Secrets In Savannah (Phantom Knights)

by Amalie Vantana

  “I am taking you home, now,” he said with a fierceness that left no opening for refusal.

  Jack and I made our apologies to Mrs. Stanton, who was not at all put out by our early departure.

  On the short ride back to the house, Jack asked me what Lucas wanted, if he threatened me. I did not know what to tell him, so I said nothing until we were safe in Nell Martin’s house.

  “Some tea, Mrs. Short, in the parlor, if you do not mind,” Jack said to the housekeeper as he led me into the parlor. He had me sit on the sofa then he fetched a blanket and draped it over my knees as I was shaking rather uncontrollably and had been since we climbed into the carriage.

  My mind was running rampant, thoughts battling for supremacy. My uncle was coming and bringing with him his royal guards. I should have never left the Holy Order. I left them for good reasons; they would not help me find my sister, but I now needed their help more than ever before. I would never allow my sister to fall into my uncle’s hands, and Lucas meant to murder Jack.

  Jack sat next to me, and when his arm went around my shoulders, my eyes closed.

  “Tell me everything, Guinevere. I need to know.”

  Taking a deep breath, I released it in a long sigh. “He says that he has written to my uncle and that my uncle will arrive with all of his guards.”

  Jack’s hand on my shoulder tightened but not painfully.

  “They do not mean to leave without me and my sister, and, Jack, I am certain that it is to Lucas whom George means to deliver my sister.”

  Jack stayed still for just a moment then he turned me and brought me against his chest, his head close to my own. “I will not allow that to happen. I promise you. George is a good man, and when he learns how despicable Lucas and your uncle are, he will not give your sister into their hands.”

  “I wish I could believe that.”

  Jack’s lips touched my cheek, but the door opened, and he leaned back as Mrs. Short brought in the tea tray.

  “Mrs. Martin appeared a little tired, so I took it upon myself to bring this,” she said, lifting a small bottle from the tray. “It is my own recipe, one that Mrs. Martin—the other Mrs. Martin—says cures any ailments.” She handed the bottle to Jack then left us, closing the door behind her.

  Jack poured some of the liquid into my tea before handing me the cup. I was too tired and too distressed to care. I sipped the hot liquid allowing it to soothe my nerves and the pounding in my head.

  “Why did Charlotte come here?” I asked between sips. I looked over at Jack to see him frown.

  “She wanted to be a part. The child has only ever wanted to feel as if she belonged.” Jack pulled me against his side. “If you would speak with her, I believe you would find that you have some things in common. She, too, has lost her parents in a brutal way. Sam has done his best by her, but still she wants to prove to him, to everyone, that she is worthy.”

  “That is why you allowed her to stay?” I asked, feeling somewhat relieved.

  “You should know that I have a soft heart. It is rather a flaw of mine.”

  The soft flicker of candlelight danced around the walls giving the room a feeling of intimacy. I was beginning to warm, the effect of the medicine, no doubt. The pain in my head was quickly fading, but was being replaced by a detached feeling of lightness. The flicker of the candles was making me tired and feeling Jack so close filled me with desire.

  “It is not a flaw,” I heard myself saying. “Do you know what I wish?”

  “What do you wish?” Jack asked though his voice sounded strangely deeper.

  “I wish that we were married, that all of this,” I waved my hand around, “was our home, and there was no talk of danger or royal guards or spies.”

  “It can be that way,” I heard his voice say from some far off place.

  My head shook as if pulled on a string. “No, it cannot. I can never marry. Not without her permission.”

  “Whose permission?”

  My head sank against his shoulder, and my hand grabbed his that was resting on his lap. I pulled it into my own lap and held it tight. “My sister,” I admitted in a sleepy haze before everything went dark.

  CHAPTER 14

  Jack

  Before I had left the party, I had spoken to Dudley and Hannah about Lucas. Hannah had promised to keep her watchful gaze focused on Charlotte, and to bring her to the house when the party ended. Dudley asked why Lucas looked as if he wanted to do me a mischief.

