by L Rollins
His brow creased and he moved up beside her. “Why? You helped uncover the culprit. Conques will be forever in your debt.”
How did she explain? “But that wasn’t me.” She rubbed her eyes with a hand. “I should have thought to circumvent Victor’s poisoning, but I didn’t. Inez did that. I never once thought it could be Martha, not until Claude and Victor brought up her name. I never learned any of the stuff everyone else did.” She shook her head. “I don’t think I did much of anything.”
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her close. Leila wormed her arms under his coat and around his back, burying her face in his chest. She didn’t feel like crying, more like screaming or punching something. But his warmth eased the anger she felt toward herself.
“You did your best,” he said, his voice rumbling against her.
Her fist clenched tight, wadding the fabric of his shirt inside. “I don’t want to do my best, I want to do enough. Enough to help people, enough to solve the problem.”
He silently rubbed her back, letting her rant.
“I tried so many times,” she said. “Over and over, I thought through the problem. I looked into the factory. I followed Fowler for days on end. I got close enough to Claude he even introduced me to his sister.” She let out a frustrated, unladylike grunt. “And none of it led anywhere.”
She rested more fully against him. He smelled good, like he always did. Leila let go of the wads of his shirt inside her fists and instead hugged him back. What she wouldn’t give to have this every day, to be able to count on his support when life grew rocky.
Seeming to sense she was done, Samuel spoke, though he didn’t lessen his hold on her. “You will always come out on top, mon coeur, because you do one thing better than anyone else I know.”
She laughed her disagreement.
“I’m serious.” He pulled back, forcing her to look up at him. Samuel tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “Those who are strong are always applauded, until someone beats them in fisticuffs. The smart and witty are always admired, until someone outsmarts them. Everyone is eager for a rich man’s attention, until he loses his fortune to gambling, or they meet someone with even more to spend. But you have the one thing that can never be beat.”
Despite herself, her lips twitched up in an almost-smile. He was probably exaggerating to make her feel better. But she couldn’t deny that it was working.
“You, ma belle, are brilliant at seeing all the possibilities and evaluating a sound course of action.”
A small bud of peace warmed her inside. “It’s only too bad none of my sound courses of action led anywhere.”
He lowered his head closer, until his nose brushed against hers and their foreheads rested against each other. The peace she’d felt ignited into a much stronger, headier feeling.
“It brought you to me,” he whispered. His lips dropped to hers.
The kiss was light, the question of her accepting his advancement like a thin gossamer between them. But, right or wrong, she wanted this. Leila pulled him in closer, her hands snaking up to his neck and the ends of his hair. He deepened the kiss with her. It was safety and understanding and excitement and thrill all mixed into one.
He cupped her cheek, his mouth still moving over hers, and she felt as much as heard him growl his want for more.
But she couldn’t.
Reality hit and shattered about her. Leila ducked her head down and away, her hands going to his chest. Not pushing him away, but not allowing them to continue, either.
Samuel sighed. “I’m sorry. I promised you—”
“It’s my fault,” she said softly. “I . . .” She didn’t know how to finish the sentence. Instead, her hands began to trail over the buttons on his shirt.
His smile came back, a bit wild and quite inviting, as he leaned in close and kissed her beneath her ear. “If you want me to stop”—he took hold of one of her hands where it played with a button—“you shouldn’t do that.”
Oh, if only she could stay here, pressed up close to him. “Samuel, there’s something you don’t know.” She hadn’t escaped the confines of the castle solely because Martha had been arrested. “I spoke with Victor a few moments ago.”
Samuel pulled back slightly, his hand resting against the tree behind her. “And?”
She closed her eyes. In a moment all this would end. After she told him, he’d never kiss her again; he would probably never so much as consent to be alone with her again. Gracious, that kiss had been so heavenly. Who would have guessed that being in love could be this life altering?
Leila opened her eyes. She could see the love he had for her reflected in his face. Heavens have mercy, this was something far more than any of her sisters had ever experienced, she was certain. They had fancied themselves in love, but they had also admitted that they were infatuated with the man’s money and status, and they certainly weren’t willing to be with a man who would put their own social standing at risk.
Yet, Samuel had none of those things. No money, no status, and, yes, if her close association with him was made known to her friends and family back home it would most certainly tarnish her.
But she didn’t care. She would gladly give it all up if only she could have him.
None of that mattered. She’d pledged herself to Her Majesty and to keeping England safe. She couldn’t back out of that now. And so, she could never have Samuel.
“Victor received a missive from London.” She swallowed hard. “My assignment in Conques is complete.” Her voice dropped yet softer. “And my next one is to commence immediately.”
She was glad when he didn’t stand up straight, didn’t pull away. “What’s your next assignment?” he choked out, his voice equally soft, though laced with a hesitant dread.
Leila lifted her chin. She would face this assignment as she had ever other obstacle in the past, with courage and a level-headed mind. “To be the wife of Count Van Hagen.”
His jaw dropped, but Samuel said nothing.
