The bitter discord between Morgana and Royce momentarily forgotten, she sat on the floor near his chair, one hand resting absently on his knee, her demure cambric and lace nightgown reposing in a cream and rose froth about her legs. Her dark, curly head had been bent as she seemed to study the intricate pattern in the jeweled tones of the Aubusson carpet that lay upon the floor, but at Zachary’s words, she jerked upright, her eyes widening with consternation. “A spy?” she said in horrified accents. “Someone within your very household?”
Royce cocked an eyebrow at her. “Why not? The one-eyed man may seem omnipotent, but I assure you that he is not—I suspect that he merely has many tools in many different places. And I wouldn’t be surprised to find, if we cared to investigate more thoroughly, that our Mr. Spurling either has had the one-eyed man do him a ... favor sometime in the past ... or someone whom Mr. Spurling holds dear has had dealings with the one-eyed man, and in order to protect them, he is doing the one-eyed man’s bidding.”
A frown marring his handsome face, Zachary inquired darkly, “What are you going to do about Spurling? If he let the one-eyed man into the house tonight, he can do it again. We can’t just let him spy on us!”
Royce smiled faintly, one hand gently caressing Morgana’s shoulder. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid we have no other choice,” he said lightly.
“What?” Zachary ejaculated angrily. “You’re going to let that mouse-faced little bastard run tame through the house? You’re not going to let him go?”
A thoughtful expression on his face, Royce answered slowly, “If I let him go, the one-eyed man will only replace him with someone else—someone else I don’t know is spying on me. By keeping Spurling in my employment, at least I have some control over what he learns and when he learns it. Knowing he is the one-eyed man’s tool gives us a small advantage.”
Dawning admiration spreading across his features, Zachary grinned at him. “Oh, I say, Royce, that is clever!” An eager gleam suddenly leaped into his eyes and he added excitedly, “We might even use Spurling to lead us to the one-eyed man!”
“For the moment,” Royce answered crushingly, visions of Zachary following Spurling into Lord knew what kind of danger flitting through his brain, “we will do no such thing! Morgana’s brothers are already trying to track him to his hiding place.”
Morgana gave a small, frightened gasp, and Royce cursed his unwary tongue. “They will take every care,” he consoled her quickly. “They know the dangers and they are almost as crafty and shrewd as he is—more importantly, he won’t be expecting trouble from them.”
She drew in a deep, shaky breath. “I know,” she said simply, “it is just that he is so evil, and if he even just suspected that they were not loyal to him, he would kill them.”
There was nothing Royce could say that would calm her fears, but attempting to focus her thoughts on something else, he said, “At least we foiled his plans tonight—I am still alive, and you are still unhurt and under my protection.”
It was an unfortunate choice of words, for it reminded her forcibly of her invidious position, and she stiffened, drawing away instantly from him. Not meeting his eye, she stood up swiftly, and glancing across at Zachary, she smiled faintly and murmured, “If you’ll excuse me, I think I shall seek out my bed for the short time that is left us. Good night.”
Very aware of the air of constraint that had so abruptly entered the room, and seeking to lighten it, Zachary smiled at her and, walking nearer, picked up her hand and pressed a gallant kiss to the soft flesh. His gaze fixed on her lovely face. “It was brilliant of you to poke him in the eye with that candle—maybe he won’t even have one eye to see out of now!”
Glad to forget for a moment the situation between herself and Royce, she grinned impishly up at Zachary. “Being raised in St. Giles does have its advantages, and having to think quickly and act immediately upon it is one of the first things you learn.”
Zachary was only half listening to her, his gaze roaming appreciatively across her face, when something he should have noticed before hit him like a thunderbolt. Perhaps the fact that he had only seen her briefly a few times and had only very recently spent any amount of time in Julian’s company excused his lack of recognition, but tonight, staring keenly into her lovely little features as he was, the conclusion was inescapable—Morgana Fowler resembled, to an astounding degree, Julian Devlin! Gazing intently now into Morgana’s upturned face, he recognized that though there were obvious differences between them, even beyond those of male and female, they still bore a marked likeness to each other. Why, he thought dazedly, they could be brother and sister!
