Cards & Caravans

by Cindy Spencer Pape

  “And you were happy, weren’t you?” Connor hated that he was jealous of a dead man. “You had your garden and your companion and your stories.”

  “I was. Having a home that didn’t move about was something I’d always dreamed of, and my herb and flower garden was my own little patch of paradise. I’d never grown so much as a weed before, but I took to gardening as if I was born to it. And I’d always made up stories in my head, but Micah urged me to write them down, so I could read them to our children one day.” She bit her lip. “The children never came, but I did read them to village boys and girls sometimes, when their mothers came to visit, or at local gatherings. The children seemed to like the tales.”

  “I’m sure they did. You’re an excellent writer.” He loved watching her skin tint pink at the compliment.

  “Thank you.” She pulled her hand away from his and folded it with her other in her lap. “Now I have a question for you. When I first met you, I wondered what you’d done to be knighted at such a young age. Is it just because of the Order, or is there a story behind it?”

  “Mostly the Order,” he said. “When we’re made full-blown members, the title usually goes with it. In my case there was a situation I helped resolve as sort of an apprentice, working with Merrick.”

  “Were you in danger?” She nibbled on her lip again.

  “Some.” He took her hand again. “You knew that was part of the bargain with me.”

  “I did and I do. That doesn’t mean I won’t worry.” She let her hand rest in his this time, despite a few censorious glances from the other occupants of the car. “So what was the situation?”

  “A killer, using Bodmin moor as his lair. He was completely mad, poor chap, and had taken to abducting village maidens.” He paused, searching for a polite way to say what happened next. “Then he... Well, it wasn’t pleasant when we finally found his den, let me tell you. He was also preternaturally strong and quick. He got in a few good licks before we were able to subdue him. Magick does that to some people—gives them extraordinary abilities, but damages the mind. Those are often the ones the Order finds itself hunting.”

  “I can see where that would be case.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “It’s good to know men like you and Sir Merrick and your father are out there, standing for those of us who may never know what lurks in the dark.”

  “If you say so.” He squeezed her hand again, knowing she’d rather he didn’t kiss her in front of a train full of witnesses. He murmured against her hair. “I’m glad to have you standing with me now. I’ve been lonely too, you know. It will be good to have someone to come home to, someone I can tell about the horrors I face.”

  “Pleased to be of assistance.” She pulled away with a pert grin. “Now, here we are at the county offices.”

  After alighting from the cab, Connor and Belinda strolled inside, arm in arm. They approached a clerk whose desk sat nearest the foyer and Connor asked his question while Belinda batted her eyes like a besotted schoolgirl.

  “Well, there’s the Builders’ Guild.” The man set aside his quill and scratched the thin spot on the top of his head. “That’s the more...traditional option. Lately, more people have been using a newer collective of firms outside the Association’s purview. I can give you their direction, if you’re interested.”

  Belinda and Connor shared a glance. Conflict? Was that mere coincidence? Belinda smiled at the clerk. “That would be lovely. Do you know what the appeal is of this new group of builders?”

  The clerk swallowed hard, seemingly awed at being noticed by such a beautiful woman. He gazed at her and straightened to his full height. “They call themselves the Architecture and Arts Association. They claim to use magickal means to design the perfect home or business space for each and every client. Their services have become all the rage in Newcastle.”

  Excellent. Keeping to his assumed role, Connor made a snorting sound. “More like the Assortment of Alliterative Asses. Come on, man. Magick? Do you believe that nonsense?”

  The clerk shook his head, unsuccessfully hiding a grin.

  Connor sighed. “Darling, that can’t be the kind of firm we’re looking for. I prefer science, thank you very much. Don’t want to rely on hoodoo to hold up my walls.”

  The clerk nodded his agreement. If the poor man only knew who he was talking to.

  “A neighbor mentioned one specific man—said he did excellent work. His name is Engle, I think. Can you give me his direction?”

