Illusions of Fate (13 page)

“This is not a social call. It is about a girl. You met her last night at the gala.”

“Oh, the gala! I met so many wonderful people. Did you enjoy it? It was my first large event, but I do so hope to have made an impression. Were you to want aid in the future with parties or balls or—”

“Jessamin. You would recall her. Red dress, dark skin.”

“From the colonies! Yes, of course. She was quite the coquette, wasn’t she? I think Ernest is half in love with her. And she’s such a nice reminder of the work we are doing, spreading solid Alben values to savage nations.”

“She stole something from me.”

“No! How horrible! She seemed trustworthy to me, but one never can tell these days.”

Lord Downpike continues on, failing to acknowledge anything Eleanor is actually saying. “It is of personal value only. I need it back.”

Sir Bird! I left him in book form, tucked beneath the couch after I changed. Lord Downpike is probably sitting directly above him right now. I hold my breath, praying that the bird is either unaware of his master’s presence or faithful enough to me not to give us all away.

“Have you contacted the royal arms?” Eleanor asks.

“I prefer to deal with it myself. You will let me know if she contacts you.”

“Certainly! Anything I can do to be of service.”

“Hold out your hand.”

“Whatever for? Oh, did I spill some sugar—” Her voice cuts out with a sharp squeak of pain. I flinch, raise a hand to the door. I can’t let him hurt her.

Finn’s lips brush my ear. “Not yet,” he whispers near soundlessly.

“A reminder,” Lord Downpike says. “Sides must be chosen. I do hope you stand firmly with the might of Mother Albion.”

There is a stumbling noise, and then the sound of the parlor door opening. Eleanor’s voice is strained with the effort of suppressing tears. “Yes, thank you, do come again. I—Ernest! And Uncle?”

A voice who must be the elusive earl says, “What is it, Eleanor? Ernest said to come immediately, that you told him it was urgent.”

Her laugh sounds like a bird with broken wings; it borders on hysterical. “Did I? Urgent? You know how prone to exaggeration I am. I merely wanted to visit with you. You needn’t have hurried. Silly Ernest, you shouldn’t have nagged him so.”

Finn lets out a sharp breath, and I realize that Eleanor must have sent her brother for the earl while we were discussing shadows.

“Is that Lord Downpike?”

“Well met, Lord Rupert.”

“I feel like the prettiest maid at the ball, all of these men visiting. Tea?”

“What did you do to your hand?” Lord Rupert asks. When he speaks again his voice is a low rumble of a threat. “Lord Downpike, if you had any part in this . . .”

Eleanor speaks first. “Oh, that! I burned it this morning trying to make myself toast! Aren’t I the silliest creature alive? That is what I get for trying to give Cook a morning off.”

“You did no such thing,” Ernest says, not as sure-sounding as the Earl, but obviously upset.

The Earl’s voice contains all the force of generations of power. “I will
not
allow you to bully my own blood. You cannot threaten us in our homes.”

Lord Downpike sounds bored. “Then where shall I threaten you?”

Eleanor coughs. “Tea! We need more tea! I’ll see to that, yes?”

“Lord Rupert, you may stand behind me or stand to the side, but I warn you not to get in my way.”

After several tense seconds, Lord Rupert says, “Why did you let that man in here?”

Finn loosens his grasp on my waist, and I allow myself to breathe more fully. Lord Downpike must be gone.

“How does one say no to Lord Downpike?” Eleanor answers. “Please, I would very much like to know.”

“It’s a good thing I had already fetched Uncle,” Ernest says. “But where did Jessamin go? He wasn’t here about her, was he?”

Eleanor giggles. “Spirits below, what would a man like Lord Downpike want with a colony rat? She left right after you. Lord Downpike just wanted to . . . recruit me for his anti-Continent cause. Apparently, word of my excellent connections has gotten around.” I have to hand it to Eleanor—she can spin lies faster than anyone I know.

