Pride & Passion

by Charlotte Featherstone

  In this matter he was right where he said he would be, sipping coffee and no doubt talking about ancient Templars. Which was slightly alarming. Templars were a common fascination for all men—commoner or aristocrat. But it hit too close to home for Adrian—he’d never known of Stonebrook’s interest before all the recent happenings. And there was something rather unsavory and unlikable about Nigel Lasseter. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was, he simply didn’t like the man, and most importantly, he didn’t trust him.

  The threesome rose from the table, and Sussex raised his paper, completely concealing himself. He did not see them leave, or which way they went, or if they even went separate directions, but he knew someone who would.

  “Well?” he asked as Montgomery, his head footman, came up from behind.

  “Stonebrook and the other gent went off together.”

  “Which one?”

  “The little wasted fellow with the thinning hair. The black-haired gentleman went directly to a black town carriage that had just pulled up in front of the ’ouse. Strange ’ow it happened. One minute it wasn’t there and then it was, and he was standing and strutting out with his fancy silver-and-onyx walking stick, making a grand show of leaving, he was.”

  “Follow him.” Sussex placed a purse on the table. “It’s noon, the streets will be choked with traffic…it shouldn’t be too difficult to trail him. I’ll expect a report as soon as you’re able.”

  “Aye, your grace, I won’t let you down.”

  There was a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Too many years of heeding his instincts had made him attuned to such little things. Something was in the air. The hint of danger, the smell of deceit. He thought of Lucy, and felt relief that he had sent Charles with her. The lad was as strong as an ox, and as cunning as a fox. He’d been in the process of picking Adrian’s pocket when he’d encountered those merits. He had almost lost against Charles, and knew that when he saw the young lad, and his desperation, that he would have use for him. Besides, he had a soft spot for the poor in the East End parishes. He’d save every one of them if he could, but it was an impossible feat, so he consoled himself with the fact he was doing what he could. Easing the suffering of Charles and his family was not enough, but it was a start.

  Two familiar voices shattered his musings, and he lowered the paper to see Black and Alynwick take the seats across from him.

  “A bit out of the way for conversation and coffee,” Alynwick stated. “Far more comfortable coffeehouses in Mayfair. The midday traffic is atrocious on this side of the city.”

  “I echo your thoughts,” Sussex said. “I’ve been pondering why Stonebrook felt the need for such intimacy.”

  “Women?” Alynwick suggested.

  “None were visible. He barely even looked at the maid who delivered the coffee. What of Ana?”

  Black turned his attention to him. “Nothing that will link you or the title of Sussex,” he vowed. “And we found a nice little spot in a meadow, heading out to Richmond. I am sure that in the spring and summer it is rife with wildflowers.”

  “She would have liked that. Thank you.”

  Both men nodded. “We talked on the way. We don’t like this, Sussex. It’s too personal. Orpheus knows us—or at the very least, you.”

  “I can’t imagine how, but yes, I’ve been thinking the same.” And worrying about Lucy, too.

  “Now, Stonebrook. What are we to do with him?”

  “I don’t know. But I’m not finished him with yet.”

  “And the letters?” Alynwick asked.

  “I haven’t put it all together. I only know that whoever wrote them wanted Stonebrook to find me with Lucy, and for Lucy to believe that I was blackmailing her—and forcing her to wed me by having her father discover us.”

  “And the fact in the letter Lucy found on Ana, telling you the killer had crossed paths with Lucy?”

  “To show us that he has seen us. That he’s watching, and knows our moves. No one we care for is safe from him. He wants to hurt us. He wants to strike fear in us.”

  “And?”

  Sussex slammed his hand on top of the table. “It worked.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “YE’VE COME, LASSY.”

  Sitting down, Lucy swallowed hard. This time there were no candles or pendulums or crystal balls surrounding her. She heard the door click and realized that Charles had left. No doubt he was standing sentry with his thick arms crossed over his chest. “How did you know I would be stopping by today?”

  Mrs. Fraser laughed. “Ye told me I was a fraud the last time, lass. I had to prove me point, that yer wrong. I saw ye in my mind, clear as a Highland sky. You were coming, and I said to meself that it was time to put the kettle on for tea.”

