Reaching into his pocket, Gabriel pulled out a peculiar object . . . some kind of clockwork movement affixed to a small metal cartridge. “I found this beneath a loose plank behind the dais.”
“What is that?”
“An alarm mechanism with a strike bar attached to a detonator cap. It was set to explode the charge.”
“But it won’t now?” Pandora asked worriedly.
“Not since I tore it off a row of cylinder bombs, by God.” Gabriel glanced at Dragon. “The crowd is thinning near the north wall exit. Let’s go. Make certain no one slams against her.”
“I’m more worried about the bombs than being jostled,” Pandora said, tugging at him impatiently. He kept an arm around her. With Dragon on her other side, they went through a doorway to a yard at the back of the hall that opened to Basinghall Street. Pandora felt weak with relief when they finally reached the cool open air. They stopped in the partial shelter of a bankruptcy court building.
Pandemonium reigned outside as a sea of humanity accumulated on the Guildhall grounds. People dashed every which way in panic. Mounted Coldstreams rode back and forth, while law enforcement vans, carriages, and horses arrived in a clamor. Whistle-shrills cut through the air as arriving police signaled to each other. Standing with her head against Gabriel’s chest, Pandora felt the reverberations of his voice as he asked, “Did you lose Prescott?”
She turned to see Ethan Ransom standing there, looking the way she felt, tired but jangling, as if an electric current were making every muscle jump. Silently Dragon handed him the clockwork mechanism. Ransom turned the object over in his hands, examining it as he replied.
“I followed him along Gresham Street and cornered him at the General Railway Goods Depot. But before I was even in arm’s reach, he—” Breaking off, Ransom shook his head helplessly, his face blank. “Strychnine pills,” he said. “Took them right in front of me. I’m sorry, my lord, but you won’t have your five minutes with him after all.” He slid the clockwork mechanism into his pocket. “God knows how far this has gone, or who else in the Home Office and Detective Force might be involved. Prescott didn’t act alone.”
“What are you going to do?” Gabriel asked.
Ransom smiled without amusement. “I’m not sure yet. But whatever it is, I’ll need to do it carefully.”
“If there’s any way I can help—” Gabriel began.
“No,” Ransom interrupted, “it’s better if we part company for good. Now that Prescott’s dead, Lady St. Vincent is safe. The less you have to do with me, the better. Don’t talk to anyone about the events of tonight. Don’t mention my visit to your house.”
“We’ll never see you again?” Pandora asked, crestfallen.
A gleam of genuine warmth entered his eyes as he glanced at her. “Not if I can help it, my lady.”
Ransom shook hands with Dragon, but hesitated as he turned to Gabriel. Usually men exchanged a handshake only if they were of similar rank.
Gabriel reached out and clasped his hand firmly. “Good luck, Ransom.”
The detective responded with a short nod and began to leave.
“There’s one thing I want to ask,” Gabriel said.
Turning back to him, Ransom lifted his brows slightly.
Gabriel’s stare was steady and speculative. “What connection do you have to the Ravenels?”
Astonished, Pandora looked from her husband to Ethan Ransom, who hesitated a bit longer than one might have expected before replying. “None at all. Why do you ask?”
“When I first met you,” Gabriel said, “I thought your eyes were black. But they’re dark blue, rimmed with black. I’ve only seen four people in my life with eyes that color, all of them Ravenels.” He paused. “And now you.”
Ransom responded with a dry laugh. “My father was a prison guard. My mother’s profession is one I can’t mention in polite company. I’m no Ravenel, my lord.”
“What do you think will happen to Mr. Ransom?” Pandora asked during the carriage ride home. Dragon had elected to sit up top with the driver, leaving her in privacy with Gabriel. She cuddled in the crook of her husband’s shoulder, while his warm hand stroked over her idly.
“He’s in a difficult position,” Gabriel said. “Accusing government officials of conspiring in terrorism plots with violent radicals generally isn’t good for a man’s health.”
Pandora frowned in worry. “Gabriel . . .” She was forced to pause as an irresistible yawn overtook her. “Do you really think there’s some connection between Mr. Ransom and my family?”