“Stay out of this,” Lord Rupert says. “You haven’t the power or the intelligence to deal with a man like him.”

“Of course,” she answers, and I want to shake both of them. “He asked me to let him know of any interesting news I hear. Should I? What are you going to do about him?”

There is a long silence, and then Lord Rupert sounds more tired than angry. “If Lord Ackerly cannot hold out defending the Hallin lines, I fear there is nothing to be done. And sometimes I wonder if perhaps Downpike isn’t right, after all. If we are not moving forward, we will perish. For all our history and might, we’re not a large country. The resources Iveria offers . . . Well, there’s a good girl. Keep a low profile. Alert me at once if Downpike comes around again, but I cannot see him taking any further interest in you.”

“Spirits’ blessings,” she says, and then their voices trail away, Ernest bringing up some new motion in Parliament.

In the silence they leave in their wake, I become very aware of Finn’s body against mine. I have the overwhelming impulse to lean back, let myself rest against him, and tuck my head again into the hollow of his neck. I imagine the release of letting go, letting myself be held by him simply because I want to, not because we are hiding or fleeing.

“Stop it!” I hiss.

“Stop what?”

“Stop doing that magic where you make me think I want to do things that I don’t actually want to do!”

“I did no such thing!” He pauses. “What did you want to do?”

The armoire door opens, and I nearly scream until I realize it’s only Eleanor. She looks tired and frayed around the edges, all her happy energy gone. “I think,” she says, “that I am not quite so excited to be in on secrets as I was a few minutes ago.”

Finn and I step out. He puts an arm around Eleanor’s slight shoulders and steers her to the couch. “Let me see your burn.”

I hurry to a side table where a decanter is filled with rich, dark wine and pour a glass. “Here,” I say, handing it to her. She drinks it in one long draft. Finn holds her hand in his, palm up, gently rolling the silver top of his cane back and forth along the angry red slash there. With each pass the line gets lighter and the tightness around Eleanor’s eyes loosens.

“Thank you,” I say, kneeling on the floor next to her legs and resting my head against them. She puts her hand on my hair, and I wonder which of us is providing more comfort to the other. “You kept me safe.”

“It was nothing. If I had a frock for every time I had to hide someone in that armoire, I would need another house just to hold them all.”

“They’re wrong, you know. About you. Your uncle and Lord Downpike. You are smart and brave and terribly important.”

She laughs. “Oh, I know that, silly. But it’s easier not to let them realize it, because then they’d stop ignoring me, and they’d realize how much mischief I really get up to. Now, Lord Ackerly, I will have to ask you to stop stroking my hand, or my own shadow might replace your missing one.”

He clears his throat awkwardly, and I laugh. I shift from the floor to the couch and pull Eleanor into a hug. She sighs with her head against my shoulder. “You cannot stay here. It’s not safe, though I would love to keep you.”

Finn stands, shoulders straight and confident. “It’s settled then. Eleanor, if you feel threatened, you are welcome to join Jessamin at my country estate.”

I shake my head. “That will be difficult, as I am not going to your country estate.”

“But—you heard—if even Eleanor’s uncle won’t come to your defense, how can you hope to hide from Lord Downpike?”

A pair of bright yellow eyes blinks at me from beneath the couch, and I smile with relief that Sir Bird is alive and well and on my side. It gives me an idea. I hold out my arm, and Sir Bird hops out, flapping a few times to land there.

I stroke his feathers and smile. “I think I will not have to hide at all.”

Sixteen

Dear Sir,

I am writing to inform you of the whereabouts of a certain book which frequently doubles as a bird. I understand you are concerned about it, and no wonder! Such a large volume containing so much knowledge. In fact, I believe it is actually several volumes in one, due to the rather impressive appetite of said bird in devouring many of its comrades.

Perhaps you will recall that I left your home without a word of good-bye, and for this you must pardon my poor manners. I find myself averse to being trapped in doorless rooms, to say nothing of being methodically tortured. It is a character defect owing to my savage ancestry.

