Of Silk and Steam (14 page)

“Who’s there?”

Leo hauled the Trojan horse to a sliding halt, its hooves dancing on the cobbles. A figure stood on the top of Ratcatcher Gate, leaning on a fairly intimidating cannon.

“Ease off, Dandy,” a lad called, sliding down the sides of the gate and landing in the streets. “He’s one o’ ours.”

Charlie dusted himself off as he landed, straightening until he was almost as tall as Leo himself, though far leaner. “Barrons.” He grinned. “You appear to ’ave stolen a Trojan horse.”

The shock of seeing Charlie was another blow. The lad’s smile faded a fraction as Leo said nothing.

For years he’d avoided Charlie as much as he could, knowing that the lad knew the truth about who’d infected him with the craving virus. Not one of Leo’s finest moments. He’d deliberately sabotaged the vaccine that the boy’s father—his father—intended to inject himself with, not realizing that Sir Artemus Todd intended to inject his younger son as well.

The duchess twisted to look at him when he didn’t answer, her slender body lithe in his arms. Leo cleared his throat. “Charlie.” There was nothing more to say. The reality of the situation was beginning to weigh him down again.

“’Ere, lads.” Blade’s voice carried out of the shadows, the man himself followed closely by Rip’s hulking form. “Leave off and get back to duty.”

Three young boys appeared out of nowhere on the rooftops and scampered away. All of them wore the same jerkin with a pair of crossed daggers branded into the leather over their chests, the sign of the Reapers, Blade’s gang.

“Why, look at you.” Blade strode forward, his hands shoved into the pockets of his long leather coat and a curious expression on his face. Catching the reins of the horse, he eyed the duchess. “Gretna’s that way,” he said, tipping his head toward the north.

Amazing how Leo had managed to hold himself together through that thrilling ride, but the familiar sight of Whitechapel—of Blade and Charlie and the rest of the men—was a punch to the chest, reminding him of the nightmare, and of everything that he’d lost. “They know,” he said, his voice roughening. All of a sudden the rookeries didn’t look as inviting as they once had. Damn it, what had he been thinking? There was nowhere safe from the prince consort, nowhere.

Blade’s eyes narrowed, sorting through the implications of those two words.

“I shouldn’t have come here.” Leo started backing the horse up. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You ain’t got nowhere else to go.” Blade snatched at the reins, holding Leo in place, then eyed the duchess. “Dangerous ’ostage.”

“Circumstances and all. Blade, you don’t understand.” Although Leo was starting to. “I just gave him a bloody invitation to start a war. You know what he wants. He’ll use this to—”

“Not ’ere,” Blade snapped. “Back at the Warren. Now.”

“I should never—”

Blade snatched the duchess out of Leo’s arms in a froth of white skirts. “’Ello again, princess.” He tossed her toward Rip, who caught her in his arms. “Make sure she don’t go nowhere. Might be some value in ’er yet.”

“Barrons!” the duchess snapped, one hand curling in the giant’s collar, her eyes flaring wide.

Leo’s eyes narrowed.

Blade slapped a hand on his knee. “Don’t make me throw you over me shoulder too. It ain’t seemly.”

A half dozen of Blade’s men were watching, having followed him out of the alley. Charlie shot Leo a grin, leaning against the gate with his arms crossed in amusement, as if silently daring him to throw down with Blade.

Leo didn’t have the strength of will right now to argue. Rubbing at the bridge of his nose he sighed, then slid his leg over the horse’s rump and landed with a stagger at Blade’s side. “You’re a fool.”

“We always knew it would come to this,” Blade replied in a low voice. “You ain’t the cause. You’re just the catalyst. Besides, ’Onoria would wring me bloody neck if I let you leave and do somethin’ noble and stupid, like sacrifice yourself.”

Tossing the reins to Charlie, Blade lifted his voice. “Spread the word, boys. It’s martial law in the rookeries. Women and children inside at all times, and I want the menfolk out ’ere on the walls.” Blade slung an arm over Leo’s shoulder and started leading him toward the Warren. “And look sharp! As soon as you spot a pasty face, I want to ’ear of it.”

* * *

Blade’s insouciance wore off the closer they got to the Warren. Snapping orders at those they met, he forced Leo through the door and shut it behind them. Rip was inside, the struggling duchess in his arms and his metal hand clapped over her mouth.

