Linda Needham (14 page)

“They won’t be able to come to the Hall before tomorrow, Wexford.”

“I can’t say that I’m disappointed. But I can say that you are completely mad, madam!”

“It’s a change in plans, that’s all. You don’t like change of any kind, do you?”

“You lied to me, Princess.”

“When?”

“I let you go alone into the ladies’ pavilion only after you promised to come right back out the same door—”

“I tried! Have you ever been in there?”

“As a matter of fact, I had to…Dammit, woman, someone hit me on the head with a teapot before I’d gotten three feet inside.” His head still ached from it.

“You deserved a good clonking if you went barging in. And I didn’t try to escape you. I merely couldn’t find my original point of entry, so I picked an exit and left.”

“And then what? Ten minutes later I find you gallivanting around the garden, unprotected, with a group of strangers who—”

“And look what I found,” she said, throwing her arm toward the large bell on its stand, “merely by chance! It’s from St. Timmin’s abbey.”

Of course it was. “At the risk of repeating myself, Princess, you’re a bloody lunatic.”

She lifted her bright eyes to him. “But at least now I’m a lunatic with loyal subjects.”

“Well, then, shall we take it with us?” Drew made a show of trying to pull the bell post out of the ground.

“Don’t be silly. I’ll send someone for it.”

“Under dark of night.”

“That’ll cause the least embarrassment for old Swanbrook.” She grinned at him as she laughed, with the sun glistening on her lips and the tip of her nose. “Come, my lord. We’d best get back to the tournament.”

“That eager to see the prince again?”

“Royal sacrifice in the name of my new subjects, Andrew.” She started off along the cobbles in her ususal haste. “After all, I really ought to be there in time for the tilting awards to be announced.”

She dodged vendors and barkers, and yet the small children seemed to know that she would dance a little jig with them and pull waxed-paper-wrapped candies from her purse.

It was like following a piper.

“Have a care, madam!” he said, finally catching up to her antics.

“I’m sorry, Drew, but the children are just too precious to ignore. And I doubt any of them are armed with a shiv. Oh, look, it’s Lord Peverel, standing near the knight marshal’s booth. He seems a bit pale for such a bright afternoon.”

“Gad, and I thought
my
costume was overdone.” The poor man was talking with one of the squires, his shoulders weighed down by a burgundy cape with heavy gold braiding.

“Good day, Lord Peverel!” Caroline said with a nod to the man as they passed him.

“What? Oh, Princess Caroline!” Peverel’s face did seem paler than before, his eyes flitting from Drew to the princess and back again as the squire bowed and left them.

Caroline took Peverel’s hand, her gaze taking in every inch of the man’s face. “Are you feeling all right, my lord?”

“Oh, yes, yes, yes! I’ll be fine. Just a long day for an old man, you know.” He smiled wanly. “But you’re looking more beautiful than ever, my dear princess. Always such a boon to my old eyes. Do enjoy yourself today, madam. And you, Lord Wexford.”

The man dropped his gaze to the ground and hobbled off through the crowd.

“I don’t like leaving him, Drew,” she said as they started up the stairs into the queen’s pavilion. “I hope he’s not taken on too much as my acting chancellor.”

“I’ll ask around about his health. Palmerston might know if the man’s in trouble.”

“I do need him to help form my government, Drew, but not at the risk of his health.”

Fortunately, Prince Malcomb had taken his obnoxious party elsewhere, lifting the tone of the rest of the contest.

The presence of the Princess Caroline seemed to be the highlight of the Grand Pavilion. Drew could only stand back and admire her endless energy and her kindness.

And hope to God that no one would ever take her dreams from her.

A
fter the tournament and the fancy-dress ball that followed, it had taken Drew a full hour to disentangle the princess from her devotees, load her and the exhausted Tweeg into his carriage and start it rolling down the road.

“See, Drew, it was a wonderful day, without a single incident.”

“I’ll leave my conclusions until after my operatives can report back to me about what they saw.” He unhooked his damnable cape and laid it aside.

She leaned back against the seat beside the already snoozing Tweeg and eyed him across the darkness. “It must be awful to be constantly on the lookout for villains behind every bush and pillar.”