  My father had long ago taught me that when I could not fight with my hands, that I had a much more powerful weapon at my disposal. My mind. I could use it to sway people to do my bidding for me, if only I went about it the right way. Some would call it manipulation, my father called it being a leader. So when Dudley asked about Lucas, I went along with my training. I told Dudley that I was not thrown from a horse but wounded in a duel. I told him that Lucas Marx had tried to run away with Guinevere on the day of our wedding and that he and I had fought. It was partially the truth. Dudley was so outraged that he said something should be done, but first I should see to my wife.

  “The ladies, you know, sensitive constitutions and all that,” Dudley had said with a knowing wink. He told me to stroll back around the square in an hour, and we would see what could be done to teach Lucas his place.

  Dudley and I had a long standing appointment when we lived in Philadelphia, to go out shooting at night. It had come about quite by accident when we were both a trifle bosky. Dud had wagered that he could hit more bottles than me, so we had set them up on the street in front of his house. It turned out that he was a brilliant shot. He did not want anyone to know, and in turn I showed him my skill with a pistol. Since neither of us wanted our reputations as poets besmirched, we had kept our little outings to ourselves. We would pick a different street each week and shoot at bottles. Not the most constructive use of our time, but fun. We even boxed the watch on the few nights that they chased us through the streets of Philadelphia.

  As I walked across the square, I thought about what Guinevere had murmured before drifting to sleep. She said she could never marry without her sister’s permission. I understood that she loved her sister, but that seemed rather extreme to me. Bess was my closest friend and ally, but she knew that I would marry Guinevere whether she approved or not. I had thought that she had come around to my way and was if not eager, at least encouraging about my marriage to Guinevere. Until I was shot.

  Gideon and I had told only Bess, Sam, Leo, and my mother how I came to be injured. After that, Bess and my mother had set to the task of finding me someone else to marry. If they thought I could be so swayed, they did not understand the depth of my feelings.

  Guinevere’s comment would be something to ask her about when she was not so drunk on Mrs. Short’s concoction.

  As I crossed the park in the middle of the square, I saw Dudley leaning against a tree, his large form not well hidden in the shadows.

  “What do you say, Jack?” Dud asked as I stopped beside him. “Will one in the breadbasket do the trick, or should I darken his daylights?”

  “You quite have carte blanche, my friend. Do as you see fitting.”

  Dudley stepped into the moonlight, and I got a look at what he was wearing. A long black coat that went to his ankles covered his evening attire. He pulled up a muffler around his mouth and nose, then pulled up the collar of his coat. He gave me a nod before trotting across the street to wait in the shadows of one of the houses.

  Leaning against the tree, I watched as Lucas stepped out of the house alone. The sound of carriage wheels coming down the street could be heard, but the pace was slow. Lucas began to walk down the road when Dud came out of the shadows and walked as if to pass him, but they bumped shoulders. Dud’s large shoulder knocked Lucas aside.

  “Have a care, man,” Lucas said as he brushed off his shoulder.

  “Oy, watch yerself, fatwit,” Dud grumbled.

  Lucas drew himself up, staring at Dud, who was an inch or two s
horter. “What did you call me?”

  “Fatwit, but now I see ye, I think it ain’t an apt enough description. Nincompoop be better.”

  Lucas raised his walking stick, cursing Dud.

  “Oh-ho, what ye be meanin’ ta do wit’ that? Strikes me down? Wit’ togs like ‘em, ye sure ye know what ye be ‘bout? What are ye? A rat, a prig, or just stupid?”

  Biting my lip to keep from laughing, I leaned forward a little, not wanting to miss a moment. Where Dud learned to talk like that, I did not know, but I knew there was more to Dud than just some foolish dandy. Dud had brains and brawn. He could box better than any one of our society friends.

  Lucas swung the stick, and Dudley caught it. He jerked it away and threw it down the street. “Be ye wise or be ye stupid, the truth will out so let’s get to it.” Dudley raised his fists and began to dance around Lucas. Dud jabbed at him with a fist, and Lucas jerked back. Dud cackled because his fist did not come close to striking Lucas. He was toying with him. “When left is right and right is left, from whence does pain strike its best?”

