daughter of lies

by Kenley Davidson

  Very careful not to make any sudden moves, Rom edged out the door, followed by the woman he was beginning to think hadn’t wanted to be found.

  As soon as he shuffled around the corner and into the alley, Brenna released his wrist and shoved him a few steps away from her. Sure enough, when he turned around, he could see the cold glint of a knife in her hand. It was too dark to see her eyes, but he could feel the fury radiating from her whole body.

  “Out of all the pubs in town, why did you have to show up at this one?” she snarled. “I was happy, and everything was fine. Now I’m going to have to explain why you think you know me, because I told them I was new here.”

  “You’re not going to have to explain anything, because you’re coming back with me,” Rom ordered, barely resisting the urge to throw up his hands in exasperation.

  “And why would I do that?”

  “Because if anyone else finds you here, your reputation will be in tatters!”

  “And how exactly would my reputation be any less tarnished if I go with you?” She retorted derisively. “How is it better for me to eventually be discovered hiding out, unchaperoned, in the home of the rather silly Lord Griffin? Who is not only a fool, but appears to be a hardened flirt and has occasionally been seen down dark alleys in the company of tavern girls!”

  She might have a point, but this was no time for her to be making it. How could she not see that this was no place for a countess? Let alone that she wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding when anyone and everyone could stroll past the pub and see her without even bothering to go inside.

  Rom considered tearing his hair out, but it seemed more constructive to take a deep, cleansing breath. He hadn’t wanted to blow his cover, not to her, but he would, if it meant keeping her safe and fulfilling his obligation to Lady Norelle.

  “You should come with me,” he said, hoping he sounded more patient than he felt, “because it is the particular wish of Lady Lizbet Norelle that you come to no harm while you are here. She has tasked me with ensuring that this is the case, and as I have no wish to incur her wrath, I will go to great lengths to prevent you from embroiling yourself in situations that are likely to prove dangerous. Such as, working as a pub bouncer, for the love of Andar!”

  “So you’d have me go back to Crestwood and be murdered instead?”

  “My lady, the name of your would-be assassin is Quinn, and he’s not going to murder you,” Rom said dryly. “It sounds as though the two of you have chatted, and I promise that real assassins rarely do that if they intend to carry out their contracts. Quinn is actually in the employ of Lady Norelle and is investigating the matter of who might have reason to target you.”

  Brenna actually laughed. “Quinn? Working for Lady Norelle? A bit off the mark there, aren’t you? Quinn is a dear, but he works directly for the Crown. And sometimes for himself, I think. A man of his reputation can probably choose his own clients.”

  Quinn was a what? Rom found himself taken aback once more and his eyes narrowed. “How exactly do you know Quinn, Lady Seagrave? And what is Lady Norelle to you?”

  “I’m afraid the answers to both of those are ‘that’s my business,’” Brenna replied flatly. “I’m not concerned about Quinn. What bothers me more is that no one knows for certain whether it was my dear lady mother who hired him. And if she did, we likewise have no idea what methods she’s likely to employ next, once she finds out he failed.”

  “If you come home with me, you’ll be protected,” Rom insisted. “No one is going to come looking for you at my estate.”

  Brenna chuckled. “And if they do? A man who’s pretending to be a feckless incompetent can’t very well protect me, and I can’t protect myself when I don’t know where the threat is coming from. What if it’s Louise and she’s bought one of your staff? It seems you’ve bought one of hers, so that’s not exactly out of the question.”

  Rom considered her, thankful for the shadows that concealed his expression. How long had she known he was pretending? He didn’t think his acting was that bad. Had Quinn told her? And how did a countess become acquainted with an assassin? The mysteries continued to pile up, and their quantity was beginning to irritate him.

  “Are you sure you’re really the Countess of Hennsley?”

  The woman sighed and lowered the knife. “Why, because I’m not stupid, because I know how to break up a bar fight, or because I managed to get the best of you? Does it offend you that a countess might know how to do any of those things?”

