Fateful

  “Mother doesn’t care if I like him or not.”

  Time to be honest, I suppose. “Is it—is it about the money, Miss Irene? I don’t mean to be impertinent, but downstairs we’ve all suspected that perhaps—the family finances—”

  “Money?” Irene looks up at me, and to my astonishment, she starts to laugh. “Do you think they want to marry me off for the money?”

  That’s exactly what I’ve thought. I can’t imagine what else it would be.

  As I stare at her in consternation, Irene says, “You see, Tess, it’s much worse than that. I’m . . . ruined.”

  I was only slightly more surprised when I saw Mikhail transform into a werewolf. “Ruined” is a polite euphemism; what it means is that the young lady in question—Irene—has lost her virginity before being married.

  How could that be possible? She’s been chaperoned about, hardly let out of the house except in “society,” where the rules are generally obeyed. Some young girls find ways around that, I imagine, but Irene? She’s so modest, so unlikely to run wild.

  And how would Lady Regina know? The question is rhetorical at first, but then I think about it. “Miss Irene—please tell me—nobody hurt you, did they?”

  “No. I wasn’t mistreated.” By mistreated, she means raped: Thank God for that much. Loose strands of pale brown hair hang over half her face; the other is already coiffed. It’s like you could split her down the middle—the picture of the proper Edwardian girl and the real woman within. “I love him. I took the risk. And now I have to pay the price.”

  Oh, no. “You’re not with child, are you?” But that can’t be right. My job includes rinsing out all Irene’s underthings; I know the schedule of her courses as well as my own. That’s been clockwork the whole four months I’ve been with her.

  She lifts her face to mine, and her smile is sad. “Not any longer.”

  Suddenly the past few months make sense. I was promoted to ladies’ maid unexpectedly, and abruptly, when Irene’s previous maid went to a new situation in Scotland. Downstairs we all talked about how odd it was for her to leave with almost no notice, and how strange that the Lisles gave her a glowing reference despite that. Now I understand. That maid would have known that Irene was pregnant; she would have noted the missed cycles and perhaps have seen her through the miscarriage. The Lisles would have wanted her gone to keep the rumor from spreading through the household, but they’d have taken good care of her to insure her silence.

  “Mother doesn’t know who the father is,” Irene says. “It hurt her so deeply that I wouldn’t tell her. I know you must loathe her, and I wouldn’t deny that sometimes she behaves abominably, but you must understand, Tess. Mother married into the nobility. She’s never felt as easy as her friends who have a title in their own right. Layton’s been such a disappointment to her, and what I did—there’s not a mother in England who wouldn’t be angry with me, after I got with child by a man I refused to name.” Irene takes a deep, shaky breath. “I think she has it in her head it’s some wealthy young man I met at a cotillion, someone I could blackmail into marrying me if I were more ‘practical.’ So now she says she can’t trust me not to go astray. She wants me married quickly, and I have to face it, even though I love someone else.”

  Not some wealthy young man. Someone who could spend some time with her. Someone she loves. Someone who probably loves her in return.

  Before I can think better of it, I blurt out, “It’s Ned, isn’t it?”

  Irene reels back, and I can’t tell whether she’s more shocked or relieved that someone finally knows. “Did he tell you?”

  “Not that you were ever together! Nothing about the baby. He’s not breathed a word, miss. But—well, he’s always been sweet on you.”

  “And I’ve always been sweet on him.” Irene’s smile is wistful. “His father was in our service too, you know. I remember playing with Ned on the grounds as a child, before Mother caught me and scolded me for associating with my inferiors. Even then I knew there would never be anyone else for me.”

  Ned and Irene. There’s never been anyone else for him, either; I feel sure of that now. A hundred separate incidents come together in my mind to form a delicate snowflake pattern—the two of them always searching for ways to be in each other’s company. And the other evening, on the deck, he said he would never take a wife because there was no point in marrying anybody besides the one person in all the world you wanted most. He was thinking of Irene, a girl he can never have.

