by C. J. Archer
But this man didn't scare me. He never could. I knew him, the good and the bad, and I knew those dark passions would never overrule him to the point where he'd hurt me. Others, perhaps, but never me.
Yet sometimes I suspected he scared himself by releasing them. Like now.
I kissed him back just as fiercely, to prove that I didn't fear him, and just because I wanted to. I cradled his head, stood on my toes, and arched into him. I welcomed his passion, wishing I could absorb the darkness but knowing I could not. It throbbed through me as it throbbed through him, wild and strong. Mad. Perhaps that's what it was, a kind of madness that we both felt on occasion. It was certainly difficult to think clearly with my blood racing and my mind reeling and his lips claiming me.
Finally the kiss gentled and he pulled away, the darkness once again safely locked up. A remnant of it swirled in his eyes and in his fingers, massaging my waist so hard he was in danger of putting a hole in me.
I touched his cheek and smiled up at him. "Say something," I said.
He shook his head. Because he had nothing to say or because he was afraid his voice would tremble? He backed away and lowered his head. Strands of black hair fell across his face, hiding his eyes.
"Swinburn will keep his end of the bargain," I assured him. "He's just as afraid of your wrath as you are of him harming your family."
He looked at me through his hair. His mouth opened then he shut it again. He turned and strode away. "I'm proud of you, Charlie. The truce was a good idea."
I picked up my skirts and trotted after him. When I fell into step alongside him, I took his hand. He squeezed and his thumb stroked mine. He was proud of me, of that I was certain, and he did think the truce was a good idea. Yet he was troubled. He'd been afraid for me and he hated that. He saw it as a weakness.
Last time he'd been afraid for me, he'd sent me away for safekeeping at the school. Back then, he hadn't recognized his fear or his love. Now, I only hoped he'd progressed enough to curb the instinct to send me away from the danger. From him.
The inevitable meeting with the committee occurred the following morning in the library. Lincoln had delayed it as long as possible, hoping to hear back from the Prince of Wales first. He sent a letter to him the evening before, apprising him of events, theories and the truce. The prince's response had not arrived by the time the committee meeting began.
"Sir Ignatius Swinburn is not involved," Lady Harcourt spat. "This is absurd. Slanderous!"
"Sit down, Julia," Lord Marchbank bellowed. "Hear them out."
Lady Harcourt did not sit down. She paced the carpet, showing off her fine figure and full bosom to best effect with her heaving breaths. I suspected that was the reason why she paced past Lincoln and Seth most of all. They happened to be standing next to one another, having both stood when Lady Harcourt shot to her feet. They were nothing if not gentlemanly, preferring not to sit when a lady in their presence did not.
"I'm leaving," she suddenly announced.
"Gus," Lincoln said.
Gus moved in front of the door, blocking her exit.
"How dare you!" she railed at him.
Gus settled his feet apart. "Sorry, ma'am."
She whirled around and threw herself onto a chair. Her skirts puffed up and her bustle was crushed behind her, but she didn't seem to care.
"Bloody women and their hysteria," Gillingham muttered. "Shouldn't be allowed in these meetings."
Lady Harcourt's glare would have pierced him if it were made of steel.
"If you'll listen to the evidence," Seth said to her, "you'll come to agree with our conclusions."
She sniffed and turned her face away.
Lincoln allowed Seth to report on everything we'd learned since our Isle of Wight expedition. He left nothing out, and made a good account of our conclusions. He finished with details of the truce.
"A truce!" Gillingham threw his hands in the air. Since he still held the walking stick, it was fortunate he didn't knock over the vase of flowers on the table nearest him. "Fitzroy, have you gone mad?"
"It was the best outcome," Lincoln said.
"Not mad, soft." Gillingham eyed me, as if he knew the truce was something I brokered. "You should have killed Swinburn."
"He would have shot Charlie before I could draw or attack," Lincoln said.
Gillingham smirked, as if that was hardly something worth worrying about.