Unconsciously his grasp upon her hand tightened and she glanced up at him in surprise, her eyes widening when she caught the stunned expression in his gaze. “What is it?” she asked urgently. “Why are you looking at me that way?”
“Um, um, it’s just that,” Zachary began uncomfortably, “that you remind me of someone.”
Before Morgana could question him further, Royce drawled languidly, “Yes, of course, probably that little ballet dancer you have been dangling after this past month.” Glancing at Morgana, he said dismissingly, “Didn’t I hear you say that you were going to bed?”
Morgana flushed, her hand tingling to connect with his arrogant face, and after a hurried but very sweet good night to Zachary, ignoring Royce entirely, she swept from the room. There was an odd silence after she had departed, Zachary staring for several seconds in the direction in which she had disappeared. Slowly turning around, he looked at his cousin. “How long have you known that she’s Julian’s sister?” he asked quietly, his young face grave and troubled.
Royce sighed, knowing that the next few moments were not going to be pleasant. Walking over to a long mahogany bureau, to the tray of decanters filled with whiskey and brandy that Chambers had brought up, Royce poured himself a glass of whiskey and, glancing over his shoulder at Zachary, lifted a heavy black brow in question. Zachary shook his head vehemently and muttered, “It is damn near daylight!”
Royce grimaced and took a large swallow. “I know,” he replied levelly, “but from that outraged look upon your face and the crusading set of your jaw, I have the lowering opinion that I am going to need some, er, reinforcements.”
“You knew who she was right from the beginning, didn’t you?” Zachary demanded hotly.
“Well, let’s just say that I had a strong suspicion she was a byblow of the Earl’s,” Royce admitted easily, but there was a watchful expression in his eyes.
“And it doesn’t bother you,” Zachary asked explosively, an indignant look on his handsome face, “that you have taken as your mistress a young woman who is the daughter of an Earl?”
“Bastard daughter,” Royce said thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on the amber liquid in the bottom of his glass.
“What difference does that make?” Zachary nearly howled with outrage. “It’s obvious she’s a St. Audries—even if she was born on the wrong side of the blanket.”
“Yes, she is the Earl’s daughter—and what a wonderful way of living he gave to her, condemning her to life in the gutter with thieves, murderers, and whores as her nearest companions, letting her have to steal and thieve for the very bread she ate.” Royce gave an ugly laugh. “Oh, yes, her fine father did nobly by her, didn’t he?” He swallowed another drink of whiskey. Defiance clear in the arrogant set of his tawny head, Royce growled, “At least with me, I know that she is reasonably safe from hanging at Tyburn, and I know that she sleeps in comfort and not in some filthy, vermin-infested hovel! I know that she is clothed and fed, and”—his mouth twisted—“except for my presence in her bed, she is not in constant danger of being raped or savaged by any brute who might cross her path!” Daring Zachary to contradict him, he glared at his cousin and said fiercely, “At least I keep her safe—something that bastard father of hers never did!”
There was such deep emotion, such passionate feeling, in Royce’s voice that Zachary stared at him, an arrested expression on hi
s face, as the most amazing thought flitted through his brain. The answer to Royce’s out-of-character behavior these past weeks had been there right in front of him the entire time and he hadn’t even seen it, Zachary thought, amazed. He gave his older cousin another considering glance, wondering how long it would be before the truth became obvious even to someone as stubborn and blind as Royce. A funny little smile suddenly tugged at the corners of his mouth, and in a surprisingly meek tone of voice, Zachary said, “Yes, of course. You’re absolutely right. I don’t know why I didn’t look at it in that particular light until now.”
Suspiciously, Royce regarded him. “You’re not going to lecture me? No comment about how morally wrong it is?”
Zachary shook his head. “Not my place,” he said firmly. “I should never have brought the subject up in the first place.”
“Well, thank God for that!” Royce said ungraciously, and tossed off the remainder of his whiskey. Under his breath he muttered, “Don’t you think it bothers me, too? ... Under different circumstances, if she had been his legitimate child, instead of being at daggers drawn with St. Audries, I might be suing for the hand of his daughter in marriage!”