To atone, I have entrusted the book into the care of your friend Lord Ackerly. He assures me that he will keep the volume perfectly safe, so long as I myself remain unmolested and left entirely to my own devices. To this end, he has worked a magical connection that will destroy the book should I meet harm at your lordship’s hands, or anyone working on behalf of your lordship, as your lordship’s time is precious and sometimes these things must be delegated.

Looking forward to never meeting again,

Jessamin Olea

I sign a flourish under my name, and then shake out my hand. “The pins and needles are worse.”

“Because you are remembering what happened, and the magic has to work harder to combat the memory of pain.” Finn is reading the letter over my shoulder with a scowl.

“How is it that you have such dark eyebrows and yet your hair is golden?”

“Oh, that,” Eleanor says, tucked up into the corner of the love seat with a shawl draped over her legs. She’s still recovering from her own encounter with Lord Downpike. “Hadn’t you guessed? You already discovered he uses a very potent charm spell. It’s woven into his hair. Some would consider constantly charming everyone a bit of an excess, but Lord Ackerly needs all the help he can get.”

“Such vanity.” I tsk, trying to hold back a smile. No wonder his hair was both so enchanting and so aggravating.

“This will never work.” Finn shakes his head.

“Of course it will. You said that the most powerful practitioners are the ones who study. Would he risk losing so much knowledge?” I stroke Sir Bird’s head where he sits next to me, picking apart a biscuit.

“But I can’t just magic up a connection between the two of you. Even if I have a spell that can accomplish it, it would take me several days of research to find and prepare it.”

“Yes, but he doesn’t know that! As far as Lord Downpike is concerned, a wealth of his magical lore is intricately tied to my own well-being. I’ll give you Sir Bird to complete the ruse.” Sir Bird caws in protest. “Hush. It’s for the best. And if Finn does not take perfect care of you, we will plot his destruction together.”

“I think she’s done it,” Eleanor says. “She’s cleverer even than you.”

Finn’s scowl deepens. “This will do nothing but delay him. He will not stop until he extends his power past Albion and into the entire Iverian continent. His end goals are far larger than a few lost books of magical knowledge.”

“That is your problem, not mine.” I take the letter and blot it dry, then crease it shut.

“Please.” Finn’s voice has lost the arrogance it normally carries. Instead, it conveys a note of . . . desperation? “You may be cavalier with your own safety, but I can’t forget the sound of your screams. They will haunt me to my dying day. I couldn’t live with it if something else were to happen to you.”

His hand is flat on the table, and I want to lay my own on top of his. Eleanor sighs dreamily, and I am snapped back to reality. “I’m sorry. But if I agree to run and hide I would only be giving him control of my life.”

“You’d be safe from him!”

“No, I’d be as much a captive to my fear of him as I was when I was locked in that room. I refuse to be ruled, whether by those with bad intentions or those with good.” I grab a small candle with deep red wax and dribble it onto the letter’s fold to seal it shut.

Finn slides it away from my hand and then lowers his knuckle to press a large, gold ring into the wax seal. It leaves a symbol of two trees, the branches intertwining with each other. It must be his family crest.

“It’s done, then.” He scowls. “He won’t doubt my part in it, false though it is.”

“I’ll have Carlisle send it out immediately.” Eleanor stands and takes the letter, leaving us alone.

My head lolls against the couch. I have never been so tired in my life. Finn paces the floor, hands clasped behind his back.

“Will you at least agree to stay in my town house? It’s very near your school.”

I let myself imagine how soft his beds must be, how luxurious the sheets. And a washroom all to myself.

No. I will not become Mama, dependent on a man who thinks himself better than her and grateful for the privilege of his condescension. “Thank you, no. I’m comfortable at the hotel.”

“I’ve seen servants’ quarters, Jessamin. You cannot be comfortable there.”

“A great many people live in servants’ quarters, and they have yet to die from acute claustrophobia. I’m fine. Stop pacing, you make my nerves stand on end.”