"I would have killed him," Lincoln went on. "But his pack would have killed me and my men. They're stronger than us and outnumber us. The truce was the only way out and the only way forward."
"Agreed," Marchbank said. "Are you sure you can trust Swinburn to keep it?"
"We have to."
Marchbank's lips flattened in thought.
"He'll come here and kill you all in your beds," Gillingham said. "Mark my words."
Lady Harcourt whimpered. "Stop it. Stop this talk at once. The man you're describing is not the man I know. He's ambitious, yes, but he's attentive and generous."
"Do be quiet, Julia," Gillingham said. "Stay out of this until you come to your senses and see that Swinburn is a danger."
"He's not a danger!"
"How do you know? Because he prefers to fornicate with you rather than kill you? You do know you're not the only woman warming his bed."
Her nostrils flared and her top lip peeled back from her teeth.
"Don't talk to a lady like that in my house," Lincoln said, his rich voice rumbling through the library.
Gillingham huffed out a humorless laugh and crossed one leg over the other.
"Fitzroy's right," Marchbank said. "That was uncalled for. Your behavior to the other members of this committee has been appalling these last few months, Gilly. As senior member, I'm ordering you to be civil from now on. You're not so important that you can't be thrown out."
Gillingham spluttered a protest but quieted with a single sharp glare from Lincoln. Lincoln was still angry, and Gillingham must have realized that he would only bring that anger down on himself if he continued.
"What of the relationship between the young Prince Albert Victor and Leonora Ballantine?" Lord Marchbank asked, thankfully returning the meeting to its original agenda.
"The Prince of Wales has put a stop to them seeing one another," Lincoln said. "There'll be no more contact between her and Prince Eddy."
"How can you be sure? If the man's in love with her, nothing will keep him away."
"He knows that she was in love with another the entire time," I said. "He realizes he was duped and that she had a part in duping him. That dampened his ardor considerably."
"I don't doubt it."
"That's women for you," Gillingham said, rubbing his palm over the head of his walking stick.
Lady Harcourt turned ice-cold eyes onto him. "Just because your wife tricked you into her bed doesn't mean all women are devious. Oh, wait." Her lips curved into a seductive, beautiful, and utterly cruel smile. "Or did she use her wolf strength to ravish you?"
Gillingham shot to his feet, his face crimson. He raised his walking stick but Lincoln caught Gillingham's wrist before he could strike her.
"What?" Marchbank frowned at Lady Harcourt then Gillingham. "What's this about wolf strength?"
"Julia!" Seth warned. "Don't."
It wasn't so much that she was alluding to Harriet being a shape changer that interested me. It was that she was in possession of the knowledge in the first place. Had Swinburn told her? Why would the subject have come up between them?
"Seth will see you out now," Lincoln said to Gillingham.
Seth grabbed Gillingham's arm and marched him to the door. Gus stepped aside and let them pass. Gillingham didn't appear too fazed to be thrown out.
"Thank you, Lincoln," Lady Harcourt said breathily. She touched her temples and swayed in the chair. "I feel quite faint from the excitement. I cannot believe Gilly would be so violent. Would you mind escorting me home? I'm afraid for my safety."
"You'll be fine," Li
ncoln said, turning his back on her. "He wouldn't dare strike you." He poured a brandy at the sideboard and handed her the tumbler.
She accepted it but not before blinking pathetically at him. She had quite a nerve, flirting with him in my presence. Or perhaps she knew she had nothing to lose since I already despised her and she me.
Seth returned, dusting off his hands as if he'd just thrown out the rubbish.
Lord Marchbank thanked him. "Gilly's temper is getting worse."
"Because he has no control at home anymore." Lady Harcourt threw back the contents of her glass. "So he tries to take control elsewhere, like here. Especially here."
"It seems I'm the only who doesn't know what you're alluding to," Marchbank said darkly. "Go on, out with it."
"Julia," Seth warned again. "It's not our business."
