Masquerading The Marquess

Chapter 13

A number of guests had wandered downstairs dressed for an early morning ride to examine the scene at the lake. Many couples had already left for London, eager to be among the first to town with the news of Ternberry’s death. James found Calliope waiting near the front entrance conversing with Lady Willoughby. Rogers and Betsy had finished loading the baggage and would follow behind them.

After saying their farewells, he helped Calliope into the carriage.

The coach bumped and swayed as his driver negotiated the ruts that had become more rough and dangerous with the spring rains. They had been on the road for more than five minutes and Calliope sat quietly, fiddling with her hands and staring out the window. James kept silent waiting for her to compose herself.

She finally turned toward him. "Thank you."

He raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

She shook her head and said, "Just thank you."

He nodded, and she sagged against the cushions. "I need to get to the theater. I’m worried about my family."

"Will they leave?"

She paused and then slumped fully into the seat. "No. Both of my adoptive parents are performing this evening, and regardless of threats, they would never leave the show. "

She absently moved her fingers across her brow. "They’re unaware of the potential danger. I’m frightened for their safety. They may be caught unawares."

James reached over and patted her knee. "They will be fine. I have men watching the theater. When we get back to the city, I’ll see what they have to report."

James had stationed a man at the theater as soon as he had learned of her ties there. The connection between Calliope and Salisbury was still too strange to be a coincidence. There were twists and links in the puzzle and everything seemed to point to Calliope.

"We’ll return to Stephen’s townhouse for the night and have another look through his files and belongings."

The effort would probably be pointless. They had searched thoroughly before. But she must have felt a bit better because she shifted her position and relaxed her shoulders.

James figured it was as good a time as any to catch up on missed sleep. Leaning back, he allowed his eyes to close. Calliope squirmed, attempting to make herself more comfortable against the plush seat. He cracked open an eye, watching her shift positions. After several minutes of fidgeting, he leaned forward, plucked her off the seat and deposited her next to him.

"What are you-"

Her mild shriek was cut off as he wrapped her in his arms.

Calliope’s mind went blank. She was nestled against him, and he had never once opened his eyes. For some reason, that irritated her.

She tried escaping by pulling toward the opposite seat. His arm was like a vise. But other than tightening his arm, he didn’t move.

His head lay against the seat. She peered around at him. She had been feeling out of sorts ever since finding herself curled against his side this morning. "My lord, I really don’t think this is dignified."

He gave no indication of having heard her.

"My lord?”

Nothing.

"Angelford?"

Silence.

"James!"

One eye opened.

"Don’t you think I should return to my own seat?"

"Shh, get some rest. You didn’t sleep last night any more than I."

For some reason, that made her feel infinitely better. She was exhausted. And it was more comfortable on this side of the carriage. Yes, if he was going to get the better side of the coach, it was only fair that he share. She closed her eyes and her head lolled onto his shoulder. The motion of the carriage was soothing. Warm and cozy dreams enveloped her and the nightmares ceased for once.

It was a brilliant summer day and she was strolling in a meadow. Flowers were blooming as far as the eye could see. James came toward her, a bright blue flower in his hand. She took it and inhaled the heavenly fragrance. It was like that spicy scent that clung to him. Strange, for a flower to smell that way.

But it was a beautiful bloom and the scent was manly, much better than the common fragrance of roses. He looked down at her with tenderness and bent his head. She would delude herself no longer. This was what she had been yearning for; every part of her said this was right. Her body thrummed and her breath caught as he leaned closer.

She sighed happily.

Unexpectedly, he jerked away.

"No!"

Calliope jolted awake as James moved his shoulder. He looked down at her. "No, what?"

The coach had stopped.

"Uh, nothing, just, uh, I was surprised we were there already."

How incredibly stupid.

He stared at her for a second and then exited the coach. He held up a hand to help her down.

The return to London was a jolt to her system. An ending almost. Quickly moving toward the door, she saw that her burly footmen were still in place. Thank goodness.

She frowned.

She had ceased to consider James the enemy and started thinking of him as her savior. Around the same time she had stopped thinking of him as Angelford.

More Angelford, less James. Now that they were back in London, that would be best.

