A School for Unusual Girls (37 page)

“More.” He nodded at the flask.

I was careful to avoid the split part of his lip as I poured. “Jane, can you get these wretched shackles off him?”

She left Maya to finish looping our slender rope around the windowsill and securing it with a knot tied around the hinge.

Jane inspected the lock on Sebastian's manacle, but the small window let in precious little light and there were too many shadows. “These are more difficult.” She snatched a candle and tinderbox from the mantel and set it on the floor beside me. “Light that. I need you to hold it by the lock, so I can see.”

Maya opened the window wider and lowered the rope.

Sebastian glanced in her direction and blinked. “Tossing me out another window, eh?”

Even chained up, even beaten purple and covered in his own blood, he teased. He meant to wrench a smile from me. I tried. But that flicker in his eyes, sparking so courageously into the tormented darkness of his pain, squeezed my heart with a fist of admiration. What I intended as a casual chuckle came out as a strangled sob.

“Hold the light steady,” Jane snapped.

His shoulders sagged. I was afraid he might fall unconscious, but his head shook. “You shouldn't be here. Too dangerous.”

Jane unlocked the first manacle. It dropped off and clattered against the hearth. We all held our breath and stared at the door. I counted in my head. Ten … fifteen … twenty. No footsteps. Jane exhaled loudly and went to work on the other shackle.

“I'm going to test it,” Maya whispered, and climbed out the window on our rope ladder, a series of fat knots two feet apart.

Sebastian flexed his free hand. I rubbed his wrist where the iron cuffs had bitten into the skin. “Help me up,” he said.

“Wait. Hold still, my lord,” Jane said. “I'm almost done.” We heard the telltale click. She slid the shackle off and carefully lowered it and the chain to the hearth. Before I could set down the candle and help him, Sebastian struggled to his feet. Just then, the door swung open and banged against the wall.

I looked up in terror. But it was a familiar face. I sighed with relief. “Lord Ravencross.”

The same instant I said that, Sebastian murmured, “Ghost.”

I took a closer look. It wasn't Ravencross. It looked very like him, same dark hair and features, except this man was thinner and had a slighter build.

“I thought I heard a noise up here.” He held a long-barreled pistol trained at Sebastian. “What's this, Wyatt? Hiding behind a bunch of girls?”

Jane peeked out from behind Sebastian and gasped.

“You,” Ghost said. “I know you. You're one of Emma Stranje's brats.” He shifted the flintlock and aimed it at her.

Sebastian stepped between Jane and the gun. “They're innocents, Ravencross. Let them go.”

I pulled the diversion out of my pocket and lit the fuse, praying it would work.

Praying it wouldn't blow up in my hand.

Just plain praying.

I tossed it at the floor in front of him. It was supposed to shatter. It didn't. It bobbled and rolled like a boiled goose egg beside his feet. He glanced down at my feeble distraction. I jerked Jane and Sebastian toward the window.

Lord Ravencross, or Ghost,
whoever he was
, said, “What in hell is—”

It exploded.

Ghost flung his arms up. The gun went off. His bullet split the window frame over my head. Fire blazed across the floor. Ghost screamed and slapped at the flames on his legs.

Jane leaped over the sill and slid down the rope.

“Hurry, my lord.” I pushed Sebastian at the window.

“Go.” Sebastian ordered me.

I wanted to say,
Get on that rope or I'll shove you out. I swear I will
. But I heard shouting in the hallway. More men coming. We had no time to argue.

“There's room for both of us.” I scrambled over the sill and saw Ghost had already extinguished the fire on his pant leg. He was using his coat to beat out the bank of flames between us.

Sebastian climbed out right after I did. He held on, and although he winced in the process, slid down one knot at a time.

Hurry
. At the bottom, my leg shook nervously. He got down and, with his arm wrapped around my shoulder, we half ran, half staggered between the houses to the back street where Tess waited with the cart. Jane and Maya helped him into the wagon. I leaped on, and Tess shook the reins. Just then a guard rounded the far corner of the house.

It must have startled him to see Tess at the other end of the alley. His mouth gaped. He took stock of her cart bearing three housemaids and the prisoner. Still blinking with surprise, he lifted his rifle to take aim.

