You Only Love Twice (London Steampunk: The Blue Blood Conspiracy Book 3)

by Bec McMaster

  "Oh, His Grace did—"

  He cut Hattie a sharp, incredulous look, and she shut her mouth abruptly as she secured the robe around Adele's shoulders.

  "My apologies," he said to Adele. "I wasn't aware you were waiting for me."

  "I wasn't. And stop glaring at my sister."

  He forced his tone to be callously distant. "I've also been busy seeing to matters of the realm."

  Adele subsided. "Important matters, I suppose."

  "Indeed."

  Keeping Gemma's head on her bloody shoulders. Trying to track down the source of that bloody chip, and finding nothing. Ghost was aptly named.

  Making sure the queen was well guarded, all her servants forced to electrocute themselves mildly before they were allowed to see her.

  Burying Isabella.

  His breath caught, that dagger-sharp flare of guilt burying itself within his heart up to the hilt.

  "You can burn my city. You can tear down all I've built. But you can never touch me," he'd spat at Balfour all those years ago. "I have no heart anymore. You took it from me when you murdered Catherine. So do your damned best. You can't destroy me."

  Balfour had revealed his hand in the most devastating way of all, as if to remind him of those words.

  You know this was a taunt. You know he killed Isabella to test your resolve.

  And the horrible truth kept circulating through him. He'd never loved her.

  But she'd loved him.

  He'd heard it in her voice right before she shot herself.

  Malloryn flinched. Adele was saying something, but he hadn't heard a damned word of it—

  "Would you give us a moment?" he asked Harriet, his voice sounding a million miles away.

  Harriet bobbed into a curtsy and then practically fled the room.

  Blankets rustled. "Are you quite done terrorizing my sister?"

  "Terrorizing her?"

  "You frighten her," Adele shot back. "Which you would notice if you ever noticed anyone beneath you."

  His eyes thinned to narrow slits. "I notice everything."

  "Then what did I just say?"

  Touché.

  He merely stared at her, and she flushed again, though this time it was in anger.

  "You notice everything important," she said, a hint of bitterness creeping through her voice as she tossed her covers back and slipped to the edge of the bed.

  That wasn't what he'd meant at all.

  She tried to stand and he limped to her side in an instant, prepared to catch her if she fell. Instinct. Etiquette.

  And more than a little guilt, though he couldn't admit such a thing to her.

  Adele froze, the rose-colored drape of her silk robe mercifully hiding her form from his gaze. "It would take more than a little bloodletting to take the wind from my sails, Your Grace."

  Malloryn backed away, hands clasped behind his back. "It would probably take the entire bloody airship armada to do so."

  "That almost sounded like flattery."

  "It wasn't."

  Her smile died. "Of course not."

  They stared at each other again.

  For the first time in years, he didn't know what to say. "Adele?"

  "Yes."

  She'd been busy tying her robe, but at his silence, she looked up.

  "Thank you." He forced the words out.

  There. He'd said it.

  "It's not as though you were dying." She flung his own words back at him, seemingly just as discomfited as he was.

  "And yet, it would have taken me days to recover if not for your assistance. Because of you, I was able to talk the queen out of a course of action that would have cost a very dear friend of mine her head."

  "Then I shall accept your gratitude," Adele replied dryly. "On your friend's behalf, if nothing else."

  The way she stressed the word made him focus sharply on her again.

  "A friend, Adele. Just that."

  She glanced away. "I'm sorry, you know. About the baroness."

  Oh, God. She was the last person he'd ever discuss this with. "You hated her."

  "That doesn't mean I wished her dead." Adele toyed with her fingers. "I—"

  "That's enough." He cut her off sharply, for he could see the guilt within her. Clearly she'd harbored more than a few ill thoughts toward Isabella, and they chastised her even now. "We will not speak of this. I came to say thank you for your assistance."

  "Which you have done." She inclined her head regally. "I see you have places to be, judging by the way you keep glancing at the door. Don't worry, Malloryn. I didn't expect any more from you. You've done your duty."