  “Never heard of him,” the clerk said. “Anyway, here’s the address of the Builders’ Guild. You might want to be careful. I hear some of the businesses are on shaky footing. Might want to check their books before you sign any contracts. A number have even gone bankrupt. Your Mr. Engle might be one of those.”

  While Connor mentally filed that information, Belinda seemed happy to play the role of a feather-headed bride. “But darling, I want to talk the magickal people. I want our new home to be perfect.”

  “Yes, muffin.” Connor managed to use the ridiculous endearment with a straight face, then asked the man for the directions to the new group as well. When the clerk complied, Connor slid him a five-pound note before saying, “Come along, my little cabbage. We can pay a call on the builders in the morning. Don’t want to be late to the theater tonight and you know it takes you hours to dress.”

  “Of course, lamb chop.” She simpered up at him and took his arm. “You’re so good to me.” She gave the poor clerk a little wave as they left the office. Connor almost felt sorry for the man for being so utterly gulled—not that he’d ever know it.

  They made it back to the cab before they both burst into gales of laughter. “Lamb chop?” Connor braced his elbows on his knees while he caught his breath. “Shall you serve me with mint jelly?”

  “It was repayment for muffin,” she wheezed. “Let alone cabbage. I’ve never understood why the French consider that a term of affection.”

  Connor gave the driver directions to the hotel where he planned to have dinner. “Well, food epithets aside, we got the information, my duplicitous wench. Well done.” He leaned across the gap between their seats and brushed a kiss across her cheek. Desire welled up, as it always did when he touched her. He wondered when the newlywed excitement would settle down, but spared a hope that it never would. Connor found himself enjoying his marriage to Belinda far more than he’d ever expected to.

  Her expression turned serious, nearly studious. “Couldn’t you have just gone in, shown the man your Home Office credentials and asked for any information you liked?”

  “I could have,” he said. “But then, if someone in his office is connected to our mysterious group, they’d have known we were looking into them. Better not to arouse suspicion, just in case.”

  “Well, that makes perfect sense. I’m glad I could be of assistance.” She blinked down at her lap, where her fingers were twisting, apparently of their own accord. “I’ve not had much purpose since Micah died. It feels good to be useful.”

  “You kept yourself alive until I met you.” Useless? He’d never met a more capable woman, and that was saying something considering his circle of acquaintance. He reached over and caught her hands in his, stilling their nervous motion. “I’m glad of that. You also wrote stories and made your concoctions for the villagers. That doesn’t sound useless to me. Just because you weren’t cut out to be a farmer doesn’t mean you’re not a worthwhile human being.”

  “I know.”

  “And now you’re assisting in this investigation. No one else could have acted as the bridge between the Order and your great-uncle.” He lifted her gloved hand from her lap and kissed it. “We need you, Belle. I need you. Never doubt your own importance.”

  * * *

  Belinda pondered those words, as they drove past the guild hall and the association headquarters. Both were closed for the evening, and neither looked like anything other than what it was purported to be. The guild hall showed some signs of neglect, reinforcing
the idea that the competition was doing better financially. Finally, Connor telephoned the information to Merrick and whisked Belinda off to a resplendent dinner at a hotel that wouldn’t have let her in the front door a month ago.

  Ah the difference clothing could make. Thank heavens she was a quick study and had read enough etiquette books—one of the few offerings at the Shadwick lending library—to know which fork to use. She was also, to her great relief, able to mimic Connor’s more educated speech patterns. It was still hard not to feel out of place, but Connor kept her so focused on him, laughing and chattering, that she forgot she was an imposter.

  On the brief train ride back to the circus, they sat side by side and she leaned her head on his shoulder. “That was a lovely outing. Thank you.”

  He rubbed the back of her neck, between collar and hairline. “There’s so much I’m looking forward to showing you, my dear. Shall we run down to London for a few weeks as soon as this present business is cleared up?”

  This late at night, they were practically alone in the first-class car, so she didn’t complain when he slipped his arm around her shoulders. “You speak of London as easily as if you were saying, ‘shall we visit the greengrocer?’ It’s disconcerting, you know. Besides, isn’t your work in Edinburgh?”