I lunged to cover Sebastian.

With a shout, Tess slapped the reins. The horse broke into a run. Gunshot shattered the corner of the wall. Dust and stucco stung my arms.

We barreled down the street, Tess turned down a side street so fast the wagon tipped on two wheels. My heart thundered. A moment later, we skidded around another turn. She was following the circuitous route we'd pre-mapped in case we were pursued. After another turn, she reined the horse in to a more sane fast trot and we rushed to the inn.

We'd done it.

“It's all right,” Sebastian said, stroking my shoulder. “He wouldn't have had time to reload.” He pulled a piece of plaster out of my hair. “And he'd never be able to follow at this pace.”

I sat up, embarrassed to have lain against him for so long. Sebastian scooted upright and slumped against the side of the cart. He looked so weary.

“Were you hit, my lord?” I saw no evidence of fresh blood.

He smirked. “I believe you know the answer to that.” Then he frowned. “What in blazes were you playing at, Georgie? Trying to take a bullet for me. Little fool.”

I took umbrage. He could've at least been grateful. Besides, how did he know I wasn't clinging to him in fear of my own life? “You may set your pride to rest. I wasn't doing it for you. I was fulfilling an oath to Captain Grey. I promised to bring you home in one piece.”

“Where is the captain?”

“King Louis has come to Calais to reclaim his throne. Captain Grey and Miss Stranje thought there might be a plot to assassinate him. That's where he is right now, protecting the king.”

Sebastian groaned and leaned his head back. “Now, it all makes sense. I wondered why Ghost was here.”

“But he was still at the villa. Doesn't that mean that he didn't try?”

“No. He prefers to pull the strings from the shadows. He will have sent someone.” Sebastian sagged against my shoulder. “God help us if he succeeds.”

I swallowed. “Lady Daneska will be there as a guest of the Lord Mayor. You don't think…”

“It won't be her. She likes to watch.” I felt him wince, a swift telling shudder.

Had she been a spectator at his interrogations? How much of his torment had been purely for her entertainment? It was my turn to shiver.

Sebastian closed his eyes, but I doubted he slept. The cart was too bumpy. I caught him grimacing now and then, but he said nothing more.

As we drove up Rue du Canal, we could see Miss Stranje pacing in front of the inn. She would've known from the direction we were coming that we'd been pursued. She rushed to the back of the cart. Glimpsing Sebastian, her hawk-like features melted with concern. “Good Lord.”

“How do you do, Miss Stranje?” Still slumped against the side of the cart, he pretended to doff an invisible hat.

“A great deal better than you, you young rascal.” She glanced both ways to check who was observing us. “Get him inside. Quickly!”

She dispatched a lad from the inn to return the horse and cart to the mews, and bustled us upstairs to Captain Grey's rooms. She shooed us out of the room while she and the innkeeper's wife tended to his wounds. I paced on the landing outside the door. She sent me to fetch servants to carry hot water and clean linen. “How is he?”

“Alive. Do as you're told.”

I ran down the stairs and brought a kettle up myself. “A girl is coming with linen. They'll bring more hot water as soon as it's heated.”

I peeked around her shoulder as I handed in the big copper kettle. He was lying on the bed with only a sheet covering him from the waist down.

She pushed me back. “I need the brown case from my room, the one with the big brass buckle. Be careful with it. Those vials break easily.” She shut the door in my face.

Thus it continued, until at last the innkeeper's wife rushed out with a pile of soiled linen, and Miss Stranje finally emerged rubbing her palms on her skirt. “He's sleeping.”

I tried once again to peek around her. This time she left the door ajar. “I've treated his wounds with sulfur. He's strong. He'll recover quickly.”

I sighed with relief.

“You did well, Georgiana.” She murmured something else about the rescue, but her praise was lost to me as I pushed in to have a closer look.

His dark curls made such a strong contrast against the white pillow. With the dried blood gone, he already looked much improved. Although he was still swollen, and sleeping so quietly that I worried. “Shouldn't we send for a doctor?”

“It is difficult to know who to trust in Calais.”

