest and stroked her hair. "Let's deal with one problem at a time. I promise you and Galahad will be reunited."
She couldn't see how. Although perhaps Quinn could ferret out who had purchased the stallion and where he resided. Then she could steal him back. Or Quinn could induce the owner to play cards and win him for her.
He kissed the top of her head. "Will you come with me back to Aunt Maggie's? We need to talk to the others."
She nodded, and he brushed a feather-soft kiss to her lips, something so tender it set her heart aching anew. But this time, the feeling swelled to overflowing with love for the handsome young man and all the possibilities that unfurled before her.
25
Ianthe
* * *
Ianthe and Quinn rode toward Kensington and the neat row of terrace houses. As Quinn handed their horses to a young lad from the local mews, Ianthe glanced up and squinted, not quite sure if she saw what she thought she saw.
Quinn caught the direction of her gaze as the late sun glinted on the rooftop arsenal. "Aunt Maggie doesn't believe Scotland should be under English rule. The cannon is for when she starts the rebellion."
Ianthe laughed. "Shouldn't she start it in Scotland?"
"But the English politicians that she wants to shoot are all here." He winked as he took her hand and led her inside.
She didn't know what to expect, but the house was warm and inviting and in the parlour was arrayed with people she already knew, which greatly relieved her discomfort. Aster sat next to her husband, Hamish. Ewan had not yet returned from his ride, and she assumed the elderly matron was Aunt Maggie, the woman who manned the cannon.
"Ianthe, I am so glad you are here," Aster said as she rose and greeted her with a kiss to the cheek.
"Aunt Maggie, this is Ianthe Wynn," Quinn said.
She dropped a small curtsey and the older woman eyed her up and down. "The courtesan?"
"Yes, ma'am." Ianthe held her breath. She could bluff her way through any social event, but there was something about the older woman's piercing gaze that cut through her false exterior. In addition, this was Quinn's family. It meant something to have their approval. She desperately wanted to believe that Aster spoke true and that they would accept her, regardless of her background.
Aunt Maggie made a noise in the back of her throat and then nodded. "Good. You won't swoon when I tell my more risqué stories after dinner."
"I could probably match you with a few of my own," Ianthe said with a sly smile.
Aunt Maggie burst into laughter and just like that, Ianthe was embraced by Quinn's extended family. Relief flowed through her limbs. She hadn't realised she was holding her breath until she let it out. Aster rang for tea and then drew Ianthe to the sofa, to sit next to her.
"I hope your presence here means you will help us lay a trap for Viscount Hoth?" Captain Logan asked, his hazel gaze flicking from his wife to her.
Ianthe rallied her thoughts and Aster squeezed her hand. Trust was such a new experience for her that she hesitated, still unsure about sharing her knowledge with these people. Then, like a child learning to walk, she took the first, unsteady step. "Yes. And I believe I have something that will aid your mission. I suspect I possess something that Septimus seeks."
Quinn's warm gaze stayed fixed on her. "The others know of Hoth's visit and how he sought something among Dunne's belongings. Something he thought might have been left at your house."
Ianthe touched a hand to her breast, where the slip of paper was hidden. Having taken one step on the road to trust, she now took several more. "Phillip and Septimus arranged a midnight meeting at my home. It was an assignation that never happened, because death reached out and claimed Phillip far too early."
It seemed a lifetime ago, yet it had been little more than two weeks. Since Phillip had died, her old life had also ended. But a new one was born, one with a handsome young man beside her. Her vision promised a new life, far away from London. There were just a few loose ends to tidy away, and the wee issue of vengeance for Alice.
Tea arrived and Aunt Maggie turned the pot three times clockwise and then three times counter clock-wise as the old superstition required before she started pouring. With her thoughts gathered around her, Ianthe continued her story.
