Lady Killer (48 page)

The door of the room thudded open then, confirming her suspicion. “Ha!” Captain Black shouted. “Get him boys.”

The swish of two knives being thrown with absolute precision was followed by the obscene curses of two guardsmen and the fleeing footfalls of two others.

“Are there any more coming?” Miles asked. “If there are, I shall have to call in my cousins. They would never forgive me if I got to have all the fun.”

“I will take you myself,” Captain Black growled, and blade clashed with blade again. The two men fought, Clio following their strokes around the room by sound. Captain Black was known as a very capable swordsman, but she thought she sensed he was growing tired. Or was it Miles? It was a strange and unnerving experience to sit in the middle of a battle and be entirely impotent, and Clio decided she did not like it. Nor was she thrilled about having her wrists bound for the third time in two days. In the future, she decided, she would carry a knife up her sleeve for such emergencies.

The future. If Miles was here—

Clio felt something brush against her legs. A sword clanked onto the stone floor, a breeze blew past her cheek, and then she heard someone screaming in fear, a scream that moved farther and farther away.

“Miles,” she whispered. “Miles?”

There was no answer. Then, close by, a body shifted.

“Miles?” she asked, hesitantly. “Who is there? Who are you?”

The body shifted again. “Clio,” Miles said, his voice weak. “Clio, Clio are you all right?”

Clumsy hands struggled with her blindfold and then Clio could see again. “My God, what happened, Miles?” she demanded, trying to get out of the chair but finding she was still stuck.

Miles’s forehead was covered with blood, some of which had run down the front of his doublet. “Nothing serious,” he said, his voice stronger now. “He hit me over the head.” There was something about his tone that worried Clio.

“What is wrong?”

“He fell out the window and into the river. I had not meant to kill him.”

“He was a terrible man,” Clio said. “Look what he wanted to do to Toast. And that is not all. I am convinced that he was behind half the crime in London.”

“You are right. He was. Among other things. But I had hoped to keep him alive to ask him some questions.”

“Then you
are
Three.”

Miles looked at her. “How did you know that?”

“Your footmen are too well trained,” Clio answered simply. “It was obvious. By the way, Lady Starrat was working for Captain Black.”

“It would seem then, that in the space of two days you have managed to uncover not only a vampire, but also the largest traitor in England.”

“
We
managed to uncover them,” Clio corrected. She twisted against her bonds. “Would you be kind enough to untie me?”

Miles shook his head. “I want to ask you some questions, too.”

“In your official capacity?”

“Yes. In one of my official capacities.”

“Which one?”

“As your fiancé.”

“Miles, you must go through with your betrothal. You have no choice. The sacrifice is too great.”

“You mean the money.”

Clio looked confused. “No. I mean the honor. One day you will look at me and think of everything you gave up—your name, your family—and suddenly being with me will not be enough to compensate you.”

“It would always be enough.”

“You cannot know that. And I cannot let you ruin your life.”

“Ruining my life means not going through with the betrothal my father contracted for me?”

“Yes. You must do it.”

“Yes indeed, my boy, you must.” Sir Edwin spoke from the doorway. “I’ve got a suspicion you’ve already dishonored my daughter. If I were younger and you were less good with a sword, sir, I would challenge you.”

“I can assure you, Sir Edwin, I have not laid a hand on your daughter.”

“Ho ho, and I say, sir, that you are a liar.” Sir Edwin’s eyes sparkled and Clio wondered if he knew he was about to get himself killed.

“Uncle Edwin, I—”

“Not your uncle, Clio. No, no, no. Wanted to tell you that for ages. Not your uncle at all.”

“What are you talking about?” Clio and Miles demanded in unison.

“You do not know what you are. That’s what I—”

“Shut up, Edwin,” Lady Alecia commanded as she entered the room. “Before it is too late.”

But Sir Edwin shook his head. “Nope. I’m sorry mother, but I’ve been shutting up about this for almost as long as I can remember. But no more. Today—”

“Shut up!”
Lady Alecia screamed, flying at her son with her hands outstretched. “Don’t say another word.”

Sir Edwin caught his mother’s hands in both of his and held them. His gaze on hers was loving, and a bit bemused. “Don’t worry, mother. Clio will understand. She is a good girl. She will understand what we did.” Then he looked at Miles who was quickly untying Clio’s hands lest she have to defend herself against her grandmother. “Maybe you understand already. You see, Clio is really my daughter. Lady Clio Nonesuch. Mariana was my sister’s daughter with that man Thornton. They were born only a week apart, and my mother thought it would be best for Mariana to be the one to marry you so we switched them. She never did like my wife, you see. I think she fancied having her daughter’s daughter be a viscountess.” His eyes moved to Clio. “I tried to let you know about it in my own way, but you did not understand.”

“Your own way. Then it was you who sent me the note and asked me to meet you at Saint Paul’s,” Clio said.

“Yes. Wanted you to know what you really are, you see, but I was afraid to tell you directly. I did not want to upset mother. When you did not figure it out from my note, I tried to talk to you in the crypt, at the place where I first met your mother, but there was someone else there so I could not.”

“If Clio is your daughter,” Miles put in, in a tone that made clear he had been thinking very hard, “then all along, it is Clio I have really been betrothed to.”

“Yes. Mother said it was better the other way. She said Mariana would be a better wife for you. And mother always was right before. But not this time.” He smiled down at his mother. “Just one time for not being right isn’t too bad, mother.”

Lady Alecia wrenched her hands from his and stepped away to level the full force of her glare at him. “You fool. You are a bloody fool. Just like your Clio. You are all fools.” From her sleeve she brought out a pistol. “You, Clio,” she said advancing with the weapon outstretched. “You have caused trouble for the last time.”

