Masquerading the Marquess (34 page)

"You had a Falcon ring, and I would never suspect you of being a follower. You could only be the leader of such an organization. Furthermore, you are the only one who could have pulled any of this off. No one else had the contacts. And you never had to soil your own hands; all you had to do was appoint spies to key positions as diplomats and agents. If anything went wrong, they would take the blame. You were the perfect double agent with the perfect motive—the illegitimacy of your son. I should have killed you earlier."

" Yes
, perhaps you should have."

"Who found your son’s real birth certificate?"

"The French, obviously, and then
Flanders
stumbled upon it. Of course, he was ecstatic when he found it. He figured he had something on me should his ring ever be found. And then the ring was found. I made sure you, Angelford, were out of the way and flashed the ring to Stephen at his debrief, hoping he would discover
Flanders
, and that one would kill the other.
Flanders
was greedy, but not an idiot. He had Curdle, here, plant Edmund’s real birth certificate on Ternberry in order to show me he was serious with his threats. Ternberry, the poor fool, came to me the minute he found it, a huge mistake on his part."

"Why kill Ternberry at Pettigrew’s?"

"I didn’t attend the party; no one could connect me to the event. There were plenty of people present on whom to cast blame.
Flanders
, Pettigrew, the two of you, even Roth, if I had desired to try that tack."

"Why did Ternberry return to the party?"

"I informed him that I wished to confront the villains, and he agreed to accompany me. Poor fool. Always did have an inflated opinion of himself. "

"So, all this time you and
Flanders
have been trying to frame each other.
How trite."

"No,
Flanders
was trying to frame me. I was trying to kill him." Holt shrugged. "Looks like I won."

Calliope broke in. "I thought you and my father were friends."

"We were, my dear. We were the very best of friends. Unfortunately, the French found Edmund’s damn birth certificate.
Used it against me.
When your father started investigating the intercepted messages between our camp and the French, I had to make a choice."

"A choice?"
Calliope’s voice came out strangled.
"A choice as to whether to murder your friend?"

"Edmund would have been ruined, all our lands dispersed to some country bumpkin of a cousin. Edmund couldn’t be made to suffer for
Salisbury
’s persistence." Holt gripped the gun tightly.

"His persistence to identify the traitors?
You’re crazy."

"No, I am merely living within the limits of the nobility. I would think you, with all of your guises, always living on the fringe of society, would understand."

Calliope stood motionless.

Holt smirked at her in amusement. "You, Angelford, and Chalmers have been blessed by great fortune. I thought Curdle here would have done you all in long ago. Chalmers somehow survived the beating by
Flanders
’s men and drowning in the
Thames
and Angelford survived being shot by my highwaymen. And you, my dear, have survived not one but two fires. A pity you didn’t die long ago with your lovely mother."

"You bastard.
My mother did nothing to you."

"
Flanders
always liked fires a bit too much. Seemed to think they hid all his mistakes. She had evidence that was damning--his ring. But it seemed to have survived the fire. How was that?"

She said nothing.

"It doesn’t make a difference in the end." He sneered and rose. "Now, then, what should we do, my dear? You have been a thorn in my side and caused me no end of trouble."

Calliope saw a flash and rose on her toes to block Curdle’s view of the doorway. He jabbed her hard in the spine. She winced, but spoke quickly to keep all attention on her. "You betrayed your nation, you abused your position of trust and you masterminded the deaths of friends. I think maybe you should run."

It worked; Holt swung his gun toward her.

"Really?
How quaint. And why is that?"

A voice laced with contempt spoke from the doorway.
"Because you’re one step behind, old man."

Holt turned his gun toward the voice. There was an explosion.

A look of shock was etched in Holt’s face as his body jerked to the carpet. His gun fell to the floor a few feet in front of him.

Calliope looked to the door. The tendrils of smoke swirled around Roth’s handsome face.

"Curdle, is it?" Roth kept a second gun trained on the foul-breathed man.

"Get out of my way.
Me
and the lady here are leaving."

Roth cocked an eyebrow.
" Really
? And how do you propose to get past me?"

"I’ll kill her if you don’t let me through."

"Then it will just be you, Chalmers, Angelford and me. Not a pleasant scenario for you, I think."

"I’ll take my chances."

Stephen inched across the bed, moving closer to Holt’s gun. James crept toward her.

Curdle must have noticed the movements, because he pushed her toward the doorway and whipped the gun from her back, firing at Roth.

Click. Misfire.

There was a moment of silence and then pandemonium. Calliope fell forward. James
hurdled
 
toward
her as Stephen dove for
Flanders
’s discarded gun.

James grabbed her arm and yanked her diagonally. Calliope saw Curdle drop and pull the knife from
Flanders
’s back. Two shots were fired.

She landed in a heap on top of James.

"Callie? Are you hit?" Stephen rushed over and separated them.

It was hard to tell. There was blood splattered and splotched all over her clothes, but most of it had been from her hands, hadn’t it?

