by Connie Mason
Even if it’s not me.
If he asked her now, she might accept. But later, when she considered the crown she’d given up, she could well resent Jonah. He wouldn’t take that chance. He could only hope she loved him enough not to be dazzled by a royal offer.
The marquis glared at him, as if his intent stare would ferret out the secrets of Jonah’s soul. “You should know, Sharp,” he finally said, “that I will not grant my daughter a dowry if she marries beneath her.”
“She’ll be marrying beneath her no matter who she chooses, so that doesn’t signify. I don’t want your money. I only want Serena.” Jonah bunched his fingers into fists. “I can provide for her abundantly. You may rest easy on that score.”
One of the marquis’s brows arched. The lord’s system of informants was reputedly so efficient, he could probably estimate Jonah’s yearly income to the nearest shilling. It wasn’t a prince’s living, but he was independently wealthy enough to treat Serena like royalty without financial help from her father.
“Are you sure you haven’t spoken to my daughter of your intentions? She has no idea?”
“No. I couldn’t speak to her because I gave my word I wouldn’t.”
“To whom?”
“To your wife.”
The marquis’s eyes went hard as the gray granite of the nearby castle ruins. “Do not presume you may use whatever you think you know to harm those I care about.”
“If I feel bound to honor my word to Miss Braithwaite, how can you imagine I’d bring her harm?”
Some of the grit went out of his expression. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t. That’s something they told me about you. Women and children were sacrosanct.”
Now it was Jonah’s turn to feel off balance. Only one group of people would have known about Jonah’s strictures regarding the treatment of the fair sex and children. Lord Wyndleton raised a hand to indicate that Jonah should sit. Jonah sank into the chair opposite the marquis’s desk.
“What you are about to hear must never leave this room,” Lord Wyndleton said.
Jonah nodded his assent.
“For some time now you have been in the employ of the Triad. For many reasons, the identity of your employers has remained a mystery to you. However, as you may have surmised, I make up one third of that body of His Majesty’s most loyal supporters. One of the members died unexpectedly, and I was chosen to replace him. I have only been part of the group for the last fortnight, but I have been thoroughly briefed on all our operatives.”
“Then you know I have not taken a commission from the Triad for some time.”
Lord Wyndleton shrugged. “I have one now I feel certain you’ll accept.”
“I intend to marry your daughter, sir. I can no longer act as your assassin, however noble your motives for ordering the elimination of certain persons may be.”
“Hear me out.” The marquis raised an imperious hand. “When you were serving in France, you led your men in a battle near the village of Maubeuge. It was a disastrous defeat, and you and some of the other officers were blamed. There was even a whiff of treason hovering about your names. I made it my business to learn the particulars.”
The marquis steepled his hands on the desk before him and gazed coolly at Jonah. “My factors tell me that someone made sure you received faulty reconnaissance information.”
Jonah released the breath he’d been holding. Finally, someone in authority believed him and his friends innocent.
“We had identified a Sgt. Leatherby who was willing to testify to that,” Jonah said. “Unfortunately, he has taken ship for Boston.”
Lord Wyndleton waved a hand. “It is of no consequence. Why settle for the testimony of a common foot soldier when a peer of the realm is on your side? We have identified the person responsible for delivering the flawed reports to you prior to the battle. It was Fortescue Alcock.”
Jonah gripped the arms of the chair hard. “Hundreds of men died needlessly. Why would he do such a thing?”
“Just as members of the Triad take the long view on such matters, Mr. Alcock has his own plans. No doubt he thought having three capable young men such as you, Warrington, and Colton under his thumb was worth sacrificing all those lives.” The marquis took a key from his waistcoat pocket and opened a locked desk drawer. He took out a much folded piece of parchment. “We learned of Alcock’s plot to end the line of the House of Hanover by thwarting the royal dukes in their quest for brides.”
