Lord Regret's Price: A Jane Austen Space Opera, Book 3 (9 page)

To match her dreadfully legendary reputation as Lady Doctor Wyre.
Someone wanted her dead before she could enter the Forbidden City. So she intended to play the part of the wildly dangerous and extravagant Britannian lady with her utmost ability.

So which gown would showcase her most extravagant personality?

She honestly couldn’t decide, which irritated her to no end. Once upon a time, she’d chosen what styles and fashions anyone of consequence would then copy throughout the Season. She’d decided if feathers would be worn in the hair or if they would be the height of gauche stupidity. Red or blue or lavender, lace or velvet, jeweled slippers or heels, fans or shawls… The enormous responsibility to set the fashion had been hers and she’d relished every moment of it.

Now she was as nervous and anxious as a debutante going to her first ball.

There really was only one thing to do when becoming anxious, so she made a pot of tea. The fragrance alone began to untangle the knots in her stomach. A few sips and the warmth flowed through her limbs, easing the muscles straining in her neck and shoulders. Smiling, she sat back and surveyed her new wardrobe with fresh eyes.

She knew exactly why she was having difficulty selecting a gown. Her taste was changing. Not the simple matter of selecting a more modest or daring neckline. No, this was something deeper, much more fundamental.

She was exploring the universe, testing her boundaries in unexpected ways. So it was only natural that her eye for clothes was also undergoing a change.

She had no idea what the current fashion in Londonium or Parisii might be and she couldn’t care less.
This isn’t about what style was all the rage. This is about me. What I want to say. What I want for my life.

So much had changed since she’d led the Season seven years ago. For so long, she’d worn blinders, loving her life and living on the generations of privilege to which she’d been born. She’d been free to explore every technological advance her mind could comprehend, without ever stopping to consider what the human hand might actually wrought from those inventions.

She’d been innocent of any wrongdoing the Queen or MIGS might accomplish with her technology. It wasn’t her fault if they chose to use her nanobots as a weapon instead of the tools of unparalleled healing as she’d intended. Rich, beautiful and brilliant, she’d had everything she could possibly want.

Until she realized she bore the blood of countless innocents on her hands.

She’d had to die from that life to truly live. She’d learned how to survive with barely any technology at all, let alone her own magnificent creations. Alone and far from all her so-called friends, she’d learned the true value of having acquaintances who took care of one another. Who checked in on them during the merciless winter. Who made sure the widowers and orphans had enough to eat. Who built the houses and barns for those less fortunate. Who brought the harvest in when the farmer was too ill to drag himself out to the fields.

Men like Gilead Masters.

Or men like Sigmund Regret, who’d killed to make sure she remained free.

One would have thought that a night of reckless abandon would have brought them closer together, yet the opposite had occurred. Sig was at her side, but not present. Not like she’d expected. He regretted what she’d given him. He feared what they were becoming.

It was ironic, in a way, that he was more comfortable with the cold, hard dominant lady than a woman willing to give up a little control to bring pleasure to them all. Wearing those clamps and feeling so completely out of control had helped her understand Sig’s desire to be bound all the better. She might tie him up so that he couldn’t move, but he found that restriction freeing. She’d never known how truly freeing it could be to simply sit back and allow someone else to take control, to decide how and when.

How could she ever doubt her beloved men? How could she ever be afraid that they’d harm her or force her to do something she didn’t want?

Just the memory of Gil’s hard hands on her hips, hauling her back while he pounded into her so furiously, was enough to make a low moan escape. Sig’s hands in her hair, pulling her close, taking her breath with every thrust, deciding when she’d be allowed to breathe.

With a rattle, she set the cup aside and forced her mind back to the situation, else she’d go searching for one of her men and experiment with their rings.