They entered the library and he walked to her favorite chair. For once that was fine with Calliope. She sprawled on the brocade settee and shut her eyes.

"I thought we were going to search through Stephen’s things."

She opened an eye to see him staring at her superciliously. "Right. I’m just resting my eyes. How about ten minutes from now?"

He shook his head and she swore a smile flitted across his features.

"Fine, we’ll do it now instead."

A smile lit his eyes.

Calliope looked at the magnificent bookcases and sighed.

Twenty minutes later she was still sighing. James felt frustrated himself. Not only was he certain the object they were searching for was here in this room, but his response to Calliope was reaching a fever pitch.

She had removed her wig, and her soft curls caressed her shoulders.

He shook his head, trying to concentrate on the task at hand, and spied a walking stick resting against the wall. He picked up the smart mahogany and gold cane, recognizing it from the night she tried to brain him with it.

"A slight step up from the one you abandoned at the Killroys’ ball."

She looked up from a stack of papers and eyed the cane. "Did you find my cane at the Killroys’?"

"Yes. Imagine my surprise when you sailed back into the ballroom, graceful as can be."

Calliope flushed. "I don’t know what caused me to forget it."

"l thought we had determined you missed me."

She looked disgruntled. "You are a menace."

James smiled. "Do you need to use a cane at all?"

"Not often, just sometimes when I get tired-it makes it easier to move around."

She walked over and reluctantly plucked the stick from his hand. Her eyes were intense. "My mother left this with me. It was the last time I saw her. She thought she had enough time to run back into the burning house."

Sadness and pain darkened her face. The expression tore at him.

"Why did she run back?"

"She tried to save the documents my father left with her. I’ve always blamed him for her death."

She said it nonchalantly. They could have been discussing the weather, but her eyes were anything but calm.

"You’ve saved the cane all these years."

"Yes, I generally keep it close at hand, although I don’t use it. It’s a reminder. "

"Maybe it would ease the pain if you started thinking of the cane as just another object."

She was silent for a long minute.

James wasn’t sure what to do or say; the lost look on her face was making him crazy. He was about to take the offending object away from her when she became a whirlwind of motion.

She struck a fencing pose. A rather good fencing pose.

Astonishment pierced him. "You fence?"

"I was once a pirate at the Adelphi when one of the actors fell ill. I practiced other stances after that. It is rather a fun hobby. "

A pirate? "How many other roles have you played?"

She shrugged and jabbed toward his stomach with the blunt end of the cane. "I’ve filled in as needed. Small roles. Chorus parts, mainly. If one of the stars falls ill, an understudy steps in and sometimes I assume the smaller part. It’s actually rather fun. Performing is quite exhilarating. One doesn’t get noticed much in the chorus, so no stage fright."

Calliope was thrusting and parrying across the room. She lifted her left leg at the knee, balancing on her right leg. The cane was gripped in her right hand and perched horizontally over her head.

Two fingers on her left hand were pointed upward at the end of the cane. She then dropped the raised lingers to her right wrist and thrust her left hand and the cane away from each other in diagonal directions.

"What posture is that?" He was considered an expert swordsman, but he had never seen that particular move.

She looked at him in surprise. "I don’t know. An extra who returned from the Far East taught me that maneuver." She coughed discreetly. "Well, not exactly taught, but I secretly watched him practice enough times to learn."

James was intrigued. He moved toward her. "Do it again."

She repeated the movement.

He studied the move, trying to think of ways to incorporate the technique. "Shouldn’t the sword be pointed more at an angle for better entry?"

She sent him a dark look as he came closer. "Look here, I know what I saw. "

Calliope jabbed him in the side with the cane to emphasize her point. He scowled and pushed it aside. She twisted the handle to yank it back and it made a clicking noise.

"What the-" James stared down at his midsection.

Calliope followed his gaze and gasped when she saw bright red blossoming across his stark white shirt. The cane dropped to her side and she rushed to him. "My God, James, your shirt!"

James frowned at the cane and picked up the end. A sharp blade protruded from its tip. Calliope gasped and lifted his shirt. Blood seeped from the wound.