  He stared at her a moment longer, frustrated to find himself relieved by the cool expression upon her face.

  "Don't expect me in the following days. There's a great deal of trouble to manage."

  "Try not to get yourself killed," Adele replied. "I haven't any particular desire to be a widow so soon after my marriage."

  "I lied when I said Thomas would cast you out of the house. You'll be provided for in my will, if nothing else." He backed toward the double doors to her bedroom. "You would be free to do whatever you wanted."

  Dark lashes obscured her green eyes as she turned to the window. "Am I not free to do as I wish now? I thought we were to maintain separate lives. Indeed, I'm surprised to expect even this small encounter."

  The pink silk hung in loose ripples down her narrow spine.

  Malloryn hesitated in the doorway.

  He knew why he'd come here today.

  Isabella's face haunted him every time he closed his eyes. He'd overlooked her feelings—for years possibly—and now her face would haunt him the same way Catherine's did.

  I loved one of them too much.

  And the other, not enough.

  For all his irritation with his wife's manipulation, her presence in his life was somewhat of a relief. Adele would never expect anything more from him. She filled a role he needed to fill, and he gave her a roof over her head, gold, gems, whatever her mercenary little heart could desire.

  She would never give her heart to him.

  He would never desire hers.

  "Nothing has changed," he replied firmly. "I merely wished to assure myself of your health following our encounter in the Tower."

  "Oh, God." A scalded sound echoed in her throat. "Can we not forget it ever happened?"

  A burst of relief flushed through him. He would much prefer to.

  "An excellent proposition. Good day, Duchess."

  "Good day, Your Grace."

  And then he turned and walked away, letting thoughts of Adele slip from his mind as he headed for his own bedchamber.

  Chapter 28

  Gemma had never fancied herself a coward, but there was a lump in her throat thick enough to choke her as she slipped through the back door of the safe house and climbed the stairs to the first level.

  Steady now, old girl.

  The first person who saw her was Ava. The pale blonde scurried out of the library with her nose in a bio-mechanics book, only glancing up when she saw the hem of Gemma's ragged skirts.

  "Gemma?" Ava gasped and dropped the book. "Oh, my goodness! You're alive."

  She threw her arms around Gemma and squeezed her so tightly Gemma's shoulder nearly popped out of its socket again. "Ava. My shoulder."

  Ava released her. "You're safe. You're truly safe!"

  A door opened further down the corridor. Ingrid. "Gemma?"

  And then the rest of the Company of Rogues seemed to stream out of every nook and cranny. She'd been expecting a cool welcome, but all their faces lit up in relief, and Gemma's heart lifted.

  Kincaid wrapped his arms around her and swung her in the air. "I'd kiss you on the cheek, but you definitely need a bath."

  "Maybe two," Ingrid said, and squeezed her for such a long time Gemma didn't think she was going to be allowed to come up for air. "Don't ever go missing again. I cannot cope with another bout of hunting you through the streets
, hoping you're alive. No more kidnappings. No more running off with handsome strangers."

  "We were nearby," she protested. "You could have found us easily."

  Ingrid released a shuddering breath. "I tried to use the tracking device but it remained silent."

  "Must have ruined the beacon in the back of Gemma's neck when we shocked her," Byrnes pointed out. "Didn't think of that."

  That was when she recognized the lingering tension in the air, and the way several of the others glanced over her shoulder.

  Behind her, Obsidian watched them with an aloof expression on his face.

  "Obsidian helped me escape from the tower," she whispered, reaching back to take his hand and draw him into the light.

  He came, but uneasily, as if still wary of his welcome.

  And Gemma slid her arm around his waist somewhat fiercely, as if to defy anyone who might hold a grudge. Obsidian had done more for them than they would ever know.

  "Like I told Malloryn," Byrnes muttered, "it would be good to have another dhampir on the team."

  The breath eased out of her as they all relaxed.

