by C. J. Archer
He stopped stirring and basting. "Something be wrong with the menu?"
"No." I winked and lowered my voice. "I haven't seen you for two days and wanted to catch up on news."
"Right you are. You there!" I thought he was shouting at me, but it was a maid who'd caught his attention. "What is it you want, Annie? Get it and go. It's too crowded in here for anyone who ain't kitchen staff."
"I'm looking for the cutlery," the girl said. I liked her pluck. She wasn't frightened of Cook in the least.
"The cutlery in here be for staff only. You be wanting the silver for the dining room. Ask Mrs. Cotchin."
Annie bobbed a curtsy and hurried off.
"She's new and still learning," Cook said to me with a shake of his head.
"Her hair was done nicely," I said.
He returned to his stirring and basting. "So?"
"I wonder if she did it herself. If so perhaps she'll make a good ladies’ maid. Don't tell Bella yet."
"Lady V finally had enough, eh?" He chuckled. "I knew Seth's choice would come back to bite him on the—" He glanced at the girl stirring a mixture in a bowl at the table. "Speaking of Lady V, you can learn a lot from her, Charlie. She's got taste. I don't mean in clothes and the like, but this." He poked out his tongue. "She knows what sauce goes with what, and the like. Comes with being so well traveled."
"You ought to tell her that."
"She's too grand to speak to me, except when you be away and she gets hungry."
I patted his shoulder and assured him she wasn't like that. But, in truth, she was quite the snob. She rarely stepped foot in the service area, and it required a great inducement for her to put even a toe into the kitchen. Considering her second husband had been a footman in her household, it was strange that she kept her distance from the staff. Perhaps that was why—she didn't trust herself not to cross that line again.
I left Cook to his work and found Alice. We walked around the walled garden with its rambling vines and on through the apple orchard, my favorite part of the estate. Dusk hadn't yet rolled in and the day was still warm enough that we didn't need wraps. The air smelled clear and fresh here, compared to the cloying denseness of the city where I grew up, although not nearly as fresh as the air at Hertfordshire.
Alice and I spoke quietly, mostly about her dilemma but about the wedding too. After a time, I noticed she was distracted and followed her gaze. Ahead, the gardener studied one of the trees lining the drive.
"Is something the matter with our gardener?" I asked her.
"Not at all." She nudged me with her elbow. "He's quite handsome, isn't he?"
She was admiring a "quite handsome” gardener when she had a very handsome lord at her disposal? Was she blind, foolish or both?
"Not as handsome as Seth," I pointed out.
She sighed and tore away from me. "Don't spoil it, Charlie."
"Spoil what?"
"Our walk, our friendship…everything."
"I didn't think I was spoiling anything, merely pointing out that Seth is more handsome than the gardener."
She strode ahead. "Perhaps that's the problem."
I hurried to catch up. "Alice, what's the matter?"
She sighed again. "I don't really know. All I know is, I'm tired of everyone thinking Seth and I would make a handsome couple. Everyone except Lady V, that is. I just want to be his friend at the moment. Indeed, I can't even think about anything else, with any man, until I know how to fix my predicament." She stopped and waited for me to catch up. "Do you understand, Charlie?"
I took her arm in mine. "Completely. I won't mention Seth's good looks to you again."
The dinner gong rang out from the house. "Already?" Alice said. "But we haven't changed."
"I wasn't planning to change again. I already have once today."
"Lady Vickers won't like it. She says if a lady doesn't wear at least three different outfits a day she's being idle."
I laughed. "Come on. Let's shock her with our idleness."
* * *
Lincoln didn't change for dinner either as he arrived back at the house after the gong. He'd snuck out without telling me he was leaving.
"You've been to see Gawler, haven't you?" I asked as we sat at the table.
"Yes," he said. "And you can stop scowling at me like that. I didn't avoid you on purpose. You weren't around when I left."
