There is something that I am overlooking. Even as I thought it, I had a strange feeling. What I was looking for was not on the second floor. If I were Dimitri, where would I hide something I did not want anyone to find? I considered that he could keep the box on his person, but I immediately struck that down. He was a big man; he exuded a grim confidence, so he would not need to keep it on him to know that it was safe. I needed a different tactic. We would watch his house in the light of day and wait for him to depart then search the house.
A large hand grabbed my leg. My heart leapt so hard I thought it would stop. As my stomach roiled, alarm echoed in my head. I clutched my pistol and looked down at where the giant was still laying. A moment passed then his rumbling snore sounded again. The giant was asleep. Slowly I turned my torso. The giant had a hold of my leg in his sleep. I bent, carefully pulling my leg, but he held fast. If I could get him to shift he would release my leg, but it had consequences. If I moved too much, it could awaken him.
A distraction was needed. My calling card for the Phantoms was a black feather which was the reason that my mask was shaped like three stacked feathers. Pulling a feather from my pocket, I leaned toward the giant, barely running the feather against the end of his nose, repeating the action until the giant removed his hand from my leg to rub his nose. I jerked my hand away before he could touch me, and moved from the bed.
Midway down the stairs to the first floor, the same stair creaked under my feet. It shifted. A smile curved up my lips. Moving down two more steps, I knelt to pull on the creaking board. There, within the stair, was a compartment. Feeling inside, my hand immediately touched a dagger hilt. There was nothing else was in the compartment so after taking the dagger, I put my black feather in the compartment, the sign of Loutaire of the Phantoms, then replaced the board. At the bottom of the stairs, I unsheathed the dagger, running my finger along the top of the blade. Grooves and ridges met my touch, assuring me that it was engraved, like the one pictured in the Levitas book. I sheathed it and tucked it into my belt.
As I pulled on my ankle high boots, a shadow passed the window, and I tensed. It was not Leo or Levi coming to check on me, for they knew not to leave their post unless they received a signal from me. Pressing against the far wall was the only place to hide.
My back touched the wall as the door creaked open further. A figure slipped into the house, and immediately I knew it was no ruffian who stood upon the threshold. Incredulity was mine; it filled me as my arm began to throb where she grazed me with her shot six days ago. With the light behind her, the woman in white appeared as a faceless ghost. Her long, white cloak was around her, the hood covering her hair, as she moved further into the room. She did not sense my presence, but from the way she moved without making a sound, she knew someone was in the house. That begged the question of how she made it past my deputies. She began quietly to sound the boards.
I considered capturing her, but if she did not work for Levitas, it was too great a risk of exposure for the Phantoms. Until I could discover more about her, I had to leave her free.
A wicked, tantalizing thought entered my head.
The woman in white deserves a fright. Nothing too terrible, merely repaying her kindness to me.
My smile widened as I watched her work her way around the room. She made it to the corner where the back wall and the wall I was leaning against met. I had to act with haste and precision or not at all. I took three silent steps toward her. In her oblivion to all else but searching the boards, she did not sense my presence until my hand was over her mouth and my other arm wrapped around her waist. I locked her arms against her sides. She jerked around, trying to fight me off.
A wildcat.
She twisted and threw her body from side to side. When that did not work, she threw her head back, but I was able to move my own to the side before she could hit me. She growled under my hand and threw an elbow to my stomach. One of her arms got loose in my moment of grunting. A flash of silver appeared right before she swung a knife toward me, trying to slash my arm. Grabbing her wrist, we struggled against each other for control of the knife. I pushed her arm down, backing her against the wall then releasing my hold on her mouth to pin her arms against the wall. She opened her mouth about to call out, and panic seized my chest, then my mouth pressed against hers, cutting off any sound.
For a moment, she stopped struggling. If she were feeling an ounce as surprised as I was, it was no wonder she stopped struggling. Breathing was the last thing I was thinking about. The edge of my leather mask touched the lace of her white mask. Her lips were soft as feathers. Her small feminine body pressed against me caused me to begin to lose sight of why I was kissing her. I could feel every rise and fall of her chest as her breathing came in quick successions. For that brief moment, she was warm and most inviting.
The moment ended far too quickly. Her whole body went rigid in nothing short of rage. She jerked her head from side to side, trying to break free from my hold. I pulled back, but kept her arms pinned against the wall as a deep chuckle escaped my throat. In one swift movement, I pressed my forearm against her arm and grabbed my pistol from my belt then placed the end of the barrel against her cheek. She went completely still, all but the rise and fall of her chest.
As I stepped back, I released her but kept the pistol against her cheek. The rigidity of her body assured me that she did not doubt that I would use the pistol. As I backed to the door and pushed it fully open with my boot, it creaked on its hinges as moonlight flooded into the room. The light was against my back, but it illuminated her. She took a cautious step toward me, but stopped when I held up the Levitas dagger in the moonlight. As her mouth parted; her anger was so full that it heated the cold room.
