by Sue London
*
Sabre tapped her bottom lip while reviewing the menus for the week. Something was missing. What that might be, however, eluded her. Her focus on the task was interrupted by noise from the front hall.
“Sabre?”
George. Upset George. Well, hopefully it wasn’t something that new husband of hers had done. Sabre was beginning to like him, but Haberdashers came first. Walking out to the top of the stairs, Sabre called, “What’s wrong, Georgie?” Sabre’s naturally blasé attitude was shaken somewhat when George looked up to her. Bloody, pale, with huge and haunted eyes. It had been some time since their cynical friend had looked so baldly frightened. Sabre marched down the steps. “What did he do?”
Biting her bottom lip, George shook her head. “I should have had my knives with me. I thought I was safe.”
“What happened?”
“Sims. He said Robert wanted to see me, but it didn’t feel right.”
“I don’t know who this Sims is, but I certainly know Robert. Come, let’s get you cleaned up.”
“I should send a note to Casimir. If he were to come home right now it looks like there was a fight. I hope Wladek doesn’t come back before Sims leaves.”
Sabre patted her friend’s shoulder. “All right, we’ll send messages and such. But right now let’s find out what’s under this blood.”
“I threw one of the vases of flowers at him, then I fell on it when I had to go back through the hallway.”
Once Sabre had George surrounded by maids, she sent a number of her footmen out. One to fetch Jack, one for Casimir, one for Robert, and three of the burliest to secure the Rokiczana townhouse. By then, all of the activity had gained her husband’s attention.
“What is all the bustle, love?”
“A man attacked George at home. She’s come to us for help.”
The duke’s eyebrows rose. “She has it, of course.”
She nodded. “I’m waiting for Robert to come explain himself.”
“Ah, Robert. I should have suspected.”
Sabre grimaced, but didn’t respond. Her once beloved brother had been falling in her estimation for years. Now she wasn’t sure she could ever trust him again.
The first to arrive was Jack, whom Sabre dispatched to care for George. Sabre knew herself not to be the best at tea and sympathy, whereas Jack excelled at it. Sabre knew her own talents would be much better served questioning Robert. Her eldest brother was the next to arrive, a bit winded from his rush.
He looked from duke to duchess. “Sabre, your note said there is a family emergency.”
“I believe there is. When my brother dispatches agents to attack my friends in their homes it strikes me as an urgent issue to address.”
“What are you talking about? Are you referring to me or Charlie?”
Sabre didn’t take Robert’s befuddlement at face value. Her brother was a master manipulator. “Sims hasn’t reported back to you about how his mission went?”
That sufficed to change his demeanor to suspicion, an emotion that was much more likely to be genuine. “I received a report from Sims this morning. How do you know his name?”
“I learned it from George not even an hour ago. After he attacked her at home, saying that he had been sent by you.”
Robert’s expression had shifted back to confusion, but any attempt to respond was cut short by a string of foreign invective coming from the doorway before Casimir came after the eldest Bittlesworth. Whatever advantages her brother might have had in experience and training, the younger man matched with ferocity and speed. Gideon, who had followed Casimir into the room, and Quince finally managed to separate the two.
“I didn’t send anyone!” Robert insisted, shrugging out of the duke’s hold.
Gideon kept a tight hold on the younger man, who continued to curse in a foreign language.
Sabre stepped in front of her friend’s husband. “George needs you. I’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Casimir continued to glower at Robert for a moment, then pulled free of Gideon’s hold and turned from the room. The earl followed.
Sabre looked back to her brother. “Explain.”
“Sims is… was one of my best agents. I sent him to Vienna to keep an eye on George during her first mission. He should still be in Austria right now, and his report indicated as much.”
“Yet he attacked George at her house.”
“Is she all right?”
“Cuts and bruises. The larger part, I think, was that she hadn’t expected it.”
Robert nodded. “Sims was among my best agents, but he isn’t the best. I’ll have him brought in by tonight and find out what happened.”
Quince finally stepped forward. “See that you do. I’ve given it some thought, Robert, and it definitely matters more that you’ve caused harm. You have much to answer for if you ever seek redemption.”
Her husband and brother held gazes for some time. She knew there was no love lost between them, not after the way that Robert had manipulated Quince in ways that nearly had the duke killed. But why her brother would care about Quince’s opinions on redemption, she couldn’t say. Finally, Robert bowed his head and said, “Yes, your grace.”
This wasn’t the first time she had seen Robert submit to Quince’s authority, and she found that odd as well. Once her brother had left, Sabre crossed her arms and looked up at her husband. “Redemption?”
