TheCharmer (19 page)

"Isn't the arms market very competitive now, Your Highness? What is so unusual about a manufacturer keeping his designs locked away? I would think it the norm, rather."

"That is quite true, Collis. The plans do not seem odd. The fact of their concealment is not odd. In fact, nothing about this case seems odd—except for the fact that Miss Lacey suspects that Louis Wadsworth is not what he seems."

Knows he is not what he seems
, Rose wanted to say, but she held her tongue. So far, George seemed willing to listen to her. She would not correct him.

The Prince continued. "The fact that Louis was concealing these plans at home does seem slightly odd. I have toured his factory. He has a perfectly good vault in it that is good enough for his money… so why not good enough for these plans?

"According to information collected by the Liars, there is nothing suspect about the actual operations of the factory. It has produced thousands of guns over the last few years that are already in use defending England." George smiled at them both. "Yet the fact remains that I want this looked into. That's the lovely part about being the ruler. I can."

He paused, looking at them both. Rose could very nearly hear the royal gears turning. His gaze flicked to her. "Miss Lacey, are you sure you are not in need of a physician?"

She shook her head. Despite his reputation and royal stature, she found him rather sweet. 'It takes more than a scratch to put me out, Your Highness. I was a housemaid, a
real
housemaid, before I joined the Liars." ,

"Yes, my dear. I know. Collis speaks of you often."

"He—he does?" Oh, fry it. That couldn't be good. Collis shuffled uncomfortably next to her.

The Prince stood and stretched. "Do you know, I never wanted to be King," he said lightly, in what seemed to be an odd change of subject. "They say I couldn't wait to seize my father's power. I suppose it's hard for people to understand. It
seems
so lovely, being the ruler." George sighed. "Yet all I ever wanted was to live my own life. Dream my own dreams. Love my own love."

Rose didn't know how to respond to that confidence. Of course she knew about his strange marriage to his first cousin, Caroline of Brunswick. The story had it that they had never met until three days before the royal wedding and it was loathing at first sight for the both of them. Even legendary lecher George had never managed to get more than one child with his despised wife, and had eventually banished her to roam Europe, where, according to gossip, she was doing everything possible to shame and disgust her husband. And knowing what George was capable of, that likely meant going quite far.

Rose wasn't one to collect royal gossip, but this was all common knowledge. Every blacksmith and baker knew the story. Many even rooted for Caroline, since George had never made the least effort to become beloved by his subjects.

Still, Rose felt for him. Perhaps if he'd been allowed to remain married to his beloved Maria Fitzherbert, he would not be the madly unhappy man he was now.

Perhaps being King was not so free, after all.

"I—I'm sure you will be a great king, Your Highness."

"I'm sure I will be a great joke." George smiled. "Still, you and Collis remind me of myself and my dear Fitzherbert. 'A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.' " Then the Prince smiled indulgently at her. "You look puzzled. Forgive me, my dear. Of course you wouldn't recognize the reference."

She and Collis? Romantic? She heard Collis make a strangled sound beside her. She was
not
going to look at him. Ever.

"Oh, I recognize the line, Your Highness," she said quickly. "I simply can't see how you could compare the situations. Collis and I could never be considered to be from 'two households, both alike in dignity.' "

Both men blinked. Reaching the limit of her patience, Rose rolled her eyes at their stunned expressions. "Good Lord, do you think I have wasted these last months?"

Collis looked uneasy. "But—but I was told that when you came to the Liars you could barely read."

"True, but I was able to catch up very quickly. Lady Raines has been teaching me etiquette and mathematics, while Lady Etheridge has been teaching me literature and history."

Collis looked absolutely dumbfounded. "
When
?" He peered at her. "You've been in every class that I have, and a few that I have not. You work in the school to earn your keep, and you said you work extra hours with Kurt in the arena."

She shrugged, uncomfortable. "There are sometimes fewer hours in the day than I would like, but truly, it isn't like real work at all. When I was in service, I was up well before dawn and sometimes worked well past midnight."

Collis thought uneasily of his own efforts. Here was a girl who had lived her days working out of fear of a beating or a sacking. Here was someone who truly knew the meaning of survival.

"
If not for vying with Miss Lacey, you wouldn't have come as far as you have
." Dalton had been entirely correct. Bloody hell.

The Prince tapped the leather case against his thigh impatiently. "Now, if we've all our history out of the way, I want to tell you my plan."

Collis and Rose blinked at the Prince. "Your
plan
, Your Highness?"

George folded his hands across his girth and smiled benevolently. He looked rather like Humpty Dumpty perched on the wall, a drawing in one of Collis's old picture books. The image did Collis's peace of mind no favor. Humpty Dumpty hadn't gotten on well at all.

"My plan is that we take these drawings to a man I know. These tunnels will take us directly to him. He'll know if there is anything interesting about these guns. Then we can decide what to do about young Louis."

"We?" Collis swallowed. Shattered prince filled his mind. "Oh, no, Your Highness.
We
are going to get you straight on back to the palace! Then we are going to take our suspicions to the club." He was glad to see out of the corner of his eye Rose nodding vigorously.

George tilted his head. "You and whose army?"

All the king's horses and all the king's men
… Panic welled. "Your Highness, you can't be serious—"

"I am most serious. I've been in need of a holiday. Well, I'm going to take it. I like you two, or I did, and I fancy a bit of adventure." He casually studied his nails. "Of course, if you don't wish to tag along…"

Collis stopped breathing. Rose squeaked and sent him a look of pure panic. But what could he do? Refusing to accompany the Prince on his "holiday" would be disastrous! Obviously knowing this, George sighed happily and smiled sweetly at them both. "I expect we'll have great fun. You'll like old Forsythe. He's not terribly social, but he can hold more liquor than a barrel."