  “Not at all,” Rom said hastily. “Your handling of those men in the pub was one of the most impressive things I’ve seen in the last ten years. If I hadn’t already met you, I would have taken you for an experienced pubkeeper. But you have to admit… it’s an unusual skill set for a woman of your position.”

  “Yes, well I have an unusual background for a woman of my position,” she retorted. “And frankly, considering what most of you courtiers are like, I prefer being mistaken for a pubkeeper. At least in a pub, people insult you to your face, and if they want to fight they just hit you. They don’t hire assassins, or whisper about you behind your back. And if my customers are rude and demeaning, I can just punch them in the face, instead of being forced to smile and pretend it never happened.”

  Rom winced at the truth of it. “I’m sorry,” he said at last, and meant it. “For underestimating you, and for my rudeness. Quinn came to me a few days ago and informed me of his part in all of this, but he didn’t know where you’d gone. After my impression of you at Lorenhall, I was worried that, well…”

  “That I’d fallen in a roadside ditch and was waiting for a man to help me out?” Brenna inquired sweetly.

  “Can you blame me?”

  “Not entirely,” she admitted. “Our last meeting probably wasn’t my finest moment, but was it at least a convincing performance?”

  Rom grinned. “Very. I was starting to wonder if you were a different woman.”

  She sighed, and adjusted the scarf on her hair. “I suppose I shouldn’t have done it, but Mother Dearest was picking at me relentlessly. I couldn’t tell whether she was just deeply disappointed in my entire person, or deliberately attempting to annoy me, but nothing I did or said was good enough for her. She was determined to present me in the worst light possible, so I set out to prove just how much worse it could be.”

  Rom actually found himself chuckling. “Is this where I tell you it wasn’t that bad or should I congratulate you on your appalling success?”

  “I prefer not to be lied to,” she replied tartly. “I also prefer to succeed at my goals, even when my goal is to be perceived as an unparalleled disaster.”

  “And how badly did Louise respond?”

  “You mean besides trying to have me murdered?” Brenna grumbled. “Barely at all. No thanks to you. She was much too upset by the abrupt transfer of your affections. I don’t think she intended for us to meet at all, so when you began paying me marked attentions I believe her worst fears were realized.”

  He winced at the realization of the part he had played in that charade. “I suppose that didn’t help. I was growing desperate to find a way to convince her that I wasn’t interested.”

  “Yes, and that worked out so well for everyone.” Brenna sounded more than a little irritated.

  “I apologize for using you,” Rom said, guessing at the source of her irritation. “I was only trying to dissuade her from her pursuit, but that was poorly done of me.”

  Brenna didn’t seem quite satisfied by his apology. “But why play the fool at all? And why not just inform Louise that you aren’t in the market for a bride? If I had really been as naive and foolish as I pretended, I might have believed you to be showing genuine interest, and then you would have had two women to detach instead of one!”

  How much was it safe to share? Brenna was not at all the woman he’d assumed, but Rom wasn’t about to endanger his mission by making still more assumptions and telling her exactly why he couldn’t risk alienating
Louise completely.

  “Look, you might as well just tell me,” she insisted. “If you don’t, I will find out from Quinn, or I’ll get a message to Lizbet and demand the truth. She’s already hinted that Louise may not be quite trustworthy, but I think she refused to say more because she didn’t want to dash my hopes of reconciliation. Are you here to investigate her?”

  Rom groaned. Who was this woman? And how did she manage to make him feel like such a fool? Well, that part was mostly his own fault. First he’d acted like an idiot in front of her, then he’d insulted her, and finally permitted her to draw a knife on him because he’d completely underestimated her. And now she was uncovering all of his secrets without half trying.

  But could he trust her? That was a question he had no way of answering, not without speaking to Quinn.

  “Why would I be investigating anyone?” he said cryptically. “I live here. I had nothing to do with Louise Seagrave until I moved into Lorenhall, and I never asked for her to flirt with me.”