“’Ow’d they find out?” Blade asked.

“I trusted someone I shouldn’t have.” A dark look at the duchess.

Blade laughed under his breath. “Always the pretty ones you gotta watch your back wit’. Wouldn’ta thought you’d lose your ’ead over the Ice Queen, though.”

“What the devil is going on?” a voice called from the top of the stairs, and Honoria appeared with a shawl draped over her shoulders. “Is that the Duchess of Casavian?” Her eyes widened. “Did you kidnap the duchess, Blade? Are you insane?”

“Not me, luv.” Blade started up the stairs, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “Your brother decided life were gettin’ borin’. Thought ’e’d turn pirate or somethin’.”

Brother
, she mouthed. “Blade—”

“It’s all right,” Leo called, following him. “No point hiding the truth anymore. The prince consort called me out on it an hour ago.” He paused at her side. “They know I’m a bastard.”

Her dark eyes softened. “And?”

“The prince consort wants my head on a spike.”

Honoria’s breath rushed out of her and she looked at Blade, half shaking her head. “No. No, I won’t let them—”

“It’s all right, luv.” Blade squeezed her hand. “’E ain’t goin’ nowhere. The prince consort wants ’is ’ead? Then ’e’s goin’ to ’ave to go through me.”

Warm arms curled around Leo as Honoria hugged him. He staggered back a step, taken by surprise. Her heavily rounded stomach was a barrier between them, making him slightly uncomfortable, but that didn’t stop her. And then her shoulders shook and he realized she was crying.

He couldn’t ever recall Honoria crying. Honoria, who was made of firmer pluck than most men.

Blade shrugged and made a circular motion in front of his stomach, mouthing, “
The
baby
.”

“We won’t let anything happen to you,” Honoria said, lifting her head and drying her eyes with the back of her hand. “I promise.”

The very idea that she intended to protect him struck him by surprise. “Honor…” He had no idea what to say to her. And then it hit him. The duke hadn’t stood by him. Only Lynch and Malloryn had offered a word of defiance. But this…

His sister. His arms curled around her and he lowered his chin onto the top of her head, soaking up the sensation of her warm body. Closing his eyes and resting, just for a moment. He was so fucking exhausted, and somehow insulated, as if the true effects of the day hadn’t yet penetrated.

He’d needed this so badly. For someone to give a damn, to stand by him, even if that would start an all-out war.

The press of her pregnancy was a brutal reminder, though. Everything had a consequence. He’d learned that with Charlie. He opened his eyes and found Blade watching. “I can’t stay.”

“
What?
” Honoria lifted her head.

“The rookery defenses haven’t been completed.” He couldn’t look at her. To do that would somehow break him. “And the weapons you’ve stockpiled aren’t enough. Not yet. He’ll throw everything he has at you. Fifty years ago, when you forced the Echelon out of the rookeries, they learned from that mistake. They won’t misjudge you—or the people here—again. I can’t stay. I can’t give him an excuse to push this to war.” Not a single expression flickered over Blade’s face. “Damn you, look at her. She could give birth at any moment.”

“You don’t think I know that?” For the first time, Blade’s composure wavered.

“So it’s true,” the Duchess of Casavian whispered. “You’re planning to overthrow the prince consort.”

Blade shot her a look that had Leo stepping between them. He’d acted before he thought about it, poised on the balls of his feet.

They all noticed. Blade shared a glance with Honoria that Leo couldn’t read.

“Perhaps we should all take the night to think about it,” Honoria suggested. “No matter what the decision, one thing is eminently clear. The duchess cannot be released, not yet.”

“Don’t ’ave to keep ’er ’ere, either.”

The words were deadly soft. A threat. Leo stiffened. “I brought her into this, and I will see her out of it. Safely.”

Blade gave him a long, slow look. “She stabbed you inna back once. Don’t you forget that.”

“I won’t.”
Never
again.
“But she’s
my
hostage. Not yours.”

“Fine. ’Onor, see ’em to some rooms to freshen up. You oughta get some rest whilst I go rouse the lads. We’ll see what the prince consort’s first move is, and work out ’ow this gets played.”

* * *

The small room they took her to was surprisingly clean and smelled like beeswax. Mina stumbled over the stoop and jerked to a halt. Barrons murmured something under his breath at the tall giant who’d bundled her here—Rip, she thought he’d called him—then stepped inside and shut the door behind them.