  “What the devil are you on about?” Lucas demanded, and I was nearly rolling from holding in my enjoyment.

  “The correct answer is from the west,” Dud said and struck a blow to Lucas’s side, naturally from the west. The answer was obvious to me. Lucas bent over, expelling a loud breath and grunt as he held his side. Dud grabbed the back of Lucas’s head and pulled it up so Lucas had to look at Dud. “Ye been warned. When ye mess with the best, ye mess with the rest.”

  The front door to Dudley’s house opened, and Hannah, and Mrs. Stanton were coming out. Dudley shoved Lucas away, knocking him to the ground as Charlotte, coming through the door, saw him and let out a shriek. Dud ran down the street laughing hysterically and when he reached the end of the street he leapt in the air and clicked his heels together.

  I rounded the tree, holding my stomach as I silently laughed.

  Watching from around the tree, Char helped Lucas to his feet while Mrs. Stanton scolded him like it was his fault that he had been set upon. The carriage that stopped before the house was a hired vehicle, and I stared at the man on the box, memorizing what of him I could see. Knowing what that man looked like would aid in my search when I went hunting Lucas.

  Lucas climbed into the carriage, and it pulled away as Leo arrived with my mother’s carriage. Hannah ushered Char into it and once it pulled away, Dudley appeared in the doorway behind his mother; his muffler and coat removed.

  “Highly irregular that young man. Wherever did you meet such an oddity, Dudley?”

  “Never set my sight on him until this night. He told me you had invited him,” Dudley replied to his mother.

  “As if I would consort with such a man. It is all highly irregular.”

  “Highly,” Dudley replied as his mother passed him, but his gaze was fixed on my tree. Once his mother was inside, he closed the door and trotted across the street.

  When he reached me, we both exploded with mirth. I realized how much I had missed my friend as Dud leaned against the tree beside me and mopped his brow with his lemon scented handkerchief. Dud was always good for a laugh, and that was something that my life was sorely lacking.

  “Did you hear what m’mother said? That Marx fellow was not invited. What I want to know is how he got in.”

  Also why he was there. What was his game?

  We were silent for a few minutes as Dudley produced a flask and drank then handed it to me.

  “You were never serious about Bess, were you, Dud?”

  He jerked, jumping away from the tree and twisting to face me. “Oo-of course I was. Worshipped at her feet, did I not? Pined for her, wrote verses to her.”

  “Yes, I remember all that, but now that I think back on it, it all seemed so ... rehearsed. Like you felt you should do those things even though you did not feel them.”

  Dud’s mouth was hanging open, and he jabbered incoherent things before snapping his mouth shut and running a hand through his carefully pomaded brown hair. Examining him in the moonlight, I noticed that he was not wearing his usual corset, for there had been no creaking, and that he had lost some weight. His face, too, had thinned. Perhaps the scandal that surrounded Bess had taken a toll on him after all. He had packed up and left Philadelphia, and he had offered for her hand no less than ten times. Just maybe I was wrong about him.

  “Never could fool you,” he said.

  Not wrong then.

  “I did love your sister, but it was the feelings one has for their sister. It was the mode to worship her, you know, Bess being all the crack, but I’m afraid that my feelings have long been engaged elsewhere.”

  I threw caution to the wind. “It is Hannah, is it not?”

  If Dudley had jumped before, he quite leapt then. I would have laughed if he had not looked like a squirrel caught between a pack of hounds.

  “How—why—where—what,” he broke off and cleared his voice. “No.” He tried to say it nonchalantly, but his voice cracked giving him away.

  “It is nothing to be ashamed of, Dud. I’ve gotten to know her and can see that she is quite extraordinary. Though I must ask, are you sure you truly know her?” She had turned out to be nothing like how she presented herself in Philadelphia. She had come across there as rather a light-skirt, but it had been a ruse.