  “Lord Griffin,” Brenna said, crossing her arms and sounding very much like a parent with a recalcitrant child, “I have been with Lady Norelle for enough years to recognize her training when I hear it. ‘Lie if you must, but stick to the truth whenever possible.’ If we are on the same side, let us admit it and move forward. I believe we can agree that the faster we conclude this matter, the better for everyone. While I prefer tending bar at The Bad Apple to my life at Evenburg, I am not fool enough to believe I can stay.”

  Exactly how deep was she in with Lizbet Norelle? Choosing to listen to an instinct that had rarely failed him in the past twenty years, Rom decided to trust her at least enough to warn her.

  “Lady Seagrave,” he said softly, “you may think me lacking in courtesy and I wouldn’t blame you considering my actions towards you to this point. But I would be unable to call myself a gentleman if I didn’t consider that we are discussing your mother. It must be hard enough to endure her putdowns and complaints, without also having to suspect her of murder. Perhaps it would be better if you allowed Quinn and I to conclude this matter without your assistance.”

  Brenna stepped forward until only an arm’s length separated them. “Louise is not my mother,” she hissed. “She may have given birth to me, but Lady Norelle is more my mother than she is. A mother fights for her children. Defends her children. Reminds them that they are perfect and important in her eyes, whether or not anyone else can see what she sees. I came here with questions about my family, but I no longer care about the answers. If Louise is guilty of something, there is nothing you can do to stop me from making sure she faces justice.”

  Rom looked down and could just barely make out the grim set of her lips and the fury in her eyes. With more respect than he would have thought possible only a few hours before, he inclined his head.

  “Then I will speak with Quinn. If he confirms your story, I will return to consult with you about the best way to continue.”

  His response surprised her. Her lips parted and her eyes widened, and Rom was reminded, even in near dark, that she was actually a very beautiful woman. She was also the only woman who had ever held him at knife point, which, he was startled to discover, somehow made her even more attractive.

  But she was also rather annoyed, and she still had the knife, so he wasn’t about to tell her so.

  There was one other line of inquiry that seemed worth risking. “While we are on the subject, have you considered who else might want to kill you? I suppose we ought to make a complete list of the possibilities before determining guilt.”

  “I’m not sure whether I ought to feel insulted or flattered that you think there’s a list,” Brenna answered, but she sounded amused. “Truthfully, I don’t know how to answer. The most obvious candidates would be Stockton or Eland Seagrave, but my father has been missing for too long to be a very convincing suspect, and Eland doesn’t seem either decisive or bloodthirsty enough to resort to murder, especially considering that he has nothing to gain but revenge.”

  “Anyone from your former life?” Rom pressed.

  “My ‘former life’?” Brenna mimicked. “By which you mean my sordid years of wallowing amongst the lower classes whilst I worked for a living?”

  “I never said that,” Rom replied patiently, “and it’s hardly fair to lump me in with the others of my class while railing against the exact same sort of prejudice. The nobility are not all vain, idle and rich, any more than the poor are all vulgar and uneducated.”

  She looked startled, and then rueful. “You’re right,” she said. “I apologize. That was poorly done of me. And in any case, the answer is no. At least, not that I’m aware of. I won’t claim that I didn’t make enemies, or that there weren’t people who disliked me, but none that I can imagine going to the very expensive trouble of attempting to hire Quinn. Not that I’ve ever asked after his rates, but I don’t imagine his services would come cheaply, should he ever consider hiring them out.”

  Rom chuckled. “I’m sure he would be gratified by your assessment.”

  “And I’m just as sure that he’d never admit it.”

  They both fell silent for a moment, and the only sounds were the voices and laughter from inside the pub.

  “I should be getting back,” Brenna said finally, “and you should be getting on with your investigating, or whatever else it is you’re pretending not to do.”

  “True enough,” Rom said with a sigh. “I would tell you to be careful, but I suspect you would stab me. I also suspect it is the patrons of The Bad Apple who ought to be careful.”

  A dimple appeared on Lady Seagrave’s cheek and she curtseyed. “As compliments go, I’ve heard worse.”