  I know he must love her, but my Lord, how he has hurt her. “He shouldn’t have put you in that position, miss. Ned’s a good man, but it was—careless. Thoughtless. To let that happen to you.”

  “Oh, don’t blame him! It was—once, only once, and we were both so carried away.” There’s color in her cheeks now, real happiness, if only in memory. “Last autumn, one day, I was meant to be at Penelope Chambers’s tea party, but she fell ill in the middle of the afternoon and we had to go home. Father had the driver and nobody else was free to fetch me, so Ned came. And then there was that rainstorm—oh, Tess, do you remember that rain? It was like the sky had been split open.”

  I don’t remember a thing about it. No doubt I spent that day scrubbing floors and never even got the chance to look at a window and notice it was raining.

  Irene looks up into that long-ago sky, welcoming the storm. “We had to duck into the nearest shelter—this little barn—and wait. It was like we were all alone in the world. We hadn’t really been alone together like that since we were children, and both of us knew we’d probably never have hours to ourselves again. The truth spilled out, and when I knew he loved me too—when we both knew it was our only chance—I don’t care that I’m ruined. I don’t care that Mother hates me. I would never take it back. I’d never change a thing.” She looks beautiful now, more beautiful than I’ve ever seen her. Love illuminates her from within. “I think I was happier in those hours with Ned than most people ever are in their whole lives.”

  I nod. “Then I’m glad for you, miss. I’m only sorry Lady Regina ever had to find out.”

  “Ned doesn’t know about the baby,” she says. “I didn’t tell him, and you mustn’t either. It would hurt him so terribly. There was nothing Ned could have done, before I lost it or since.”

  That’s true, of course. If the Lisles ever found out that Ned was the father of Irene’s baby, he’d be fired at best, prosecuted for rape at worst, and Irene’s willingness would count for nothing in a court of law compared to the fact that she’s a fine young lady and he’s a servant. Irene would never be allowed to marry him. They couldn’t even run off together—Ned would be unemployable after such a scandal, and Irene’s probably too delicate to work even if she knew how to do anything useful.

  I still want to shake Ned for endangering her so, and a week ago, I would have. Now, though, I know what it means to care about someone so deeply. To want to steal a day with that person, even an hour, no matter what the cost might be.

  And it was probably Ned’s first time with a girl. Life in service doesn’t allow for much romance. The two of them were probably completely ignorant about how to avoid a baby. I was too, before Daisy got herself in trouble; after that I made it a point to learn a few things.

  Irene says, “I wonder, sometimes, what I’d have done if I hadn’t lost the child. I was only just starting to believe I was truly going to have one when it ended.” She puts one hand over her flat belly. “I would have given birth in June.”

  I can’t imagine what the Lisles would have done with her. Bribed someone to marry her immediately, I suppose, and then the new child would have been welcomed as “premature”—the oldest fib there is. “I don’t mean to be unkind, miss, but I don’t know how well it would have gone for you or—or for the baby.”

  “I know. I do. Yet sometimes I imagine holding a little child with ginger hair.” She straightens herself and takes a deep breath. “Mother made me swear never to breathe a word to another soul. But telling y
ou has helped me, more than I ever realized it would. Thank you, Tess. For being someone I can trust.”

  “I’ll never breathe a word of it. Not even to Ned.”

  She nods. “It’s going to be hard for him, these next few months. When the time comes, and I have to marry—you’ll help him through it, won’t you? I think it will be even harder for him to bear than it is for me.”

  I won’t be in the Lisles’ service any longer. Ned will truly be alone.

  As long as Irene has told me her deepest secret, it seems like I should be able to tell her one of mine. But just as I begin to confess my plans to leave, we hear men’s voices in the sitting room: Layton and Mikhail.

  “Oh, God.” Irene looks stricken. “They couldn’t have overheard, could they? I don’t even know if Mother and Father have told Layton.”

  “I think they just came in.” I hop up from the bench and straighten Irene in front of the mirror. “You’re all right, miss. Let’s get you ready.”