Alone together.

Mina wrapped her arms around herself. So much was going through her mind, but in a day of revelations, the one that was most startling was the fact that both Barrons and Blade did indeed seem to be working to overthrow the prince consort.

All these years, she and the queen had thought themselves alone, maneuvering pieces into play until they finally had enough money and resources to begin actively working against the prince consort. The humanist movement had already been in place, so Mina had simply started pushing some much-needed funds their way and helping with recruitment, until she’d slowly become the heart of the movement.

Did she dare trust Barrons with the truth? That they were working on the same side? Mina opened her mouth, then shut it again. Too many years and too many secrets made her cautious. She needed to know more before she committed herself to this.

And for the first time, she felt desperately alone. She and Alexandra had always worked together on this. Any step she made was a threat against the queen herself, if handled incorrectly.

After all, neither Barrons nor Blade had made mention of who they intended to see in power once the prince consort was overthrown. And Barrons… He was not himself, that much was clear. There was no sign of the man who’d managed to sneak beneath her defenses. The man who’d dried her off so tenderly and whispered in her ear of Paris. She wanted that man back. He was just a shell now. Weary. Exhausted. Lashing out at her. Potentially dangerous.

“I know what it must seem like,” she said quietly. “But I want you to know that I never betrayed you.”

“No?”

Just that. Mina took a deep breath. “It’s my fault indirectly. I set my man-of-affairs, Gow, to…to finding something I could use against you. Gow must have gone to the prince consort with the information I’d requested.”

“Did you wish to ruin me so badly?”

“I-I—” She didn’t know what to say. There was a bitter taste in her mouth, and how could she explain her actions when she didn’t truly understand them herself?
You
frighten
me
didn’t seem to be answer enough.

Those dark eyes watched her, drawing their own conclusions, no doubt. Mouth thinning, he turned away, examining the barred windows. “The problem with trust is that once it’s broken, it’s very difficult to restore again. Do you know, you almost look guilty. And I almost believe you.” Barrons looked up, his voice turning to smoked honey. “But I don’t.”

“What do you intend to do to me?”

“Blade’s correct. You know too much now.”

“I can’t stay here. I have to go back.”

“Why? Lord Branson’s ball tomorrow night? Or an appointment with your milliner in the morning?”

She backed away, keeping a chair between them. “You wouldn’t understand.” Without her, Alexa had no one to truly protect her. And she’d been in such a rare mood this morning—to actually condemn Barrons to death when the prince consort requested it, without even challenging him. That wasn’t the woman that Mina knew. He’d done something to her. Hurt her. The bruises she’d left on her queen hadn’t been enough.

“Please,” she said, seeing no other way out of this. “I’ll do anything you want. Just let me go.”

Barrons’s eyes became half-lidded at her words. “
Anything?
” he murmured, tipping the chair out of his way and stepping toward her.

Mina’s back hit the wall as his hand slid around her throat, fingers stroking the pulse of her carotid. Those black eyes were bottomless, empty chasms where she stared directly into the face of his hunger as he gave himself over to his darker side. Her throat went dry, heat blazing behind her eyes as her own hunger ascended. The room went dark as her vision changed, becoming sharper.

Too long since she’d last sipped some blood, combined with a horrendous day. There’d been no time to grieve for Boadicea, not truly, and the rush and excitement of their escape from the Ivory Tower had stirred her blood. Saliva wet her mouth. She wanted blood. Wanted it with a fierce ache.

Mina turned her face to the side, closing her eyes until she thought she had herself under control. The nearness of his body didn’t help, that thumb stroking her throat. Back and forth. Mina bared her teeth and snatched at his wrist. “Don’t.”

Thick lashes shuttered his eyes as his gaze dropped, fingers tracing her collarbone and lower, hand turning, the back of his knuckles leaving a tickling sensation against the smooth slope of her inner breast. He looked back up, a challenge there. “I thought you said ‘anything.’”

An odd mix of desire and revulsion filled her, washing her hunger back down into the depths within her. She wanted him, but not like this. It was an ugliness that he asked of her to clearly mark the change in their relationship.

“I won’t let you make me your whore.” Not even for Alexa? After everything the queen had endured over the past decade while married to the prince consort?