“Then you’ve also learned that he assigned me to your daughter. I was supposed to seduce and ruin her.” Jonah leaned forward. “Instead, I fell in love with her. I’d sooner cut out my own heart than harm her.”
If she accepted the duke’s suit, cutting out his heart would probably hurt less.
“Your attachment to Lady Serena is not the topic under discussion at present. However,” Lord Wyndleton said grudgingly, “I am disposed to believe you.” The marquis handed the paper to Jonah, which both named the man to be removed and absolved the assassin of any guilt in the act so far as the law of the land was concerned. “This is your final assignment for us. Fortescue Alcock must be eliminated. The succession of kings is in God’s hands, not a measly Member of Parliament’s.”
Jonah thought the marquis risked a few lightning bolts by ordering an execution while at the same time calling on the Almighty’s aid in arranging the royal succession. But this was one assignment he couldn’t pass up. Mr. Alcock had made Jonah’s friends’ lives miserable. He put Jonah into a situation where he had to choose between his family’s welfare and the woman he loved. And most of all, the blood of all the men who died at Maubeuge were on Fortescue Alcock’s skeletal hands. Jonah pocketed the order.
“Consider it done, sir.”
“Now about my daughter—” The marquis was interrupted by rapid banging on the door. “Come, confound it!”
Mr. Honeywood stepped inside the study, wringing his hands and hanging his head sheepishly. “Begging your pardon, my lord, but there’s someone asking to see—”
“Not now, Honeywood. Can’t you see I’m busy?”
The butler tugged at his collar. “The caller isn’t wishing to speak to you, my lord. They’re here for Sir Jonah.”
Jonah said nothing. Until the marquis gave him leave, good manners dictated that he not respond.
“It’s about the Lady Serena,” Honeywood said with a ragged edge to his voice that almost sounded like hysteria.
Good manners be damned.
Jonah rose to his feet and gave the marquis a curt nod. “I will return when I’ve fulfilled your commission.” Then he started toward the door.
“Sir Jonah.”
He stopped and turned back to face Serena’s father.
“You gave your word on another matter to someone else. I consider that pledge as made to me as well.”
“As do I.” No matter how tempted he was, he couldn’t speak his heart to Serena till she made her decision regarding the duke’s suit. As much as it rankled his soul, it was the only way to be sure she would be happy with her choice. He didn’t want to be simply another option for her.
He wanted to be her only option.
Once the study door closed behind him, Mr. Honeywood urged him to haste. “His lordship is exceedingly liberal in his policies, but even he might take umbrage at this sort of person turning up at his kitchen door.”
“Who’s asking to see me?” Jonah said as he strode after the scurrying butler.
“A gypsy woman. She says her name is Nadya, and she refuses to leave the premises until she speaks to—and I quote—the tall man who knows horseflesh better than people. Since you’ve been inspecting his lordship’s herd, I assumed…”
Jonah lengthened his stride. After Serena’s visit to the gypsy woman, she was different. He could only assume the woman had said something to unnerve her, and there were few enough souls in the world who could do that.
Jonah plowed through the manor house’s extensive kitchen and found Nadya sitting
on the small stoop outside the back door. Eyes closed, her brown face was tipped upward to soak up the pale March sun.
“You wish to speak to me,” he said.
Her dark eyes fluttered open. “Ah. The horseman. Good. I have seen something.”
Jonah frowned down at her. She must have been skulking about spying on the people at Wyndebourne. Honeywood was right. The marquis would not take kindly to such goings on.
“What have you seen?”
“Not with my eyes, you understand.” The woman rose and began to walk away from the imposing manor house. Jonah was forced to follow after signaling to Honeywood to remain where he was by the back door. “This thing I have seen in the Hall of Dreams. Not once, but three times, so it is confirmed.”
“How much will it cost me?” Gypsies were always willing to tell people whatever they wished to hear and charged them royally for the privilege.
“Because it touches a lady’s safety, I will tell you now, and later you can decide what my words are worth.”