  “I’m allowed some time off for a wedding trip. On the other hand, I could switch to the London office if you preferred. I will have to travel for work, you know that, but I have some liberty to request where I’m based.” He trailed warm fingers up and down her arm. “We could get a house in London, or even live in the family mansion, since no one else is in residence at the moment.”

  “Edinburgh, I think.” Connor was so close to his family, surely he wanted to be near them. “Unless you’d prefer London. I’d love to visit, but I don’t think I want to live there. For one thing, I wouldn’t know anyone there.”

  “Actually, you do. Both Kendall Lake and Tom Devere work out of the London office...as does Wink. Liam is with Scotland Yard, so they live right near Town.” His hesitation before he mentioned Wink was brief, but telling.

  There was something there, some sort of history. She’d noticed it before, not every time he spoke to or about the copper-haired beauty, but often enough. Had they been lovers before Wink’s marriage? Based on Liam’s protective and possessive demeanor, they weren’t now. That should be all that mattered.

  Still, Belinda couldn’t help but wonder. When he made love to her so enthusiastically, was he thinking of someone else? Someone tall and slim? It wasn’t a question she had the courage to ask. She turned a sigh into a yawn and said, “Edinburgh would still be my choice, but I’ll go wherever you decide.”

  “Then Edinburgh it is.” They stopped talking and spent the rest of the ride listening to the rhythmic clatter of the wheels and rails beneath their feet.

  Back in the caravan he helped her undress and they made love again, as they had every night since their wedding. Connor certainly didn’t seem to be thinking of another woman. He was as ardent as she could have wished and didn’t stint on complimenting her curves and dusky complexion. Belinda lay awake afterward, awash in the warmth of his arms. How long would it be like this? Would he tire of her? And what would become of her if he did?

  “What’s worrying you?” he asked. “Is it opening the circus tomorrow?”

  “No, not that.” She burrowed her face deeper into the crook of his shoulder. “If you ever decide to take a mistress, I want you to tell me.”

  “What?” Connor sat up in the too-small bed, drawing her with him. “Where the bloody hell did that notion come from?”

  Belinda shrugged. “It’s common enough, especially in the circles of society you frequent. All I ask is that you not do so behind my back. Give me some warning, and I’ll go away—back to the farm or find a cottage somewhere. I couldn’t stand to be humiliated that way.”

  “You’re not very observant, are you? My mother would shoot my father if he strayed. Hell, my grandmother would hand her the gun. Genny wouldn’t shoot Magnus, but I know for a fact she’d hurt any other woman who dared touch him. Remind me to tell you that story another time. Yes, blackbird, there are men who feel it’s their God-given right to sleep with as many women as will let them, but I assure you I was not raised that way.” He brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “The night we married, you made me a promise, that there would be no ghosts with us in our marriage bed. I’ll make you one now. There will be no one aside from us in our marriage either. I intend to honor my vows, Belle. As long as we both shall live.”

  “Well, if you change your mind, just remember what I asked.” She wanted desperately to believe him and she didn’t want to argue so she let it go. In the back of her head as she fell asleep, she could have sworn she heard a chuckle.

  No ghosts, eh?

  Bloody hell, that was all she needed—Micah’s ghost looking on while she slept with Connor. So much for her promise.

  Don’t worry, Linnie. I’ve better manners than that, even dead. I’m not about much anymore. You’ve a new husband to look out for you now. I like him, lass. He’s a good man and a better match for you than I ever was.

  His presence vanished. Connor shifted, tucking her closer. “Did you say something, Belle?”

  “Not a thing. Go to sleep. We’ve a busy day tomorrow.”

  A minute later he was breathing deeply as a child in slumber. Belinda lay there awake for the longest time, trying to sort out this odd life she’d found herself in over the last two weeks. If she wrote it in a story, no one would believe it. With that, she drifted off into a troubled sleep.

