by Merry Farmer
She laughed as he swept her into his arms. Just a week ago, when they’d met, he would have spoken those words with genuine distress, believing himself to be an oaf. She’d seen that in him right from the start. But something had changed. No, everything had changed. He held her firmly in his arms and stepped smoothly into the waltz. His posture was straight and the confidence in his eyes could have commanded armies. Even the joke he’d made about himself felt teasing instead of denigrating. Trent had changed. Love changed all men.
It wasn’t until they’d danced their way once around the ballroom, gazing into each other’s eyes as if the world had disappeared—though they drew quite a few stares as they did—that Charlotte remembered everything that was going on around them. She gasped as it all came back to her.
“Is something wrong?” Trent asked, his expression growing serious as well.
“I spoke with your cousin, Lord Addlebury, shortly after I arrived,” she said.
His hold on her grew tense. “What did he have to say?”
Her heart raced as details of the conversation rushed back to her. “He implied that my father is safe, that he’s not missing at all.”
Trent frowned. “If he’s not missing, where is he? Why does his butler think something has happened to him? And why has he not contacted you?”
“I don’t know,” Charlotte said, shaking her head and shrugging. “He refused to tell me anything, although I could see that part of him wanted to.”
“He’s starting to crack,” Trent said. His gaze grew unfocused for a moment as he thought. “He must be. I’ve known Asher my entire life. He loves his family. I can only imagine that it would be too much for him to keep everything from them like this indefinitely.”
“Do you think we could confront him now?” Charlotte glanced around, hoping to find Lord Addlebury in the ballroom. She was in luck. He stood near one of the room’s large fireplaces. He was alone, watching the ball, his hands clasped behind his back. He’d donned a mask since their conversation in the parlor, but Charlotte was certain he was scowling. “Perhaps if the two of us speak to him together….”
“It might be worth a shot.” Trent nodded, stepping easily out of the waltz and taking her hand.
They only made it a few steps in Lord Addlebury’s direction before Lady Hattie intercepted them.
“I told myself I wouldn’t do this,” she said before either Trent or Charlotte could put her off, “but I have to say something.”
“Can it wait, Hattie?” Trent asked, attempting to dodge her.
Charlotte craned her neck to look around Lady Hattie, making sure Lord Addlebury stayed where he was. He didn’t seem to have noticed the confrontation yet.
“It can’t,” Lady Hattie went on. She let out a breath and turned to Charlotte. “I owe you an even bigger apology than I thought I did,” she said.
“I accept your apology,” Charlotte said, looking for a way around the woman.
“I realize now just how wrong I was in my earlier assumptions about your character and your intentions toward my brother,” Lady Hattie said as though Charlotte had called her out. “It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that the two of you adore each other.”
“We do,” Trent agreed, shifting restlessly. He kept his eyes locked on Lord Addlebury, even though his sister was doing everything she could to keep his attention.
“I don’t know if Papa will approve, but if the two of you wish to pursue a deeper relationship, I can guarantee that Adrian and I will support you fully,” Lady Hattie went on.
“Thank you,” Charlotte said.
Her nerves bristled as Lord Addlebury glanced their way, seeming to notice the way Trent watched him. He stiffened visibly.
“And if you need me to speak to Asher, or anyone else in the family,” Lady Hattie continued, “I will. I was wrong, and I’m not too proud to admit it.”
Lord Addlebury took a step away from the fireplace, as if he would march across the room to Trent.
“That’s lovely, Hattie,” Trent told her distractedly, “but right now, we don’t have time to—”
All at once, the room went pitch black. Several ladies screamed, and a few of the gentlemen shouted. Charlotte jerked toward Trent in alarm. She’d never seen anything like it. All of the electric lights illuminating the room went out at the same time, plunging the room into chaos.
“What the devil is going on?” a deep male voice yelled.
“Nobody panic,” someone else answered.