“Serena’s safety, you mean?”
“Assuredly. Have I not said so?”
Not really, but Jonah didn’t see the profit in arguing with her. “Go on and I’ll deal fairly with you.”
The woman shot him a wry grin. “If I did not believe you would, I would not offer you my help.” Her smile faded. “In my visions, I see the lady. She is in a place she loves and feels safe, but she is not. There is one there who will do her harm.”
“Who is it?”
She shook her head, setting her dark curls jiggling. “One who is unknown to me, but in the Hall of Dreams, I sensed he is well known to you. This person has already dealt you a grievous blow, you and your friends.”
“Alcock.”
“It may be,” Nadya said. “The spirits, they do not trouble to tell me his name. Only the condition of his heart, which is black as a moonless night.”
Then between one step and the next, the gypsy woman collapsed in a shuddering heap to the ground. Her back arched. Her eyes rolled back into her head, leaving only the whites showing, and her mouth was drawn in the rictus of a silent scream.
Jonah knelt beside her but was at a loss for what to do to help her. Fortunately, after only a few heartbeats, she stopped convulsing and closed her eyes. Nadya drew a deep breath and snaked up a bony hand to grasp the front of his shirt. Her eyes flew open wide.
“Now. It is happening now. You must go to her.”
“Where?”
“In the place where she feels safe.” The woman struggled back to her feet. Whatever toll the fit she suffered exacted from her, at least she seemed able to shake off its effects quickly. “The place where she played as a child.”
The castle ruins. With all the crumbling stones and the desolation of the place, there were any number of ways Alcock could arrange for Serena to have an accident there.
“Fly,” Nadya urged, and Jonah took to his heels.
Thirty
In a surprising turnabout, it has come to our ears that an emissary from a certain royal duke has been dispatched to the Continent as well as one to a peer of the realm’s country house. What the significance of this could be, we are at a loss to explain.
Could it be the duke feels the need to hedge his bets and offer for both of the ladies to whom he’s been known to direct his attention? Such a thing ought to be unheard of, but to our knowledge there’s never been an opportunity to put one’s progeny on the throne like this before, either.
We wait on pins for the outcome.
From Le Dernier Mot,
The Final Word on News That Everyone
Who Is Anyone Should Know
Serena hobbled her mare in the shallow grassy depression that used to be the castle moat and left her to graze. Then she wandered through the bones of the old ruin, placing a hand on the stones here and there as if that might enable her to hear its ponderous thoughts. Surely something that had stood as long as these gray granite slabs must contain some wisdom from prior generations of Osbournes.
She was in desperate need of it.
All she need do to please her father was agree to the duke’s offer. Unlike her list of forbidden pleasures, which now seemed like a distant lark, an ascent into royalty would be a different sort of adventure, one in which she had no control of either her person or her actions. The only strawberry in that repressive situation was that there was every chance she would become the mother of a future sovereign.
But she’d have no life of her own, no free choices at all.
Of course, she’d made rather a muddle of her life by making her own choices. Serena ran her list of pleasures through her mind. They’d been diverting and mildly exciting, but none of them had given her lasting joy. A few had even turned out to be rather unpleasant.
Even the last one, the one she’d never had the courage to commit to paper—Item eight: Lie with a man for no other reason than because I want to—had failed her in the end.
One night of loving with Jonah would never be enough.
But he didn’t give any indication he wanted to have her in his bed on a permanent basis. He’d never even said he loved her, much less offered her marriage.
The idea of a loveless match, however glittering by the world’s standards, was abhorrent. If she didn’t wed the duke, she’d have only the long march of days as a spinster to look forward to, along with the added burden of knowing she’d disappointed her father beyond remedy.
She climbed the stone stairs to the top of the curtain wall slowly, as if her legs were leaden. The wind freshened when she stepped alongside the stone parapet. Maybe it would send her fresh thoughts.