James started prodding her in the side.

"Ouch! Stop that."

Relief crossed his features. "If you can yell at me, you’re fine."

Curdle lay in a heap on the floor. She didn’t know who had shot him, and she didn’t care.

Stephen gave her a squeeze. Everything hurt, including reassuring squeezes.

Roth was poking through Holt’s clothes. Finn entered the room and Roth looked up and nodded. Finn gave her a concerned look.
"Everyone unhurt?"

Calliope nodded.

Roth smiled. "Good. But you look awful," he said to Calliope. "I’ll summon a doctor." He ducked out of the room.

"Where did he come from?" Calliope asked.

Finn answered.
“Said he followed Holt here.
I met him at the front gate. He didn’t seem surprised at the hubbub."

"I shared my suspicions with him at Pettigrew’s after we found Ternberry. I didn’t get a chance to update him today. I’m just glad he appears to be a step ahead, as usual," James said, running a hand through his hair.

Curdle’s legs disappeared from the doorway as Finn dragged him out.
Flanders
and Holt still littered the floor.

James touched Calliope’s hand. "Let’s go downstairs."

She stepped over Holt and walked out the door.

A few hours later, Calliope huddled on one side of the sofa drinking tea. James sat behind the desk and Stephen was relaxed on the other side of the sofa. Stephen was already looking remarkably better. The doctor had checked them all over and advised plenty of rest and laudanum after he had tried to bleed Calliope and nearly been torn apart by both men. James had been tight-lipped, but she had discovered his mother had been bled for days before succumbing to a lung disease.

They had filled Stephen in on everything that had happened while he was missing.
Everything that he needed to know, at least.
Stephen had sent for Deirdre and Robert and they were seated across from the sofa alternating between mothering and chastising her.

"I can’t believe you didn’t tell us Stephen was missing."

"We could have helped, if you had just let us
know
."

"Do you know how worried we’ve been?"

"What were you thinking of, taking off with Angelford--no offense to you, my lord--and not informing us of what was going on?"

"Mother is going to flay me
alive,
and you too, when she finds out."

"You could have told us of your relationship with Angelford. We’ve been worried sick that you had developed a
tendre
--no offense, my lord--and were going to end up quite hurt from it all." Calliope silently acknowledged the truth of Robert’s statement.

Deirdre shoved a scone into Calliope’s hands and unsteadily poured more tea into her cup.

"Well, you are coming home with me, and that’s that. How long will it take you to pack?"

"Really,
Dee
, everything is fine. Stephen said--"

"No, I insist. I will bring reinforcements if you don’t comply."

"Deirdre, Calliope can stay here. I don’t think--"

"Stephen, you can’t be serious. There are bloodstains on the carpet.
Bloodstains from dead bodies!"
Deirdre was almost shrieking.

"She doesn’t have to stay in that room. She can have any room she desires. It’s her decision, Deirdre. She hasn’t said she wants to end our arrangement."

"I have to agree with Deirdre, Stephen," Robert said. "Your relationship and this arrangement can be sorted out later." He cast a quick look at James. Calliope hadn’t had the chance to tell Robert or Deirdre that James knew about the caricatures.

Calliope tried to rectify the slip. "Oh, by the way, he already--"

"You are in no shape to argue anything.
Kidnappings, chases, fires, murders.
Whatever is this world coming to?" Robert rolled right over Calliope’s statement, intent on winning the battle with Stephen.

Calliope went back to sipping her tea and listening to them argue. It didn’t matter if the whole tale came out now or later.

From his chair across the room, James watched the four of them clustered together arguing. Like a family, relaxed, friendly and comforting, kindred spirits bickering at each other and then smoothing ruffled feathers. He felt like an outsider. He didn’t belong.

Stephen had said she could have any of the rooms she desired. Any included his. She hadn’t said no.

The room was suddenly oppressive. He needed air. No, he needed a smoke. He rooted through the desk for the cheroot he had seen when searching earlier in the week. He seized it and racked his brain for the last time he had smoked one.

The Killroys’ ball.

James stood abruptly. The movement interrupted their squabbling. Four pairs of eyes stared at him.

"I’m going out for a second."

He left the room quickly and headed out the front door.

He lit the cheroot and leaned against the stone.
Fresh air.
Well, fresh
London
air, at least. He inhaled and the smooth smoke caressed his throat.

The door opened and Stephen poked his head out.

"You all right?"

"Yes, go back inside with the others. I’ll be in soon."

Stephen frowned but didn’t argue and the door was shut once more.

James couldn’t sort his emotions or think straight. Being outside didn’t help. Smoking didn’t help. Maybe a scotch would help.

It was time for him to leave.

He started down the walk and then stopped. His coat was inside the foyer. He could grab it and leave without anyone being the wiser.

James didn’t like the sudden creeping thought that said he was being a coward. He just didn’t want to interrupt their reunion. That was all.

