Deadly Peril (26 page)

Selina laughed and shook her head. “No, you did not imagine it. Though I suspect Alec wishes it all a bad dream from which he could awake. You know he isn’t one for grand displays of entitlement. Though he would be the first to uphold the tenets of
noblesse oblige
.”

“He had the impudence to refuse an English marquessate when it was first offered, and yet here, in this wretched place, I’m told he’s a baron of the royal household of Herzfeld!”

“I’m sure being Baron Aurich isn’t a patch on being Marquess Halsey,” commented Selina, tongue firmly in cheek, knowing Alec tolerated title and ceremony with reluctance.

“Well of course it isn’t, Selina!” replied the Duchess, not hearing the ironic note in her niece’s tone. “The very idea is absurd. An English marquessate outranks a foreign baronetcy in every respect, which would not hold much water at the Court of St. James’s. And this despite the King’s Germanic heritage. Still,” she continued with a pout, settling her shoulders on the pillows and smoothing away a crease in the embroidered coverlet, “I am vastly annoyed he did not confide in me—confide in any of us—he was so honored when he was posted here all those years ago.”

Selina left the warmth of the heater to sit on the edge of the mattress, and faced her aunt.

“It seems to be something of which he is not proud, and would keep to himself if he had the choice. But here, strutting about as Herr Baron is working to his advantage, and ours. No doubt he hopes, as we do, that the Herr Baron is better able to help free Cosmo and Emily.

“Yes, I’m sure you are right. And at least he seems to have the soldiery on his side—Oh! What has happened now? Go see! Go see!”

The Duchess shooed Selina back to the window as a second deafening cheer went up.

Peering down into the street, Selina’s interest was further piqued to find Alec standing by the canal edge, a little way off from the crowd in conversation with the old man and his granddaughter from the docks. She was so relieved to see them safe and well after their ordeal, and pleased they had sought out Alec, and that he was giving them his time. She hoped he could do something for them. A minute passed, perhaps two, and then a soldier ushered the couple into the house. Alec followed them, but he did not immediately go inside. He paused on the top step and turned on a boot heel to face the crowd. And when he put up a gloved hand to the multitudes swarming in front of him they cheered as one. The mob—what else could she call a hundred or more men crammed together along a narrow street under the glow of tapers waved aloft—then fell silent and surged forward, held in check by a line of soldiers using their bayonets as a barrier.

Alec addressed the crowd with Colonel Müller by his side. The colonel also said a few words at Alec’s invitation. Alec then spoke again. Selina was unable to hear what was said because the window was closed. Not that she would have understood a word, because she was sure he was speaking in German or Dutch, or perhaps both. His facility for foreign languages never ceased to astonish her. A final cheer went up as Alec again raised his gloved hand, and he and the Colonel disappeared back within doors, Hadrian Jeffries and a soldier following, juggling armfuls of papers and scrolls between them.

She stayed watching a little longer as the soldiers dispersed the mob, who were at first reluctant to go, but soon realized nothing more could be accomplished tonight; with the temperature rapidly dropping, it was imperative to be indoors as soon as possible or face the very real possibility of freezing to death.

It was the soft knock on the outer door, not the Duchess demanding to know what was happening under her window, that made Selina turn into the room. Peeble appeared as if from nowhere in answer to it, and let the visitor in with a quickly bobbed curtsey before disappearing back into the cramped closet she was sharing with Selina’s lady-in-waiting, Evans.

“You should both be asleep,” Alec commented mildly as he closed the door and came further into the room. He was divested of cloak, muffler, and hat, and was stripping off his kid gloves. “But I’m glad you’re awake. I can take my farewells now, as I would not want to wake you tomorrow before the sun is up.” He glanced over at Selina as he slipped his gloves in a frock coat pocket, and held her gaze with one raised eyebrow, saying teasingly in something of his old manner, “I hope you won’t mind this intrusion into your bedchamber, Mrs. Jamison-Lewis?”

