The Great Game (Royal Sorceress) (48 page)

“I knew
why
Sir Travis had been murdered,” Lord Mycroft said. “There was no other logical motive. But I didn’t know
who
. My brother... had other affairs to handle.”

He picked up the white queen and held it out to her. “Besides, you needed something to boost your reputation,” he added. “Solving the case alone would solidify your position, I calculated, but destroying Howell’s blackmailing empire made you immensely popular.”

“Popular enough for people to forget that Sir Charles took me for a ride?” Gwen asked, bitterly. “I acted the fool. People won’t forget.”

“The world is full of people who were foolish in love,” Lord Mycroft said. He started to put the pieces back in their starting positions. “You are far from the first person to allow love to blind you. Unlike many, you were capable of realising your mistake and acting on that realisation. Quite a few officials who should have known better allowed themselves to be blinded by love – or lust.”

“I’m a girl,” Gwen reminded him. “It’s different for men.”

“Sometimes,” Lord Mycroft said. “I have a list of men who cannot be trusted with anything sensitive because they compromised themselves... and then refused to learn from the experience. Compared to many of them, you didn’t do too badly at all.”

Gwen looked down at the chessboard. “Which piece am I?”

Lord Mycroft shrugged as he picked up the white king. “The king isn’t a piece so much as it represents a line of succession,” he said. “It cannot be taken, merely trapped; a threat to the king forces all else to be dropped while the king is protected. In our case, the king is England itself. We must protect England, even at the cost of the other pieces.”

“You didn’t answer the question,” Gwen said.

Lord Mycroft tapped one of the knights. Gwen had to smile.

“You aren’t so hidebound as many others,” he explained. “And that gives you an advantage.”

He put the king down and looked up at her. “The Privy Council has decided to commend you for doing an excellent job,” he said. “There was some suggestion that you might have allowed your heart to mislead you, but it was voted down by a large majority. Some rumours will slip out, of course...”

“Of course,” Gwen agreed.

“... But they will receive no support from the Privy Council,” Lord Mycroft concluded, flatly. “Indeed, you will be honoured for your conduct.”

Gwen flushed. Praise from Lord Mycroft was rare.

“I made mistakes,” she confessed. How close had she come to surrendering completely to Sir Charles? “I...”

“Everyone makes mistakes,” Lord Mycroft said. “You have to learn from the experience.”

Gwen nodded, mutely.

“There will be no open admission of what happened to either Sir Travis or Sir Charles,” Lord Mycroft said. “Sir Travis’s death will be blamed on Howell; we can tell a few rumourmongers that Sir Travis refused to be intimidated and Howell killed him in hopes that it would save his life. Few people would question that story. Sir Charles’s death will be blamed on one of Howell’s rogue magicians. You will be credited with rushing to his rescue and killing the rogue before he could escape.”

“There are holes in that story,” Gwen pointed out.

“But it will be generally believed,” Lord Mycroft said. “Both of them will be buried as heroes – and the Airship Treaty will not be brought into question. The Privy Council will debate it later today and Parliament will, I suspect, have the opportunity to vote on it within the week. If we’re not at war by then, that is.”

Gwen winced. “The French will know the truth, won’t they?”

“They can’t say anything without admitting their own role in Sir Travis’s murder,” Lord Mycroft said. “The truth will leak out, sooner or later, but by then it should no longer matter.”

“I hope you’re right,” Gwen said. She hesitated, then asked the question that had bothered her before she went to sleep. “Is the Airship Treaty a mistake?”

Lord Mycroft snorted. “Every solution to every problem faced by the British Empire, or every other nation, causes problems in its own right,” he said. “That’s the lesson of history, Lady Gwen. It never really ends.”

He tapped the white king. “And we spend all our time trying to prevent the king from being trapped,” he added. “That’s why the French were so desperate.”

“They feared that they might be trapped,” Gwen said, in understanding. “
Are
they trapped?”

“Not yet,” Lord Mycroft said. “And we don’t
want
to trap them.”

He smiled at her. “If you don’t want to play,” he said, “you can go back to Cavendish Hall.”

Gwen hesitated, then risked a different question. “Is it likely that I will ever find love?”