  “Thank you.” Lucy took a little sip and sighed at the comforting warmth. She had no idea why she had sought out the mystic once more.

  “I do,” Mrs. Fraser mumbled as she reached for Lucy’s hand. Pulling off the glove she set the leather aside and turned her hand, palm up to face her. “Ye didna care for your future the last time, and now ye’ve come fer another. Only it doona work that way, lass. Yer future is your future, and you canna wish for it to be different.”

  “The man in it…” She swallowed once more and took another sip of her tea. “He was wrong.”

  “Nay. No’ wrong, just no’ the one ye let yerself believe ye wanted.”

  “Well, then, what can you tell me?”

  “From yer hand, well, let’s see.” She crinkled her eyes and held Lucy’s palm up to the dim light. “Ye’ve a long life ahead of ye.”

  That was a relief, considering the events of the day, and everything she’d seen.

  “And you’ll have bairns,” she whispered, tracing little lines, “one, two, three, four wee ones. I doona know their sex, so doona ask.”

  A long life and four babies. Her spirits were lifting.

  “And their father?”

  “I doona know, I canna see him. But you can. Ye’ve just to open your seeing eye, is all.”

  “What if I can’t?”

  The Scottish Witch eyed her curiously. “Then it’s because yer pride is blocking yer sight, lass. He’s there, clear as day. Ye’ve a long love line—he’s been there within yer heart for ages. Ye will ’ave one great love, and it will be unbroken. I doona even think death will tear it apart.”

  “One love?” she asked, and she half feared it might be Thomas. Had she loved him? She certainly had felt something for him, but last night, last night she had been forced to admit that what Thomas and she had experienced was barely lukewarm compared to the fire that raged between her and Sussex. Sadly, she thought of Gabriel. She had loved him. Perhaps not as passionately as a woman loves a man, but in her youth, that love had been pure and instinctual.

  “Treachery lies afoot,” Mrs. Fraser said. “It’s no’ an easy won love. I see heartache and betrayal, and pride—oh, ye’ve pride enough to be a grand queen, my lady. It’ll keep you safe, I s’ppose, but it could be yer undoing.”

  “Tell me about the heartache, the betrayal,” she encouraged. “I must know. Who will it be from?”

  “I canna tell, lass. You have the inner sight, ye ken who to trust, and nae to. You have the gift of knowledge, of being one with yer instincts. Ye must use them.”

  “Tell me this, Mrs. Fraser, the man I saw in my vision.”

  “The man in yer vision is yer future, lass.”

  “Yes, that one. Well, I saw his eyes, and…”

  “They were no’ the ones ye were expecting.”

  “No, they were not. Did I see them, Mrs. Fraser, because he will be my love, or because he will be the one to betray me?”

  “I canna say. When I look into yer palm, and then into yer eyes, I see nothing but shadows and uncertainty. I begin to think that maybe yer future is not yet fixed, and that ye might be the fortunate sort to change what it might be.”

  Lucy glanced down, her fingers curling around Mrs. Fraser’s gnarled
ones. “I am…scared.” Blowing out her breath, Lucy sighed, relieved at last to admit the truth. “I don’t want to make a mistake and live with it for the rest of my life. I don’t…I don’t want to become like my parents.”

  “Ye had dreams once, I can tell that much about ye. And ye’ve had them dashed, leaving ye a cold and brittle soul.”

  Stiffening, Lucy did not lash out like she would have before. She accepted Mrs. Fraser’s appraisal of her for what it was. The truth.

  “Ye’ve a path to travel, lass. It may be fraught with dangers, and aye, some heartache. The dreams might no be what ye imagined, but they’ll be dreams nonetheless, and yer future will unfold. Ye’ll choose the right path, lass—in your own good time like any soul does when they’ve reached a crossroads and must choose their way.”

  Lucy smiled sadly. “What if I don’t want to choose it alone?”