All her new gowns had been strongly influenced by her presence in Zijin, only fitting since she’d used local seamstresses. She’d never favored much embroidery as embellishment, but she had to admit that the metallic threads and intricate designs looked gorgeous on the fine silks. All of the gowns would make Queen Majel green with envy, but Charlotte’s two favorites were a red and a white gown.

The red was daring, with a low, tight bodice that would barely cover her nipples. A long train would trail behind her, several layers of silk fluttering across the ground as she walked. Handsewn flowers covered every inch of material. In that gown, she’d rival the Dowager Empresses for imperial beauty.

She wouldn’t hesitate to make such a statement…if there were cause to do so. But did she truly want to step into the Forbidden City and throw down a challenge to the most powerful women in all of Zijin before she’d even met them and evaluated their motives for herself?

The white gown was not something she would ever wear in Londonium. As a debutante ages ago, she’d been forced to wear such insipid colors, and she’d sworn as soon as she was deemed old enough she’d never wear white again. Not even to her wedding.

This gown was special. The white seemed to glow with incandescent colors, emphasized by rows and rows of tiny freshwater pearls sewn along the train. The bodice was almost prim, an innocent, high neckline and long, tight sleeves to hide every inch of her arms. No trim adorned it but the pearls and delicate silver embroidery of light, airy birds.

Doves, to be exact. Once her symbol, before Majel crushed her House and abolished the Wyre name.

It was the back of the gown that made it shockingly unique. In Polite Society, it’d be incredibly gauche to show one’s corset in public, yet the indecently deep V did exactly that. She’d be revealing both the vulnerable bare skin of her back, as well as her undergarments that no decent lady would reveal except in the bedchamber.

In her heyday, Charlotte would have had difficulty pulling off such a gown in a relatively stuffy Britannian Season. Even here in Zijin the cut of the gown would be considered risqué, if the other seamstresses’ shocked reactions were any indication.

Charlotte had paid the daring seamstress twice what she’d asked for the gown and hired her to create a dozen more with the same exquisite work and shocking cuts. If she was able to remain in Zijin long enough to collect them.

She loved the gown and she wasn’t afraid to wear it. Not exactly. No, her reluctance came from something deeper.

What that bare back represented. The kind of thoughts she’d had recently. Why she’d bought a flail. Why she’d been willing to explore a little pain with Sig.

She’d assumed that Sig would be eager to explore that unknown territory with her, while she’d worried how Gil would react. She couldn’t have been more wrong. Gil was much more open to exploration than she’d given him credit for, while Sig seemed reluctant and even angry that she dared even think about it.

He needs time. I understand that. I do.

But it still felt like a rejection. It hurt more than she’d expected.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the pain away and rang for her maid, decision made.

I’m willing to bear hurt for his sake. I just hope he doesn’t hurt me for very long.

Chapter Eight

As they flew over the sprawling cities of Bei-Jing, Charlotte could barely contain her excitement. There were so many things she wanted to explore in Zijin, but her greatest and most impossible hope was about to become reality.

Nearly every available surface of the planet seemed to bear the weight of civilization. They flew low enough to see the rise and fall of the buildings and towers with very little green or empty space in between for miles and miles. It was as though the individual cities of the planet had grown until the entire planet was one sprawling municipality.

All of that civilization stopped at the Great Wall. High and thick enough to support the landing of one of Britannia’s largest warships, the Great Wall rose like a massive mountainous cliff, cutting off the city’s encroachment. Sig landed in the designated docking area and they walked toward the main entrance, the Meridian Gate.

Awaiting their arrival, Prince Gong inclined his head. “Greetings, Lady Wyre. I’m so pleased you accepted the Emperor’s invitation.”

Resisting the urge to scan the formidable watchtowers at the corners to see how many soldiers were aiming their weapons at them, Charlotte bit back a snarky reply. Refusing an invitation from Queen Majel would be a death sentence. One could only assume refusing the Emperor’s would cause the same result.

The last thing they needed was to add the Imperial assassins to the list of bounty hunters searching the galaxy for them.