“It would be a strange coincidence,” he admitted. “But there were moments now and then when I saw a hint of something familiar in one of his expressions or gestures.”
“Yes, I noticed that too.” She rubbed her eyes. “I liked him. Despite what he said, I still hope we’ll see him again someday.”
“We might.” Gabriel pulled her into his lap, settling her comfortably. “Rest against me. Soon we’ll be home, and I’ll put you to bed.”
“Only if you come to bed with me.” She reached up to touch his lips with her fingertip, and tried to sound seductive. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
“I appreciate the thought,” he said, sounding amused, “but you’re already half-asleep.”
“I’m not tired,” Pandora insisted, feeling a surge of love for him, more searing emotion than her body could contain. He was her partner, lover, and husband—everything she hadn’t known she’d always wanted. “My brain wants to stay awake.”
“You can barely keep your eyes open,” he mocked gently. “I’d rather wait until morning, when there’s half a chance of mutual participation.”
“I’ll show you participation,” she threatened. “I’ll ravish you. I’ll wear the flesh from your bones.”
“Easy, little pirate.” Gabriel smiled and smoothed her hair until she relaxed against him. “There’s time enough for that. I’m yours tonight and forever, through joy, adversity, and the thousand natural shocks of life.” His voice turned irresistibly soft, like raw velvet. “But for now all I want is to hold you, Pandora . . . my heart, my slow waltz, my sweet fate. Let me watch over your dreams tonight . . . and in the morning I’ll worship you as you deserve. What do you say to that?”
Yes. Oh, yes. Worship sounded nice. Sleep sounded nice. Pandora was suddenly too tired to utter a word, her mind drifting into an agreeably warm, blanket-soft darkness, while his arms cradled her close. She felt him whisper against her bad ear, but this time she knew exactly what the words were . . . and she fell asleep with a faint smile.
Epilogue
December 6, 1877
“Hold still,” Garrett Gibson murmured, gently pulling at Pandora’s earlobe as she positioned the tip of a steel auriscope tube in her ear. She squinted through an eyepiece into a microscopic magnifying lens, while Pandora sat with her head resting sideways on a leather table.
So far during the examination, they had discovered that Pandora’s left ear could detect the ticking of a watch a half-inch away and a raised voice at six feet, although she couldn’t hear a low voice at any distance.
Still holding the auriscope in Pandora’s ear, Garrett reached for a pencil, and sketched a quick diagram. “The ear drum is called the tympanum,” she murmured. “I can see the ragged perforation from the childhood injury, and some scarring from chronic inflammation. The tympanum is constantly replaced by the reproduction of cells, just like skin, so this type of perforation usually heals quickly. However, there are cases such as yours where it doesn’t, especially when a severe infection accompanies the initial injury.” Carefully she withdrew the tube, and Pandora sat up to face her.
“Is there anything that can be done?” Pandora asked.
“Since the condition has persisted for so many years, I wouldn’t expect to recover the hearing completely. However, I think we can bring about some substantial improvement, as well as drastically reducing or even eliminating the tinnitus and vertigo.”
Pan
dora nearly quivered with excitement. “Truly?”
“We’ll start you on a daily rinse of antiseptic solution in your ear to encourage healing. After a week of that, I’ll have you come in for another appointment, and we’ll apply nitrate of silver to the edges of the perforation, to stimulate growth of new tissue.”
“How will you put it in there?”
“I’ll melt a tiny drop of the silver nitrate to the tip of a silver wire, and apply it in seconds. It won’t hurt at all. If for some reason this course of treatment doesn’t prove as effective as I expect, I’ll consult a colleague who is having some success at using collagen membrane patches to cover the perforated tympanum.”
“If you could make any difference at all, it would be . . .” Pandora paused, searching for the right word. “It would be magical!”
Garrett smiled. “There’s no such thing as magic, my lady. There’s only skill and knowledge.”
“Very well, I’ll call it whatever you prefer.” Pandora grinned at her. “But the result is the same.”