  “Then look to the eyes that would guide you, lass. You’ll know the ones. I see no more,” she murmured, dropping her hand. “I canna tell you another thing, other than a future comes at ye whether ye want it or no.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Fraser. About the last time—”

  “Are ye sure ye doona have a lick of Scots in ye, for ye’ve the stubborn pride of one.”

  Lucy laughed. “No, I’m afraid I do not. Does willful pride allow me forgiveness for my past actions?”

  “Pride is sometimes all we ’ave. That’s the truth, and pride ’as gotten me along in life when I thought I’d be out in the streets, beggin’ for me supper. Aye, lass, it excuses ye. And doona ye think to pay fer this.”

  “Oh, I must, this is your living. I couldn’t accept tea and your time for nothing.”

  “Then bring ’im to me, when ye have chosen your path, and I’m right about what I’ll see, ye can pay me then.”

  Slipping her glove back on, Lucy stood and considered the old woman. “I suddenly feel such tremendous faith in you,” she said.

  “Good lass, good. Now, I’ve one last thing to tell ye. The man, he ’as as many demons as ye. He’ll find himself at a crossroads, too, and he’ll have to choose a path—and I pray that the two of ye find each other where the path ends.”

  Leaving Mrs. Fraser, Lucy pondered everything she had learned as she descended the rickety steps. She was surprised not to find Charles in the hall, and she anticipated he was waiting anxiously in the carriage. She had been longer than she thought, and she knew Charles was worried about her safety—and she was worried that she might have bent the rules of her promise to Sussex a little too far.

  Exiting the building, Lucy saw the familiar black carriage and frowned when Charles was not outside to open the door for her. She hadn’t known him long but she assumed that he would be at his post, eager to get her inside. Maybe a doxy had lured him to a corner, she thought as she tugged on the carriage door. There were enough of them walking up and down this alley and the Strand.

  Raising the hem of her gown, she stepped up into the carriage, seeing a pair of black glossy boots.

  “Charles, did you fall asleep?”

  When he didn’t answer, she turned her head and saw his slumped figure. “Charles!”

  She never saw whoever was behind her, or the cloth that came up to cover her nose and mouth. She struggled as hard as she could, but she could not fight the effects of the ether that cloaked her face.

  Before everything went black, she fell limp, caught in a masculine hold and dragged down onto the seat. She thought of her father, of Issy and…Sussex, and suddenly she remembered the fear in his eyes, and the ghosts that danced in them.

  ADRIAN PACED THE LENGTH of his study. It was dark outside, and neither Charles nor Montgomery had reported in yet.

  “Settle your feathers,” Alynwick muttered. “They’ll be by soon.”

  “Something is wrong,” he muttered as he paused by the window and drew back the curtains. “I can sense it. My gut churns with the sensation.”

  “There is something unsavory in the air tonight,” Black insisted. “I confess I’ve been sensing the same sort of feeling, as well. Something is not quite right.”

  “Black!”

  The voice was Isabella’s and she sounded terrified. She burst into the hall before Hastings could announce her.

  “Bella, what is it?”

  Black was standing with his wife in his arms before Sussex could blink.

  “Little love, what are you doing here? My God, you’re trembling.”

  “Lucy,” she gasped, “she hasn’t been home since we left here this morning. No one has seen her. My uncle…he’s having pains in his chest, he’s sick with worry.”

  “Shh, now, let’s take it a bit slower.”

  Isabella nodded and gulped. “I called upon Lucy this evening. We were going to have dinner, and…talk about things.” She gazed over her husband’s shoulder at Adrian. “I know she was confused about something, and we made plans to discuss it tonight. When I called upon her, the butler answered, and Sybilla, her maid, came flying down the stairs stating that Lucy was not home, and had not been since the morning when we left to come to Sussex House.”

  Adrian immediately felt swamped with rage—and a bout of sickness. His gut was never wrong, and he knew that it was Lucy he sensed.

  “Calm yourself, darling,” Black cooed. “We will find her.”

  “Where?” she cried.

  Sussex hoped to hell it wasn’t where he thought it might be. If he found her at that damned club, he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.

  “My lord, you’ll want to come to the door.”

  “What now?” he barked, but Hastings did not back away. “Charles, your grace, he’s in a bad way.”