  Chapter Nine

  The morning of the circus opening was hectic, but Connor couldn’t help a sense of exhilaration. A crowd of people crowded around the fence watched anxiously as Nicky Smith, the owner’s nephew and mechanical army survivor, stoked the calliope, and performers scurried back and forth getting ready. The scents of animals and roasting peanuts filled the air.

  Connor, in his role as assistant ringmaster, was meant to patrol the grounds, nominally overseeing all the workers, but mostly watching the crowd for their adversaries. Today’s goal was to establish that the magick in the circus as real and make sure it was impressive enough that word would spread. He’d spoke to Merrick and Fergus about the Builders’ Guild and the Architecture and Arts Association the night before, and Merrick would look into those today while the circus was busy here.

  About half an hour before the gates opened, Connor ducked into the fortune-teller’s tent to make sure Belinda was ready to go. Rowan’s tail thumped as Connor walked in and the dog stuck his big head up for Connor’s scratch. Connor rubbed a wiry ear, but he only had eyes for Belinda. He’d grown used to her simple gypsy clothing of bright skirts and a peasant blouse during the last few days, but today she’d added to it, with brassy bangles on both wrists, big hoops in her ears and a red scarf covering the top of her head, while her dark curls spilled out from underneath. Even in layers of mismatched styles and colors, she still looked good enough to eat as she smiled up at him, her grandmother’s tarot cards in her hands.

  “All set?” Willow and Rowan, sprawled on either side of her, shifted to make room for Connor.

  Belinda nodded. “I remember my lessons on how to fake a reading in the crystal ball, and I’ve memorized what the various lines on a palm are supposed to mean. I practiced this week on most of our co-conspirators, so I think I’m ready.”

  He slid into the chair opposite hers. “Show me.”

  Belinda lifted an eyebrow. “You want me to read your fortune?”

  “Exactly.” He winked.

  “Very well, most honored sir.” She slipped into the persona he’d seen her practicing all week. “Would milord prefer the cards, to have his palm read or to plumb the mysteries of the crystal ball?”

  “Oh, the crystal ball, by all means.” He settled into his seat, enjoying the show.

  Her dark eyes twinkled up at him. “For the spirits to come, you
must honor them with silver. Five shillings, if you please.” She held out her palm.

  Connor handed her a five-shilling coin.

  “You are most gracious, sir, as well as handsome.” Belinda laid both hands on the large quartz globe on a silver-plated stand in front of her and peered into it. “Think of a question, concentrate on the answers you wish the spirits to provide.”

  “Very well.” He grinned back. “I have my question.”

  He could feel her gaze dart to him when she wasn’t looking into the ball. “I see an image beginning to form,” she said. “A man? No, ’tis a woman. Her hair is dark, ah yes, but it isn’t your wife, no...she’s younger. A sister, perhaps? I see. Her eyes are just like yours—no, not in color, but the expression, the intelligence and humor, those are the same, are they not?”

  “Give over,” Connor said, impressed by her acumen. “How did you know I was thinking of Melody?”

  “You gave yourself away with a slight negative expression when I said man, so it was a woman. When I said younger, you nodded just slightly, the same with dark hair and not your wife, though you have a wedding ring to tell me you’re married. I have mirror set just outside my tent so I can see the people waiting and who they interact with. That helps. After that, I guess, and use their physical cues to narrow down the possibilities of whom they’re thinking about and what they want to know.”

  “Well done.” He leaned over the table and gave her a smacking kiss. “Now what question was I trying to ask about my little sister?”

  “Normally I’d talk about a loving handsome husband and gauge your reactions to see if that was a present or future man. Given what I know about your family, I’m not sure that is what she wants. I’d start with seeing her as an old, old woman, laughing and happy, surrounded by loved ones. Again, based on your reactions, I’d refine from there.”

  “Well done. I do hope she’ll find a good man, someday, one who can handle a wife who’s probably smarter than him. There’s no hurry about that. What I really want to know is whether she’s ever going demand the five quid I owe her since I married first.”