“It’s all right, grandmother,” Mariana said, coming into the room then. “You do not need to kill her. I’ll be just as happy with the other birthday. I always felt older and more wisedomful than poor, dear CI—”

“Shut up,” Lady Alecia commanded, elbowing her aside. She pointed the pistol directly at Clio’s heart and her fingers closed over the trigger.

Time stood still. In the space of a heartbeat, the puppy entered the room, brushing against Mariana’s ankle as he made straight for Toast’s cage. Mariana shrieked and leaped away, careening into Lady Alecia just hard enough to cause her to lose her footing. As she flew through the air, the pistol fired, sending the ball of gunpowder into the stomach of a perfectly innocent but long dead rabbit hanging on the wall behind Clio’s head. Then time started up again and Lady Alecia was wailing and Toast was chattering and Mariana had fainted, twice, and Sir Edwin was staring about with a smile on his face and the Arboretti had run in and Clio felt Miles scoop her up into his arms and carry her out.

He carried her down the stairs of the tower, all the way down, until they were standing in the small garden on the side of Captain Black’s house. There was a bench there, and he set her down on it and turned to face her.

“I would like to introduce myself,” he said, formally. “I am Miles Fraser Loredan. The viscount of Dearbourn. What is your name?”

“I—I am not sure,” Clio stammered. “I think it must be Lady Clio Nonesuch.”

“Are you very attached to it?”

“Not very. I haven’t had it long.”

“Then you won’t mind changing it.”

“That would depend on what you have in mind.”

Miles nodded. Then he slid down onto the ground beside the bench and said, “Lady Clio Nonesuch, will you marry me?”

“Miles Fraser Loredan, I would like nothing better.”

She bent down, brushed the hair from his forehead, closed her eyes, and kissed him deeply.

It happened gradually. Throughout London, first one, then another clock began to chime midday. As the air filled with their peals, the sun dimmed until, when they rang out for the final time, it disappeared completely. The entire city fell dark and quiet simultaneously. Struck by the unnatural silence, Clio opened her eyes.

The garden was filled with fireflies.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Five minutes later…

“Miles, I think I hear someone coming.”

“Really,
amore
? I don’t hear anythin—” The sharp point of a sword against his back stopped him.

“All right, Dearbourn,” a stern voice said. “Your time is up.”

Miles turned around. “What are you talking about, Tristan?”

Tristan gestured to the other Arboretti. “We have been extremely forbearing. But if you do not introduce us to Clio this minute, things will happen.”

“What kinds of things?” Clio and Sophie asked in unison.

“Oh no,” Miles said, shaking his head. “It’s begun. She’s mine,” he told his cousins, gripping Clio firmly by the wrist. “She is on my side. Do not think to bend her to your evil purposes.”

“But I thought she was a murderess,” Bianca said, with a touch of disappointment. “I thought she knew all about evil purposes.”

Clio began to look alarmed, but Miles leaned over and said, “It’s a compliment. Arboretti men seem only to marry women involved in murder.”

“Really?” Clio looked from Bianca to Sophie. Neither of them looked much like a hardened criminal.

“Yes,” Sophie nodded. “And Tristan used to be a thief.”

“Does that mean you know how to pick locks?” Clio asked, turning away from Miles. “I read in a book once that—”

“She is perfect, Miles,” Ian said.

Miles gazed at her while she discussed the fine points of dismantling hinges with Tristan, Sophie, and Bianca, and his heart overflowed with happiness. “I know.”

As he watched, Tristan lowered his voice and whispered something in Clio’s ear. She blushed deeply, then put her arms around Tristan’s neck, and gave him a warm kiss.

Later, much later, when he and Clio were home, when the wedding had been quietly performed and an enormous ball scheduled for the next week, when they were standing on the roof, Miles’s arms wrapped around from behind her, watching the stars glitter against the velvet backdrop of the sky, only then did Miles dare to ask what Tristan had said to earn him such a response.

Clio turned around to face him. “Are you jealous, Miles?”

“No,” Miles answered firmly. When Clio kept looking at him, a little smile on her lips, he said, “Damn it, yes.”

The smile got broader. “I don’t know if I should tell you. It might make you mad.”

“Your not telling me is going to make me madder,” Miles assured her.

Clio sighed. “You are sure you want to know?”

“Yes.” Miles set his teeth.

“Very well.” Clio reached up and brushed the hair from his forehead. “What he said was, ‘Thank you for bringing Miles back.’ ”

Epilogue

“I demand that you have this man arrested at once,” Mr. Williams brayed. Behind him, Mr. Pearl and Mr. Hakesly nodded.

“I am not sure that is within my powers,” the Special Commissioner told the men.

“It is your job to keep London free of criminals and murderers,” Mr. Wiliams replied. “This man is a criminal of the worst order. He has murdered English. He has murdered our names.”

The Special Commissioner looked down at the broadside. “It does not seem so bad to me. I like the title.”

“You like the title? Never mind about the title. Look at this. Who wants to hear a play by a man named after torturing fruit? It will never work. Never.” Mr. Williams threw his arms into the air. “You explain it to her, Toast. Explain that it will never work.”

Toast, resplendent now with four medals pinned to his doublet, seemed to contemplate this request for a moment. Then he snapped his fingers, hopped on the back of the large dog who ran over in response to his summons, and disappeared out the door.

“You should know better by now than to ask favors of Toast within two hours of any meal,” Clio told him. “Besides, I really—”

The clock on the mantelpiece chimed gently. Clio turned to glance at it, and her eyebrows went up.

“I beg your pardon, gentlemen. You will have to excuse me.”

“Clock’s broken,” Mr. Williams told her. “It’s nowhere near four o’clock. Now Clio—”