It was too late. The room burst into motion as ball guests darted toward the doors. The crack and clatter of chairs being turned over and instruments breaking sounded from the orchestra. Ladies continued to scream as the guests trampled each other.
“Someone bring torches,” a man shouted.
“Is it an electrical failure?” a woman asked.
“The palace is going to burn down, I just know it,” another answered.
A renewed wave of panic washed across the room, even as Charlotte’s eyes adjusted to the darkness. Trent still gripped her hand, and as soon as the initial shock wore off, he tugged her to the side, away from the charging mob.
“Everybody stand still,” he shouted, though Charlotte doubted most of the guests heard him. To her he said, “If they would just stand still for a moment, we could discover what’s happened.”
“We need to reach your cousin,” Charlotte said. The thought came with such certainty that it pushed her to action. She pulled Trent toward the last place they’d seen Lord Addlebury. Her sense that something was horrifically wrong was nearly overwhelming.
As unexpectedly as they’d gone out, the electric lights burst back on. The flash of bright light was as alarming to the guests as the sudden darkness had been. And there were more screams as the guests were able to look around at each other. The masks that had seemed droll minutes before now took on a menacing feeling. Ladies were weeping and gentlemen were doing their best not to appear overly panicked as they attempted to figure out what was going on.
But that wasn’t what caught Charlotte’s attention.
Standing near the fireplace, in the spot Lord Addlebury had occupied moments before, was the dark lady. She held a shiny, silver revolver in each hand. Lord Addlebury was nowhere in sight.
“Stand back,” the dark lady ordered in a heavily-accented voice. She pointed one of her revolvers at anyone who looked as though they might come near her. Quickly, a wide space formed around her. “Stay where you are. None of you move.”
“You don’t frighten me,” one of the guests declared.
He strode toward the dark lady, but before he could come within a few yards of her, she fired. Screams split the air as the guest dropped to the floor. Charlotte clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle her shout of fear. The man who had been shot writhed on the ground, blood pooling under him. Several people rushed to help him, even as the space around the dark lady widened.
“The Jackal does not stand for defiance,” the dark lady said. “The Jackal will have his way in the end.”
“Where is Asher?” Lord Thomas called from the other side of the ballroom.
The dark lady grinned. “The Jackal has him.” A ripple of moans and cries sounded through the room. “If you wish to see Lord Addlebury again, you will bring five hundred thousand pounds to The Jackal in Rome.”
“Who is The Jackal?” Lord Thomas asked, attempting to push his way through his cousins to face the dark lady. “And where in Rome?”
“You will receive instructions,” the dark lady said. “And you will obey them.”
“But how do we know—”
Before Lord Thomas could finish his question, the lights went out again. The second, sudden blackness caused even more of a panic than the first. Charlotte was jostled to the side as a lady slammed into her while trying to flee. Trent held her hand as tightly as he could to keep the two of them from being wrenched apart.
The lights came on again within seconds, but the panic didn’t subside. Women
wept and men did their best to restore order. A cluster of people had formed around the man who had been shot. But the thing that arrested Charlotte was the empty spot near the fireplace where the dark lady had been.
“Where is she?” she hissed, tugging Trent toward the spot.
The dark lady was completely gone. In her place was a single, small envelope. Most of the guests reeled away from the envelope as though it might explode. Only Trent, Charlotte, and Lord Thomas raced toward it.
“What is that?” Trent asked as Lord Thomas bent to scoop it up.
Lord Thomas glanced ominously to Trent as he tore open the envelope and withdrew its contents. He read it quickly, then frowned at Trent. “It’s an address in Rome,” he said, turning the piece of paper to show Trent.
Trent took it and studied it for a moment. “What does it mean?”
“It must be the place the dark lady wants you to bring the ransom money for Lord Addlebury,” Charlotte said. She took the paper from Trent and concentrated on it. The address meant nothing to her, but the energy radiating from the paper spoke volumes. “The time is coming,” she said in a distant voice. “The storm is about to break. There is no time to lose. These people have blood on their hands already, and they will have more if we do not hurry.”