Pleasure coursed through me at besting the woman. Backing out of the house, I threw her a mocking kiss on my fingers and slammed the door. Down the alley, I ran, leaping over the sewage puddles. Light appeared through the second floor window, and a voice started to shout.
Leo met me at the entrance to the alley and as we ran from the houses; I questioned Leo about the woman in white, but he assured me that he saw no one enter the alley. When we met up with Levi, he said the same.
How had she gotten past them unseen?
After we had separated from Levi at his apothecary shop, Leo and I moved toward home, and I could not wipe the smile from my lips.
“That woman could have been a phantom the way she sneaks around,” Leo said from beside me. It was a disconcerting thought, but it gave me an idea.
“That is what we will call her.” Leo stopped to look at me. “She is now the white phantom.”
Chapter 6
Jack
27 May 1816
Standing between my mother and Bess, we greeted the arriving guests at the foot of the stairs. It appeared that all of Philadelphian society would turn out for Bess’ ball. Nearly every family had an unattached son in tow who begged for the honor of a dance with Bess. When my good friend Dudley Stanton had learned that we were home, he had hurried to the house yesterday to beg Bess for the first dance, and since she had no previous offers, she accepted. I saw Dudley pushing his way through the throng of well-dressed persons.
Dudley Stanton was the epitome of a fashionable man from his light brown hair arranged artfully messy in a windswept style to his black tight-fitting coat. He was the kind of man who would never stir out of doors if his cravat was not tied precisely to his liking. When he bowed, I heard the sound of creaking, which caused me to bite the inside of my lip to keep from laughing. Dud insisted upon wearing a corset beneath his too-tight clothing. It was a fashion from days gone by, but as Dud was both short and plump, it was for the best. Over the last year when we were not on a mission, I had gone into society a few times with Dudley.
I glanced at my sister, and she, too, was trying to control her laughter. When Dud greeted Bess, a look of such longing came into his eyes that Bess glanced at me in a plea for help. Dudley had been in love with Bess from th
e time we first met him upon moving to Philadelphia, but his feelings were unrequited. She liked him well enough, but what Dud refused to acknowledge was that Bess saw him as another brother.
When Dud looked as if he would remain at her side, I stepped in and moved him away.
We made our way toward the drawing room, bumping into others that were also trying to make their way through the crowded foyer. Dud was telling me that it was finally his time; that he would win my sister and how her beauty grew each time he saw her. When she moved home three months ago, Dud had nearly lived on our doorstep. He was at the house every day, until we left for our mission in Washington.
As we reached the drawing room, I glanced over the assembled guests crowded into the room. The furniture had been removed and was replaced with small chairs that lined the walls and a small ensemble of musicians with stringed instruments. The middle of the floor was for dancing.
My name was called, and I looked to my left to where a group of my friends were hovering in the corner. I waved but did not go to them. It was my duty as the head of the house to greet all of the guests before I spent the rest of the evening with my friends.
The gold scrollwork on the ceiling glittered, and the candles in the gold sconces on the yellow walls flickered. Added to that, were the two crystal chandeliers that hung from the ceiling, and you had a room fitted for any palace.
When Bess appeared at my arm, it meant the start to the dancing. Dud elbowed me out of his way, as he took her hand and led her to the center of the floor. As they were joined by other dancers, I leaned against the wall for a moment to watch. Poor Dud had to tilt his head back to be able to see Bess’s eyes, but her height never once bothered him. He was a man in love, and what others considered flaws, he considered marks of beauty. The truly sad fact was I would give my consent to their marriage if Bess felt different. I could not say that about any other man in the room.
At the end of half an hour, I had greeted several people, passed by some with a nod and a smile, and stopped beside a few who hailed me. With my duty done, I was making my way to my friends, when I heard my name being called. I turned to my right and nearly cursed.
Mrs. Campbell, a plump, nosy, outspoken woman, was beckoning to me with her large, feather-edged fan. There was no way to escape the inevitable, so I fixed a smile on my lips and moved to greet her. I bowed, but she gave me no time to speak for she was off like a horse at the races.
“Why are you not dancing? If due to the selection, then I do not blame you. Watery, the lot of them.” She swung at me with her closed fan, and I stood still, taking the rap on my arm without a word. I focused on her purple turban as she went on. “Your sister of course is the reigning beauty, but you will hardly dance the night with her.” She then changed subjects. “Are you sure that you prefer the church to marriage? I know of a young woman who would suit you well. My niece Elvira is biddable, perfect for any young man.”
To my complete annoyance, she waved at someone with her fan. As I turned I collided with a young girl, freckled and gap-toothed. The top of her head bumped into my chin, and unruly hair tickled my nose. She grasped hold of my arms, but she was in no danger of falling. I placed my hands on her arms setting her back and getting my first good look at her.
Saints preserve me. She could be no older than fourteen. That was one of the downfalls of being a member of high society, playing agreeable with people you would rather not play with at all. But, I knew my duty, so I bowed.
“Ask the girl to dance,” Mrs. Campbell urged, with a sly smile.