She hurried on. If only getting the words out quicker would make them burn less. “I am to return to London for a week or two more of training, and then I will be sent to Germany, for . . . an indeterminate length of time.”
His arms wound around her again, and, standing straight, he hugged her once more, kissing the top of her head. “Won’t you please stay with me?”
His gentle question cut like a knife in her heart. “I wish more than anything that I could.”
He nodded. “I understand.” Cupping her face in both hands, he kissed her forehead. “Mon coeur, you are the most amazing woman I have ever known. You are brilliant and attentive and brave. It would be wrong to ask you to stop being those things simply because I also want you with me.”
He thumbed a tear off her cheek. Was she crying? She hadn’t realized she was.
“Go to Germany,” he said. “You will no doubt save many people there.”
The sight of him before her blurred. She was crying. Holy gears above, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. This sharp, biting pain that ran through her chest . . . she wasn’t prepared.
“Promise you won’t forget me?” she asked, then bit down on her bottom lip to keep it from trembling.
“Not in a million years,” he answered firmly, and kissed the top of her head once more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
LEILA STOOD WITH luggage at her feet and gloves on her hands, awaiting Claude’s driver to load her and her few belongings into the carriage.
Her gaze strayed out, across the front lawn and toward the small town. She’d been in Conques nearly eight months. At times it had seemed to drag on. But, now, it felt as though time was slipping through her fingers like coarse sand.
She wanted to stay.
She ached to stay.
But London had sent her orders and everyone—Victor, Inez, Claude, even Samuel—all agreed she had to obey. She was good at being a spy. At least, good at being an informant. Somehow, she didn’t feel be
ing married off to a German count would give her much opportunity to do little more than send messages back home now and then.
Leila pulled herself up. She had known this would happen when she first signed on. And had wholeheartedly agreed to it. Just because she’d met someone, even someone incredibly wonderful, didn’t mean she could go back on her word. And Samuel was right. If she walked away now, she would regret it. She would always wonder about the victims she could have saved.
Only two nights ago Natalie had passed and the following day, yesterday, Martha had been arrested. Leila knew no more than that, but felt certain Conques was on its way to healing. She’d had a hand, small though it was, in helping these people here.
There would, no doubt, be people in Germany who would need her, too. She hadn’t met them yet, but she couldn’t turn her back on them. They were waiting for her.
“All’s ready, mademoiselle,” the driver said with a polite nod. “’N Monsieur as instructed I stay with ye until ye be’n safely aboard your airship. So no need to worry ‘bout nothin’.”
He gave her a hard smile and it sent a shiver down Leila’s spine.
Was this who Claude entrusted his friend’s journey to? Then again, most all who visited would bring their own footmen and carriages. Victor would be returning with Inez in the gallant carriage she’d brought. They were planning on leaving within the week, just as soon as Martha was convicted and sentenced.
But Leila couldn’t wait that long. London had sent not one, but two missives to hurry her along. Their window of opportunity with Count Van Hagen was apparently a very narrow one.
“Thank you,” Leila replied, unwilling to let him know just how upset she was that he’d secured her luggage so quickly, or that she was destined to travel to Rodez with him instead of Samuel or Inez.
Speaking of, was no one going to see her off? Leila glanced around, yet she stood alone at the top of the stairs. Never once, growing up, had she or her family left the home of a friend without a proper send off.
The driver opened the door and beckoned her in with the wave of a hand.
Leila glanced around her once more. No one came out of the door, or around the corner of the house, nor even so much as waved from a nearby window. Victor and Inez, she knew, where scheduled to meet with the constable today to get an update regarding Martha. Could it be they had already left? It seemed a bit too early for that. But Inez was known for getting up with the sun.
Victor had made her promise not to tell Samuel the exact time she was leaving. She even suspected he’d pulled Samuel aside and let him know on no uncertain terms that he was to leave Leila alone, as any contact with an unmarried man could, allegedly, make its way back to London and then to the Count and soil her chances with him.
With a sigh of resignation, Leila lifted her skirt—she was still wearing the boring nurse dress since no one knew her true identity and role—and moved down the stairs.
“Leila.”
She whirled around. Had someone come after all? Oh, she would be most relieved for even a simple farewell from any of the other nurses or servants.
Claude Martin strode over to her, a smile across his face. She smiled back—at least one person had not forgotten her.
“I wanted to be sure you had a safe send off,” he said when he drew near. Taking her hand in his, he helped her up and into the carriage. “No one may ever know what you did here,” he said so low even the driver would not overhear. “But know that you have saved many lives.”
“Thank you, sir. I’m only sorry there isn’t more that can be done to help Alice.”
His countenance fell, deep lines crossing over his brow.
Perhaps it would be better to part ways on a more positive note. “I can’t believe it’s already time for me to leave,” Leila said lightly.
He gave a small nod. “Yes, time has a funny way of fooling us into believing it will always remain the same.” He seemed happy to be discussing something other than his sister. “Farewell, dear Leila. I pray the heavens will grant us another crossing of paths someday.”