“We?” Lord Thomas asked with a doubtful arch of one brow.
Charlotte glanced to him. She was on the verge of telling him that she would no more leave Trent’s side than she would cut off one of her limbs when the noise and panic in the room suddenly seemed to lessen.
“Everybody stay right where you are,” a deep, commanding, and very familiar voice shouted from the doorway. “I am in charge of this investigation now.”
Charlotte’s heart lifted as she turned to see her father striding into the room, looking like an avenging angel.
Chapter 10
A strange sort of relief hit Trent as Lord Beverly strode into the ballroom. He’d only seen the man from a distance a handful of times, but it was enough to recognize him in an instant. Instead of the kindly, if somewhat eccentric, nobleman Trent thought him to be, Lord Beverly looked like a silver-haired general about to lead his troops into war. He was tall and imposing, with broad shoulders that hadn’t been stooped by age and an expression that commanded the attention of everyone in the room.
“Stay where you are,” he repeated as the dozen or so men in uniform who had entered the ballroom behind him fanned out among the guests. “My men will ascertain who each of you are, and if they deem it safe, you will be allowed to leave. You will go straight to your homes and stay there for the rest of the night.”
Lord Beverly’s order was met with stunned silence and a few tight nods of obedience, even from men who had been attempting to take charge of the situation just moments before. Lord Beverly sent a withering stare to the few men who looked as though they might question or defy his orders, silencing them before they could protest. His soldiers—all of whom wore royal army uniforms emblazoned with the queen’s crest—efficiently organized the guests, telling them to remove their masks and asking questions.
“It appears as though your father is safe after all,” Trent said, shifting closer to Charlotte.
“Her father?” Thomas gaped, glancing between Trent and Charlotte.
There was no time for an explanation. Lord Beverly spotted them. His forbidding expression softened at the sight of Charlotte, and he crossed quickly to her.
“My darling, what are you doing here?” he asked with urgency, taking her hands.
Charlotte’s mouth dropped open, but before she answered, she glanced to Thomas with a wary look, then to Trent for encouragement. Finally, she faced her father. “Lord Trent and I have been working together to track down the dark lady,” she said. “I…that is, we….” She glanced to Trent again, looking as though she didn’t know how to explain their connection.
Trent knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. “I am in love with your daughter, my lord,” he said, pulling himself to his full height. “When this trouble is over, I wish to marry her.”
Lord Beverly’s brow shot up in surprise. A moment later, it dropped into a frown. “As much as I would love to discuss my darling Charlotte’s marital prospects, there isn’t time.” He shifted to face Thomas. “Your brother has been abducted by a particularly vicious band of mercenaries.”
“They left this behind.” Thomas presented the paper with the address in Rome to Lord Beverly.
Lord Beverly took it and scowled at it. “They’re toying with us.” He glanced back to Thomas. “What did they ask for?”
“Five hundred thousand pounds,” Thomas said.
Lord Beverly let out a scoffing laugh. “That’s child’s play compared to what The Jackal has already. The ransom is a ploy to draw us into his territory.”
“Who is The Jackal?” Trent asked, aching with frustration at being so much in the dark.
“A common criminal,” Lord Beverly said. He studied Trent with an assessing look, as though trying to determine whether he could be trusted. He shifted his gaze to Charlotte for a moment, seeming to come to a conclusion. “Asher McGovern is an agent in Her Majesty’s Secret Service.”
“Good Lord,” Thomas hissed.
A wave of alarm spread through Trent.
“For the last year, he has been on the trail of a notorious gang of thieves intent on stealing treasures from various excavation sites in Egypt,” Lord Beverly went on.
Trent’s alarm turned to confusion. “Excavation sites in Egypt?” He shook his head and shrugged. “Why would Her Majesty concern herself with a bunch of old bones?”