"Stand still. You’re hurt," she said, blanching as she inspected the wound.

"Luckily the bloody thing was too far away to do major damage. But I’d be most appreciative if you could stop trying to kill me with that thing."

She gave him a worried look. "Sit and don’t move. I’ll have Grimmond call for the doctor."

"Relax, I was teasing. It’s just a scratch. I’ve endured worse during fencing practice."

"Apply pressure here, and sit down so you won’t pass out and bleed all over Stephen’s carpet," she replied tartly, and left the room quickly to find a clean shirt and medicinal supplies.

James remained stoic as she cleansed the area around the wound, but Calliope grimaced, fearful she was hurting him. For a lord of the realm he was in superb shape. His broad chest was tanned and lightly brushed with hair. How would it feel to run her fingers across the planes of his muscular chest and back?

Her hands paused. Cleaning and applying ointment to the area was an intimate act of a lover or wife.

Calliope felt a light blush and continued working. She bandaged the gash and assisted him with his shirt. He grumbled about flesh wounds.

Calliope plunked down on the settee and inspected the cane. She turned it to the left and the blade retracted. She turned it to the right and it protruded.

.

"I should have been using this long ago."

James said something unintelligible.

She leaped from the seat, struck a pose and twisted left. It retracted. Right. Protruded. Left. Right. Left. Right. She giggled. "I feel like a real pirate now."

"Calliope, will you please sit down?"

Now that the cane had lost some of its hold on her, she didn’t want to put it down. The connection to her father was still present, but it felt different somehow.

She sighed. The blade was out. One twist left and it was in. She decided to make sure it wouldn’t do any unintentional damage and twisted left again, hoping to lock it in place. To her surprise, the handle twisted open.

"What is this?" She peered into the hole. There was something wedged inside. She gingerly slipped two fingers inside and pulled out a wrapped object. Handing it to James, Calliope searched for anything else. She gave the cane another twist, but it appeared to only have the three settings.

Satisfied the cane was closed, she set it down and looked up at James’s shocked expression.

"What is wrong? Does your wound hurt?"

He sat in stunned silence staring at the object in his hand.

Calliope peered at it. It was a ring. The ring looked vaguely familiar.

James just shook his head. "This can’t be."

"This can’t be what?"

He held out his hand to her and she plucked the ring from his palm and noticed the image of a bird engraved in the gold.

"This is what we’ve been searching for, isn’t it?"

He nodded, a wry grin spreading across his face.

"Stephen must have found it and made an imprint."

The grin slipped from his features. "The cane belonged to Salisbury. " It wasn’t a question.

The pain spread through her again. "Yes, he left it with my mother. That is why she made sure it survived the fire. The papers were destroyed with her."

Calliope felt a reassuring grip on her shoulder.

" Salisbury must have assumed the cane and papers perished in the blaze with the two of you. Possibly whoever set the fire thought so as well."

She glanced up at him, startled out of her reverie. "What do you mean, whoever set the fire?"

He was gazing at her in a cautious manner. "It’s too coincidental and the timing was too close to Salisbury ’s own assassination."

Had her heart stopped? Calliope took a few deep, steadying breaths.

"Are you implying that my father really did cause my mother’s death?"

"Absolutely not. Believe me, Salisbury blamed himself enough for both of you. One had only to see him to know it. Someone murdered them both." He rubbed her hands. "I need to call on a friend of mine. He knows all sorts of interesting things and may be able to tell us about this ring."

"All right, let’s go."

"No. He is a cautious fellow and doesn’t like unfamiliar faces. It will only take a few hours. I’ll be back shortly."

Calliope let him leave without her. She had used enough contacts when researching caricatures to know how skittish people could be with their information.

She walked aimlessly around the townhouse. The servants were keeping to themselves. Ever since the new footmen had arrived, they had been strangely quiet. Almost fearful. The atmosphere was driving her mad.

She plopped onto the sofa and thought about what James had said. It was hard not to blame her father. She had been blaming him for so long that it was hard to break the habit.

She vividly remembered the night when she had lost everything in her world and had approached Lady Salisbury for assistance. Yes, now that James had dredged up old memories, Lady Salisbury had definitely appeared scared. There had been fervor in her eyes and fear.