My scowl deepened. He picked up his knife and fork and tossed me a smile, which only proved to me that he had purposely avoided me so that I wouldn't insist on going with him.
"What did Gawler say?" Seth asked.
"Do we have to discuss this at the dinner table?" Lady Vickers chided. "It's vulgar."
"It can wait," Lincoln said when Seth opened his mouth to disagree with his mother.
We congregated in the sitting room after dinner, joined by Cook. Lady Vickers pursed her lips when he entered and he turned to leave again, but I called him back. Honestly, she was such a stickler for rules despite knowing how things were at Lichfield. She'd long ago given in to having Gus associate with us; she could bend the rules for Cook too.
"Come sit by me," I said to Cook. "Gus, poor a brandy for him."
Cook had removed his apron but he brought the smells of roasted meat with him. He sat beside me and sighed like a man who'd been on his feet all day. Lady Vickers gave him a curt nod, her way of apologizing for her rudeness. He nodded back.
With that out of the way, I said, "Lincoln was just about to tell us what Gawler said when he questioned him about the murder. If Lady Vickers doesn't mind such a discussion, that is."
"I don't mind." She sipped her sherry slowly, peering over the glass in my direction. Or was it Cook's direction?
"Gawler denied any wrongdoing," Lincoln said. He sat in a chair near the window, looking relaxed yet alert. "He questioned his pack mates this morning, after he heard about the mauling, and they too denied any involvement. He believes them."
"Did you believe him?" I asked.
"I didn't detect a lie, but without questioning his pack, I can't vouch for their honesty."
"It might be worth speaking to Harriet. She ought to have some idea if any of them are murderously inclined."
Lady Vickers made a sound of disgust in the back of her throat but offered no comment.
"Gawler is worried about the blame being laid at his feet," Lincoln went on. "He knows how it looks. The murder happened one street from his own residence."
"I hate the Old Nichol," Gus grumbled. "It's packed with human scum. It don't surprise me that someone got murdered there."
"Murders happen there all the time," Seth agreed. At his mother's and Alice's raised brows, he added, "So I hear. Very gruesome murders. Mother, you'll probably want to leave before you hear any more."
"My constitution is quite strong, thank you," she said. "Do continue."
Seth muttered something under his breath but I couldn't hear it. Why was he trying to get his mother to leave? I glanced at her, only to see her looking at me again. No, not me. At Cook. He, however, didn't notice. I smiled into my glass.
"If his pack didn't do it, who does Gawler think is responsible?" Alice asked.
"A random attacker?" Seth offered.
Lincoln shook his head. "He believes Swinburn did it and is trying to blame Gawler's pack, with the intention of forcing us to take action and disband it. Gawler thinks it's a power play by Swinburn."
"To become the top wolf pack in the city," I said, nodding. "It's a sound theory and fits with what we know of Swinburn."
"We need to talk with him again," Seth said.
Lincoln lifted a finger from his glass to halt the suggestion before it gained momentum. "I need to learn more details from the police first—the victim's name and place of residence, as well as the exact nature of the injuries. I want to know if they match those of Protheroe in the Hyde Park attack."
Lady Vickers set down her glass. "I think I'll leave you to it after all." She rose and all the men stood un
til she exited.
"I can raise the victim's spirit to find out more," I said as they sat again.
Lincoln gave a single nod and we set out our plans for the following day. A day that would begin with the most difficult task of all—confronting Lady Harcourt and advising her that she was off the committee.
Chapter 3
It was too early for making calls on members of polite society, but Lincoln didn't care for propriety, and our visit to Harcourt House in Mayfair wasn't a social call. We found ourselves having to wait in the drawing room, however, while Millard, the butler, fetched his mistress. It gave me time to admire her exquisite taste in furnishings, although it was spoiled by the memory of Marguerite Buchanan's brother shooting himself in this very room several months ago.