  Before Adrian could move to the hall, Montgomery lurched into his study, Charles’s limp arm draped over his shoulders. Blood dripped onto the carpet as Charles fell to his knees. Alynwick and Sussex leaped forward to catch him. Helping Montgomery place him on the couch, Adrian realized the footman was only half-conscious.

  “I found him staggering down the street,” Montgomery offered. “He was raving, said he needed to get to you.”

  “Miss Lucy,” Charles moaned. “Failed her, yer grace.”

  “No, Charles, rest,” Adrian said with a calm he didn’t feel.

  “Canna do that,” he groaned, and Adrian saw the state of his face, battered and swollen, his eyes mere slits, his clothes filthy and torn.

  “‘Brought her ladyship to a place in the Strand. Pleaded with me, she did, just a bit of fortune-telling, she tells me.”

  “So you did not take her directly home as I ordered?”

  The footman winced, tested his jaw. “No, guv, I’m sorry. She pleaded me, and well, I was thinking whot’s a bit of fortune-telling. So I brought her and stayed with her. Only I got jumped in the hall. A punch to the side of me head and I was fallin’ to the ground like a gullied animal.”

  “I think we can dispense with the descriptions,” Black growled as Isabella hid a gagging noise behind her hand.

  “And I wakes up in the carriage, in behind the Adelphi—all torn up and battered, and nothing to show for Lady Lucy but this.” Charles pulled a green velvet reticule from beneath his jacket. “And this.”

  Alynwick reached for the linen that dangled from Charles’s bloodied fingers. Bringing it to his face, he sniffed and grimaced. “Ether.”

  Rage boiled inside him, and the urge to run rash and unprepared into the night ruled him. He tried to move, but Alynwick shook his head. “No, Sussex, we need a plan, and we can’t all leave and allow Elizabeth to be here alone.”

  He knew Alynwick was right, but his head didn’t seem capable of reasoning with his heart. Lucy was taken—alone, and afraid. Or worse, in that bastard’s arms.

  “Your grace,” Montgomery said, the color now all gone from his face. “I followed that Lasseter fellow like you asked, and his carriage took him to the Adelphi. He took the back way in.”

  “Christ!”

  “I have met Nigel Lasseter,�
� Isabella said, shocking the room into silence. “Wendell introduced us. He was the patron that paid for Wendell’s expedition. He said he had inordinate fascination with the Templars and the treasure hidden beneath Solomon’s Temple. I remember him, because it was so strange, he wore sun spectacles and it was the evening, and he seemed so pleasant and then we began to talk of Yorkshire and he became quite insolent. Wendell ushered me away then.”

  “Do you recall anything else?” Black asked.

  “No, other than I detected a faint French accent.”

  “Guv, ye can’t go alone,” Charles moaned. “Give me a moment, and I’ll show you where it was, and where I think they took Lady Lucy.”

  “You will stay where you are, Charles. Rest, and know that I’m very grateful that you were able to give me this information. Montgomery, you will join us.”

  “Well, you had better dress for the occasion, your grace. I saw nothing but dominos and capes on the gents and feathered masks on the ladies as they went in. They were passing the doorman some sort of gold piece. I think they’re having what you lot call a fancy dress ball.”

  “A masquerade,” he said. “Ana said there was to be an initiation party, and it was to be masked. It must be tonight.”

  “Black, I’m going with you,” Isabella announced.

  “No, you are not. You’ll stay behind with Alynwick and Elizabeth.”

  “I will do no such thing, husband. I’m putting my foot down, and you will obey me.”

  Black arched his brow. “Will I indeed?”

  “You will, or you will suffer the consequences later—when we are alone, and…well, you know what I’m about.”

  Black shot a grin at Alynwick. “A pox and curse, you said. I can understand why.”

  Sussex was already calling for a black mask, and didn’t bother to stay to listen to the banter between his friends. He was consumed—possessed—and would stop at nothing to find Lucy, even if it meant exposing them all.

  “WHERE AM I?” Lucy was thirsty and groggy and her head spun as though she had imbibed too many glasses of champagne.