Calliope wondered what it had been like for the woman. Lillian Minton was Salisbury ’s lifelong mistress. Everyone knew he had no intention of giving her up, and no intention of marrying.

It was something that had always troubled Calliope. It was an accepted fact that Salisbury would never marry another because of his love for her mother. Therefore, why hadn’t her father married her mother? Was it societal restraints or something else? It was the unanswerable question that haunted her.

Calliope backed away from the thought. She closed her eyes and tried to conjure more pleasant thoughts.

A few hours passed before the front door opened and James entered the room, looking more energetic and healthy than when he had left.

"It’s a Falcon ring," James said.

She waited patiently for him to explain and was fortunately not disappointed.

"There was a secret society formed to depose Bonaparte. The members worked behind the scenes and received no aid from the government. Only a handful of men have these rings, and I’m fairly certain neither Stephen nor your father possessed one."

"What was the name of the society?"

"There was no official name, though the Falcons’ stuck because of the insignia. Their rings identified them. The general populace knew nothing of the group. In fact, most people in the government still are unaware of them. Hell, I thought it myth."

He was silent. She could almost hear his brain chugging away.

"My source was aware of only one member of the society." He paused for a long moment and then said, "Holt."

"Lord Holt." Her thoughts whirred. "What does his son have to do with this whole situation? And why is his birth certificate wrong?"

James again hesitated. "lf I’m right about when Holt was married, then it would point to his only son and heir being illegitimate."

She gasped. "Then he couldn’t inherit."

"A powerful incentive to make sure no one found out."

"And Ternberry had the certificate."

James’s mouth was grim. "Yes."

"We should search their offices. At least Ternberry’s, since he definitely won’t be there."

"It’s not that easy. "

"Pffff, I saw how easily you broke into Pettigrew’s rooms. Let’s go."

She could see in his face that he wanted to go.

"I’ll go alone."

"Oh, no. I’m coming with you or else I’ll find a way to do it on my own."

He started to shake his head, but then paused. "Yes. You have the right." He surveyed her from head to toe. "Do you have anything more suitable to wear?"

Calliope didn’t give him time to change his mind. She raced up the steps and into her room. Pulling out her old trunk, she found an old costume from a play where she’d been an extra chimney sweep. Changing quickly, she grabbed a black cap and ran back down the stairs and into the study.

A brief stunned moment passed as he viewed her black breeches and shirt. "Absolutely not. Go back and change this instant."

A mutinous look slid into place and she temporarily forgot her tenuous position. "This is the perfect outfit. No one will recognize me, and if they do, I can simply say it is a foil for your odd ways."

His brows rose, but he turned and strode out the door. She grabbed her black cape to cover her garments and ran after him. He called up the carriage and they stepped in. James did nothing to hide his irritation.

She twisted her hair and shoved it into the boy’s cap. "How will we know if Holt is out?"

"He’s out. But rest assured, if we decide to search his townhouse we’ll make sure before venturing in."

James exchanged words with his driver. The carriage stopped only a few blocks down the street. Looking around one last time to be certain no one was watching, he grabbed Calliope, and they darted into an alley. Someone moved out of the shadows. She immediately recognized the man, and James instructed him to ready "Number Three." James’s regular carriage rolled down the street. A diversion.

Number Three turned out to be an old hackney. It was hitched to a pair of unremarkable brown mares. She cast him a questioning glance but he continued to rattle off instructions to the driver. Jenkins, the driver, disappeared into the darkness, then reappeared a few minutes later, winded, but dressed in common garments. He had replaced the resplendent livery worn by Angelford servants.

"Let’s go."

Calliope climbed into the carriage and settled herself on the faded but surprisingly comfortable seat. James hauled himself in and sat across from her. They moved down the drive and set off for Ternberry’s, on the other side of Mayfair. James drew the curtains and darkness enveloped them.

"I will turn you over my knee if you leave my side. Understand?"

A protest rose in her throat. She swallowed it when she realized how tightly wound he was. The air was charged. She nodded and then realized he couldn’t see her. "Yes."