“Excavations of the tombs of the pharaohs,” Lord Beverly clarified. “Not only could millions of pounds of ancient artifacts be at stake, relations with the government of Egypt hang in the balance as well. I need not explain to you the importance of diplomacy with Egypt in light of the essential nature of the Suez Canal.”
“But I thought Egypt was an eager ally, both when it comes to the canal and excavations of the ancient sites,” Thomas said, equally as confused as Trent.
“They are.” Lord Beverly nodded. “For now. But it takes a great deal of work to maintain those friendly relations and only a few missteps to ruin them. The British Empire may reign supreme, but we take our supremacy for granted in ways that will spell our downfall if we are not careful.”
It was Trent’s turn to be surprised. He agreed with Lord Beverly, but he knew full well that the opinion they shared was so unpopular as to be dismissed by most nobleman and politicians. The fate of the empire was considered indisputably secure by most people, but the rebellions in India and rumbles of war in the Transvaal said otherwise.
Trent shook his head. “And you say Asher is caught up in all this?”
“He is.”
Lord Beverly wasn’t the one who answered. Instead, Miss Sewett approached their group from the diminishing crowd of party guests. Trent had never seen the woman look so strong or foreboding. Most alarming of all, Lord Beverly didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see her.
“Forgive me, my lord.” She bowed slightly to Lord Beverly. “I did my best to stay near him, but those blasted, silly women kept trying to push me into dancing with some nonsensical lord who had imbibed too much.”
“Understood.” Lord Beverly nodded to her. “Were you able to discover anything about how Lord Addlebury was removed from the palace?”
“No,” Miss Sewett sighed. “The dark lady and her accomplices knew exactly what they were doing. We have no choice but to—”
“Hang on,” Thomas interrupted her. He gaped at her, blinked, then went on to say, “How are you involved in all of this?”
The corner of Lord Beverly’s mouth tipped up in a grin. “Miss Sewett is one of our mission’s most effective operatives. She has been an agent with Her Majesty’s Secret Service for decades.”
“Don’t tell them that,” Miss Sewett snapped. “The less they know, the better.”
Trent could only st
are as the woman talked back to Lord Beverly. He would have been too intimidated by the man to be half as bold. “So, you’ve been working with Asher for the queen this whole time?” he asked.
“As I said,” Miss Sewett said with a deep frown, “the less you know, the better.”
Trent could hardly believe it. The woman whom he’d dismissed as a curmudgeonly chaperone, one whom Asher had hired to make the female McGoverns miserable, was a genuine spy.
“We need to relocate to Rome at once,” Miss Sewett went on, turning to Lord Beverly as though she were the one issuing orders. “The Jackal and his henchmen won’t waste time trying to get information out of Lord Addlebury. If we don’t rescue him soon, there may not be much left to rescue.”
“She’s right,” Charlotte said in an eerie voice. Her gaze was unfocused, and she pressed a hand to her stomach. “Lord Addlebury is in terrible danger. We must rescue him immediately.”
“We go to Rome, then,” Thomas said, looking overwhelmed by the whole thing. “I’ll organize the family.”
“Report back to me when you do,” Lord Beverly said as Thomas stepped away. “You are your brother’s natural successor in more ways than one.”
Thomas looked aghast at the prospect, but nodded and strode off to a cluster of McGovern cousins who were still left in the room.
Lord Beverly turned to Charlotte. “My darling, I want you to go home, to my palace, right away. You’ll have to stay there until I can arrange for you to have safe passage back to England, but—”
“She’ll stay with me,” Trent said, sliding an arm around Charlotte’s waist and tugging her against his side.
Lord Beverly frowned at the interruption. That frown turned into a dark, scrutinizing look. “You think you can keep her safe?” His question was genuine. Trent felt as though he truly wanted to know the answer.
“I know I can,” Trent insisted. “I love her. I would give my life for hers, if called on to do so. There is no greater protection than that.”