“Ah, so the wind is blowing in that direction,” Zachary said with a great deal of satisfaction.
Royce gritted his teeth and flung him a furious look. “No, the wind doesn’t blow in that direction!” he snarled, plainly affronted by Zachary’s comment. “Marriage with her doesn’t even enter the question, and don’t be filling your head with some nonsensical romantic notion that hasn’t a cat’s chance in hell of coming true—she is my mistress, and that is all she’ll ever be’”
“If you say so,” Zachary murmured dulcetly, and yawning hugely, cutting off Royce’s vehement rejoinder, he said sleepily, “I think that I shall follow Morgana’s lead and seek out my own bed. It has been a very long night.”
It had been a very long night, but after Zachary departed from his room, Royce had no desire to return to his bed. Scowling, he poured himself another glass of whiskey and, sipping it more sedately this time, wandered aimlessly around his elegantly appointed bedchamber, deliberately keeping his thoughts away from the subject of Morgana Fowler. Fortunately the one-eyed man’s attack on him made that a relatively easy task and he found himself reliving those violent moments in the darkness.
Despite everything he had learned about the one-eyed man, even George’s confirmation of his actual existence, there had been a tiny part of Royce that had been just a little skeptical about the extent of the one-eyed man’s powers. He wasn’t skeptical anymore; Steadham was obviously in the man’s clutches, and George had definitely substantiated that the creature did, in fact, exist. But tonight ... A shiver went down Royce’s spine. Tonight the one-eyed man himself had deliberately tried to kill him. It was a highly unsettling thought.
Not that he had not faced the possibility of death before—the dueling field was not foreign to him; he had fought several duels and won, his marksmanship and expert swordplay well known—but this was different. There was something twisted and ugly about it, something dark and treacherous, something that had nothing to do with saving one’s honor or reacting to an insufferable insult. Tonight had been an attempt at cold-blooded murder, and if he had not been awake, if he had been sleeping soundly ... He took another long swallow of his whiskey. If fate had not been on his side tonight, he would be dead.
It was interesting, though, he mused slowly, that the one-eyed man himself had come to kill him and had not sent one of his minions. Why? From what little he knew of the man, it was not his habit to do the nasty work himself—he had all manner of desperate men to do his bidding ... and take the risks—so why had he deviated from his normal procedure? That question bothered Royce quite a bit. It indicated that the one-eyed man was taking a very personal interest in this situation, that Royce Manchester had become something more than just a nuisance or an easy mark to be robbed or used in some nefarious manner. No. The one-eyed man wanted him dead. Wanted him dead so strongly that he was willing to do the deed himself, and it was that knowledge which Royce found so unsettling.
Of course, it all came back to Morgana. Royce smiled bitterly. Of course. But why? he wondered with a frown. Beyond her undoubted loveliness and charm, what made her so important to the one-eyed man? He knew that the one-eyed man had wanted Morgana for his mistress, but that wasn’t sufficient reason to run the risks that the man had run tonight. Or was it?
His face tightened and he angrily confronted something that he had never wanted to—if positions were reversed and it was the one-eyed man who held Morgana, Royce grimly acknowledged that he would dare anything to get her back. He would tear London apart, brick by brick, until he found her, and he would not hesitate to kill anyone who stood between him and the woman he lov—the woman he wanted!
Tonight’s event made the move to Tunbridge Wells imperative! He must make sure Morgana was safe! After dressing hastily, Royce jerked the velvet bell rope by his bed to summon Chambers.
Chambers appeared at his door almost immediately, a silver tray bearing a silver coffeepot, various oddments, and a china cup in his hands. In the time since he had vacated Royce’s rooms, he had dressed for the day and was again his usual correct, impassive self, although there was a warmer look in his gaze when it rested upon his employer. Apparently, Royce thought with amusement, his near brush with death had redeemed him in the butler’s eyes.
Sipping appreciatively the hot black coffee Chambers had poured for him, Royce said bluntly, “I’m afraid that last night has changed our plans. We shall begin removal to Tunbridge Wells immediately.”