Instead it must have covered another person’s quiet tread. She didn’t hear Mr. Alcock’s advance until he was within ten feet of her.
“Oh.” She put a hand to her chest when she caught sight of him, mildly alarmed. “You gave me a start.”
“My apologies, milady,” he said, his words rolling out in that oily cadence only politicians can manage. “It seems I’ve interrupted your musings. I suppose you do have a good bit to ponder since word about Wyndebourne is that you have received a proposal from the royal duke.”
“You should know better than to listen to rumor.” All Jonah’s warnings about the man and how he wished to stop her from just such a match flooded back into her.
“Rumor is mother’s milk to one such as I,” he said, spreading his hands in an attempt at a self-deprecating gesture designed to put her at ease. It failed miserably. Every fiber of her being was on high alert. “For argument’s sake, suppose you did receive such an offer. What would be your answer?”
“I’d hardly tell you before I told my father.”
“So you haven’t given an answer then.”
She edged away from him a step or two, but he followed. “This is none of your business.”
“On the contrary, whether or not the House of Hanover continues its reign over our land is the business of every forward-thinking Englishman,” Alcock said with such vehemence that spittle bubbled at the corner of his mouth. “The Hanoverians have squandered the wealth and prestige of our nation.”
Fear shuddered through her. If Alcock was wild enough to speak so openly of treason, the man might be capable of anything. She needed to mollify him somehow.
“If it makes you feel any better, sir, I have decided to turn down an offer from the royal duke…should one be forthcoming, of course.”
She hadn’t actually made the decision till the words spilled from her lips, but now that they hovered in the air, she knew it was the right thing to do. She loved Jonah Sharp, whether or not he loved her back. She couldn’t marry anyone but him, not even a prince.
And if Jonah never asked her, she’d simply die alone.
“Well, now,” Mr. Alcock said, “isn’t that convenient? You’ve told me exactly what I want to hear. If you’d been born a man, I’d say you had a future in politics, my lady.”
She continued to back away from him, but
there were a few places on the narrow walkway where the stone had fallen away, and she didn’t dare move quickly. “I’ve told you the truth.”
“That’s as may be, but I find I cannot rely upon merely your word. You might change your mind. Women are prone to doing that in my experience.” He leaped forward, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. The fellow was quicker and stronger than he looked. He snatched her close in an iron grasp. “Now if Sharp had only lived up to his bargain, you’d be sadder but wiser with your reputation in ruins, but at least you’d still be alive.” He made a tsking sound. “However, now you won’t be.”
Then he punched her in the face. Stars reeled behind her eyes, and her vision narrowed to a long dark tunnel before winking out completely.
***
By a trick of acoustics, Jonah heard snippets of voices coming from the ruin long before he broke out of the surrounding trees. He couldn’t see Serena on the curtain wall, so he dismounted and moved closer to the gray stone on foot.
“What are you going to do?” Jonah heard her asking.
“Oh, it’s not what I’m going to do. It’s what you will,” Alcock said. “Distraught over your choice, you have decided to end it all, just like Judas, in a headlong plunge from these ramparts.”
His heart pounding like a cannon volley, Jonah crept up the stone steps. He’d faced a French cavalry charge. He’d been in countless duels that might have gone either way, but he’d never known this gut-strangling knot of fear before. If anything happened to Serena…
“I’d never do something so silly, however distraught I might be. My family knows me better than that. No one will be fooled.” Serena’s voice was forced but even.
God love her, she’s trying to talk a man out of murdering her.
“They’ll believe it when they find you hanging here. They’ll be too wild with grief to question it. With any luck, your father will blame himself and follow suit.” Alcock loosed a simpering giggle. “Once your young cousin Roland succeeds Lord Wyndleton, he’ll be nothing to face down in the House of Lords. You must take heart that your death will help speed the end of the Tories. Possibly even of the monarchy itself.”