They remained silent until the coach slowed.

"l told Jenkins to stop down the street. We will walk the rest of the way. Ready?"

She grabbed his outstretched hand. It felt right.

James secured her cape and threw a greatcoat around his shoulders. It must have been inside the carriage. Calliope started to wonder how frequent an occurrence these types of trips were for him. No one would mistake them for Lord and Lady now.

Lord and Miss, she amended.

They approached Ternberry’s house from the rear, crossing through a number of yards to reach it.

There were only a few windows in the back. Ternberry must not have been too fond of the light.

The house was dark.

James already had a tool out and was fiddling with one of the windows. The clasp released and he crawled inside. A minute later he reached down and pulled her in. He lit a small lamp by the desk.

Ternberry’s study was a mess.

"Someone’s already been here," James said.

"Are you sure? His room at Pettigrew’s looked the same."

He nodded. "Yes, but he ordered things in a clockwise manner. Look at those papers on the desk."

Calliope looked at the desk. They did look a bit perfect in their scatter.

"What do you want to do?"

"Let’s take a look anyway. Something may have been missed."

"Do you think Ternberry returned to town during the weekend at the Pettigrews’?" Calliope asked, reading and discarding paper after paper.

"I think so. But I’m not sure. I will have Finn ask some questions of the staff tomorrow. "

"How did he return to the Pettigrews’ estate?"

"More importantly, why did he return to the Pettigrews’ estate?"

"And was anyone with him? Or did he meet someone there?"

"Try to find the papers we found at the party. I suspect if they were here they are gone, but it’s worth it to try. "

An hour later found them no closer to the papers or any other evidence. Calliope was sitting on the floor. She laid on her back, trying to stretch.

"Are your muscles still sore?"

"A little."

"I’ll give you a massage later to loosen them." James was poking around the desk. He had found three secret drawers and was looking for more. Nothing important had been inside any of them.

Her heart quickened. She turned toward him. "I think that sounds-"

Something was jammed under the desk.

"Yes?"

She scurried to her knees and peered under the desk.

"Did you find something?" He strode around the desk and sat on his heels next to her.

"There’s something lodged here. Hold on. Got it." She retrieved it with two fingers.

A half imprint stood out in red. Half of a falcon ring print.

"A further indication that the ring is important. Should we head over to Holt’s now?" Calliope asked.

"Yes. We can return here later. "

He blew out the lamp and they crawled back through the window. James latched it and they headed for the carriage.

"Are you sure he’s out?"

"I told you we would make sure before going through his smallclothes."

She bit back a smile.

The hackney was in the same place. James nodded at the driver but they walked past. Holt’s residence was nearby; it was easier and less suspicious to walk.

James had a firm grip on her hand. It was warm and comforting.

"What do you think we’ll find?"

"I don’t think we’ll find much, actually. Holt is a pro. If he doesn’t want something found, chances are it won’t be."

"Then should we even bother?"

"Yes. People make mistakes. And if our suspicions are correct, then he is playing a deep game."

Holt’s townhouse loomed in front of them and Calliope’s pulse quickened.

The house was dark. They skirted the back and stopped at a window overlooking a well-tended English garden.

James jiggled the window and it moved slightly.

"Sloppy. That’s unusual." He looked slightly perturbed. "I hadn’t actually thought this would open."

Calliope looked down and saw fresh footprints carved into the damp soil. "Someone has been here recently. "

He looked down and swore softly. "We’re leaving. Now. "

"Wait, what about his office? What about the ring?"

He shot her a dangerous look. "Not tonight."

James grabbed her hand again and started walking so swiftly she had to run to keep up.

They moved up the street toward the coach, which had moved to the other end. Jenkins looked nervous. "Milord, I have a nasty feeling about tonight."

"So do I, Jenkins, let’s get home."

James tossed Calliope into the carriage and vaulted in after her.

She didn’t mutter a protest. Her senses had started screaming as well.

The coach sped down the street. It wasn’t a great distance to travel to James’s residence and Calliope suddenly wanted to be safely ensconced in his extravagant house.

A screech of hooves grated through the coach’s walls.

A shot rang out, and the carriage careened out of control.