After her appointment at the clinic had concluded, Pandora walked next door to Winterborne’s, with Dragon following close behind her. It was Nicholas Day, when the store traditionally unveiled its annual Christmas tree under the soaring stained-glass dome over the central hall. People had traveled for miles to see the sixty-foot evergreen, every branch trimmed with magnificent figures and ornaments and swathed in glittering ribbons.
Cork Street was filled with throngs of Christmas shoppers laden with huge parcels and bags, and sticky children clutching cones of sugar-plums, macaroons, and other sweetmeats. Crowds massed around the department store’s lavish display windows, one of them featuring an artist painting Christmas cards that were sold inside, another decorated with toy trains chugging around miniature tracks. One of the more popular windows featured delicacies and confections from the store’s famed food hall, including a huge gingerbread carousel with a candy-paved roof, and gingerbread riders on gingerbread horses.
After they entered the store, Dragon took Pandora’s cloak and gloves from her and retreated to a position near the corner. He had worn his livery, as he did whenever he felt a particular occasion called for the prestige of a liveried footman. Today, a week after Pandora’s board game had been stocked in the department store, he had judged it necessary to don the hated blue and gold garments while she obtained her sales information from the toy department manager.
Feeling nervous pangs in her stomach, Pandora browsed among the displays. There was an eye-catching grocery store sized just for children, with drawers, counters, and cabinets, a real working scale, and artificial fruits and vegetables. Her gaze moved over china tea sets, doll houses, books, toy wagons, pop-guns, and dolls. A smile came to her lips as she watched a pair of little girls playing with a toy stove complete with miniature pots, pans, and utensils.
By next Christmas, Pandora had already planned to publish two new board games, a set of alphabet blocks painted with animals as well as letters, and a children’s card game with a fairy tale theme. What she hadn’t confided to anyone except Gabriel was her desire to try writing a children’s book. Just a simple story, something lively and entertaining. Since she wasn’t accomplished enough at sketching and painting to do the illustrations, she would have to find an artist—
Her attention was caught by the sight of a few uneasy children hovering near Dragon, clearly wanting access to a display of books behind him. He didn’t move. Dragon knew next to nothing about children and seemed to regard them as nothing more than short, slovenly adults with poor depth perception. A small group had accumulated around him, three boys and two girls, none taller than his waist. They craned their necks, puzzled by the somewhat outlandish figure of the muscular footman garbed in blue velvet, with a beard, a scar, and a scowl on his face.
Pressing back a smile, Pandora approached the children, crouched beside them, and asked in a stagey whisper, “Do you know who that is?” They turned to face her with round-eyed curiosity. “He’s Captain Dragon—the bravest, fiercest pirate who ever sailed the seven seas.” As she saw the ripple of interest that ran through the group, she ignored Dragon’s incredulous glare and added with relish, “He’s been serenaded by mermaids, and he’s battled a giant squid. He also had a pet whale who used to follow in the wake of his ship and beg for sea biscuits.”
A boy glanced at Dragon’s dark face with awe before asking Pandora, “Why is he dressed like a footman?”
“Seasick,” Pandora confided regretfully. “All the time. He couldn’t bear it any longer. So now he’s a footman, and on his days off, he’s a land pirate.”
The children gathered cautiously around the stone-faced giant. “Do you have a wooden leg?” one of them asked.
“No,” Dragon growled.
“Do you make people walk the plank?”
“No.”
“What’s your whale’s name?”
Dragon looked exasperated. Before he could say a word, Pandora replied hastily, “Her name is Bubbles.”
“His name,” Dragon corrected, “is Splasher.”
Highly entertained, Pandora retreated while the children continued to wring information from him . . . yes, he had once seen a mermaid with green hair, singing and sunning herself on a rock. As for buried treasure, well, if he had a chest of gold bullion hidden in a secret location, he certainly wasn’t going to admit to it. Only chowder-headed pirates bragged about their loot. While Dragon kept the children entertained—or perhaps it was the other way around—Pandora decided it was time to find out about her sales.
Squaring her shoulders, she crossed to the other side of the towering Christmas tree . . . and stopped as she saw the long, lean form of her husband, half-sitting, half-leaning against a display table with his legs nonchalantly crossed at the ankles. Gabriel was all aristocratic ease and cool sensuality, the light of the overhead chandeliers seeming to strike sparks in the golden-bronze locks of his hair. His gaze fell upon her, and he smiled slightly, while his winter-blue eyes flickered with a quiet smolder.