"Harriet is a shape changer," she said.
Marchbank sank into his chair and rubbed his scarred jaw. "Well. That explains a few things about Gillingham's behavior of late, toward the ladies in particular. Why wasn't I told, Fitzroy?"
"It wasn't necessary." Lincoln addressed Marchbank but kept his gaze on Lady Harcourt. She shifted her weight and toyed with the lace collar of her dress. "How do you know about it?" he asked her.
"That is none of your affair," she said with a sniff.
"It is."
"You gave up the right to ask questions about my personal life when you walked out of it."
"This is not personal, it's ministry business."
"Oh?" she said with sickening sweetness. "Then why wasn't the entire committee made aware of Harriet's condition? You can't have it both ways, Lincoln."
He slammed his hand down on the table near her. We all jumped. Lady Harcourt paled. "How did you find out about it?" he ground out.
She sat straight, her shoulders back, her eyes flashing. "You know very well that I have my own sources of information separate from the ministry ones. You'll have to torture me if you want more than that. Now," she said crisply. "The reason I haven't walked out yet is that I need to inform the committee of my intentions to change my will."
"Your last will and testament has nothing to do with us," Marchbank said.
"The part about the heir who will take over my position on the committee does."
"It won't be Buchanan?"
"No. I've thrown him out of the house and I wish to cut him out of my life altogether. That's what one does with tumors."
"Didn't your husband's will stipulate he could stay there as long as he wanted?" Seth asked.
"It does, which is why I expect him to return, unfortunately. In the meantime he has gone to live with Donald and Marguerite at Emberly Park."
"Bloody hell," Seth said with a shake of his head. "Is that a good idea, considering Marguerite's delicate mind? Not to mention her affection for Andrew and the fact the Buchanan brothers hate each other."
She lifted one shoulder. "They can kill one another, for all I care. Perhaps that will solve all my problems."
"Who will you nominate to replace you on the committee if you should die?" Lord Marchbank asked.
"Seth."
Seth blinked.
The clock on the mantel chimed and she gathered up her reticule. "I must go, but one last warning, Lincoln. Do not accuse Sir Ignatius of anything. He's innocent."
Lincoln strode to the door, opened it, and waited for her to leave.
Seth, however, rose to the bait. "You're biased, Julia. Your self-interest in this matter is clear to everyone in this room."
"You're just jealous, Seth dear. You always have been jealous of my other lovers."
"Not for a long time, Julia. Seeing you for the person you really are has been a liberating experience. It's as if a noose has been removed from around my neck."
She headed for the door, her stiff skirts snapping at her ankles with her purposeful strides.
"Swinburn is pack leader," Seth said to her back. "He is as guilty of Protheroe's murder as Franklin, and you'd better remember that or you might find yourself in danger."
"I'm in no danger from him. He adores me."
"He hides it well. The last time I saw you two together, he showed no more interest in you than any other woman. Perhaps because you're not a shape changer."
She rounded on him, her nostrils flaring like a raging bull's. "How dare you!" she screeched. If he'd been any closer, she would have slapped him.
"How dare you, Julia." Seth stabbed a finger in her direction and bared his teeth. I'd never seen him so angry. She'd pushed him over the edge this time. "As a committee member, you ought to have the ministry's best interests at heart, instead of your own. Lately you seem to have forgotten that. If we find out that you told Swinburn about Leisl or anything else related to Fitzroy and the ministry, you will be removed from the committee."
Her lips flattened, a severe red streak across pale skin. "You get ahead of yourself, Seth dear. Until, and indeed if, you inherit the committee position from me, you're just Lincoln's lackey. You can't threaten me with anything."
"But I can," Lincoln said. "Seth is correct. If you reveal anything to Swinburn, being removed from the committee will be the least of your concerns."