  We fall silent as I lace her into her stays. Although I’m almost completely certain Layton didn’t overhear, what about Mikhail? He has a wolf’s senses, and a wolf’s desire to rip out the jugular of anyone who gets in his way. If he overheard, if he has a secret to use against Irene, what might he do?

  It’s out of fear for her, rather than for myself, that I listen so intently to their conversation through the door.

  Mikhail: “You’re a chronic procrastinator, my friend. Already I know this about you. Always putting off until tomorrow what you could be enjoying today.”

  Layton: “Did I put off drinking that fine cognac last night? Or winning that first hand at cards? Lost the last one, of course, but if you ask me, Colonel Gracie cheats.”

  Mikhail: “You put off establishing yourself as a man of means. Establishing your family in the wealth and security you deserve. Why will you not do business with me now?”

  Oh, no. The Initiation Blade.I thought we had until the ship reached New York City. But Mikhail’s impatient—he wants it immediately.

  Layton: “I told you, Father was most explicit in his instructions. We’re to have everything appraised before sale.”

  Layton’s already spilled everything to Mikhail about the family’s finances—oh, maybe not everything, because it would hurt his pride, but enough for a manipulator like Mikhail to know the truth. At this point, he’ll be lucky if Mikhail actually pays him for the Blade instead of blackmailing him for it.

  Mikhail: “And I tell you now, the price I’m offering is more than generous. The appraisal may well be lower. These New World jewelers, what do they know of real quality? I’ve worked with Fabergé; no doubt I can give you a better estimate of the dagger’s true worth than some colonial in a shop. Why not let me look at it, at least?”

  Layton: “I suppose you might as well look.”

  They’re going to the safe. They’re going to ask Irene for the key, and they’ll open the box. They’ll realize the Initiation Blade is gone.

  I’m about to get caught.

  Chapter 20

  “IRENE?” LAYTON DRAWLS. HE SAUNTERS INTO HER room without knocking, and she pulls her wrapper more tightly around her. Though he glances at me briefly, he can’t meet my eyes. Ashamed of himself, is he? He should be. “Give me that key, would you? To that big box in the safe.”

  “I can hear what you and that Russian are talking about. You want to sell off Uncle Humphrey’s things before we even get to port. Why? So you can gamble the money away at billiards?”

  “I say, Irene, you’re out of line.”

  “No, you are.” Maybe her confession has given her strength, or maybe it’s the memory of the brief time she had with Ned. Irene’s showing real spirit this morning. “What would Mother say, if she knew you weren’t following Father’s instructions?”

  “Mother would say you ought to listen to their son and heir!” Layton’s pale face looks even worse when he flushes; the fish-flesh pink of his nostrils and cheeks makes his skin appear even pastier by contrast. I can’t laugh at him, though, not with Mikhail only a room away, obviously hovering nearby. “Hand it over, Irene.”

  “And what if I don’t?” She crosses her arms. Then, as if an afterthought, she says, “Tess, why don’t you see if the ship’s laundry has my lace collar done yet?”

  I frown, ready to contradict her. Her laces are my responsibility and nobody else’s. But her eyes flick toward Mikhail, and I realize she’s picked up on his unhealthy interest in me—even if she can’t possibly have guessed why that is. In order to protect me, she’s sending me out at a time Mikhail won’t follow.

  “I’ll go see, Miss Irene.” I give her shoulder a grateful squeeze and hurry out.

  Mikhail’s dark eyes follow me across the Lisles’ sitting room as I go, but he says nothing, and I manage not to look him directly in the face.

  As soon as I’m out the door, I start running down the hallway. One of the ship’s stewards from last night gives me a look—I must be gaining infamy among the staff for being in the thick of trouble. Let them gossip about me, as long as they don’t guess Alec’s secret.

  When I reach the Marlowe cabin, I bang on the door. Nobody answers at first, and I wonder if they’re still asleep. Then I remember the drugs Alec was given. Won’t he still be tranquilized, unconscious? I wonder if he has to be awake to change back, whether he’s still a wolf crated in his father’s sitting room.

