Exile for Dreamers (19 page)

“Thank you,” Miss Stranje said, and I thought she hid a smirk. “I must attend to other matters now, but later today we will consider what other safety measures must be taken.” Miss Stranje tapped me on the shoulder. “A word with you, Tess, in my office.”

I nodded silently, unable to answer because my throat felt as if someone was squeezing it shut.
This was it.
She would arrange my travel, and just like that I would be dismissed and sent out of their lives, back to Tidenham where my aunt would await my death.

Just when I thought my legs might fail, Greaves entered the workroom.

“Your pardon, miss. But you've several
more
visitors.” He cast a disparaging look at the two men in our workroom as he addressed Miss Stranje. “Mr. Chadwick senior and junior, and a Mr. Griswold, whom I gather is coroner for the crown. They asked specifically if they might speak with Miss Aubreyson. I have situated the gentlemen in the blue parlor.”

I whirled to Sera. “I thought you told him not to come?”

She flushed oddly. “I did my best. He is exceedingly difficult to manage.”

“Sera, I think you ought to accompany us to the drawing room.” Miss Stranje took me by the arm. “It will be all right. Stick with short answers as close to the truth as possible. You might try being a bit shy. That is always excused in young ladies.”

“I'm coming, too.” Jane hurried to my side. “That Chadwick fellow is too sharp for his own good.”

“I'll come with you as well.” Lord Ravencross was deaf to my protestations that he should stay here. “I'm coming. That's my final word on the matter.”

Mr. Sinclair blew frustration through his lips. “Then I shall join you as well and see for myself what manner of man this Chadwick is that he would distract you all from so grave a purpose.”

“No!” Jane and I blurted as one.

“I see.” Mr. Sinclair adjusted his coat and sleeves. “You think I'm not a fine enough gentleman for such exalted company.”

“That's not it at all,” Georgie insisted.

“Please, try to view it from our position,” Sera gently explained. “We're concerned that the local justice of the peace and his son might find it a bit odd that a young man is staying as a guest in a school for young ladies. Add to that, the fact that you are an American, and do you not think it might make them even more suspicious?”

“Put like that, I see where my presence might be a bit sticky to explain.” Sinclair raked a hand over his clean-shaven jaw. “But what is it you think he'll be suspicious of, exactly?”

“Nothing in particular,” Jane said brusquely. “But with the attempted kidnapping and all, it will be difficult enough for us to explain what happened yesterday. And Lord Ravencross being here complicates matters. But then, he is a neighbor, and that is a bit more expected. Perhaps it will distract—”

Lord Ravencross interrupted Jane with an exasperated breath. “We ought to just tell them the truth about the entire matter.”

“The truth?” Georgie stared at him as if he'd just asked us to paint London Tower pink. “You mean that we suspect the attempt to kidnap me might have something to do with Bonaparte's secret organization and his plan to attack Britain? That truth?”

“Yes.” He grimaced and adjusted the bandages on his wounded shoulder.

Sera didn't like opposing him. She stared at the floor and said, “Rather a lot for them to take in, wouldn't you say?”

Even Maya offered up an opinion. “Do you not think they will question why such things are occurring at a young ladies' finishing school?”

Jane crossed her arms. “Yes, and if a handful of young women at a finishing school were the first to bring the Iron Crown to their attention, what conclusions do you suppose they would draw about Miss Stranje's establishment?”

“The obvious.” Ravencross glanced at me. “That you are not ordinary young ladies.”

Mr. Sinclair pounced upon these observations. “You see, that's the real fly in this particular ointment, isn't it? You are a rather
peculiar
lot. Not exactly a typical finishing school, is it?”

The five of us turned to him in alarm. He couldn't possibly have deduced the whole truth. Not this quickly.

“Don't look so surprised.” He chuckled. “I just witnessed a roomful of girls strategizing about how they might best divert an attack from one of the world's most sinister organizations. Do you think I'm a complete idiot? Did you really think I wouldn't notice that you're studying more than dance steps and embroidery at this
school
?”

We all stepped back. I pressed my lips together, waiting for him to reveal exactly what he had guessed.