He lay motionless. Too still. Until he thrashed from side to side and murmured in his sleep, “I won't. No. No more.” Just as he had when we'd found him.

“He's back there. Chained up again.” I rushed to his side and took his hand in mine. “No, love, you're safe,” I choked. “You're back with
us
now.”

He stilled. I looked up at Miss Stranje, desperate, begging her with my very soul to stop his nightmares. But how? She was not magic.

She shook her head and came to my side. Her hand rested gently on my shoulder. “It is not an easy thing loving a man such as this.” She spoke in a soft whisper that vibrated with the grief and worry she must feel every time Captain Grey leaves her. In this we were more than teacher and student, we were sisters. And she, I realized, was more of a mother to me than I'd ever known.

With a sad kiss to my forehead, she left me and pulled a chair beside the bed. “You may sit with him awhile. It will do him good. I'll have a tray sent up for you.”

Before I could sit, Captain Grey burst into the room. Startled, I jumped back. His frantic gaze dashed from me and Miss Stranje to Sebastian in the bed.

She hurried to the captain and pressed a calming hand over his heart. “It's all right, Ethan. I've seen to his wounds and given him something to make him sleep. He'll be fine in a day or two.”

He said nothing. Like a man in a stupor, he walked to Sebastian's bed and dropped into the chair. He tossed his hat to the floor and bowed his head into his hands. An agonizingly raw moment passed before he drew his face up from his fingers. He looked directly up at me. “I am in your debt,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.

What was I to say? You don't owe me anything. Think nothing of it. It was my fault in the first place. While I groped for the right response, he turned to Miss Stranje. “The king is dead.”

“What!” She knelt in front of him and clasped his hands in hers. “How?”

He shook his head. “Shot in the head, not more than ten minutes after he landed. I warned the Lord Mayor not to hold the ridiculous ceremony. He had his mind set on memorializing the king's first steps on French soil. It was the plaque maker, Em. The plaque maker.”

His face looked drawn and creased with regret. She pressed her lips to his fingers. “It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known he was a member of the Iron Crown.”

“The wretched band was playing so loud I didn't realize what had happened until I saw the gun smoke. In the pandemonium, the culprit dove into the water and swam away.”

“Oh, dear.” She stood and began pacing, as was her habit.

“And Daneska had a front-row seat,” I murmured.

“We've been combing the shoreline. Every man I have is out there hunting the assassin. The Lord Mayor's soldiers joined the search. Although I doubt their heart is in it. Most of them are former French troops.” Captain Grey sat bolt upright. His hands turned to fists against his thighs. “There's no sign of him. Not one bloody trace. This has Ghost's hand written all over it. Too well-planned.”

“He was in the villa,” I said. “He took a shot at us.”

They both looked at me. Wary. Astonished. Disbelieving.

“Good God,” Captain Grey finally said, and shook his head.

“Yes, but it matters little. If we don't find the assassin we cannot lay blame for the king's murder on the Iron Crown.” Miss Stranje tapped her chin, deep in thought.

“Not that it would do any good. Everywhere I go in the city, I hear cries of
Vive l'Empereur
, v
ive le Napoléon
. The tide turns quickly in France. I've sent a warning to Paris.” Captain Grey bowed his head again, fingers raking through his hair. “We failed, Em. There'll be war again.”

“Perhaps not.” She meant to comfort him, but even to my ears her words rang hollow. “Come. All this talk will not raise the dead king. You're bone tired, and I'll wager you haven't eaten since last night. Miss Fitzwilliam will sit with Lord Wyatt. Won't you, Georgie?”

He looked reluctant to leave Sebastian. “As soon as he is well enough to travel—”

“I know.” She returned to being an overbearing headmistress and took him by the arm. “But for now, Captain, come along. Leave this young lady a few moments alone with him. She's earned it.”

Skewering me with a backward warning glance, she said, “In his condition, it's not like they'll get up to anything while we're downstairs.”

How wrong she was.

She had no sooner closed the door, but what I was covering Sebastian's poor bruised face with soft kisses. I even ventured some daring kisses on his neck. After a few minutes of this shameful abuse, and raising no more response from him than a murmured “Georgie,” I sat down. Content to stare at him for the rest of the evening.