Without waiting for her response, he shut the door and ordered the driver to drive on. With a lurch forward and a thud, they started down the path and away from the castle.
Leila pushed aside the curtains and looked back. She caught the briefest glimpse of Claude waving, and then the carriage angled to the side and he slipped out of view.
She leaned back against the well-cushioned seat. “That was a rather abrupt farewell,” she said to the empty carriage.
Leila tossed her small reticule onto the seat next to her. It wasn’t the tiny, beaded one her mother had gifted her last Christmas. To help maintain her cover, she’d chosen something less fashionable and far more bland—one she’d made herself as a young child. A few of the threads were coming out, and it was little more than a piece of cloth folded in half and sewn, but it was practical.
Nurses had to be practical.
What if she truly had been only a nurse? That would have meant she could have stayed. She already missed the other nurses, and Claude, Inez and Victor, and of course, Samuel.
Then again, if she was only a nurse, she never would have had a hand in bringing Martha to justice.
Leila pushed back the curtain and watched an empty Conques roll by. She only hoped they hadn’t caught Martha too late to save the town.
Who would have thought it—Martha Hamon, all along. She let the curtain drop back down. The carriage tipped side to side as they left the main road and started out on the less used one that would take her to Rodez. She truly had not ever guessed it could be the hard-working, though demeaning housekeeper.
She always believed it was someone who had a grudge against Claude or the town. Why else would someone be willing to hurt and even kill so many people?
Leila had taken Inez’s advice from a few months ago to heart. Just because that would be the only reason Leila herself would commit such an atrocity, that didn’t mean it was the only reason another person would.
Without anyone in the carriage to tell her not to, Leila propped her feet up on the bench seat across from her. Folding her arms, she settled into the corner a bit. Why else would someone want to hurt so many?
Or, better yet, why would someone be willing to hurt so many?
If one was willing to hurt so many, it probably indicated a lack of respect for human life. After all, Conques was made up exclusively of the lower class, barring a very select few such as Monsieur Claude Martin and Monsieur Jus. Neither of them had grown sick. Nor did any of Claude’s wealthy guests.
She probably shouldn’t be bothering to work her way through this—they had already arrested Martha. But she had nothing else to do in the carriage ride. Moreover, thinking through problems was something Leila did, constantly, lonely carriage ride or not.
If she supposed they were looking for an individual who didn’t care too much for the lives of the lower class, who did that leave on the suspect list? Leila tapped a finger against her lower lip. Well, that would rule Martha out, first of all. The woman was demeaning, but only when Leila had risked putting her own designs in front of helping the patients. Granted she was taking bribes, but that didn’t mean she didn’t value her patients. Leila had certainly never seen a patient who was ignored under Martha’s care, regardless of their family’s ability to pay.
What else did she know about the perpetrator? The individual was either a woman, or had a woman working for them. Fowler had made that much clear.
This individual would have had to have access to large stores of mercury. Secret stores. How could one person ship that much mercury into the town without anyone knowing? Leila wasn’t sure, but felt fairly certain that mercury wasn’t cheap. To get that much and bring it, unknown by all, into town, the perpetrator was probably more than a lowly servant.
A rock hit the bottom of Leila’s stomach and she sat up straight once more.
There was only one person she knew that fit all those characteristics.
There was one who believed himself far above the lower class. One with the connections to learn which woman Fowler would bow to. One who had every opportunity to pay for and smuggle mercury into town.
Leila glanced up at the carriage wall across from her—just past it that individual’s driver was seeing to it that she was well on her way out of Conques.
She shook her head, running a hand down her face. Was she truly considering him?
Monsieur Claude Martin?
It was insane.
But she couldn’t deny he fit the profile.
No, she had to be wrong. Gracious, why would he do such a thing?
Leila had spent much time with Claude, and she was convinced the two things he was most concerned about were his sister, Alice, and in close second, the sick people of his town.
He couldn’t possibly be making everyone sick—he was the one working hard to give them all relief. He took every last victim in. He had brought in doctors, sought out treatments, done everything humanly possible to find a cure.
She had to be wrong. A man who lived for a cure couldn’t be the perpetrator behind the illness.
Leila’s mind strayed back to Alice, the woman’s wandering gazes and tipsy-like comments. She was beautiful, but so very mad. Though Leila could see differences, in a lot of ways Alice still reminded her of many waltzing flu patients she’d worked with.
Claude had wanted to heal them all.
“Oh, blast.” Leila leaned forward, placing her face in two upturned hands.
Claude didn’t want to heal them all. He only wanted to heal Alice. The sickness in her stomach grew until she very nearly lost her breakfast.
Alice was sick because of her husband’s work as a hatter.
Hatters used mercury.
Conques was being poisoned with mercury.
Claude was searching for a cure for his sister. He was using Conques as his own test laboratory.
Leila rubbed her soured stomach. The symptoms of the waltzing flu were different enough from mad hatter’s disease that he must be using a different form of mercury, and she knew he was using a different delivery method. Hatters breathed in mercury while they worked, while Conques was drinking the poison. Claude must have believed it would be close enough.
