Chapter Fourteen
“THANK you, Leo, for that timely diversion.” Arthur spoke in a dry voice as he entered the library. “Lord Howard was a little too far into his cups to exit under his own locomotion. Your clumsiness gave us the perfect opportunity to help him out the door and ah … pour him into his carriage, as it were.”
Collapsing into one of the leather chairs, Arthur crossed his legs and let out a loud sigh. “The last of the guests have finally departed, thank God, and I have survived yet another masked ball.” He turned to face Leo. “By the way, who was the dark-haired enchantress that so captivated your attention?”
Leo stood by the fire, one arm leaning against the carved mantel. “I don’t know her name,” he replied, “but I’m determined to find it out.”
“You don’t know her name?” Arthur said. “Aren’t you acquainted with her?”
“No.”
“Whom did she arrive with? Did you just strike up a conversation with her?”
“She was talking with Wills, and I joined them,” Leo said. “For the sole purpose of finding out who she was, without success. She was quite striking in that gold gown, wasn’t she?” He chuckled. “Imagine the nerve of not wearing a crinoline or a bustle.”
“Yes, she was quite unusual. Thanks to you, I’m sure tongues were wagging about her long after she left.”
“She did tell me her first name.”
“And … what was it?”
“Elizabeth.” Leo stared down into the flames of the fire. “She told me her name was Elizabeth.”
“Well, that’s common enough. Did she share who her family is?” Arthur chuckled. “Or was she taking the masked ball as a literal event?”
Leo sighed. He didn’t know what to think. Elizabeth had been beautiful in an unusual sort of way. She wasn’t like the others who attended ball after ball during the Season. There was something fresh, unspoiled, about her.
The lines of her dress accentuated her thin build, and beneath the mask he could see how delicate her features were. But what he had found most entrancing about the girl was the fact that she was not afraid to have a conversation. It was clear that she had not been impressed or intimidated by him. There had even been a subtle hint of sarcasm in some of her comments, which reminded him of another recent encounter. Had he not seen the mark on her arm, he would never have put the two incidents together. But now it was all he could think about.
“Leo?” Arthur tried again.
“What?” He barely turned to acknowledge the question.
“Leopold!” Arthur spoke in a harsh tone.
Leo stared in surprise at his brother. “Is there a problem?”
“Yes, you, dear brother. It’s like you’re in another world. What is wrong with you?” Arthur shook his head with irritation. “I’ll ask you yet again: Do you know Elizabeth’s family?”
Leo turned from the fire and slouched into a chair, thrusting a long leg out to dangle over the arm. “No. I have no idea.” He closed his eyes and for what seemed the millionth time pictured the dirty little urchin he’d spoken to under the tree in the park. He focused on the strange marking he’d seen on the boy’s wrist. Swirls of black. Almost a Celtic design. Whatever the pattern, he’d seen the exact same marking tonight, when Wills had taken Elizabeth’s hand.
“Did you feel that earthquake this afternoon?” Arthur asked, changing the subject.
Leo scowled at him. “Are you sure that’s what it was? It only lasted a few seconds.”
“Enough to cause the chandeliers to sway in the Blue Drawing Room.” Arthur raised his eyebrows. “I saw it for myself, and believe me, it wasn’t a comfortable feeling watching those behemoths swaying above my head. I’d hate to have one of those crystal lights fall.” He pushed himself up in the chair and crossed his legs. “And then there was the freak storm down in Portsmouth last week. The sea rose without warning and flooded part of the city. Significant damage to the dockyards. The block mills suffered damage, too.” He looked over at Leo. “Some of our most important industrial areas.”
“Yes, I heard about it.”
“And, as Mamie predicted, Mother has taken a turn for the worse. She stayed at the ball for less than thirty minutes before retiring to her bed, yet again.” He stood up and walked toward Leo. He lowered his voice. “Do you think it has anything to do with the ring gone missing?”
Leo scowled at him. “Don’t start with me, Arthur. I’m not in the mood for your dire predictions tonight.”