“Not only that, but this morning when I was making my way down to the workroom, I happened upon your ballroom. Such rooms are usually the showcase of grand old houses like this. I merely intended to have a gander at the architecture, but…”

I sucked in my breath and held it, fearing the worst.

“Not the usual fare for a girls' school, is it?” He watched our expressions carefully. “Now that I think on it, I doubt you use that mannequin with the roguish mustache for dancing practice, do you? Not with that impressive assortment of cutlery lining the walls, and his stuffing coming loose in key places. And then there's Lady Jane here…” He winked at Jane as if she was in on the joke. “Only this morning, she threatened to toss me over her shoulder and break my arm in several places. It all begins to add up rather curiously.”

Jane groaned.

Georgie cursed under her breath.

Maya began to hum.

Sera shot a look of pure desperation at me, turned to the wall, and surreptitiously studied a rather gruesome oil painting of a dead pheasant atop a table beside a bowl of pears and a silver goblet of wine.

“You practice on a mannequin?” Ravencross stared at me.

I decided I might have to kill Mr. Sinclair after all. He'd trespassed into my private sanctum. With gritted teeth, I said, “Jane, be so good as to take your meddling American elsewhere while the Chadwicks are here.”

“He's not
my
meddling American—”

“I don't care,” I warned. “Take him and go. He must not appear anywhere near the justice of the peace. While you're at it, explain to our guest that if he ever steps foot in my ballroom again, I will be forced to use some of that
cutlery
on his throat.”

He should've had the good grace to be frightened, but he wasn't. He bowed. “
Pax,
Miss Aubreyson. You needn't fear. Your secret is safe with me.”

“I doubt it.”

Jane scowled at him. “Audacious rogue.”

“Guilty as charged.” He tried to disarm us with that teasing grin of his.

I was immune. “That's the problem, Mr. Sinclair. I am the only person here at Stranje House allowed to be audacious.” I turned to Jane. “Take him for a walk on the grounds, if you must. But for pity's sake keep him away from any windows that look out from the blue parlor. Maya and Georgie, you'd best go with them and keep our overly inquisitive house guest from getting into any more trouble.” I dismissed the four of them with a flick of my hand.

“Well done,” Miss Stranje said quietly, and patted my arm. Then she and Sera headed for the blue parlor. Reluctant to face the justice of the peace and his son, I trailed behind with Lord Ravencross. I indicated his wound. “How is it feeling?”

“Like the very fires of hell are burning in my chest. Thank you for asking.” But still he held out his arm to conduct me down the hall as he would any proper young lady.

I rested my fingers possessively on his forearm. Bold, I know, but it felt good to touch him, and all too soon I would be leaving him. “I'm concerned about your welfare tonight, my lord—”

“You need not scale my wall tonight. I have the matter in hand. I've sent MacDougal to see if he can hire a man from among my tenants to stand guard in your place.”

“Oh. Very good.”

It was good
.
Wasn't it?
I should feel comforted that he would be safe.
Yes
. And yet part of me felt robbed of the duty. I would miss it.
Miss him.
I pulled my hand from his arm, but he covered my fingers with his and moved them to the crook of his arm to continue escorting me. “Shall we go?”

I stopped and extracted my hand from him. “I wish I didn't have to.”

I didn't want to speak with
anyone
just then, least of all men who intended to riddle me with questions about yesterday's carnage. I wanted to stay here with him. Or else dash back to my ballroom and make certain it was untouched, unsullied by outsiders. I needed to punch something, and the mustache dummy would do. Except I couldn't run off like that, duty tugged at me as if I were a dog on a chain. So I stalked toward the parlor in a mood to bite.

Ravencross matched me stride for stride. I warned him, “You may accompany me, my lord, if you choose. Although I don't see why you would want to subject yourself to this inquisition.” There, I'd said it aloud—inquisition.

“I want to make certain that
charming
Chadwick rascal keeps his distance.”

“Don't be ridiculous. He asks too many questions to be charming.”

He growled. “I am not the ridiculous sort.”

“You're not the jealous sort either.”

