phantom knights 04 - deceit in delaware (34 page)

“Why tell me this?” He had to know that he was giving me more motivation, more reasons to remove his foul, despicable being from this earth. Then again, he thought that he had won. That there was nothing I could do. He did not know me, for if he did, he would know that I never gave up. I never surrendered. Not as a child being trained to fight like a grown man. Not as a soldier in war as I witnessed life being shattered all around me, and not when I had been lied to again and again by those I loved most.

I was a Phantom no matter if they had been formally disbanded. A part of me would forever be Loutaire, second in command to Raven, the leader of the Phantoms in Philadelphia. We never surrendered without a plan to extricate ourselves, and we would remain that way both in life and in death.

“You understand that I cannot allow you to succeed.” It was a promise, and Luther knew it, but he put no faith in my ability to carry out my promise.

“Jack, you are young yet, but one day you will come to accept what you cannot change. Everyone must.”

“Including you,” I said.

Luther barked out a laugh that brought two of the guards into the sitting room.

“Take Mr. Martin to his chamber, and for all that is holy, give him a shirt.”

The guards waited until I tossed off the remainder of my wine and then stood.

I walked between the guards, but at the door Luther halted me.

“You neglected to ask me how I escaped from your father’s prison.”

Turning to face him, I shrugged. “Martha released you.”

Luther laughed, boisterously and long.

My patience with him was wearing thin. The guards’ pistols were close enough for me to grab and put an end to this farce, but I hesitated. The time was not yet upon me.

“Martha indeed.” Luther’s amusement almost made me change my mind about shooting him. If he continued laughing a second more I would throw my convictions to the wind and shoot him where he sat. “It was not Martha who released me, but your own father.”

For a moment, I could only stare. My father? My father…

“Your surprise is understandable. I felt the same at the time it was happening. He released me and told me that there was a carriage waiting. He said that when we met again, then he would kill me, but not until I had a chance to succeed. Willem always was a few bolts loose.”

My father had set Luther free, and had a hand in orchestrating all of this. Nothing that William Martin did should have had the power to surprise me, but that information did. My father was just as much to blame for this battle as Luther. That conviction saddened me.

Saying nothing at all, I walked into the great hall. The revelations that I had gained this day threatened to explode within me. There had to be a release or I would not be able to control my actions.

Something exploded in two loud pops, and then the unexpected happened. The guards on either side of me fell to the floor.

Betsy charged out from the door beside the stairs and behind her was Dudley and Hannah.

“Jack, old fellow, you well?” Dudley asked as he came toward me with one of the just fired guns. Betsy and Hannah ran toward the front door and Dudley shoved me after them.

“Well enough. What are you doing here?”

Before Dudley could respond, Luther appeared in the doorway to the sitting room. “What is the meaning of this?” He saw us and opened his mouth to shout.

Hannah aimed at pistol at him and fired. Luther leapt aside and the ball splintered the wood of the door frame.

Dudley tossed a white cloth toward me. When I shook it out, it was a shirt. “Came to rescue you, old fellow. Could not have you forever running about without a shirt. Not proper. The ladies don’t like it. Makes them dashed uncomfortable. Cannot focus upon the battle.”

Slipping the shirt over my head, I followed Betsy and Hannah out of the house.

“Where are the others?”

“Sam is releasing his sister and your wife while Levi and James Wilson went to find your mother. Your father is in the woods just beyond the scaffold.”

We had just touched the drive when someone shouted and guns exploded, striking the front of the house. Grabbing Betsy as Dudley grabbed Hannah, we pulled them back into the safety of the house.

“Give me your second pistol,” I called to Dudley.

Dud grabbed Hannah’s second pistol and tossed it to me as shots struck the house, shattered the nearest windows, and balls flew through the open doorway.

Dudley dropped to his knees and then his stomach. Leaning his head around the doorway, he fired his pistol at someone, and received two return shots.

Dudley’s head bobbed in and out of view to the outside as he took turns firing out of the house.

