The Beloved Scoundrel

  “What?” Marianna raised her head and stared at her in bewilderment. Virtue? What difference did a loss of virtue make when Alex was gone? Mother of God, what did it signify if she became the whore of Babylon? All that mattered was making sure Alex was saved. Then, as she stared at Dorothy, she realized it did matter to her. She evidently considered it of great importance, or she would never have mentioned it at this time. She might loudly embrace the rights of women, but the strictures of the ton had been more deeply ingrained in her than she knew. Even though she protested and denied it, Marianna was less in her eyes than she had been before.

  She had broken the rules.

  “That’s all I wished to say. Now we’ll forget this unfortunate incident and go on as before.”

  As the door closed behind her, Marianna stared into the flames. Dorothy was wrong; they could not go on as before. She would continue to love Dorothy for her kindness, but there would always be a barrier between them from now on.

  Dorothy is bound by the very rules she thinks she flouts.

  Jordan had said those words. Jordan had known what she had never guessed. Clever Jordan.

  But not clever enough to keep Nebrov from taking Alex.

  She sat down in the wing chair before the fire and closed her eyes.

  Let the messenger come soon, she prayed. She could not bear this waiting much longer.

  An envelope was slipped under her door a few hours later.

  She heard a faint rustle and turned her head to see a white envelope cross over the threshold like a poisonous snake.

  She leaped from her chair and was at the door in seconds but made no attempt to throw it open and look for the messenger. Jordan had promised he would be intercepted. Instead, Marianna ripped open the envelope and scanned the note inside before running down the stairs and into the study.

  She threw the note on the desk in front of Jordan. “Here it is. It was slipped under my door. Now, let’s do something about it.”

  He picked up the missive and read it. “It’s what we expected.”

  Exactly what they expected, Marianna thought sickly. A death threat to Alex unless she surrendered herself to Nebrov at his estate at Pekbar before the month’s end. “We have to leave at once.”

  “I’ve already sent word to ready the Seastorm,” Jordan said. “We’ll set out in the morning for Southwick.” He rose to his feet. “Wait in your room. I’ll need to talk to you as soon as I’m done.”

  “Where are you going?”

  He glanced over his shoulder, and she inhaled sharply as she saw his expression. “The messenger.”

  It was after midnight when Jordan came to her room. He glanced at the cases beside the bed and said, “I see you’re ready to depart.”

  She had paid little attention to gathering belongings, concentrating only on keeping herself from going mad while she waited for him. “I packed for Alex as well. He’ll need something to wear when Nebrov releases him.” When he releases him, not if. She had to keep believing they would save him. She asked, “Who was the messenger?”

  “William Stoneham.”

  At first she did not recognize the name. He had always been just William, the name on Alex’s lips a dozen times a day. When realization dawned, shock rippled through her. Cheerful, dapper William who had taught Alex to ride. William, whom Alex trusted only a little less than Gregor. “It couldn’t be him. He loved Alex.”

  “Not as much as he loved the pounds Costain paid him to betray your brother. He told Costain where Gregor and Alex were going yesterday and that they would be unescorted.”

  She shook her head to clear it. These people she had thought she knew so well, she had not really known at all. The safe cocoon of Cambaron was unraveling, leaving her feeling dazed and naked.

  “He was to notify Costain’s man in Southwick when he delivered the message.” He smiled grimly. “Unfortunately, he won’t deliver the news in person. I left William’s hand intact so that he could write the note we’ll dictate, but his other extremities are sadly damaged.”

  “Dictate? What do you want him to say?”

  “We may have need of dividing our forces. He’ll send word that I was summoned to London and plan to come to Montavia at a later date and that only Gregor will be escorting you to Montavia.”

  “Did William know anything else?”

  “No.” He paused. “Marianna, we can’t let Nebrov control the terms.”

  She stiffened. “What are you saying? I won’t have Nebrov angered and chance having him hurt Alex.”

  “Sit down, Marianna.”

  “I don’t care what games you’re playing with Napoleon. Alex is not going to be part of them.”

  “I said, sit down.” He gently pushed her down onto the chair. “And listen to me. Do you think Nebrov is going to release Alex even if you give yourself in exchange?”

  She had to believe it, she thought desperately.

  “Shall I tell you what’s going to happen? He’ll capture you, renege on his promise to release Alex, and use him to make you give him the Jedalar. Do you want to see Alex tortured before your eyes?”

  “No!” Her hands clenched the arms of the chair. “It won’t happen. I’ll give him the Jedalar.”

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  “You can’t let—” She stared at him in horror. “You’d let him die?”

  “He won’t die,” he said harshly. “Do you think I’d allow Alex to be sacrificed? I’d let you give Nebrov the Jedalar and then find a way to take it from him later, if I thought that would save Alex.” He knelt before her chair. “It wouldn’t. After Nebrov has the Jedalar, the first thing he’d do would be to destroy anyone else who has knowledge of it. He’d kill both you and Alex. Think, Marianna, you know what he is.”

  She did know and had a terrible fear that Jordan was speaking the truth. Mama had told her often enough that power usually bred dishonor. It was only desperation that had led her to ignore that knowledge.