  But it’s Alec who opens the door. His robe is open, revealing the expanse of his chest and abdomen; his pajama bottoms are slung low enough for me to see the curve of bone above his pelvis. Given the trouble we’re in, this shouldn’t have the power to distract me, but for one blissful moment, it does.

  Then he says, his voice ragged, “Tess.”

  Alec pulls me into the suite and into his embrace. I close my eyes as I wrap my arms around his waist and revel in the warmth of his body and the scent of his skin. He pushes the door shut and then leans me against it. Yet I sense that he is the one who needs support.

  “Dad told me,” he whispers against my neck. “I know what I’ve done.”

  “You were only trying to protect me! The steward pushed me to the side; you thought I was in danger.”

  “It doesn’t matter why.” Alec’s words are muffled. “I’m a murderer now. There’s no denying it any longer.”

  “You didn’t mean it, Alec. It wasn’t murder. It was—a horrible accident.”

  “That’s not good enough, Tess. If it happened once, it could happen again. And that dead man’s family won’t give a damn that it was an accident. He’s just as dead.”

  “Only because of the Brotherhood.”

  “What does it matter who lets me out? As long as I can get out, as long as it’s possible for me to do what I did last night, then I’m a monster.”

  He’s tearing himself up over something he couldn’t have helped. Isn’t he in enough pain already? I silence his guilt the only way I know how, by kissing him.

  It strikes a match between us. Lights a fuse. Alec kisses me back so urgently that I can hardly breathe. One hand is at the back of my neck, the other wrapped around my waist so that I can’t pull away. But I don’t want to pull away. I tug at the neck of his robe, wanting more of his bare skin to see, touch, kiss.

  When our mouths part, I have to gasp for breath. His lips brush against my cheek, then my temple. “My sweet Tess. You deserve so much more than I can give you. So much better than a monster.”

  “You’re not a monster.”

  “I am. Last night proved it.” He pushes my curls back, passion already ebbing into tenderness. “You just refuse to see it, because of loyalty to me.”

  “Enough of this.” I want to shake him. Or kiss him again. Both, really. But I can’t forget what I came for. “Mikhail’s on the verge of getting Layton to sell him the Blade. It could happen any minute now. Once they know it’s missing, Mikhail will know I took it. And he’ll tell them to hurt Daisy.”

  “What?”

&nb
sp; I explain about the Marconigram, what they did to my sister, what they will do once they realize I’ve crossed Mikhail. My throat tightens, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to break down crying like an idiot when every second counts.

  Alec listens, but his alarm seems to diminish. When I’m done, he says only, “We’ll take care of Daisy. I promise you.”

  How can he promise that? I know he means it, but I don’t see how Alec plans to do it. Besides, he seems to have forgotten an even more pressing issue. “Mikhail’s going to come after us.”

  “Let him come.”

  I stare up at Alec. His words aren’t mere posturing; he doesn’t seem threatened. He actually wants to confront Mikhail. Though I can’t guess exactly why, I sense enough to become wary. “Alec, what are you going to do?”

  “What I ought to have done months ago. While I still could have saved Gabrielle and spared that man last night.” Although he’s looking at me, he’s looking throughme—at some dark horizon I can’t see. “I’m going to take care of everything.”

  “Alec—whatever you’re planning—you mustn’t—”

  He interrupts my words with a soft hand over my lips, and stops my mind like a clock that’s come unwound. In one tick, time stops and I can’t speak or think.

  Alec’s eyes never leave my face as he caresses my hair. “Tess, until the last hour of my life, I’m going to wish we could have found each other in a different way. Before any of this happened to me. If I’d known you, if I’d had you to live for, maybe I wouldn’t have made the stupid mistakes that led me here.”

  “Alec—”

  “You’re strong enough to stand up to anyone. Smart enough to do anything you want. Don’t sell yourself short; don’t be afraid of what your new life is going to offer. Because I know—if there’s any justice in this world, good things are going to come to you. Better things than you ever dreamed.”