Arthur shrugged. “I’m not making predictions. Simply sharing the day’s news. Record snowfall up in the Cotswolds, too. If it melts off too fast, it can cause the Thames to rise and parts of London are at risk for flooding.” He stared at Leo. “What has your man found out? Is there any news of the ring?”
“No!” Leo shouted. “We’ve questioned all the servants who might even remotely have access to the library, Harrison’s posted the handbills, but there’s been no word. No hint of anyone having knowledge of the ring’s whereabouts. He’s sent men out to talk to the pawnshop owners and some of the street thieves, but nobody claims to have seen it.”
He turned back and faced the fire, grinding his teeth in frustration. Did his mother’s illness and these strange twists of nature have something to do with the ring being unguarded?
“I saw Isabelle Cavendish dancing with Wills,” Arthur continued. “Any chance they might have an interest in one another?” His tone was lighter now, as if he were making an effort to find a noncontroversial topic. “It would do Wills good to find someone.”
At the mention of Wills, Leo jerked his head up. “That’s it! Wills was talking to Elizabeth. He might know who she is or how to find her.” He pushed himself out of the chair in excitement. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that before. Arthur, do you know, is he staying in town for a few days or do you think he’s heading back to his estate immediately?”
“Find Elizabeth?” Arthur gave him a surprised frown. “Why does it really matter? Though I do admit it’s a bit odd that she seemed to be unescorted and no one seems to know her name. But, you know how Wills is, very close to the vest about everything. One never knows what his plans might be until you see the whites of his eyes.” Arthur didn’t even attempt to stifle his yawn. “I am so tired.”
Leo debated whether to tell his brother his suspicion about the mark he had seen on Elizabeth’s wrist. But even as he considered the idea, he realized how idiotic it sounded. How could that dirty boy in the park and the beautiful girl at the ball possibly be the same person? And if by some leap of the fantastic they were, what did it mean?
He remembered Elizabeth’s curiosity about the ring. Could she somehow be involved with its disappearance?
Like a balloon that had lost its air, he sat down with a thump. It simply wasn’t possible. He massaged his forehead as though trying to erase any further deliberation of the mysterious Elizabeth from his mind.
“No,” he agreed, “it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. I suspect we will never see the girl again.”
Chapter Fifteen
SEVERAL days later, Tiki stood in Mr. Potts’s bookstore, browsing for a new book to borrow. “Gone to Balmoral?” she repeated in disbelief. “Scotland?”
“That’s where the royals go in the winter, missy, when they want to hunt for great stags.” Mr. Potts coughed a phlegmy gurgle as he reached up to scratch the top of his balding head. His thin, hunched shoulders were covered by an old olive sweater, the sleeves flopping over his arthritic hands as he rearranged and tidied his stacks of newspapers near his counter. “Did you bring the book back wot you borrowed t’other day?”
Tiki’s eyes darted to Mr. Potts’s face. She swung a leg over and perched on a stool behind the counter, trying to hide her guilty expression. “I’ll go get it in a bit.” She fingered the edge of the book in her hand. “Besides, I just finished it. How long will they be in Balmoral, do you s’pose?”
Potts shrugged, settling down on his old wooden
stool next to her. Behind him stretched several aisles of shelves, filled with books top to bottom. “A coupla weeks, most likely. Might spend Christmas up there.”
“A couple of weeks,” Tiki wailed, her shoulders sagging. That sounded like forever. Already her nighttime trip to the palace seemed like a far-fetched dream.
Mr. Potts gave her a sharp look. “Oh, fer the love of Pete, wot difference does it make t’you when the royals come an’ go?”
Tiki forced a laugh. “Oh, I was just hoping to catch sight of the queen in one of her grand carriages, you know,” she said. “See the pretty trimmings and all.” She fidgeted on her stool and stared out the paned windows that faced the station. How could she collect the reward if the royals weren’t even in residence?