  He didn’t speak for a moment, letting his words sink in. “Our only chance is to find a way to catch him off guard and take Alex away from him. To do that, I’m going to need your help.” He paused. “You’re going to have to give me the Jedalar.”

  “I knew it would come to that,” she said bitterly. “It’s what you always wanted, wasn’t it? What a wonderful opportunity.”

  He flinched. “Yes, it’s what I wanted, what I have to have. But I won’t let you be hurt by it. Trust me, Marianna.”

  “I don’t trust you. Why should I?” She met his gaze. “You would have kept me in a cage. You let that monster take Alex.”

  “Then don’t trust me. Just do what’s best for Alex.”

  “That’s my intention.” She wearily leaned back in the chair. She had no choice. He was right, the Jedalar could be the key to freeing Alex. She had to run the risk.

  Forgive me, Mama.

  But her mother would never have wanted her to endanger Alex. She would have done what she had to do to save her family and tried to salvage what she could later.

  “Very well.” She sat upright in the chair. “We’ll find a way to trick Nebrov by offering him what he wants. But it may not be as simple as you imagine. What do you know of the Jedalar?”

  A little of the tension left him. “I know that a good many years ago Czar Paul of Russia decided that Moscow should have a means to repel invaders who laid siege to the city. He was rumored to be none too sane and loved to dress up in military uniforms and play soldier, and this was to be his finest act of military genius. He ordered a tunnel built from some point in the heart of Moscow to a point several miles beyond the perimeter so that his forces could circle around behind any besieging enemy and surprise them. The tunnel was built in great secrecy; the workers were blindfolded when they entered and left the tunnel. After the tunnel was finished, the czar became obsessed with keeping his secret safe. He realized that not only could his army attack a besieging force, but an invading army could enter Moscow and take it with
out a battle. He was terrified someone would discover the plans that showed the location and map of the tunnel, so he devised a means to disguise the map in a place no one would think to look. He commissioned the fashioning of a magnificent stained-glass window for one of his palaces. He had heard of a great craftsman Anton Pogani who was working on a church in Montavia and sent for him to do the work.”

  “The Window to Heaven,” Marianna said.

  Jordan nodded. “Pogani and his wife agreed to come to Moscow to do the czar’s bidding. When they arrived, they found that not only was the window to be a work of art, but the glass was to be laid in such a way that it would furnish a secret map of the tunnel. An intricate task, but Pogani accomplished it.”

  “Grandmama accomplished it,” she corrected.

  “But no one knew it wasn’t her husband who did the work. The czar was greatly pleased. He burned the plans and map of the tunnels and made arrangements for the immediate installation of the window in his palace.” He paused. “And ordered the execution of Anton Pogani and his wife since they knew the secret and could not be permitted to live. They must have been warned, because they fled Moscow that night and took the Window to Heaven with them.”

  “They weren’t warned,” Marianna said. “They knew after they’d been in Moscow only a short time that the czar would never let them leave Russia alive.”

  “How?”

  “The workers who built the tunnel,” she whispered. Even now the horror of the act made her ill. “When they were no longer needed, the czar had them murdered. Seven hundred and sixty-seven human beings.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Grandmama couldn’t let him reap the benefit of those murders,” she said fiercely. “So she took his precious tunnel away from him. She knew as long as she had the Jedalar that he would feel threatened, that he would never be able to draw a safe breath.”

  Jordan nodded. “But they didn’t return directly to Montavia. Anton was wounded in the escape, and they had to find a haven until he could recover. Kazan borders Russia, and they went there instead. They threw themselves on the mercy of the ravin and asked sanctuary. Kazan would not become involved in a dispute with Russia, but the ravin agreed to hide them until Anton could travel.”

  “And tried to steal the Window to Heaven while they were about it,” she said sardonically.

  “What did you expect?” Jordan shrugged. “Kazan sits on the doorstep of a giant. It’s only practical to try to discover how to fell him if necessary.” He continued, “But your grandparents fled again, this time to Talenka, and sold the Window to Heaven to the church. To steal the Window from the church would have caused a great deal of trouble with the papacy. Since Kazan wanted the Jedalar only as a safeguard anyway, the ravin decided not to make a move as long as there was no danger of it being used against her country.” He paused. “And when the czar had the great kindness to be murdered, it lessened the threat enormously. I suppose your grandmother was very grateful to be safe at last.”

  “She knew we’d never be safe, that we’d need a weapon. That’s why she made Mama memorize the exact design of the Jedalar. And why my mother made me do the same thing.”

  “It wasn’t a weapon,” he said harshly. “It was a trap. She had no right to make you guardians of a secret that dangerous. She should have smashed the blasted window herself.”

  “But then you and Napoleon and Nebrov would have nothing to claw and fight over.” She smiled bitterly. “And when the Window was smashed, they still came after us. Mama would have been killed, even if she had known nothing. They kept asking her over and over where she had hidden the design on which the window was based.” She tapped her temple. “The design is here and only here. Yes, it was a trap, but without it we would have had nothing with which to fight. Besides, she had good reason for running the risk.”

  “The treasure room in the tunnel?”