Rose visibly swallowed. "And then—after we see Mr. Forsythe—you'll go back to the palace?"

George shrugged broadly. "Where else would I go?"

Collis noticed that the Prince didn't precisely promise—but again, what could he do? George was his own man. He listened to no one anyway, except for—

"Liverpool!" Yes. "What of the Prime Minister, Your Highness?"

"Robert will go on running the nation, as usual. I'm sure he'll be able to come up with some way to excuse my absence for a day… or three. Don't you two want to prove Louis Wadsworth guilty? I'm quite sure I do. Poisonous fellow."

"But—in that case, why don't you simply overrule Liverpool, have Wadsworth investigated?"

"Gainsay my Prime Minister on your word? Liverpool is valuable and very powerful. Even I would not do it without good reason. Don't let my adventurous nature fool you, Collis. I am not a political idiot."

Collis was going to hyperventilate. And then he was going to faint like a tightly corseted dowager. And when he woke up, he was going to hyperventilate some more. He glanced at Rose. She didn't look any better off. She was as white as paper, with a rosy spot of sheer panic on each cheek. She gazed at him like a deer that knew very well it was about to be shot.

"Well, at least we're going to go to hell together," he murmured to her. As soon as possible, he would hire a likely boy to carry a note to Denny. A street boy wouldn't be able to get within a mile of the Prime Minister, but Denny had been used as courier before.

Rose shook her head repeatedly. "No. This is a very bad idea, Collis."

"Do you want him wandering around alone? Look what nearly happened at Wadsworth's!" Collis didn't really care if George could hear their hissed conversation. Serve him right, the spoiled old scoundrel!

Rose pressed both hands to her stomach. "If we get him back safe, maybe they won't hang us." She didn't sound any too sure.

"Oh, don't worry. The Liars don't perform public executions."

"What about private ones?"

Kurt's flashing knives shimmered dangerously across Collis's mind. "Well, that I don't know. But I do know that if we allow him out alone, we'll face much worse."

"I suppose."

They turned to George, united in their dread. "Very well, Your Highness. We'll go show the plans to your Mr. Forsythe."

The Prince rubbed both hands together with glee. "Lovely. I'll lead the way, shall I?"

Collis's hopes of sending word to Liverpool were dashed by the fact that George was able to negotiate the tunnels all the way to and into the Tower environs. How the Prince held the map of this odd, disjointed system in his head so well was a mystery, but Collis knew that when Dalton learned of it, he would covet it powerfully.

They made excellent time through the relatively open, airy dry passages that looked as though they had been built last year, they were so unworn. It would take five times as long to navigate London's twisting, traffic-clogged streets. Collis felt he could happily use this system every day.

Rose, however, suffered silently enough but Collis could tell she was unhappy about being underground. Her cool fingers would reach for his in the shifting dimness behind George and his lantern, sometimes just for an instant of contact before she would march forward.

Finally, they climbed an interminable iron ladder up to a more elderly tunnel. "We're just under the White Tower," explained George. "Only a little farther now."

"Just who is this Forsythe, Your Highness?"

Collis was glad to see Rose recovered enough to be curious again. It seemed she wouldn't be holding his hand for a while. Pity.

"He's an inventor," George said. "Explosives, primarily. A true man of science, not one of those posturing mystics floating around London these days prattling to old ladies about Electricity."

"But 'tis early morning, Your Highness. Are you sure he will not be asleep?"

"Oh, Forsythe doesn't sleep. Says it's a waste of time." George knocked on a plain wooden door. Rose expected him to walk directly in—after all, he was the ruler of the country, was he not?—but George waited patiently with a small smile on his face.

Eventually the sound of multiple bolts sliding from their locks came through the thick wood. The door opened a tiny slot. "What?"

"Why bother locking if you simply open the door?" George grinned. "You have callers, Forsythe! Put your drawers on and let us in."

The door opened slightly wider. "Who's that? Georgie? Bloody rotter, I've got my drawers on. I just don't have any trousers. Can't think where I put them…" The voice wandered away. George pushed the door open and strode in.

«
^
»

The Prince disappeared into the tower chamber. Rose glanced at Collis, who shrugged. They entered a few respectful feet behind the Prince. After three steps, they stopped, for there was nowhere to go in the cramped room.

It was a large room, enormous even, for it used an entire open floor of the Tower. Only pillars supporting struts broke the openness, yet there was hardly an inch unused. Or unpacked. Books, mostly, although there were open crates of metal objects here and there as well. Collis whistled. "It's like Portobello Road in here."

"Ha!" A frazzled gray head popped up not ten inches from Rose's elbow. "I've more books than those wankers! I've more books than anybody!" A man bustled out, clad in shirt, waistcoat and, yes, baggy, dingy drawers. He wasn't a bit taller than Rose, but that was likely caused by his incredible stoop, which almost merited the term
hunchback
. His head was as large as Collis's, and if his bent back were straightened, he would be nearly as tall. Rose had the impression that the bent back was the result of a lifetime of neglecting to stand up straight rather than an accident of birth.

He wore two pairs of spectacles, one perched on his nose and one perched atop his wild mop of hair. "I," he said with great dignity, "have more books than the King himself."

George grunted. "These are my father's books, Forsythe."

"Mine now. But you may borrow one if you like. As long as it doesn't leave this room."

Suddenly the man seemed to notice Rose for the first time. He halted, blinked, then swept her a tottering bow. "Georgie, where are your manners? Introduce me to the lady!"