He opened the door and stepped inside. His coat was on the table. The
staff
was still in an uproar and things were scattered to and fro.

James snatched his coat. He wasn’t going to look in the study.

The door was partially opened.

He looked.

"Oh, Stephen, thank you. I can’t tell you how much this means to me."

Calliope was hugging Stephen hard. James could see tears running down her face.

Something broke in his chest.

He didn’t belong here.

James blindly found his way out of the townhouse and into his carriage. He needed a scotch--a big glass of it.

"Oh, Stephen, thank you. I can’t tell you how much this means to me." Love and sadness coursed inside her. The first paragraph of the first letter was all she had needed to turn into a watering pot.

"Well, you can thank Robert too. It was a joint effort. Poor boy braved the stews of
London
to get these for you."

"Can’t say it was a pleasant experience," Robert said.

Calliope looked at him quizzically. "Why did you have to go to the stews for my father’s letters?"

"Our plans went awry when everything else went awry
. "
Stephen shook his head. "Poor Robert was convinced Pamela, Lady Salisbury, was a fire-breathing dragon with a forked tail. And I was gone. He believed you when you said I’d left. I have always been one to up and disappear."

Robert snorted. "We’ll see next time."

Stephen smiled and ignored him. "And as it turns out, Pamela volunteered the letters."

A carriage clicked familiarly down the street. James had left. He hadn’t said goodbye. Calliope’s heart constricted and she looked at Robert. "I’m not sure there will be a next time. I have some thinking to do."

The three of them looked at her as one.

"Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m fine. It’s just I’m not sure my heart is in the caricature business any longer."

"Never say that, my dear, you are too talented. Perhaps you just need a different subject." Robert cast
her a
knowing glance. Calliope just shook her head, unable to respond.

Deirdre jumped up. "I think we should be going. I’ll be back to help you pack in a few hours."

Deirdre had always been able to read Calliope’s moods. She had probably heard the carriage leaving and correctly assessed the situation.

.

"Thanks,
Dee
. Tell everyone I’m fine and I’ll see them tonight."

Deirdre gave her a big hug. "Come, Robert, let’s be off."

Robert sent Calliope a concerned look, but she waved him off and he followed Deirdre out the door Calliope turned to Stephen. "What’s going to happen to Lady Flanders? She was the one we overheard in the Pettigrews’ rose garden, arguing with Curdle."

Stephen brushed a hand through his hair.

"Roth is taking care of her. We don’t know how deep a hand she had in the whole affair.
Depending on the outcome, prison, maybe being shipped across the
Atlantic
.
She may have targeted only you, or she may have been aware of all of
Flanders
’s schemes. Roth will find out."

"Stephen, I have to ask. Why didn’t you tell me you knew my father?"

Stephen hesitated. "I thought I had plenty of time to broach the subject. Robert told me you believed your father abandoned you."

"Yes.
" .

"Robert approached me with your masquerade plans. He was privy to just enough information to know I’d been involved with your father. When he presented the idea of helping you out, I immediately accepted." Stephen smiled. "Had I known earlier that you were alive, I would have figured some way to approach you
before.
"

Calliope squeezed his hand.

"After learning that you thought
Salisbury
had abandoned you, I convinced Robert you were mistaken. We devised a plan to share some of his letters with you.
Something to convince you of his love."

"Why didn’t you just tell me?"

"You had spent years convincing yourself otherwise. Again, I thought I had time.
Time to make it easier for you."
Stephen shook his head. "As to the other, the only way to get his letters was to approach his mother. We had to tiptoe around Lady Salisbury, so as to not give away our plans. Pamela isn’t a bad person, but she was always too protective and possessive when it came to her only child. She was frightened of you and your mother, and your relationship with her son."

Calliope nodded. "I finally figured that out."

Stephen looked at her cautiously. "She gave the letters freely. And she wrote one of her own. I don’t know what it says, but it’s at the bottom of the pile."

"What a mess."

Stephen looked cheerful. "Yes, relationships often are."

"How would you know?"

Stephen squeezed her hand. "So I’ve heard." He paused. "By the way, do you know who brought me here?"

"No. The footmen were unable to question her. She slipped away too quickly."

"Hmmmm."

"You were lucky she found you."

"And I’d like to thank her. But first I have to find her."

"What are you going to do?"

"I suppose I can take the footmen around
London
and see if they spot her, but that doesn’t seem very efficient."

Calliope patted his hand. "I’m sure you will figure it out. I could try to put a sketch together from their descriptions."

He nodded. "Speaking of drawings, what are you going to do about James?"

Calliope looked down at her feet. They were swinging guiltily. "I don’t know what you mean."

"Sure you do."

"I don’t know
. "

Stephen shook his head in a mocking fashion.
"Such indecisiveness from the girl who always has a battle plan."

"Leave me be, Stephen."

He nudged her in the side. "You’re perfect for each other. You need each other to chase the shadows away. "