From all the fluttering reactions and ecstatic whispering of the ladies shopping nearby, it was a wonder no one had fainted. Pandora approached him with a wry smile. “My lord?”
“I knew you’d be here after your doctor’s appointment. And while I was waiting . . . I heard a rumor about a certain businesswoman whose entire stock of board games sold out in little more than a week.”
Pandora blinked in confusion. “They’re all gone? All five hundred?”
Gabriel stood and stepped away from the table, which was empty except for a placard on a small easel.
The board game of the season,
The Great Department Store Shopping Spree
will be back in stock soon
“I spoke with Winterborne just a few minutes ago,” Gabriel continued. “It pains his mercantile heart not to be able to sell a product that’s in such high demand. He wants more games as soon as your busy little factory can produce them.”
Distractedly Pandora ran through some numbers in her head. “Blast. I’ll have to hire more women, and appoint Ida as the manager.”
“The lady’s maid?”
“Yes, she’s wanted the job for months, and I’ve resisted, but now it’s unavoidable.” Seeing his perplexity, Pandora explained, “Back in September I made a rather barbed comment about how much she likes telling me what to do, and how happy it would probably make her to have an entire crew of women to manage and supervise—and she loved the idea.”
“Why is that a problem?”
Pandora gave him a long-suffering glance. “My hair is straight and slippery and never holds a curl. Ida’s the only one who’s ever been able to arrange it and make it stay. I never expected I’d have to choose between my appalling hair and my business.”
Stepping closer to her, Gabriel nuzzled the upswept locks near her temple. “I love your hair,” he murmured. “It’s like midnight in my hands.”
She twisted away with a
stifled laugh. “No, don’t be romantic in the middle of the toy department.”
“It’s not working?”
“It is, that’s the problem.”
Gabriel followed slowly as she skirted around the empty table. “What did Dr. Gibson say about your ear?”
Stopping exactly opposite him, Pandora grinned. “She says it will improve with the right treatment. No more ringing in my ear, or losing my balance, or being afraid of the dark.”
Their gazes met in a moment of shared delight and triumph. Before Pandora could move, Gabriel had reached across the table and snatched her wrist, as fast as a striking leopard. “Come around to me,” he murmured, tugging gently.
Flushing at the look in his eyes, Pandora tried to resist, her heart quickening pleasantly. “My lord,” she begged in a whisper, “not in front of all these people.”
His lips twitched. “Then find a corner where I can kiss you properly.”
Pandora found herself wandering pink-cheeked through the crowd with her husband in tow. As they paused to allow some shoppers to cross in front of them, she heard his caressing voice behind her, close to her good ear. “No matter what happens, my love, you know you’ll never have to be afraid of the dark. I’ll always be there to keep you from falling.”
As their fingers tangled together, Pandora reflected that as astute as Dr. Garrett Gibson was, she was wrong about something. There was magic in the world, and it was woven throughout each ordinary day, the same force that pulled the tides and drove the rhythm of a human heart.
Inspired by that thought, Pandora, Lady St. Vincent—a woman with admittedly poor impulse control—turned to kiss her husband right in the middle of the department store. And he—a gentleman obviously besotted by his wife—kissed her right back.
Author’s Note
I loved having the opportunity to learn more about Victorian Era medicine and surgery while researching this book, mostly by reading medical journals, catalogues of surgical instruments, and textbooks on surgery, all from the 1870s (thanks, Google Books). Although some of the practices and procedures were just as primitive as I’d imagined, Victorian medicine turned out to be far more advanced than I’d expected. Starting around 1865, Sir Joseph Lister transformed surgery with sterile antiseptic surgery practices and became the father of modern medicine. Advances in anesthesia made it possible for surgeons to perform delicate and complex procedures, such as the one described in this book, which they’d never been able to attempt before. Physicians were able to use microscopes with powerful new lenses and draw from their accumulating knowledge of chemistry to accurately diagnose and treat conditions such as Helen’s anemia.