Selina pressed her lips together to suppress a smile and failed miserably, felt her cheeks ripen, and lowered her lashes. Dear me! So all it took these days was a raise of his eyebrow in her direction to turn her into a giddy schoolroom miss?! She was missing their intimacy more than she realized. But that was only part of the equation. The soft timbre in his voice and that raised eyebrow was an invitation to reconciliation, and she couldn’t be happier he had finally acknowledged her without the usual frowning glance, which had been her lot since Harwich, even if he still teased her by placing undue emphasis on her hateful married name. Before she could think of a suitable playful retort, the Duchess, who was too wrapped up in herself to notice the exchange between the couple, said into the silence,

“Don’t talk rot, my boy! It’s not Selina’s bedchamber. It’s mine—
ours
—until something more suitable than this hat box is got ready for us. Of course you’re welcome in this old lady’s chamber. Now do come here and let me look at you!” she demanded, sitting up and patting the space on the coverlet beside her. When he did as ordered, and kissed her forehead before propping a buttock on an edge of the mattress, she covered his ungloved hand with hers and peered closely at him. “Selina says you’ve been outside
talking
to a mob. At this late hour! And in this cold? I was in ready expectation of you being set upon, if not by them, then the soldiers turning on you or them, or both! After that dreadful episode at the docks, at the very least, shots to be fired.”

“It wasn’t so much a mob as a delegation.”

“All with petitions for the Herr Baron?” asked Selina, sitting uninvited on the other side of the bed opposite Alec.

Alec nodded. “Yes. My long-suffering valet—well, he will be long-suffering after this night’s work. Poor Jeffries! I’ve set him the task of reading through them all, and compiling a list with the help of one of the Colonel’s men. I mean to look over the list and one or two of the petitions once I’ve said my goodnights and farewells.”

“But—There must be dozens of them, if not a hundred?” Selina asked with alarm.

“Yes. I dare say there are. Though I’d rather not know the exact number or I might fall asleep before I begin.”

“What can you possibly hope to gain by reading them tonight?” the Duchess asked crossly, unconsciously squeezing his hand a little too hard. “You’re worn thin. What you need is sleep.”

“Yes. I shall sleep. Tomorrow. On the trekschuit. It will pass the time more agreeably than staring out at a flat landscape, waiting for the next windmill or church spire to appear out of the fog.”

The Duchess was not to be placated, and said sullenly, “You’ve taken to this role as Herr Baron with such enthusiasm, I’m sure you can use the experience when we return to England and you finally take up your place in the Lords as Marquess Halsey.” She sniffed and added archly, “I’ll even have an intaglio fashioned of the Halsey coat of arms, if that’s what it takes…?”

Alec suppressed a sigh of annoyance at his godmother’s grumble of jealousy. It was not unexpected, given the English—from barrow boy to duchess—had an innate sense of superiority over their European neighbors, this despite the fact the vast majority of persons had never travelled beyond their own village. As an island nation, water provided a barrier that allowed for isolation and fear of the unfamiliar. And there was no greater barrier than language. He was acutely aware that his godmother had never travelled beyond England’s shores, and thus was so far removed from her milieu that she might as well have taken up residence on an island in the Atlantic! He did not doubt that she was as frightened as she was baffled. So he tempered his response, particularly as he had no wish to answer questions about how he had acquired the title of baron, not before he had the opportunity to explain himself to Selina first, and in private—something he could not put off forever.

“No doubt I will take a kernel of experience back with me to England, but you and I both know that I don’t require title to prop up my self-esteem, or an intaglio for that matter,” he responded mildly. “What I also know, and you do too, my dear Olivia, is that here, in this place, my English marquessate is of no use to Emily and Cosmo. Yet if being the Herr Baron can aid in setting them free, then I will exploit my position far and wide.”

The Duchess instantly teared up and felt miserable for her pettishness.

“Forgive me. Of course you must. I’m being a tedious old woman, and I had not meant to be,” she replied remorsefully and quickly dabbed at her ready tears with the handkerchief Selina pressed on her. “Naturally you must do whatever it takes, be whomever you need to be, to rescue my granddaughter and nephew from this wretched place! That is all I wish for, have ever wished for.” She sniffed and forced a smile. “Tis a pity the Herr Baron cannot grant my wish, and get
me
out of here!”

“Oh? Before you’ve seen what Emden has to offer?” he teased. “What a pity I must leave in the morning, for I had hoped to take you for a stroll along the ramparts to show you the desolate landscape. Not a hill in sight, and marsh as far as the eye can see. But the windmills are truly magnificent. A true engineering marvel, and something of which the townspeople are inordinately proud. Yet I’m certain you won’t be disappointed to forego such an excursion to have your wish granted,” he added, and kissed her hand, keeping her fingers in a comforting hold, another glance at Selina. “Because tomorrow you will be leaving here. Not the house. The country.”