  Byrnes was still limping, which caused her instant consternation until he rolled his eyes. "I've had worse wounds from Ingrid. This one time, she bit me on the—"

  "Byrnes," Ingrid said sharply.

  He grinned and hugged Gemma tight, then passed her on to Charlie, who was shaking his head.

  "Remember when you told me I was a fool for jumping off an airship with one of those new gliders? And the lecture you gave me when I thought it would be a good idea to test that new smoke bomb Jack had been working on in my room." Charlie chided. "You broke out of Thorne Tower! Malloryn's in such a lather he's almost frothing at the mouth."

  Her heart staggered to a jagged halt. "Malloryn? He's alive?"

  She hadn't let herself ask until now.

  Charlie’s faint smile died, and he hugged her again. "Of course he is. Jesus, Gem. Did you think you’d killed him?"

  She had no answer to that. Only a faint choking sound that Charlie clearly felt heaving through her chest, for his hug abruptly tightened.

  "Malloryn's like a cockroach," Byrnes drawled. "I don't think anything can kill him."

  "I heard that," said a familiar voice from behind them all.

  The duke.

  The Rogues parted, revealing Malloryn stiffly ascending to the top of the stairs with his cane in hand. Herbert lingered at his side as if afraid the duke would topple down the stairs and prepared to catch him.

  Dear Herbert, fussing like a mother hen.

  Gemma swallowed hard, staring at the way Malloryn leaned on his cane and the bruises mottling his face. "You're alive."

  "I'd hug you, Gemma," he said roughly, "but I honestly don't know if I'll fall on my face if I try. You'll have to come here."

  He held one arm open as she walked into them, and suddenly her tearless sobs were back. Malloryn curled her against his shirt, and her whole world shattered around her.

  "I didn't—"

  "I know."

  "I nearly killed you—"

  "No. You had your chances." He pressed a faint kiss to her hair, and then eased away from her, his gray eyes searching her face. "The fact you didn't means you weren't trying that hard."

  "All I could remember was pointing the pistol at the back of your head as you were crawling across the floor—"

  "You knocked me out instead."

  She froze, the breath locking in her chest as she fought her way through the rush of memories. Trying to find the truth in his words. Had she?

  "Trust me. If you wanted me dead, I'd be dead. I think some part of you was still fighting against your commands." He cleared his throat. "And I wasn't crawling. Dukes don't crawl. Even with a shattered kneecap. We tend to... glide, instead."

  Gemma couldn't find it in herself to smile. "Is that why you didn't kill me?"

  Malloryn glanced away.

  He'd always taken risks when it came to her life.

  She'd accused him once of not caring enough about the people around him, and pushing and pulling them across the chessboard of life as if they were pawns, but Gemma suddenly realized the truth.

  She'd said he wouldn't hesitate to pull that trigger.

  She'd been wrong.

  He loves you like a sister—one of the last things Isabella had ever said to her.

  And oh, God, she could see it now. All those times he'd lectured her. Rolling his eyes at her as he threw a crumpled-up piece of paper at her head. Sending her on easy missions so she wouldn't be hurt, when she'd thought he was dissatisfied with her performance.

  She'd spent so many years trying to prove herself to him, only to discover she'd never needed to.

  "Gemma." Malloryn's voice roughened as their eyes met. For the first time in her life, she saw him truly speechless.

  Help came from an unexpected quarter.

  "Malloryn likes to pretend he hasn't got a heart," Kincaid muttered, "but he's soft as butter underneath. Of course he couldn't kill you."

  "Soft as butter?" Byrnes sounded doubtful. "What? In the middle of the Arctic?"

  Ingrid gave him a nudge. "He could have shot you the night you were injected with the dhampir serum, but he didn't and he didn't even care for you then."

  "I'm not sure he cares for me now," Byrnes protested.

  "And he saved Kincaid and me from a draining factory last month when it was on fire," Ava broke in. "He's a hero."

  Gemma knew what they were doing, and was grateful for it. She swallowed the lump in her throat and found a faint smile.

  Before her eyes, Malloryn put himself back together. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please. Stop."