Tiki heaved a sigh. For some reason, she was having a hard time just being Tiki again. Dirty clothes and light-fingering food wasn’t enough anymore. She had allowed herself to dream of something beyond pickpocketing the rich folks going through Charing Cross. She wanted something more for herself as well as for Clara, Shamus, and the others.
Restless, she hopped down from her stool.
“Go git my book,” Mr. Potts said in a gruff voice. “An’ remember the rules. Return one before you take another.”
“I won’t forget, Mr. Potts,” Tiki said. “I’ll bring it by later.” She exited the store and walked down the thoroughfare of the railway station, not in a hurry to go anywhere. With the royals gone, it would take that much longer to collect the reward and bring Clara home. Home to someplace other than an abandoned shop alongside a railway station.
Tiki glanced up at the big clock in the center of the station. One thirty. With a pang, she thought of Clara. She and Fiona had gone up to the hospital yesterday and visited. The little girl had looked so much better. She had color in her cheeks and had hardly coughed at all while they were there. Tiki smiled. Clara was going to get well. She was sure of it.
Spotting an empty bench, Tiki ambled over and sat down. She pulled a coin from her pocket and shuffled her fingers, letting the silver dance across her clean knuckles. Since the ball, she had started washing her hands and face every day. She’d even eyed some soap at the market and was thinking about washing her clothes. Yesterday, Mr. Potts had glanced at her, then looked again really quick, as if he’d caught some stranger dressed in her clothes. “Umphf,” was all he’d said. But at least he’d noticed, Tiki thought.
With a flick of her wrist, she made the coin disappear, hardly conscious of what she was doing. She needed to figure out her plan to claim the reward for the ring. What rotten luck that Leo and the royal family had left for Scotland. For just a moment, she let herself wonder what she would think of Leo if she came from money and moved in his circles. He would still be spoiled and royal, she decided.
“Better be careful who you show that trick to or people will think you’re a thief.”
Tiki jumped at the smooth voice in her ear and turned to find Rieker leaning over the back of the bench. His long, dark hair flopped over his forehead, shadowing his eyes. His lips curved in a mocking grin.
“Rieker,” Tiki said with dismay. “What are you doing here?”
“Tiki.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “You don’t sound happy to see me. You’re not still mad about that little chat we had, are you?” His eyes traced her face with a new sort of intensity, and Tiki was sure that he’d noticed she’d bathed, too. But instead of feeling pleased, she was embarrassed.
“What do you want?” She wished he would go away. “We can’t keep having the same conversation over and over.”
“Where’ve you been?” he asked. “I haven’t seen you for a few days. I thought maybe you’d started picking pockets in another part of town.”
“What does it matter to you?” She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “I thought King’s Cross was your turf. Why are you always down here?”
“Because I think you have the answer I seek, my little Tiki,” Rieker said. “That’s why.”
She turned her head away, trying to ignore the tugging inside at the way he spoke to her. His words had unexpectedly brought back memories of her father calling her “my little Tiki,” the nickname he had bestowed on her as a child. She felt weak with longing for something that couldn’t be.
“I don’t have the ring,” Tiki snapped. Might as well get right to it. For a second, she wondered what it would be like when Rieker wasn’t hunting her down anymore, trying to get information about the ring. Would she be happy when he was gone?
“Maybe not, but I’ve a feeling that you know where it is.” Rieker didn’t move. “I’m afraid for you, Tiki.” His voice was low and serious. Tiki’s eyes dropped to a dark stain coloring the sleeve of his jacket.
“What’s that?” Tiki pointed. Rieker followed her gaze and stepped back abruptly. Tiki grabbed his wrist. “You’re bleeding!”
The blood on her fingers felt warm and sticky. She pulled at his sleeve. He resisted, but she refused to release him.
She worked his sleeve up far enough to see a long gash stretched across his forearm. The wound was raw, and blood dripped freely from the cut. She looked at Rieker, aghast. “What happened? Who did this to you?” She twisted his wrist to examine the cut. “That needs to be cleaned and bandaged. You stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Tiki raced through the station back to the clockmaker’s shop. She slipped in through the sliding piece of wood and wiped her hands on an old cloth before she rummaged through their blankets, looking for anything from which she could tear several strips of relatively clean cloth.