There was no way out, short of fire or my death, or Mrs. Campbell’s. I bit my cheek to keep from grinning at that pleasant thought as I extended my hand and asked for a dance. She showed not the slightest reluctance, as she clamped onto my arm and pulled me toward the other dancers.
As the music struck up, Elvira never once looked at my face, too occupied with looking at her feet and counting her steps. Try as I would, she would not be engaged in conversation. I was determined to keep away from Mrs. Campbell and her niece for the remainder of the evening. As we passed by where Bess was standing, she cast me a brilliant smile, one that told of her amusement at my expense. I crossed my eyes, making Bess laugh and tip her champagne glass, spilling some on one of the men vying for her attention.
As we went down the line of dancers, I received some piteous looks from my friends. Most of my friends avoided Mrs. Campbell like she was a plague trying to attach to them and rob them of their lives or bachelor status. For some, it was the same thing.
There was some stir amongst the men as they edged their way toward the door or elbowed each other, smiling. Then I saw why. My heart gave a startling lurch and began beating like it wanted to escape my body as my eyes locked with the hyacinth eyes of the woman from the Inn. Jolts of energy were dancing along my spine as a smile formed on her pink lips. My chest tightened in a way that was both painful and foreign. It felt like someone had sucked all the air away from me, but yet I felt more alive than I had in the past seven years of missions, espionage, and battles of the war.
Something solid bumped into me shattering the moment. I drew my eyes away as I caught Elvira about the waist, trying to keep us both upright. Something akin to an apology flowed from her lips, but she cast an imploring look at her aunt. I offered an apology of my own when the music faded.
As I looked toward the door, my stomach clenched tight as heat crept up my neck. The young woman from the Inn was covering her mouth with her fan, but I could see the laughter in her eyes. She looked away as a group of men surrounded her.
A tug on my arm brought me back to where I was, standing in the middle of the floor with Elvira. I begged her pardon and escorted her to her aunt. The woman scowled at me, but I excused myself without apologizing to her. She did not deserve an apology.
An army of men was surrounding the woman from the Inn when I reached them. I could only stand at the back of the group.
“Greetings, John,” Thomas one of my friends said to me in his good natured voice.
“Thomas, good evening,” I replied as I shook the hand he held out to me. Thomas was the most unruly of all my friends. It did not matter where we were, whether it be at a card party or an elegant evening soiree, you could count on two things. One; that Thomas’s appearance, from his yellow hair to his loose fitting attire, would be in disarray, and two; that he did not care in the least.
“I see that you have noticed the newest beauty in our midst.”
“Who is she?” I asked, as I tried to get a view of her through the ten men hovering over her.
“Miss Clark. Newly arrived last month and staying with a chaperone. It is said that she has come to find her legal guardian, but I know no more.”
“Will you introduce me?” I asked, hope rising inside me.
Thomas smiled impishly. “Let us see if we can squeeze through this den.” Thomas’s smile faded, and he became all business, pushing his way through the men. “Look out, coming through. Master of the house coming through. Stand aside.” I followed Thomas as we pressed our way through the men, most of whom I knew well. I stood behind Thomas, allowing his tall frame to block me as he greeted Miss Clark, and then he stepped aside.
“Miss Clark, allow me to present my friend and the master of this house, Mr. John Martin.”
I bowed before her, and when I looked into her eyes, she smiled. She was poetically beautiful. Her auburn hair was piled atop her head, her purple-blue eyes unmatched in any other person I had ever seen, and she had a dimple in her right cheek when she smiled.
“I do hope that no more discomforts have plagued you,” I said as I straightened.
Her eyes lit up. “It is you, I was sure that I could not be mistaken.” Upon Thomas’s look of inquiry, she explained. “Mr. Martin rendered me a service yesterday. He was quite gallant.”
Thomas looked from her to me in disbelief. “What, Saint John, our proud poet, the knight gallant? Surely you mistake.”
“Saint
John? I had not heard that epithet, but I have heard of you,” she said.
“Lies, I assure you, if it was from this lot here that you heard my name.”
Thomas and a few of the others cried against my words, but I ignored them.
“He is destined for the church you see,” Thomas explained, and I felt myself losing ground.
She looked at me like she could not believe it, or would not. “But you are a man of birth and family. Surely the church is not necessary.”
“I assure you, Miss Clark, that the church is always necessary, but as for joining, it is yet undecided.”
“Ah.” She said the one word as if she were relieved.
The men began to press closer, growing restless at my taking up so much of her time, so I held out my hand, determined to get her away from the group. “Might I have the privilege of this dance?”
She cast down her eyes. “I am unsure how to reply. What if you stop in the middle of our dance and I am cast upon the floor?” She lifted her eyes to mine, amusement sparkling in their depths. I said nothing as Thomas came to my rescue.
“No fear there, John is an excellent dancer.” He stopped abruptly, and I nearly laughed as he went on, “Oh, what I mean to say is that he will surely trip you. You should instead dance with me. I shall not cast you upon the floor.” Thomas held out his hand to her as well, but it was mine that she reached for.
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