  She was prepared for the question. Her mother had said they would undoubtedly know about it. “What treasure room?”

  “There were rumors the czar created a room in the tunnel to store his treasures. Did your grandmother hope to go back and compensate herself for the Window to Heaven?”

  “Why should I tell you? You don’t need to know. I shall tell you nothing that’s not necessary.”

  “Not even to save Alex?”

  “We will save Alex, but I’ll give you only what I must.”

  His gaze narrowed on her face. “You accused me of risking Alex. Don’t do the same thing, Marianna.”

  “How dare you?” Her eyes blazed. “I would never put him at risk. I had to stand by while Mama died protecting Alex and me. Do you think I’ll let her die for nothing? I love Alex. I don’t know why I’m even talking to you. I doubt if you even know what love means.”

  “Perhaps not.” He smiled with effort. “I admit I’ve not had extensive experience with that particular emotion.” He rose to his feet. “If it’s not revealing too much to such a callous barbarian, will you tell me how long it will take you to make another Window to Heaven? Nebrov can’t expect you to produce a work of the same quality as the one in Talenka overnight but—”

  “It’s already done.”

  He went still. “I beg your pardon?”

  “As soon as I felt I had the necessary skill and precision to complete it, I made the Jedalar. Did you think all I was doing for the past three years was taking dancing lessons and waiting for time to pass?”

  “There was also the small matter of creating the dome for the ballroom.” To her surprise there was a hint of pride in his smile. “I suppose I should have guessed you would never give up. You’re far too determined.”

  “So are you, and so is Nebrov. I had to make sure I had something with which to bargain if Alex or I were ever in danger.”

  “And, of course, you couldn’t trust me.”

  “I could trust no one. Particularly you.”

  “Just how did you manage to create a window of that scope and size without any of us knowing about it?”

  “Grandmama made sure that everyone assumed the Jedalar was spread out throughout the window’s twenty-three panels, but that wasn’t true. The map occupied only one panel that was three feet long and two feet wide. A panel that size can be easily enough hidden.”

  “Where?”

  She hesitated. Silence on the subject of the Jedalar had been ingrained in her since childhood, and it was a habit she found difficult to break. “It’s in the stable storeroom among the panels I discarded.”

  He gave a low whistle. “Very clever. According to Gregor, you discarded such a large quantity that it became commonplace for you to banish your work to the storeroom. How many panels are out there?”

  “Over thirty.” She added, “And we’re going to take them all to Montavia.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “Because then neither you nor Nebrov will know which is the Jedalar,” she said, “until I choose to tell you.”

  “I’d be deeply grateful if you would not link us together verbally. Even though you clearly do it in your mind.”

  She did link them together. She had no choice. Jordan was the enemy. Even if he helped her save Alex, he would still try to take the Jedalar from her. She did not know if it could be done, but she must try to save both the Jedalar and Alex.

  At the moment it seemed an impossible task. All the anger that had kept her functioning was draining out of her at an alarming rate, and she was so exhausted she could barely sit upright.

  “Go to bed,” he said roughly. “You can’t go on like this.”

  She shook her head. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  He moved behind her, and his hands cupped the back of her neck.

  She stiffened.

  “Relax.” He started to massage the tense muscles of her nape. “It’s not as if I haven’t ever done this for you after you’ve worked all day.”

  She had a sudden vision of herself sitting at his feet before the fire, his hands moving on her w
ith possession and strength until she had been dazed with contentment. Dazed and dazzled with everything he had done to her during those days at Dalwynd.

  His thumbs probed gently. “It loosens the—”

  “Don’t touch me.”

  He kept kneading her nape. “It’s easing you, blast it.”

  “Don’t touch me!”

  His hands fell away, and he stepped back. “Do you think I’m trying to seduce you?” he asked quietly as he moved around the chair to stand in front of her. “I’m not a fool, Marianna. You were in need, and I was only trying to help.”

  “I don’t want your help.”

  “But you may need to accept it before this is over. Doing battle with me over trivialities will sap both our strength and may get in the way of saving Alex.” He stared directly into her eyes. “No matter how much you dislike me at the moment, I believe you know I keep my word. Until Alex is returned to you, I will make no attempt to take anything from you but your cooperation.” He smiled crookedly. “However, after my guilt is expiated, I promise nothing. You know my morals are sadly unstable.” He turned and moved toward the door. “We’ll be leaving before dawn for Southwick. I’d appreciate it if you’d try to get some rest. It would be a great bother having to pick you up off the road if you fainted from exhaustion.”

  It was still dark when Marianna reached the courtyard the next morning. Torches burned bright in their sconces before the front door. Servants bustled to and fro preparing for the departure, and Dorothy was overseeing their efforts.

  “This is most undignified.” Gregor shrugged off the help of a solicitous footman and climbed awkwardly into a wagon drawn before the door. He grimaced as he settled himself on the pallet. “I told Jordan I was strong enough to ride, but he insisted I be coddled like an infant.”

  Marianna could see why he had made the decision. Gregor’s face was drawn and bloodless in the merciless light. “Are you sure you’re well enough to make the sea journey?”