Her throat worked with her swallows, and she folded her arms as if warding off a chill. "Empty threats, Lincoln," she said, rallying. "That's all you've got now, just threats we all know you won't follow through on. Not now that she has filed down your edges. Edges that made you the powerful man you once were. Now you're just an ordinary man with an ordinary life. How dull you've become."
Her gaze slid to me beneath lowered lashes. I stiffened but didn't shy away. She didn't frighten me.
"That's enough, Julia," Marchbank barked. He grabbed her arm and marched her out of the library into the entrance hall where Doyle handed out coats and hats as if nothing were amiss.
"Do be careful, Lincoln," she tossed over her shoulder. "Sir Ignatius is not someone you can accuse without repercussions." She shook off Lord Marchbank's grip and let herself out the front door.
"The gall of her," Seth bit off. "She can't be allowed to get away with helping Swinburn under our very noses."
"We can't be certain she is the one who gave him the information," I said. "I think she's overplaying his regard for her, for one thing."
"Which is exactly why we must be careful. She's desperate enough to win his attention that she'll give him whatever information he wants."
"She wouldn't betray us," I said. For one thing, I still believed she cared too much about Lincoln to want any real harm to befall him.
Lord Marchbank stood by the door and flipped up his coat collar. "Vickers is correct. She is desperate, and desperate people do things a normal person would not. I believe her capable of anything, right now. Be careful, Fitzroy. Keep an eye on her."
Chapter 17
Lincoln gathered the entire household together over an informal luncheon in the dining room, including Doyle and Cook but excluding the other servants, and informed them all that Lady Harcourt could no longer be trusted. "Anything you hear within these walls cannot be repeated to her," he said.
Lady Vickers patted the corner of her mouth with her napkin. "I always knew she would be the agent of her own downfall. Horrid woman."
"Indeed," Alice said. "To think that she would care so much about money and position to betray her friends."
"We are in agreement for once, Alice," Lady Vickers said. "She ought to know better at her age."
"She has no friends here, and I doubt she ever did," Seth said quietly.
Gus snorted. "You've changed your tune from a few months back."
Seth gave a desperate half shake of his head. Fortunately Alice seemed not to notice but his mother did.
"Oh, Seth," she muttered, pulling a face.
Seth shot me a pleading look, but I didn't have the heart to help him out of his sticky situation. It was time Alice learned of his past anyway, even if it was painful to hear. He couldn't hide it from her forever, not if he
wanted a future with her.
She lifted her brows but did not ask for more information. I suspected that would come later.
"Lady Harcourt ain't going to get no more nice cakes from me," Cook said, picking apart his sandwich and removing the ham. "Ain't too many on the committee I want to feed no more, only you and Marchbank, sir."
"We won't invite them to dine," I assured him. "Only Lord and Lady Marchbank, from time to time, but not on ministry business."
Doyle had refused to sit or eat and he now asked if he could be excused to oversee the staff. Lincoln let him go.
Lincoln seemed to have calmed down somewhat since the meeting, but I could still detect anger simmering beneath the surface, and probably worry, too.
Doyle returned with a letter for Lincoln. It bore the royal seal. We all leaned forward as he opened it and scanned the contents.
"It's from the Prince of Wales," he announced, passing it to me. "In response to my letter informing him of our investigation."
"He still refuses to believe that Swinburn is involved," I said, shaking my head. "How can he be so blind in the face of the latest evidence?"
"How can Swinburn be so convincing?" Gus said. "He's got a hold on His Majesty, that's for sure."
"His Highness," Seth corrected. "Majesty is for kings and queens, highness is for princes and princesses."
"Who bloody cares? None of 'em are here so it don't matter. I can call him His Nibs if I want."
"You can not," Lady Vickers bit back.
Gus muttered an apology.
"I wonder if it's more the Duke of Edinburgh's influence," I said, re-reading part of the letter. "It says here that the duke thinks the ministry is pointless and we're merely stirring up trouble. How can he think that?"
"As long as the Prince of Wales doesn't think it, it doesn't matter," Seth said. "He's more superior."