Tiki went to the back wall and opened a cupboard. It wasn’t often that one of them got injured, but every once in a while a nail would catch somebody or a piece of glass would slice a finger. She grabbed the small bag of chamomile she’d nicked from a stall over in Covent Garden. She’d read a book from Mr. Potts’s shop once that had said a poultice made from chamomile wrapped in a damp cloth would take the red out of a cut.
She shoved the cloth and the herbs in her pocket and hurried back out into the station. As she approached the bench, Tiki slowed to a walk. Rieker was no longer there. She stopped and swiveled her head from side to side, looking for his tall silhouette and wild dark hair. But he was gone. How stupid can I be? Running off to help him, as if we were friends or something. Tiki shook her head. What a laugh he must be having right now.
“Looking for someone?” A soft voice came from behind her.
Tiki whipped around. “Rieker! Stop doing that. Why can’t you just walk up like a regular bloke, instead of scaring the daylights out of me all the time?”
“Who wants to be regular?” He laughed.
“Where did you go?” Tiki was suddenly uncomfortable. Was this a trick to find out where she lived?
Rieker shrugged. “Just for a walk. I don’t like to stay in one place for long.”
“Well, come over here and sit down so I can put something on that cut.” She pulled him over to the bench. “Pull your sleeve up.” She winced as she looked at the raw wound on his arm.
From inside her pocket Tiki pulled out several strips of cloth. “Don’t move.” She gave him a warning look before hurrying to a nearby water fountain. She dipped the cloth into the water and returned to the bench.
“Now tell me what happened.” She leaned down to examine the raw edges of the wound, grimacing at the depth of the cut. It looked as if a claw had ripped through his skin.
“They want the ring, Tiki. They think I know where it is.” He shrugged, but his eyes were serious. “It was more of a warning than anything, I think.”
Tiki dabbed the wet cloth on the cut, trying to clean the pus and dried blood away. “What do you mean, a warning?”
“The fey, Tiki.” Rieker’s voice was low. “They know the ring has been moved. They know the royals don’t know where it is. This is their golden opportunity to destroy the truce.”
“But why would they hurt you?”
“The UnSeelies thin
k I know something. I tried to walk away from one of them, and she stopped me.”
“She?” Tiki asked, horrified. “What’s she got, claws?”
“They can have or be whatever they want. They’re shape-shifters. They wear glamours to look human. When they’re angry, faeries are vicious. They can rip you to shreds with their hands or their teeth.”
Teeth? Tiki shuddered. They didn’t sound like faeries, they sounded like monsters.
“She thinks I know where it is.” Rieker flinched as Tiki pressed down too hard on the cut. “She’s frustrated that I won’t tell her anything, so she sent me a message.” He hesitated and Tiki looked up. “It would seem that my life lies in your hands.” He said the words lightly, but the intensity of his gaze was like a weight on her shoulders. “If you know where the ring is,” Rieker said softly, “you need to tell me.”
Tiki balanced the poultice on his arm, then pulled another long strip of cloth from her pocket and wrapped it around Rieker’s arm. Once the cut was covered, she tied the ends in a neat knot.
“Try to keep that on for a few days, just to give it enough time to heal a bit before it scabs over.” She rubbed her hands on her trousers.
Rieker twisted his wrist and moved his arm up and down. “Feels better already. Thank you, Tiki.”
Embarrassed, Tiki looked away. Rieker was making her feel guilty, if that was possible. Her eyes scanned the crowd in the large open area of the station. Was Rieker really in danger because of her? Her eyes stopped and backtracked. There, standing in a doorway not far from where she sat, was a face she recognized.
Marcus.
He didn’t try to hide from her. Instead he nodded at her in acknowledgment, his lips twisted in a grin that was somehow threatening. Tiki jerked her head away, her heart beating a rapid tattoo in her chest. How long had he been watching them? She thought of what Rieker had told her. Was Marcus interested in her because of the ring?
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