Quince shrugged. “He thinks I’m an angel. I’m just trying to be a good influence.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
It had been quite some time since George had felt so out of sorts. Since Jack had seemed comforting rather than cloying. Then she heard Casimir shouting downstairs. Shouting in Polish. She ran out to the upper hall, Jack at her heels. She stopped to stand at the head of the steps, seeing her husband followed by the earl at the bottom. Casimir took the stairs two at a time and gathered her in his arms. “Ukochany, are you all right?”
She nodded as Jack stroked her back and said, “Just some cuts and bruises.”
“Where was Wladek?”
“He went to the market. I was downstairs arranging flowers.”
His grip tightened. “I won’t leave you alone there again.”
“If I’d just had a weapon or two I would have been fine. I couldn’t even find a kitchen knife downstairs.”
He cupped her face. “Never again,” he vowed.
She hated feeling weak. Dependent. But Casimir didn’t make her feel that way. She just felt cherished. Loved.
Jack spoke up again. “Would you rather stay here or with us tonight?”
George felt a glimmer of her usual attitude return. “Are you saying I can’t go home?”
“I’m sure Quince and Sabre would be happy to host us all for the evening,” the earl said.
*
Casimir held his wife tightly all night. Even the luxurious bedding in the duke’s guest room couldn’t help him sleep. What if she had been truly hurt? Or abducted? He didn’t feel equal to the task of protecting her. He knew that it was greedy on some level, wanting her safe. She held his heart. If something happened to her, he would lose part of himself as well. When she became restless in her sleep just before dawn he kissed her awake.
*
George felt more like herself at breakfast. Jack and her earl had the energy of early risers, most likely having been up for hours. Sabre and Quince came into their breakfast room bleary-eyed, as though seeing the room before noon was a novelty. She bit her lip to keep from laughing at them all. As she expected, her friends immediately set to solving the problem of their household staff, because certainly a butler and full complement of footmen would have forestalled Sims’s attacked. George tended to doubt their logic. Spies were trained to be creatures of opportunity. Sims had obviously underestimated her, but not by much. He had found her weaponless and alone. But if he had known that there were household staff to contend with, he would have waited for a different opportunity. But the Telfords and Harri
ngtons shortly parsed out who they would lend from their own staffs so that the Rokiczanas would have a sufficient household while interviewing for their own hiring.
Then Robert arrived.
Casimir rose, tension evident in his posture. Robert looked around the room, considering whom to address himself to and finally decided it should be Casimir.
“Sims was offered money, quite a sum, by a man named Otto to bring you and George back to Prussia. His assumption was that once he had George, you would come willingly enough.”
“How confident are you that he’s told you everything?”
“Strongly. If you’ve made a man, you know how to destroy him.”
The duke asked, “What does this Otto want?”
Casimir answered, “Most likely to recover the letter or, failing that, ensure that we weren’t able to stand in witness to the fact that he was the intended recipient.”
“The letter,” Robert said, “and Herr Otto, have certainly attracted the attention of the Home Secretary.”
“I suspected it might,” Casimir said. “And it’s possible that Otto simply wanted to have his revenge on me before the diplomatic implications affected him.”
“The question I have,” Gideon said, “is whether this Otto and Granby have a longer association?”
“It will take some time to identify that,” Robert said.
Casimir looked down at George and cocked his brow. She thought she knew what he was asking and nodded. He addressed himself to Robert again. “We could go.”
“What?” Even Robert looked startled.
George smiled up at her husband. “If we’re served up to Otto on a silver platter he won’t suspect that we’re actually there to find out about this Granby person.”
“No,” Jack said. “It’s too dangerous.”
Sabre sat back in her chair. “I have to agree with Jack about this.”
Robert shook his head. “And he’s expecting Sims.”
Casimir shrugged. “Sims has a partner take us back because of business in England.”
George nodded. “You could even take us yourself, Robert.”
“I’ll think on it.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Once enclosed in the carriage that the duke had lent for their ride home, Casimir took Gini’s hands. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Last night I was up worrying about how to protect you, then this morning I suggested taking you on a dangerous trip.”
She squeezed his hands. “I love that you have confidence in me.”
That was the closest she had come to saying she loved him. At first his heart reveled, and then it twisted with the realization of what she still hadn’t said.
The ride had been short, and they were descending the carriage steps before he had a chance to revive their conversation.
The Telford and Harrington households had already sent servants, because the man who opened the front door was unknown to him, which was a bit disconcerting. He would need to find Wladek and ascertain what was going on. Before he could, however, the unknown butler said, “There is a Mr. Lockhart waiting in the drawing room, sir.”
Gini curled her hand in his. If Lockhart were here then it was most likely bad news. They could only hope that James and Sarah had made it home after the wedding in enough time to say goodbye to their mother. Gini didn’t seem inclined to move, so Casimir pulled her by the hand until they were standing at the drawing room doorway.
Lockhart rose to greet them and Casimir saw that everything he had spent the night agonizing over was reflected in the man’s eyes. Loss and grief so powerful that it was nearly overwhelming.