The Duchess sat up with a sharp intake of breath. She could not contain her joyful surprise. “Tomorrow? Leaving the country? Truly? But where to—?”

“To Holland as first planned. I’m afraid it does mean another short voyage on
The Caroline
,” Alec apologized. “Just to the other side of the Ems, to Delfzijl which should take no more than an hour once you’ve set sail. My uncle, the servants, and all your luggage will be going with you.”

The Duchess leaned back on the bank of pillows with a sigh of relief, a hand to her bosom. “Oh, thank God.”

“And short of having him arrested and bundled aboard, so will Sir Gilbert,” Alec added. “It’s far too dangerous for him to remain in Midanich. Colonel Müller made that perfectly clear. He tells me that all foreign legations have closed their doors. Ambassadors and their retinues loaded up what they could into their carriages and fled across the border into Hanover, or took the last ship to Copenhagen, as soon as civil war broke out. Those few diplomats who remained were caught up in the fighting and captured, either by the Margrave, or by his brother Viktor. They remain prisoners of war. So now is not the time for Parsons to be making diplomatic overtures of any kind.”

“I’ll wager you’d made up your mind well before we left England to relieve Sir Gilbert of his authority and leave him in Holland, had we not been boarded by pirates,” Selina said to Alec with undisguised relish. “Cobham’s directives could go hang!”

At this Alec turned to regard her, and said bluntly, a pointed glance directed at his godmother to include her in his assessment, “Just as the two of you conspired behind Cobham’s back to have yourself included in the legation to Herzfeld Castle. It is Lord Salt’s signature on your safe conduct papers not Cobham’s. So, yes, his lordship’s directives can go hang. And so, it would seem, can mine, and all concern for your personal safety.”

“My lord—Alec!” Selina stuttered to be so bluntly addressed. “You cannot blame Aunt Olivia because I—”

“The decision was entirely mine,” the Duchess interrupted. “And Selina—”

“Please, Olivia. The time for excuses has long passed. I won’t discuss this now,” he stated bluntly, gaze still on Selina, who continued to regard him in the same manner, yet with a little defiant lift of her chin, though the ready blush to her throat spoke volumes about her feelings of guilt in deceiving him. “I merely want to make the point that you—both of you—must not keep anything from me in this dangerous place. The stakes are too high. So if there is anything else you wish to share with me, such as the ransom—”

“There is the Roentgen mechanical gaming table being offered as a gift to the Margrave as a goodwill gesture from one monarch to another,” the Duchess said. “That is far more precious than coin and jewels, you must agree.”

“I do. But the gaming table was not what Luytens mentioned when he broached the subject of a ransom with me. He specifically said, as you just did now, coin and jewels…” When his godmother shifted uneasily on her pillows and could not meet his gaze, he added quietly, “If you do have such a ransom, it would be best that I keep it safe. You should not have it anywhere near your person. I cannot stress enough that we are in a country at war. The normal rules of civility do not apply. You saw what happened at the docks. A man was shot for concealing a bag of coal.” Alec leaned in to peer closely at the Duchess. “Olivia…”

“Oh, very well!” the Duchess confessed with a guilty grumble. “I did bring jewelry and gold coin with me.”

“Thank you for
finally
telling me,” Alec replied with the ghost of a laugh.

“You know I have no defense against you when you look at me like that!” the Duchess continued, still out of sorts. “I only did what was asked of me. And we—Cobham and I—did not want to take the risk of not bringing such a ransom, in case the gaming table was considered an unacceptable gift. Selina will bring the jewelry with her tomorrow—”

“Aunt. Your Grace. I thought we had agreed—” Selina interjected, but was ignored.

“And you will stop casting blame her way,” the Duchess continued as if her niece had not spoken. “The idea of her traveling with you to help rescue Emily was mine entirely. I forbade her to tell you and Cobham. He would have been tiresome and trotted out all sorts of sensible reasons why she should not leave England. Not least of all she being his sister! A ridiculous excuse. And you would have done likewise. But for Emily—”