"After Phillip died, we called for his carriage to take him home. We couldn't re-dress him, so we wrapped him in a blanket. As I bundled up his clothing, I felt an odd crunch in his waistcoat. On inspection, I found a small internal pocket that contained a scrap of paper with a series of numbers scribbled on it. It struck me as odd that Phillip would conceal what appeared to be a piece of rubbish. I admit, his death made my situation precarious, and I did not know what the following days or weeks would bring. I had it in mind that it might be something of value, even if it was not obvious to me."
Ianthe pulled the folded square from its place inside her bodice and handed it to Hamish.
He opened it out and frowned. "The address here at the top is the West Docks. We can pursue that later, if it is relevant. But the numbers remind me of something familiar." The captain stared at the paper for a minute longer, before his gaze widened and he tapped it with his hand. "Latitudes and longitudes."
In a move that surprised Ianthe, he handed the paper to Aster, seeking her opinion. At that moment, Ewan returned with Alick. The two men nodded to their guest, but neither seemed overly surprised to see her sitting in the parlour.
"What fun have we missed?" Ewan asked.
"Ianthe has supplied us with another clue in our hunt," Quinn said.
Warmth speared through Ianthe at the pleased look on his face, as if taking a hidden piece of paper from the clothes of the man who had died on top of her was cause to be proud.
Aster cocked her head to one side as she regarded the figures, and then glanced up. "I believe you are right, Hamish. These are not just any latitudes and longitudes; I think they tell us a route. If we gather some maps, I suspect we will find each set of numbers is a location."
"Perhaps the docks are the starting point?" Hamish suggested.
"And this is what Hoth sought? Why would a banker and a solicitor plot a secret route?" a gruff Alick asked the silent room.
"They often spoke of their anger at their places in society. Phillip believed he should have been given a greater title than baron for his work. He would boast that people all through government owed him favours, including someone high in the Foreign Office," Ianthe murmured over the top of her teacup. There was a comfort in this room as each person listened to the opinion of the others, the view of the women as valued as any man's. Ianthe's world expanded and she wondered if all Scottish men sought the wisdom of their women, or if it was something particular to this small group of wolves. She already knew Quinn was exceptional, for a wise old soul resided in his young body.
"The Foreign Office plays a pivotal role in keeping our allies on side. It would be unfortunate if one let something slip to the lawyer who did him a service," Hamish said.
Ianthe glanced up. These men seemed to know more than she did. Although she supposed gathering information was part of their job, whereas it was merely a consequence of hers.
"Do you mean something that compromises diplomatic relations?" Ianthe asked.
Hamish blew a sigh between his teeth that came out as a soft whistle. "Of sorts. One way Dunne and Hoth could play a part in isolating England would be by intercepting a gold shipment."
"And so one aspect of the plot reveals itself," Aster whispered.
"What do gold shipments have to do with it?" Ianthe asked.
Hamish's hazel gaze swung to her. "Why do you think other countries fight alongside England? It is not from any feeling of brotherhood, but because we line their pockets. At the same time, Napoleon is starved of ready cash. Stealing a shipment would serve two purposes. One, our allies would assume we had defaulted on our agreed payment and desert England. Secondly, the gold would pay the French army."
"A
nd once England is isolated she will be vulnerable to whatever unnatural weapon France is creating," Ewan said.
Aster handed Hamish back the slip of locations and he tapped it against his palm as he thought out loud. "Given Hoth owns the bank, I would suspect he is involved in putting together the gold shipments. Dunne's client at the Foreign Office must have slipped him the route it would take. Hoth probably needs it to pass to those who would intercept the payment."
"But if Viscount Hoth's bank creates the shipment, shouldn't he already know the route it will take?" Ianthe asked.
Aster smiled. "Men are not so trusting of each other. From the work I undertook for the War Office, I learned that important tasks are often broken into smaller components so no one man knows the whole."
"What she's saying is, no one wants the man gathering the gold to know where it goes once it leaves his hands," Alick huffed.
Ianthe thought back to Septimus's state the day he had visited. He had shown a fair amount of agitation, given his usual glacial exterior. "No wonder he is looking for the paper."