“Georgiana, I came to tell you-” her father’s voice choked off.
Gini nodded. “It was very kind of you to come.”
Her voice was nearly toneless. If her hand hadn’t tightened in his to a nearly crushing grip he would have suspected it hadn’t affected her at all. Perhaps the English ruthlessly repressed their emotions, but he was a Pole. Seeing Lockhart’s grief moved him. Letting go of Gini’s hand, he approached his father in law, the only father he had now, and pulled the man into a hug. Lockhart’s embrace had the same tension and desperation that Gini’s hand had in his own.
After a moment Casimir let him go and said, “We would offer you refreshment, but I’m not sure we have any. Well, other than half a crate of vodka.”
Lockhart actually laughed, even if it was a sad and hollow sound. “Tea might be better at this time of day.”
Casimir turned to his wife. “Do we even have any tea?”
“I’m sure Sabre sent something. I’ll ring for it.”
His Gini was awkward and stiff as she went to the bell pull. He was tempted to ask the staff to put something in the tea, since both father and daughter were so upset. He wasn’t entirely sure why they weren’t consoling one another. They both had said her relationship with her mother was strained, but was it with her father as well?
The staff seemed bent on proving their efficiency, and shortly the tea was served, leaving the three of them in an awkward conversation circle.
“Sarah said it was a beautiful wedding,” Lockhart ventured. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.”
When Gini didn’t respond, Casimir stepped in. “We understand, of course. I can’t imagine what I would do if anything happened to Gini.”
The look she gave him was nearly baleful. What was wrong with her? She returned her gaze to her father. “I appreciate you bringing the news, but there is no longer any need to keep up this charade.”
Casimir was slightly heartened that Lockhart looked as confused as he felt. “Charade?”
She very carefully set her cup in it’s saucer and folded her hands in her lap. “I know you’re not my father.”
Lockhart set his cup down as well and ran his hands through his hair with a sigh. “How long have you known?”
“A long time,” she said quietly.
“I was as much father to you as your mother would allow.”
She nodded and stared down at her clasped hands. “I just wanted you to know you don’t have to pretend anymore. I won’t tell your real children, of course.”
“Georgiana.”
She shook her head. “It’s all right. I’ve known a long time.”
Casimir stared at his wife in disbelief. Hearing that Lockhart wasn’t her real father had been a shock, of course, but it was as though she didn’t understand how much the man loved her. He didn’t know what to do with her short of beaning her on the head. Instead he said to his father in law, “You would love the painting that Gini did while I was in Derbyshire. What is that style called, ukochany? Trompe l’oeil? You should bring it down to show to your father.”
Gini glared at him again.
“Trompe l’oeil,” Lockhart said, nodding. “Deceiving the eye. I remember when you and Thomas obsessed over it.”
Not just love and pride, but acceptance. Why wasn’t she allowing herself to see how Lockhart felt about her? And, even more concerning to himself, was she similarly blind to his own feelings about her? He would have thought his feelings were evident, but so were Lockhart’s. A man didn’t collect and display the artwork of a child he felt was less than his own. Didn’t remember small details like a particular style of painting that was most likely a passing fancy for the talented and precocious child she must have been. Since she didn’t seem inclined to fetch the painting he tried another tactic. “Perhaps you can see it later this week. You will be staying with us for a few days, won’t you?”
Lockhart looked back and forth between his daughter and son in law. “I shouldn’t stay in Town for that long. The children need me.”
Casimir turned to his wife. “Tell your father that you would like for him to stay.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
George had always imagined that Lockhart would face the truth with a good deal of relief. She wasn’t really his daughter. An interloper in his household, accepted and supported only because of his attachment to
the wife he so clearly loved. But he didn’t seem relieved at all. He just seemed like papa. How long had it been since she had called him papa? Years. She avoided calling him anything when she could, otherwise it was the more formal ‘father’ now.
She blinked at her husband. Had he actually just issued an order to her? She wasn’t sure whether or not to be outraged. Casimir didn’t issue orders. He flirted and teased and cajoled. But just now he had chosen to be directive. As she looked at him she realized that the question she should ask herself was if she trusted him. If she did then she should trust that whatever he was doing, it was for a reason.
Looking back at the man who had raised her, she said, “Papa, we would love it if you could stay with us.”
“Of course, Georgiana.”
“Gini,” she said.
*
George felt oddly light after admitting the truth in front of both her husband and, for lack of a better word, father. Enough so that the next morning she sent notes to both of the Haberdashers that she would like to have tea with them at Sabre’s house. A short carriage ride later, she was on the steps of the Telford household again. She was nervous, but also giddy. The servants ushered her inside and led her to Sabre’s drawing room. Jack was already there, cup of tea in hand.