Lord Mycroft showed a hint of surprise before it faded away into nothingness. “You are operating outside society’s conventions,” he said, finally. “I think you would manage to find someone, if you looked in the right place. But so few of your class marry for love.”

“I will be more careful in future,” Gwen admitted. She’d never really thought of Lord Mycroft as a father figure before, but who else could she ask for fatherly advice? Doctor Norwell? “Is it wrong of me to feel bad about that?”

“When... something bad happens to a woman, something caused by a man, she may well end up blaming
all
men for it,” Lord Mycroft said. He didn’t say the word outright, but Gwen knew what he meant. “That you still want to find someone speaks well of you, I think. But just remember to be careful. There are worse things than losing one’s reputation that can happen to you.”

Gwen nodded and stood up.

“You did very well,” Lord Mycroft said. His expression hardened, just for a second. “And the Privy Council will ensure that everyone knows that we are satisfied.”

“But it won’t be enough to convince Polite Society,” Gwen objected. Even the Privy Council couldn’t control the gossips. “They...”

“They will do as they are told,” Lord Mycroft said. “But I’d suggest that you stayed away from balls for a few months. You’re supposed to be in mourning.”

“Understood,” Gwen said.

With that, she walked out of the room and headed back to Cavendish Hall.

Chapter Forty

I
didn’t know that you were going to marry Sir Charles,” Lady Mary said. “He should have asked your father’s permission before asking you.”

Gwen gritted her teeth. It had taken her nearly three weeks to work up the courage to visit her mother and in that time the rumours had grown massively out of control. According to the gossip running through Polite Society, Gwen and Sir Charles had been secretly engaged before Sir Charles had been brutally murdered by one of Howell’s magicians. It was all Dreadfully Romantic, according to society’s queens, and Gwen had been bombarded with commiserations from just about anyone who was anybody.

“He wasn’t going to marry me, mother,” Gwen said. It was hard enough to say those words, even though she knew that her mother would understand. “The story they told you is a lie.”

She ran through everything that had happened between her and Sir Charles, ending with the moment she’d killed him. Lady Mary listened quietly, without saying a word; Gwen found that more worrying than outright shouting. But then, her mother should understand. She’d been through something similar herself.

“I was in love,” she concluded, bitterly. “If he’d pressed, I don’t know how far I would have gone.”

“And you shouted at me for my mistake,” Lady Mary said. “What were you thinking?”

Gwen winced. She knew that she deserved that, but it didn’t make it any easier.

“I didn’t understand what you went through,” she said. Her isolation from society hadn’t really helped either. She’d had few of the outlets used by other young ladies. “I think I understand how you must have felt after your relationship failed.”

She’d known that her relationship with Sir Charles could have easily destroyed her career, even though she was the only Master Magician known to exist. Lady Mary hadn’t had that support; if she’d been discovered to be pregnant, her reputation would have been utterly shattered, ruined beyond repair. Gwen still found it hard to forgive her mother for aborting her half-sibling, but she understood what her mother had felt. God would judge her, in due course. Gwen no longer wanted to try.

“I didn’t want to see you make the same mistake,” Lady Mary said. She looked up at Gwen, her dark eyes fixed on Gwen’s face. “Did you... did you let him go inside you?”

Gwen flushed, but shook her head.

“At least you were wiser than I,” Lady Mary told her. “I went too far and paid the price.”

She reached out and gave Gwen a hug. “I understand what you must have felt when you found out the truth,” she added. “And I forgive you for it. Rudolf... may take longer to forgive you, but I’m sure he will. He cares about you, whatever you may have said to him when you were last here.”

“I hope so,” Gwen said. At least David didn’t know the full story. “And I’m sorry...”

“It’s part of growing up,” Lady Mary admitted. She smiled, suddenly. “Your grandmother was always very upset with me...”

Gwen nodded. She had never understood her grandmother’s tales until now. Hard as it was to imagine Lady Mary as a child, she would have been a rebellious girl at one point... and she had managed to get herself into deep trouble. Now, she had been doing her best to prevent Gwen from making the same mistake. She could understand that too.

“I’ll write to father,” she said, standing up. “And thank you for seeing me.”