Chambers nodded his brown head. “Yes, sir. I assumed that such would be the case, and the servants are already packing those things that we will take with us. I spoke with the coachman and he is busy preparing the horses and seeing about any extra vehicles and horses we may need.”
Royce grinned at him over the rim of his gold-trimmed cup. “Chambers, have I told you that you are an inordinately exceptional fellow? I am very glad that my cousin George recommended you and your estimable wife to me!”
A faint pleased blush briefly appeared on the butler’s cheek. He bowed low and murmured, “And we, sir, are very happy to serve you.”
Amusement openly glinting in the topaz eyes, Royce couldn’t resist teasing. “Even if you disapprove of my relationship with a certain young lady?”
Recovering some of his punctilious manner, Chambers replied loftily, “Sir, it is not for me to question your activities.”
Still smiling, Royce dismissed him, and walking over to a cherry-wood writing table which sat in front of one of the windows, he sat down and began to write a few notes to certain people, informing them of his sudden decision to leave London. He did not tell them why.
It wasn’t to be expected that the household could be moved within twenty-four hours, but by that evening, more than half the household staff had already departed for Lime Tree Cottage, and the few who remained were scheduled to depart by no later than noon the next day. Royce had been undecided about sending Spurling down with the first group, and he had finally concluded that he would rather have the man here, where he could keep an eye on him—no use letting him spy out the land any sooner than was necessary! Zachary, Royce, and Morgana would be driving down in Royce’s curricle, leaving at first light in the morning.
It had been a very busy day for everyone, and though Morgana, Royce, and Zachary were tense, half-ready for another attack by the one-eyed man, things went smoothly. Royce had remained at home most of the day, mainly because he could not bring himself to entrust Morgana’s safety solely to Zachary—much to Zachary’s disgust! But it was essential that Royce meet again with Morgana’s brothers, and so he had reluctantly torn himself away in the very late afternoon long enough to arrange the signal. As the hour had grown later and the time for the meeting approached, the expression on his handsome face had become darker and more scowling. If he had disliked leaving Morgana a
lone with only Zachary to guard her during daylight, he disliked it even more once darkness had fallen. He had no choice but to leave her, and after pressing a hard kiss on her mouth and exhorting Zachary for perhaps the hundredth time to keep her safe and to take no chances, he swiftly departed for the meeting with the Fowlers.
Since Della was out for the evening with her new protector, Jacko and Ben were already in the house, comfortably seated in the salon in which they usually met, when he arrived, and wasting little time, Royce instantly brought them up-to-date. The stunned astonishment on both faces and Jacko’s disbelieving question, “Himself? Are you positive it was the one-eyed man himself?” only confirmed Royce’s opinion that the one-eyed man’s interest in him was something out of the ordinary. It did not reassure him.
A worried expression in the blue eyes, Ben said slowly, “It’s a good thing that you’re leaving London in the morning. If he wants you dead bad enough to do it himself, the sooner you are away from here, the better.” Giving Royce a hard look, he asked, “I don’t suppose you could leave tonight?”
Royce shook his head decisively. “No. I have no intention of driving on an unfamiliar road in the dark—certainly not a road where an ambush could lurk upon every curve! In the house, at least, I can take precautions, but in the open countryside at night ...”
Jacko nodded his head in agreement. “He’s right, Ben. Tomorrow will be soon enough. Now, where exactly is this Lime Tree Cottage? We’ll want to see Pip before we sail.”
His expression thoughtful, Royce regarded them for a long moment. At their last meeting together, on the day Della had explained to Royce that Jasper Simonds was now her new protector, Royce had told the Fowler brothers all about Steadham and also informed them that he had made arrangements for them to sail for America on the seventeenth of July. He had also made it abundantly clear that Morgana would be staying with him in England, which had provoked quite an argument between the three men. Jacko and Ben might have accepted him as their sister’s lover and protector, and they might have been grateful for what he was doing for them, but they were uneasy about leaving her behind, and it was only when Royce had finally convinced them that he sincerely intended to bring her to America with him when he set sail in the fall that they fell in with his plans. They still were not happy with the fact that Morgana was to remain behind, but they had become resigned to it. Or had they? Royce wondered as he continued to study them.
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