  Dud moved back to the tree, sighing quite loudly. “You could say that. She and I were—involved.” He shrugged, appearing miserable in the moonlight. “It was a summer romance, one that swept us both away with its tide, but then she disappeared without a trace, so I gave up, packed up, and came to join my mother here. Never did I expect her to pop up with you and your new wife of all things. I had thought that she and Miss Clark—err, Mrs. Martin—did not get on.”

  “So, too, did I, but they are great friends now,” or they wanted me to think they were. I had yet to discover what Hannah was doing with Guinevere. Other than the truth that they were trained by the same man, a man who had left Guinevere to the Holy Order when he died, their connection was a mystery. Did that mean that Hannah was also a servant of the Holy Order? Was that why she was here? If so, I was afraid that Dud would be the one ending with a broken heart, or a broken neck.

  “If you would not mind not mentioning this to anyone? My mother does not know, nor would she care for it to be honest.”

  “Mum’s the word,” I replied, and Dud smiled.

  He glanced toward his mother’s house then pushed away from the tree. “I’d best get back. It has been a good night, Jack. I’m glad we had this chat.”

  “Me, too, Dud, me, too.” He stepped back, saluted me, and walked away, leaving me with about a thousand unanswered questions, and one large problem. Could we trust Hannah Lamont?

  CHAPTER 15

  guinevere

  My head was pounding when I opened my eyes, wincing at the sunlight streaming onto my face. For a moment, I had no notion of where I was. Seeing my ivory gown across the chamber, it came to me that I was in my own bed at the Martin’s house.

  My head ached something fierce as I pushed to a sitting position. Examining my chamber, no remembrance came of how I had got to bed. My ivory gown was hanging over the wardrobe door, and my shoes and stockings were tossed on the floor. Looking down, I was still dressed in my undergarments which drew only one conclusion. Jack.

  A knock sounded on my door, and I closed my eyes as my head reacted to the noise in a thundering like bolting horses.

  When the door opened, Hannah stuck her head in, saw me, and came into the room carrying a tray.

  “You are awake at last. I have been checking on you every thirty minutes for three hours.”

  “The time?” I asked hoarsely.

  “Past eleven. Whatever Jack put in your tea worked wonders, you have been out solid.”

  I grunted in reply as I tried to focus on choosing a gown for the day from the four Hannah brought to me. I chose a green morning dress with little blue flowers, but that expended my mental st
rength.

  “Tell me what you did last evening,” I said as she handed me a cup of tea.

  Hannah’s smile was nearly blinding, making me blink a few times and look down at my tea that was not as bright.

  “After I put you to bed you mean?” She laughed as I sighed. “That Lucas is a devil, but as smooth as silk.” Hannah sat on the edge of my bed. “He has Charlotte under his spell. After you and Jack departed, Lucas and she never left each other’s sides.”

  I gave another grunt in response.

  She hesitated a few moments before saying, “It is a wonder the effect that champagne has upon the weak. It quite loosened her lips. Lucas has persuaded her that you are not to be trusted. He claims that he has come here from your country, where you were married to his brother, but poisoned him then ran off with all of the family jewels.”

  I stared at her for a moment before a snort of laughter escaped me. “That is ridiculous.”

  “So I told her, but she is adamant.” Hannah’s mouth twisted as if she had eaten something sour. “You should know that she is determined to thwart your relationship with Jack.”

  She could try, but she would never succeed. Jack knew me, and what was more, he knew Charlotte. She was impetuous, pert, and still a child, if not in body at least in mind.

  When Hannah’s gaze remained fixed on me, it filled me with foreboding.

  “Where is Jack?” I asked, swinging my legs over the side of the bed.

  “He is with Charlotte. Her cousin is having her fitted for a new dress before the wedding tomorrow. Jack escorted her.”

  “Then she cannot do too much mischief.” Leaning back against my pillow, I laid my hand over my eyes. Sleep was what I required, but Hannah would not allow it.

  Hannah was not so convinced that Charlotte could do no harm. She was sure that Charlotte had some scheme afoot and being with Jack would give her ample time to place her barbs against me. She believed that Charlotte meant to poison Jack’s mind against me with whatever nonsense that Lucas fed her. I wished that I could be there when Jack put her in her place.