  "We're embarrassing him," Byrnes said, with an unrepentant grin. "This is the best thing I've seen all year. Are you blushing, Your Grace?"

  "I am not blushing." It came out as a growl.

  "You are."

  "Carried me out of a burning building over his shoulder," Kincaid continued.

  "Hauled Miss Gemma out of a frozen river in the middle of Saint Petersburg," Herbert added, with a coughed ahem.

  "The next person who opens their mouth will find themselves on desk duty for the rest of their lives," Malloryn said, in an icy voice.

  The entire company clamped their mouths shut, but Kincaid and Byrnes snickered under their breaths.

  The only one who didn't seem to have relaxed was Obsidian, who was watching the entire affair as if he'd just seen a dog give birth to a two-headed cat.

  "You get used to them, sir," Herbert said politely, offering him a glass of blud-wein from the tray he'd brought up the stairs. "It's a little disconcerting at first, and the gentlemen tend to think they're endlessly amusing, but their hearts are in the right place."

  Obsidian looked at her with an expression that said, just what have you gotten me into? And Gemma couldn't help giving into a soft laugh.

  But he took the glass and examined the blud-wein dubiously. "Is there wine in my blood?"

  "Enjoy it, Master Obsidian," Herbert called over his shoulder, moving to offer the rest of the company a glass. "It comes from Master Byrnes's private stock."

  Byrnes swore, and then everyone was laughing, and Gemma couldn't help herself. She was so exhausted she burst out into a loud laugh that almost turned into a sob when Ava put her arm around her and rested her blonde head on Gemma's shoulder.

  "I'm so glad you're back," Ava whispered. "Ingrid was two seconds away from storming the tower, and I was worried the both of you would be locked up."

  Malloryn overheard her and cleared his throat sharply, gaining everyone's attention. "As much as the jovial mood has lightened the situation, we need to start thinking about what happens next. As grateful as I am to see you alive, Gemma, you broke out of a highly secure prison after you appeared to be trying to assassinate the queen. You look guilty as sin, and I fear it's going to take all my best efforts to resolve this with the council."

  The entire company sobe
red.

  "What do we do?" Byrnes asked.

  "Who do we have to kill?" Kincaid added promptly.

  "It's simple. There's not a great deal any of us can do." Malloryn shifted his attention to Obsidian. "I told you once you had a decision to make. An alliance between the pair of us is the last thing I ever expected to be considering, but we have a mutual acquaintance in common whom we are both very fond of. And we are running out of time. The queen and council have listened to what I know about the neural implant, but I don't know enough. I can sense the uncertainty in some of them. I will not put Gemma's life in their hands with even a hint of doubt as to the outcome of this council meeting. So you have a choice. You either flee the country with her, or...."

  "That's not an option for Gemma." Obsidian's lashes lowered, masking his eyes. "What else do you have in mind?"

  "You stand in council and answer their questions, regardless of what they ask. You give them everything. I won't pretend it will be easy. You will have to betray everything you ever stood for, and I suspect there will be retaliation from your former companions, but if you take this step, I shall do my utmost to protect you. It's your decision. Gemma's life lies in your hands," Malloryn finished simply. "You have one shot to convince the queen my story is true. This is your moment, Obsidian. Them or us."

  Gemma held her breath as Obsidian looked at her.

  This was more than she'd ever hoped for. If he allied with Malloryn, then perhaps the pair of them had a future.

  If she had a future....

  But Malloryn was demanding everything. Obsidian's loyalty. His soul. His future.

  She knew he wasn't fond of the duke, or the council.

  The former dukes of Casavian and Caine had been in charge of the Falkirk Asylum project, and two of their offspring were now on the council.

  Could he do it? Could he look them in the eye, knowing what their fathers had sentenced him to, and maintain his composure?

  Obsidian tilted his head toward her.

  "I made my choice the second I kidnapped her. A part of me knew any potential future with my brethren was dwindling. It's always going to be Gemma. And if she is with you, then so am I."