Lady Mary stood up and gave her another hug. “That, young lady, is what mothers are for,” she said, firmly. “But you should drop in more often.”

Gwen nodded. Spending more time with her mother, now that they knew each other without the masks, would be better for them both, she hoped. And if not, she told herself, it could serve as penance, both for screaming at her mother and growing too close to Sir Charles.

“Goodbye, mother,” she said. “I’ll see you soon.”

Her carriage was waiting outside; she climbed inside and told the driver to take her to Pall Mall, where David was waiting for her. Her mind insisted on replaying everything she’d done with Sir Charles in a carriage, reminding her of her own foolishness. At least she’d survived without doing something
really
stupid, she told herself, although Polite Society might have disagreed. But they seemed to believe the official story.

David had booked them both a table at a nearby cafe. Gwen allowed the waiter to show her to his table and smiled as he looked up from his book.

“So,” he said, as Gwen sat down. “How was your meeting with mother?”

Gwen blinked in surprise. How had he known?”

“Father was not too happy about whatever you said to him,” David admitted. “I had to remind him that you have plenty of friends in high places and it could be disastrous if he pushed around too much.”

“I will write to him,” Gwen said, remembering what she’d told her mother. “But I don’t know what he will say to me.”

“It’s a start,” David said. “Just be grateful you’re not facing him after coming home drunk.”

Gwen nodded. She’d been twelve at the time, but she still recalled her father’s shouts echoing through the house. He’d been
furious
at David’s loss of control, lecturing him on how his uncle had drunk too much as a young man and ended up seriously hurt. Her brother hadn’t been able to sit properly for several days afterwards.

“I think what I did was worse,” she said, ruefully. “How is Laura?”

“Still pregnant,” David said, wryly. “One of your Healers visited her and pronounced the child a healthy baby boy.”

“Father will like that,” Gwen admitted. “Someone to carry on the family name.”

“You adopted a child,” David reminded her.

Gwen snorted. Olivia would never be considered her biological daughter; there was no point in trying to deceive anyone into believing it. Gwen would ensure that Olivia inherited most of her wealth, but she wouldn’t be considered a proper heir. And if they learned the full truth, they’d want her dead.

“That doesn’t count,” she said. “And even if I had a natural child...”

David nodded. If Gwen married and had children, they’d have their father’s name.

The waiter returned. David ordered for them both.

“Parliament ratified the Airship Treaty this morning,” he said, once the waiter was out of earshot. “It will be formally announced tomorrow in all the major newspapers. We have a working alliance with the Turks.”

Gwen smiled. War hadn’t broken out in the weeks since Ambassador Talleyrand and his daughter had been declared
personae non gratae
, but there had been some nasty reports, including Franco-Spanish troops mustering near Gibraltar and troop convoys
en route
to Mexico. Apparently, the Governor-General of America was pressing for a pre-emptive strike on Mexico and worrying over the loyalty of Hispanics and Mexicans in Louisiana. Gwen wasn’t too surprised; the French had made a big deal over incorporating Hispanics and Mexicans into their empire, even offering them full legal rights. Who knew what they would do if war broke out?

“There will also be an immediate requirement to send magicians over to help the Turks,” David added. “Do you have a list of volunteers?”

“Yes,” Gwen said, allowing her smile to widen. The mission would have to be led by a high-ranking magician and Lord Brockton was top of the list. If he refused to go, the Privy Council would certainly show its displeasure by pressing for his resignation – or forcing Gwen to sack him. She would be reluctant, naturally, but she would obey. How could she defy the highest council in the land?

“I’m glad to hear it,” David said. “The way things have been recently, it is alarmingly likely that war will break out within the month.”

The waiter returned with two plates piled high with food. “This might be the last meal I get to share with you for a while,” David added, as his plate was put in front of him. “My gut says that we are about to become very busy.”

Gwen couldn’t disagree. Little was known for certain about the French magicians, but
her
gut said that Simone wouldn’t be the only one. It was quite possible that the French had assembled a small army of magicians... hell, a few Talkers would go a long way towards evening the balance between the two empires. And she had persistent nightmares about the French finding a Master of their own – or two. How many women had Jack impregnated while he’d been in France?