Lady Harcourt swanned in fifteen minutes later with her hair unbound. The glossy black locks fell to the middle of her back in waves that didn't bounce in the slightest as she glided across the floor. Her dancer's training served her well in her latest role as a noblewoman, although she would have given anything for it to have remained a secret.
"So early!" she declared, sinking onto a chair. "You will recall that I don't like to rise before nine, Lincoln, and take my breakfast in bed."
Despite steeling myself for this meeting, I was still shocked by her crassness. What sort of woman spoke to a gentleman like that in front of his fiancée? Not a kind one, that was certain. I hoped I managed to school my features and not show my feelings. I didn't want to give her the victory.
"This business couldn't wait," Lincoln said.
"Do sit down." When neither of us did, she added, "I know we haven't got along well of late, but I hope that will change now. We three are getting what we want after all. You two want each other, and I am marrying Sir Ignatius."
"And Swinburn," Lincoln said before I could. "He also got what he wanted."
She smiled. "Thank you, he did. I'm a fine choice for him, if I do say so myself."
I managed to turn my choke into a cough without making it too obvious.
Or so I thought. Lady Harcourt's gaze turned flinty. "Is there something you wish to say, Charlotte? Do you think me a poor choice of wife?"
"I think you and Swinburn deserve one another," I said.
"Sir Ignatius," she corrected me. "His origins are humble, but—"
"So are yours."
She sniffed. "What do you want, Lincoln?"
"To tell you that your membership of the committee has been revoked," he said.
She shot to her feet, all pretense of elegance gone. "You can't do that!"
"I've sent letters to Lords Marchbank and Gillingham requesting their presence at a meeting at Lichfield this afternoon. I'll inform them then. This is just a courtesy call to inform you. Considering your service to the committee in the past, I didn't think a letter appropriate."
She gasped as if she couldn't quite catch her breath, and pressed a hand to her stomach. "I told you yesterday that my relationship with Ignatius wouldn't affect my loyalty to the ministry."
"You told him who my father is."
A slight pause, then, "I did not."
"Don't lie to me. You know I can detect them."
She fell back a step, her chest heaving with her breaths. "I can't believe he told you," she whispered. "I can't believe he'd betray me like that."
It was confirmation from her own lips that the secret had come from her, not the prince or duke. Whether Lincoln could indeed detect her lie didn't matter. He'd forced a confession.
"You breached the trust bestowed on you, Julia," Lincoln said. "You gave me no choice but to remove you from the committee."
She spluttered a laugh but it quickly faded. "You can't."
"I can."
"No," she said, shaking her head. "No! Don't do this. Don't remove me from the committee. It won't happen again."
"You can no longer be trusted to keep ministry secrets."
"No!"
Lincoln said nothing.
"How dare you!" She flew at him and went to grasp his shoulders, or perhaps hit him, but he caught her wrists and held her at bay. She tried to pull free, her teeth gritted, her jaw hard. Her hair fell across her face, over her shoulders, the strands tangling in her struggle to free herself.
I'd seen her wild, mad side before, but I hadn't expected it today over this. I'd expected her to argue and fight with words, not fists. Had being on the committee meant so much to her?
"Calm yourself," Lincoln intoned.
"Why does everyone betray me?" she growled, her voice low, masculine. "You, Andrew, Ignatius and now this! You men," she spat.
"Stop fighting me or I won't let you go."
She tried to kick him, but her skirts hindered her and Lincoln easily dodged it. She sobbed in frustration but seemed to lose much of her fight. "Don't do this, Lincoln!" she whined. "Don't cut me out of the ministry, out of your life."
His life? So that's what her tantrum was about? She was still clinging to the hope of being friends with Lincoln again? Or even his lover?
Lincoln blinked at her, the only sign that her words had surprised him too. "You thought I wouldn't find out that you'd told him?" he said quietly. "You know me better than that, Julia. I know everything about you. I know who you talk to, who you dine with, who you take to your bed. I know which are your favored servants, and how much money you spend, and the contents of your late husband's will. I know what your plans are before you plan them, and I know what you're thinking before you think it, because I know you."