"And Callum Forge has not surfaced. We still have a score to settle with him," Quinn said. Even in his aunt's house the young man sprawled over the furniture, one booted leg swinging in the air as he thought.
Aster reached over and squeezed Quinn's hand. "I know you will find him and he will pay for the murders he has committed."
"Hear, hear," Ewan murmured.
Talk of murders, treason, and revenge swirled around Ianthe, and yet she floated in a sea of calm. She trusted Quinn and his family to stop Hoth, yet she did not feel stifled. No one had yet mentioned shutting her away. At all times she felt involved in their plans, as dark as they seemed. She might hold tea in her hands, but being treated as an equal was more intoxicating than French champagne. Her head felt giddy on her shoulders.
"We are drawing our net around the conspirators, but we need more to satisfy the War Secretary. Would you trust us with this?" Hamish's gaze lingered on Ianthe as he held up the scrap of paper.
"I had thought to hand it over to Septimus to make him leave me be." It wasn't the entire truth, but she didn't want to reveal her whole sad life. The matter of the roof over her head seemed petty, when these men talked of conspiracies involving a duke close to the crown, and the fate of England. She only hoped that whatever they planned for Septimus would also solve the issue of her home hanging in the balance.
"I would prefer to keep this piece of information to ourselves, if you are agreeable. If we keep our conspirators in the dark, it will give us valuable time to discover more evidence of their plot while they flounder trying to find each other. Hoth will be stopped for the crimes committed against his mistresses. Do not think we will turn out backs on what he has done." Hamish waited for Ianthe to voice her opinion.
She thought of her little terrace house. Would it be lost? It was a gamble. She met Quinn's gaze, but he too waited for her answer, and did not presume to supply her with his own. She closed her eyes for a moment. The creatures locked in battle no longer haunted her; now she saw only the stallion galloping free. At length, she opened her eyes and nodded. "Very well. But you must promise that he will not go unpunished for what he did to Alice, and Lord knows how many other women."
"Lady Miles is creating a way to make him pay for his crimes. We just need to put our heads together on how to deliver it," Aster said.
Ewan stood with his arms folded, but one finger beat a rhythm against his forearm. "What we need is a way to take Hoth out of the game, without it appearing to have anything to do with his treacherous activities."
Quinn grinned at Ianthe. "If Ianthe gives her permission, I have an idea that would give a very personal reason for hobbling him."
The young man laid out his idea and everyone held their breath, waiting for Ianthe's agreement. His foolish notion wrapped around her chest and constricted her breathing, but at length she agreed to play along. The conversation became animated as they set their trap for Hoth. Quinn dashed off a missive to be delivered immediately by a servant.
Then Aunt Maggie shooed them all to the billiard room, where maps were fetched and laid over the green felted table. A game unfolded as they scoured the terrain, matching up the numbers with specific points on the maps. Each coordinate was marked with a pin, and by dinner time a series of pins marched from London all the way across Europe to Prussia.
"That explains the Prussian on our list. He obviously intends to betray their country," Hamish said.
"Treason seems to be a popular hobby this year. Perhaps we should introduce them to golf," Ewan said in a droll tone.
"But that leaves our merchants without obvious roles," Aster said, bringing up the last two names on the list.
"And we still have the West India dock reference. It could either be a vessel or a warehouse, perhaps connected to the merchants? The docks would be a way to get the gold out or to bring a weapon in." Hamish threw out more ideas. "At least we have a fresh scent now for our hunt."
Ianthe spent a marvellous evening at Aunt Maggie's house. There was much laughter over dinner as they compared stories and tried to outdo each other. Eventually, Ianthe had to plead with Maggie to stop, as her sides were aching from laughter and tears were rolling down her face, especially after the story of how a young Maggie took flowers to the church only to be confronted with a naked parson chasing a pig down the aisle while he yelled, 'Come back, Lulu!'