  Rom chuckled without much humor. “Let me guess. You’ve been complimented on your title and your money, and received more proposals per hour than most of us draw breaths.”

  “I can see you’ve spent at least a little time at court,” Brenna acknowledged wryly. “Is it as bad for men?”

  “We certainly receive some share of the pressure to marry, but largely from the hopeful parents of unmarried daughters. You, I would guess, are more of a rarity.”

  “I can’t be the first unattached woman to inherit a title,” she grumbled.

  “Maybe not the first, but it doesn’t happen often. Not to mention that you have no parents to be approached in the usual way. Interested parties are free to approach you personally, which is a burden most young women don’t have to deal with.”

  “That part isn’t the burden,” Brenna insisted. “Young women should have the freedom to accept or reject their own proposals. What I object to is the men who believe that I am helpless and naive—men who have no idea who I am or what I want, and make no effort to find out because they don’t care. They are convinced I ought to tie myself to them out of gratitude for their willingness to make my decisions for me, without ever bothering to ask whether I like making decisions for myself.”

  Rom grinned at the thought of Brenna Seagrave set loose amongst the dandified posers at court. He almost wished he’d been there to see it.

  “There’s no rule that says a countess has to marry,” he reminded her, “so you can go on rejecting them as long as you like.”

  “Believe me,” she muttered, “I’ve been grateful for that too many times to count.”

  Rom knew they needed to leave the alley. The longer they stayed, the greater the chance that they would be seen or overheard, and Brenna had a job to return to. The trouble was, he was enjoying the conversation and didn’t want to leave it.

  “Do you need anything?” he asked, hoping for a reason to prolong the moment. “Do you have a place to stay and adequate funds?”

  “Well now, as to funds, that’s why I’m working, love,” she drawled, swishing her skirts and sashaying backwards towards the mouth of the alley. “And I’ve found a place to stay. It’s safe, and no one’s going to throw me out for my questionable choice of occupation.”

  Rom grinned. He’d like
to see someone try. “I’m sure you know this, but as a part of my duty to Lady Norelle I’m going to caution you anyway. Be wary. Whoever hired Quinn—Louise or not—isn’t going to give up, and they probably won’t resort to the same method twice.”

  “Noted.” Brenna nodded briskly and retreated still farther. “Though perhaps I should say the same to you. If Louise is upset enough by your rejection to kill me to get me out of the way, she may be upset enough to retaliate against you as well.”

  “Why would she bother?” Rom shrugged. “I’m too great a fool to be a risk to her, and if she hurts me, she loses her only present chance to form a marriage alliance.”

  “Unless she already knows she’s lost that chance,” Brenna pointed out, and rightly so. “By my estimation, she didn’t have much money to begin with. She couldn’t have afforded that place outright, and has to have thrown near every penny into fixing up the house and restoring its grounds. I’m assuming she did so in hopes of convincing you or some other impecunious nobleman to marry her, so if she’s gambled and lost, she might be too sunk in despair to behave rationally.”

  She was wrong about the money, and the house, but Rom wasn’t in a position to share everything he knew about Louise Seagrave’s sordid past. “I’ll be careful,” he promised instead.

  Brenna chuckled suddenly. “I’m sure Danward will warn you if he gets wind of any dastardly plans.”

  Rom’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Clearly, I need to invest in new henchmen,” he proclaimed in disgust. “I can’t believe you found him out so quickly.”

  “Oh it wasn’t me,” Brenna said cheerfully. “It was my maid who found him out, but I think she might consider him rather dashing, so there’s little risk she’ll expose him.”

  “Thank heaven for that.”

  Brenna turned away and stepped back into the street with one last look over her shoulder. “Oh, and Lord Griffin? Don’t take too long to find Quinn, or I might decide that being a barmaid is vastly preferable to being a countess.”

  And then she was gone, leaving Rom with the uncomfortable suspicion that he’d been bested, and that when all was said and done, he’d rather liked it.