She stared up at him, her eyes huge, deep pools. He let her go and she took two steps back, bringing her close to me.
"You thought you could betray me like this and not suffer the consequences?" Lincoln went on in that same quiet voice that held more power, more command, than a shout.
She straightened and thrust out her chin, every inch the noblewoman again. "I had to do it. He threatened me."
"No, he didn't. I'll say it again, don't lie to me."
She swallowed.
"You did it so he would marry you," I said. "He promised marriage in exchange for information about Lincoln. What else did you—?"
She swung around, her hand out to strike me across the face. It was so quick, yet I saw it coming from the moment her body began to twist. That small sign allowed me to block her blow with my right forearm and slap her face with my left hand.
She reeled back and would have fallen if Lincoln hadn't caught her. He righted her but didn't let go. She made odd gasping sounds that were almost sobs yet she shed no tears. A red mark marred one of her cheeks while the rest of her face was bloodless.
"Get out," she snarled. "Get out of my house."
Gladly. I went to leave but Lincoln remained. "You must send me a letter officially handing over your committee membership to your heir. If it hasn't been received by the end of the week, I'll just give the position to Seth anyway."
We exited the townhouse and Lincoln assisted me into our waiting coach. He directed the coachman to drive us to Lord Gillingham's house.
"How's your hand?" Lincoln asked as we settled in the cabin.
"Fine. It would have stung if I hadn't been wearing gloves." Now that it was over, I was glad I hadn't broken the skin on her cheek, although I suspected she may sport a bruise. "You didn't even move when she went to hit me. You're not as quick as you used to be," I teased.
"I knew you could stop her without my help."
"How could you know that?"
"Because I've seen the improvement in your training. Your reflexes are exceptional, and they were already very good. Next time, hit with a closed fist not an open hand. Although perhaps save that for a fight with a man."
"You think I can beat a man in a fight?"
"I didn't say that."
"But you would like to see me try against someone other than Seth or Gus?"
His brow crashed together. "No. I would not."
"Come now, Lincoln, admit it. You're curious. I've been trainin
g for a year now, and I’ve been involved in very little real fighting. You must be wondering if it has helped or if you're wasting your time."
"It hasn't been a waste of time. You have some skills that will help you if you're attacked. I don't regret that at all."
I switched seats to sit next to him. He narrowed his gaze as if he expected me to ravish him. "Don't worry," I said. "I only wish to hold your hand."
He took my hand in his own and brought it to his lips. He kissed my glove. "In all seriousness, Charlie, are you all right?"
"My nerves are settling." I indicated our linked hands and moved as close to him as I could get without sitting on his lap. "What do you think will happen now?"
"Usually a deceased committee member officially notifies us of his or her heir via their will, but since she's living, she needs to confirm Seth as her successor in writing."
"I meant with her and Swinburn."
He merely shrugged, but I suspected he had an answer.
"I think she'll confront him over his betrayal," I said. "They'll probably argue."
"She won't mention it." I knew he had an answer, it only required some encouragement to extract it from him. "Nor will she tell him she's off the committee until after the wedding, otherwise he'll break the engagement. She desperately wants to marry again to secure her future while she's still young, and Swinburn is the best man on offer right now. No other gentleman wants her as a wife. And he only wants her as long as she can pass on sensitive ministry information."
"I see," I said quietly. "You did say you know her so well that you know what she's thinking."
He frowned. "Does that bother you?"
"No. Yes. I don't know."
He touched my chin and gently forced me to look at him. His gaze searched mine. "I cannot change my past."
"I wouldn't want you to."
He didn't look as if he believed me.
"I don't," I said again. "What's done is done."
"Don't let her come between us, Charlie."
I kissed him lightly on the lips. "I won't. I know she's not a part of your life anymore."