The evening grew long and midnight ticked past, and a new day was born. It pained her to say her goodnights and return to her little house. Ever thoughtful, Quinn gave her room to breathe and did not ask to accompany her. Instead, he left her to sort through her emotions. He placed a gentle kiss on her lips and then brushed her knuckles to his cheek, as he helped her into the carriage.
"Until tonight," he murmured. His heated gaze skewered through her.
"Until then," she whispered. Only a few hours remained and so much would change. She thought of Alice, who had spent the last eight months trapped in both her mind and Bedlam. Ianthe could be brave for a little longer.
26
Ianthe
* * *
Later that day, after Ianthe caught up on several hours’ sleep, Aster called and the two women paid a sombre visit to the Bethlehem Hospital. Her smile faltered to see Aster accompanied by Alick. The large Highlander wasn't so much a man who could transform into a wolf, as a savage beast that wore an ill-fitting man mask.
Ianthe swallowed her disappointment at not being able to spend the day with Quinn. Once in the carriage, Aster handed over a missive from him.
I would watch you soar, free, and only hope you choose to fly to me. All my love, Quinn.
She kissed the note and tucked it into her bodice, next to her heart. Aster smiled, and Alick scowled.
"Wait until some woman touches your heart. I bet you will spout poetry," she teased him, while wondering what he hid behind the fierce exterior. What was he protecting on the inside?
"If a woman wants to touch my heart, she will have to scoop it out with a spoon first." He crossed his arms and leaned back in his corner.
"That doesn't sound very poetic, but you have time to work on it," Ianthe laughed.
The man was as prickly as a hedgehog, but she suspected his demeanour was how he shielded himself. One day a woman would look past the scar, sneak under his defences, and bring the big man down with a thump.
At the hospital, he sat outside with the carriage. Given Alice's delicate state, no one wanted to terrify her with the grumpy sergeant, even if they suspected most if it was bluff. Alice wouldn't know the difference in her current state.
Ianthe held Aster's arm as they walked into the cold entranceway. "Are you ready for this? It is not a pleasant experience."
"When I had no home, I slept in a hedgerow. Anything with a roof is luxury by comparison," she said.
Ianthe shot her new friend a sideways look; they would have some stories to share in the future. Aster had mentioned being ill
egitimate, but had skipped over being homeless and sheltering under foliage. Although given the state of Bedlam's roof, Ianthe would take leaves and stars in preference any day.
They wound through the dank corridors and found Alice huddled in her corner, but at least she wore a clean shift. By sheer patience, they managed to lure her outside to a quiet spot. The process reminded Ianthe of when she’d once tried to tame a wild kitten; that creature was skittish as well, and spooked with even the slightest movement. Then an idea struck and Ianthe began singing the folk ballad Alice had sung. The gentle song seemed to soothe her friend.
Once outside, they found a warm spot to settle her, where the sun would seep into her bones. Aster laid out the picnic, while the large guard watched their every move.
Alice's condition stabbed through Ianthe. Her long limbs were too thin and her once-golden hair was shorn close to her scalp. At least the physical could be fixed with better nutrition and time, although they would need to encourage her appetite first. She picked at the cake in her hand as though she were a hummingbird.
"Do you think her soul can be pieced back together?" Ianthe asked Aster, as Alice watched a ladybug creep over a blade of grass.
"I have asked Lady Miles but she has not encountered anyone who splintered their soul before. We can only imagine the desperation that drove Alice to tear it from herself and hide the pieces." Aster's gaze rested on the shattered woman.
Ianthe shuddered. Hoth had once kissed her and the memory gave her a small inkling of the horror Alice endured. "If she had not, she would have died too. I hope the men locate the bones in my vision, so the other women can find some peace."
"He will not escape, Ianthe. The Highland Wolves will not let him," Aster said.
Alice let the ladybug climb onto her hand and she lifted it closer to her face.
Ianthe didn't know if her friend's mind could ever be salvaged from the dark place where it hid, but they would give her every opportunity to heal. Alice's gaze was a turbulent ocean, buffeted by unseen forces. If there were any way to bring her to calmer water, Ianthe would do it.
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