They walked through the massive gate, which clanged alarmingly behind them. She looked about anxiously to not miss a thing, but there wasn’t much to see but cobblestones leading to a docking station where a lone, luxuriously appointed barge waited.

“Your baggage has already been loaded. If you’ll step aboard, we’ll begin the journey to Xuanyuan.”

“Final chance to run for
Oblivion
,” Sig whispered, giving her arm a warning squeeze. “Once we’re on their ship, it’ll be much harder to escape.”

Pitching his voice low, Gil agreed. “I have a bad feeling about this. Even with the surprises you’ve prepared, Charlotte.”

She tucked her right hand around Gil’s arm and led them toward the waiting Imperial barge. “Nonsense. Have a little faith in your lady inventor, gentlemen. There’s nothing they’ve created that I haven’t already thought of a dozen times.”

With the longer train of her gown, it took skill to maneuver into her seat without creasing the silk. Sig’s breeding was more pronounced than Gil’s as he assisted her, demonstrating that he’d walked in the same treacherous waters as she once upon a time. He tucked her skirts neatly beside her and leaned over her, his fingers ghosting down her bare back above her corset.

Shivering, she gave him a smile she hoped wasn’t too sultry with strangers nearby. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, my lady.”

She searched his face, but he merely grinned and winked as he’d always done, even though she hadn’t seen him since that wonderful night of passion that had evidently alarmed him. He was fully in his gentlemanly assassin role—dashing, handsome and oh-so deadly. His defenses were fully in place. Dressed impeccably in snug buckskins and a brilliant blue coat that made his eyes breathtakingly sapphire, he stood at her left hand with casual, negligent grace that belied the violence he could unleash if anyone threatened her.

She ran her gaze over him but couldn’t see the numerous weapons that he’d no doubt stashed on his person, although he wore his trademark pistols openly on each hip. It would certainly be entertaining to strip him item by item to find all his blades.

On her right, Gil continued to play the backwater colonist. As such, she’d agreed he didn’t need to dress as extravagantly as Sig, but he looked especially nice in his sleek, black marshal suit. He’d also protested about the heavy gold rings she’d asked him to wear on both hands…until he’d seen how they linked together to turn his fists into brutal weapons. “This sure is an extravagant barge, Your Highness. How long is the flight to Xuanyuan?”

He deliberately mispronounced the Forbidden City’s name so badly that the prince winced. “Not far.”

“I’ve studied the Zijin system,” Sig drawled. “But I can’t find Xuanyuan on any map. Not an exact location, that is. There’s a vague spot in the center of your system, but most scans say the only thing there is a bunch of asteroids.”

Prince Gong gave them a small, tight smile. “The exact location is an Imperial secret. Taking any foreigner to visit Xuanyuan is unheard of for that reason. To take someone of Lady Wyre’s reputation…” He inclined his head slightly. “You can see why some might have wanted her eliminated before that could happen.”

“And what steps have you taken to prevent the possibility of another attempt?” Charlotte said coolly. “I’m sure the Emperor won’t be pleased if we’re forced to kill inside his palace, even if it’s to protect ourselves.”

“No, he will not.” Prince Gong wiped the smile from his face. “There are very strict rules about weapons in His Majesty’s presence. I’m afraid that no guns or knives will be allowed on your persons once we’re inside Xuanyuan.”

Of course she’d anticipated such a rule. No ultimate ruler would appreciate weapons on foreign visitors. So she’d taken steps to make some very innocuous-looking devices that couldn’t possibly be considered weapons. While the seamstresses had been frantically sewing her gowns, she’d been equally frantic crafting new toys.

However, she played along with the prince and frowned with concern. “I don’t go anywhere without some protection, Your Highness. I’ve been hunted all across this galaxy. I’m certainly not going to lay down every single weapon and protection I’ve crafted to make it easier for your black-masked assassins to eliminate me.”