Focusing my attention in the direction of where the shots were coming, I fired my pistol then slid it across to Hannah who was loading her own. She slid her newly loaded pistol across the floor to me. Grabbing it, I eased beneath the broken window and inhaled a breath. Easing up the wall, I glanced out the window. There were four men hiding behind the carriage and another three off to the left of the house, toward the trees. A figure dressed in black ran out of the woods and struck down the first man. When the second threw his fist forward, the man grabbed it and twisted the guard’s arm behind his back. The third guard turned his pistol upon the man in black. He used the guard as a shield. Aiming my pistol in their direction, I shot the third guard in the leg.

The man in black knocked out the guard he was using as a shield, saluted the house, and disappeared back into the forest.

I may have been furious with my father, wanted to knock him into the following week, but I could not deny that the man knew how to fight.

Betsy emptied both of her pistols and sat back, reloading as Dudley fired his last shot. Hannah had two more, which she used to frighten the horses harnessed to the carriage into bolting, and her second took out a remaining guard.

Something cold touched the back of my neck, and the quiet that surrounded me told me that we had been caught.

Dropping my pistol, I eased around. Luther and three guards were standing there with muskets aimed toward our heads.

“A valiant effort,” Luther said to my friends, “but foolish. Allow me to show you what we do to fools.” The guards rushed forward, grabbing Hannah and Betsy. They forced them up and toward a room past the sitting room and the gun room.

Luther patted one of the guards on the shoulder. “Dominic, here, is going to show you the proper way to carve a turkey, beginning with her.” Luther pointed at Hannah.

Dudley leapt forward but was knocked back by Dominic. “Come along, boys, the feast is about to begin.” Luther stepped behind us with his own weapon focused on us. Dudley did not have to be asked twice. He charged after his wife. I followed on his heels.

Hannah and Betsy were wrestled into the dining parlor. When I saw the table, my heart constricted as sickness formed in my gut. The table had ropes on it, and beside the table was all manner of knives.

One guard held Betsy as the other two grabbed Hannah.

She turned fierce, crazed. She threw her body around as a weapon, but she could not break their hold on her wrists. Dudley started forward and Luther’s gun fired, striking near Hannah’s feet. Dudley paused, and I could hear his breath hissing in and out.

The guards lifted a wildly struggling Hannah and placed her on the table. One constrained her while the other tied the ropes around her legs and arms.

Dominic moved to the table of wicked blades and chose a small knife.

Luther leaned close, speaking in my ear. “It is time for you to learn to accept what you cannot change.”

CHAPTER 27

GUINEVERE

C
harlotte and I were led into a bedchamber, different from the one Melly had led me into, and there we were forced to remain. As soon as the door was shut and locked from the outside, I set to searching the bedchamber for a way out similar to the one in the other bedchamber.

There had to be a way out. I could not, would not, accept that my uncle had won. If he thought to use my sisters against me, he would have a difficult time persuading me, considering that Charlotte was not my sister as he believed.

Charlotte was seated upon the bed, cradling her arm, as she watched me. Her pretty face was wan, her blonde curls in disarray. She and I had not been alone together in a long time.

Guns began firing outside the house, drawing me to the window. Trying to lift it open, it would not budge. Leaning my face against the glass, I caught sight for an instant of who I thought was William, leading men toward the house.

“The battle is upon us,” I said, more to myself than to Charlotte, but when she whimpered I turned toward her.

She looked so frightened that my heart constricted and I went to sit beside her.

“Why did you do it, Charlotte? Why did you lie?”

Charlotte leaned her forehead against the wooden bed poster. “Have you ever felt useless? As if everything that you do is wrong?” She cast me a sideways glance. “Well,
you
would never feel that way, but I have for a very long time. And then came Lucas Marx. He made me feel special, valued, as if what I had to say was of worth.”

Hearing his name, even his supposed name, caused me to want to cringe. He had done so much evil in his short time in America, and using Charlotte had only been part. A large part, but small in the grand scheme of his plans.