He grumbled something unintelligible and then answered crisply, “You could do worse than young Chadwick.”

“You can't have it both ways, Gabriel. You can't play the jealous suitor and then sing his praises. Aside from that, I have no interest in Mr. Chadwick. You're worth a dozen of him.”

His posture swelled at that, and I cautioned myself to stop putting his ego to the bloom. It wouldn't do. So I tried to counteract my hasty words. “That wasn't meant as a compliment.”

“It wasn't taken as one,” he said gruffly. Then, with a sideways smirk, he added, “
A dozen,
eh? So many. Poor fellow. Mr. Chadwick must hold a painfully low position in your esteem. I'll wager earthworms have a higher status.”

“Not quite that low, my lord.” I was surprised at Lord Ravencross. Normally he snarls like a wolf at everyone, and yet here he was, trying to coax
me
out of my temper. “I think of Mr. Chadwick more along the lines of a squirrel—clever, overly inquisitive, but a pest all the same.”

“Ah, a
squirrel.
I see.” He sounded excessively grim. “Then it is a lucky thing I came along with you. Squirrels can be criminally endearing.”

I almost smiled despite my mood. “Have a care, my lord. I'll not have you shooting any rodents in the blue parlor today.”

“Then it is also a lucky thing I left my pistols at home.”

I was not used to him making light of anything. It both pleased and baffled me. “I suppose the real reason you are accompanying me is that you know they'll be knocking at your door directly after they finish here?”

“I suppose they would,” he said as we entered the blue parlor.

The younger Mr. Chadwick was amazed to see Lord Ravencross enter our drawing room. He bowed dutifully and inquired after Ravencross's health. “You were so badly wounded yesterday, my lord. It surprises me to see you have left your sickbed this soon.”

“
He's not squirrel-like at all,
” Lord Ravencross said under his breath to me, and his good humor seemed to have flown. He answered Mr. Chadwick with all the warmth of a statue in winter. “I heal quickly.”

It was true, although I'd seen Gabriel moving gingerly earlier in the day and guessed he must still be in considerable pain.

“There was a great deal of blood, my lord. I'd just assumed…”

Ravencross took in the curiosity on Chadwick's face and realized he was not entirely believed. “If you must know, my doctor was not pleased about my getting out of bed either. But yesterday I witnessed one of those brutes strike Miss Aubreyson over the head with a cudgel.” He drew up to
charming
Chadwick like a wolf with his teeth bared in warning. “I'm sure
even you
can understand why I could not rest comfortably until I was satisfied she was not gravely injured.”

Mr. Chadwick's father took up the reins of the conversation. “Yes, yes, quite understandable, my lord. Good lad. Would've done the same myself.” He slapped the arms of his chair. “A horrible business—those ruffians. Bad business, indeed. What do you suppose they were after?”

We all took our seats, and Gabriel said, matter-of-factly, “It seems to me they were intent upon abducting one of these young ladies, and after I interrupted their plan, upon killing me.”

The justice of the peace unconsciously combed his fingers through his bushy side-whiskers. “Then I take it they didn't ask for your purse? No stand-and-deliver sort of speech?”

“Nary a word.” Lord Ravencross adjusted the bandages beneath his coat and sling. “Of course, I didn't give them much of a chance for speeches. I saw the brigands accosting Miss Aubreyson and flew into action.”

Mr. Griswold, the coroner, was a painfully thin middle-aged man. He wore a vivid apple-green silk coat and breeches like those of a Georgian dandy from the previous decade. At Gabriel's statement, he drew back, aghast. “You saw you were outnumbered three to one and yet you rode straight into their midst?
Alone?
”

“Yes.” Gabriel frowned at him. “What would you have me do? Abandon the young lady to her fate?”

“No, but it was a brash choice, to be sure,” muttered the coroner. “Foolhardy, some might say.”

It looked as if Lord Ravencross was biting his tongue to keep from bashing the fellow. At any rate, the muscles of his jaw tensed before he answered. “To be fair, I thought there were only two men. I didn't see the others until I rode past the trees.” His jaw flexed again and his hand balled into a fist atop the arm of his chair. “But it would've made no difference.”