“I know that I have no right to ask, but I do so hope that one day you can forgive me for the part I played in his plans.” She bit her lip before going on. “That is why I lied. To try to make amends for placing you and your family in harm’s way.”

“Charlotte, forgiveness is a choice, one that I have made. I hold no ill will against you, for that would be casting stones when I, too, have been swayed by the smooth words of a man.”

General Harvey—William—was a king when it came to convincing people to do his bidding. He knew how to turn a phrase to achieve his goals. There was a time when I had done whatever he wanted simply because I thought he cared for me, thought of me as a daughter. Then came the missions where I saw firsthand the cruelty of which he was capable. Compared to my own father, William had often acted no better than Uncle Luther when he wanted his ends achieved. He claimed that everything he did was for my good, and the good of my home, but, every time he sent me on a mission that went against my scruples, it was to protect his own children.

As I ran my mind over several different missions, they were each ones that would have eventually come to the Phantoms’ hands. William was trying to balance protecting me
and
his family. When I first realized that, I knew that he did not see me as a daughter. He saw me as a mission. He tried to spare his children the difficult missions and instead he and I, or I alone, would handle them. He was never far away in those beginning years, prepared to step in should the mission prove too much for me, but I never allowed that. I never let him see my fear, my dread of what I had to face. I wanted to prove to him that I was just as capable as his beloved children spies. That I, too, should be valued, loved, and protected. Being a princess never swayed his decision to send me on a mission. He once told me that I was his protégé. What he meant was that I was his secret weapon.

“You forgive me?” Charlotte’s blue eyes were so wide, and filled with disbelief that I laughed.

“Of course I do. But, Char,” I said, calling her by the name that her family called her, “you must forgive yourself. Without that, you will never be able to release the self-blame. You will never be able to move on.”

Charlotte considered my words, but said nothing, for the door to our chamber was being unlocked. We each rose as the door was pushed open.

“Hans!” Charlotte exclaimed and ran forward.

She was caught in a strong embrace, her lips crushed under those of my cousin’s. I felt my eyes grow large as I watched the two of them kissing. Moving my startled gaze from them, it rested upon Melly. She was standing behind Freddy, watching the two with an amused interest.

“You know my cousin’s true name?” I asked, loud enough to bring the two lovers back to their senses. Freddy pulled his head back from Charlotte’s though she was content to gaze up into his face, so much love on display.

“She has known since Savannah.” He met her gaze and his own softened so much that it was like looking at a stranger, not the untouchable Frederick Nolan. “She has known everything since Savannah.”

Charlotte had one hand holding tight to Freddy’s coat, speaking without drawing her eyes from his. “When I was a prisoner of his and George, he visited me often, telling me everything because he hoped that it would draw me away from being Lucas’s pawn.”

“Did it?” Melly asked, her hip resting against the doorframe.

“Eventually.” The two lovers smiled at each other as if sharing unspoken words.

“As amusing as it is to see my brother finally being brought to heel by a woman, there is a fight on, one which could use your skill,” Melly said, addressing her brother’s back.

“Of course,” Freddy said before kissing Charlotte again, though a swift caress, and then releasing her. “The fight has yet to reach inside, but the house is surrounded. Stay close and we will get you both to safety.” Freddy took Charlotte’s hand and we all left the bedchamber, Melly and I taking up the rear.

“You speak English so well,” I whispered to Melly as Freddy led us down the hall toward the main staircase.

“I was born in England,” Melly whispered in reply. “My mother brought me to America to escape my father.”

Freddy raised his hand for us to halt, and we could hear the sounds of a brawl happening in one of the rooms below.

“There is something that you should know,” Melly said next to my ear. “My uncle did not come to America searching for you.”

Turning my gaze upon her, my body was encased in disbelief. But he did, I wanted to say. He came because he knew that my sisters and I were here.

“He came to find my mother. He came to find me. It was only once he had arrived that he was approached by Martha and discovered the truth that you and your sisters were here.”