“If only villains were that cooperative, madam.” Then he wouldn’t have this gnawing in the pit of his stomach. “By the way, I think you should know that I sent Davidson and Grant to check on the credentials of your so-called subjects.”

“I would have thought you’d lost your edge if you hadn’t, my lord. And if you hadn’t assigned a carriage full of your agents to travel ahead of us right now as well as the one following behind us.” She laughed lightly, and leaned back against the small window. “But you won’t find anything untoward. I can tell a good and true man from a bad one just by looking closely enough.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Take
you
for instance.”

“Leave me out of your game, Princess.” And yet he did want to know her opinion of him.

“You’re a good and true man, Drew.”

Well, then. Now that’s a damn fine thing to know. Though he kept his smile inside his chest. “That’s scant praise from a lunatic princess.”

“With loyal subjects.”

“I keep forgetting.”

She beamed him a dazzling smile, which caught the edge of the moonlight on the window. “I know what I feel, and I can feel that you haven’t a dishonest bone in your body, any more than my subjects do.”

If only she knew all the truths that he knew about her. “Dangerous assumptions, my dear princess.”

“Don’t think you can hide it from me under all that stalking and blustering. You’re just the sort who—”

“Shhh, Caro!” Drew leaned forward to listen. The carriage’s gentle turn became a sideways jerk, and then it slowed to a halt.

“I don’t like this, Princess.” Drew shot to his feet and shoved her away from the door into Tweeg, who had snapped to attention. “Stay down. Both of you.”

“Drew—”

“What is it, sir?” Tweeg asked, blocking Caro’s body with her own.

“Shhh…” He felt one of his guards drop from the roof to the ground, heard the doors of the other carriages open just as the warning bell jangled above his head, a signal from the driver’s seat.

“That’s the driver.” He twisted down to her, taking her chin between his fingers. “And this, Princess, isn’t a practice drill. Stay with Tweeg.”

A bad feeling roiling in his gut, Drew slowly opened the little window to the driver’s cab, saw Casserly drop from the roof of the carriage in front of them.

“What is it, Henry?” Drew asked their driver.

Henry sat still in the seat, his eyes flicking over the dense understory. “Looks like someone’s dropped a tree in the lane ahead of the front carriage, sir. Not a natural fall, it’s been chopped. I saw Trevor head toward the—”

Before Henry could speak another word, a bullet smacked into the carriage wall just above the window.

“Down, Henry!”

Another blast, and then Henry’s bellowed curse. “Damnation! My…arm.”

“Stay put, Princess!” Knowing that Tweeg would keep her inside, Drew threw himself out the door, staying low as he dragged Henry out of the driver’s seat, then began struggling to haul him to the carriage steps. “Hold on, man.”

Another blast against the sidewall, and then Nicholas shouted from the roof of the carriage. “To the left, Casserly!”

In the next instant, Drew heard a half dozen shots fired into the brush from the two other carriages.

Stark silence followed the deafening roar. Drew could only hope for the best as he propped the struggling Henry against the steps.

“Lemme at ’em, sir!” the man said.

“Quiet, Henry.”

“What’s happening out there, Mrs. Tweeg?” The princess’s timing was as regal as ever, but at least the sound of her voice meant that she hadn’t taken a bullet.

“We got him, sir!” Trevor called from somewhere deep in the thicket. “Dead.”

Henry was cursing a blue streak. “A bloody ambush, sir! Caught like rats, damn their eyes.”

“And you’ll live to curse again, Henry. But you’re riding inside.”

“I’m all right.”

“You’re not.” Drew looked up to see Trevor stomping out of the woods with a few others, their medieval garb incongruous with the modern guns they carried.

“You’ll have to get us out of here quickly, Trevor. Tell Nicholas to have the body taken back to the Factory. Halladay and Wyatt can stay and investigate the shooter’s blind.”

“Henry’s been shot!” the princess said, her head popping up from over Tweeg’s shoulder.

“We need to get Henry to Grandauer. Tweeg, you get up front to cover the driver. Quickly!” Drew and Trevor had to wrestle Henry into the carriage.

“Sorry, Princess Caroline.” Henry flopped back against the seat and pulled off his hat. “I’m bleeding all over the upholstery.”

“Dash the upholstery!” She wedged herself onto the seat beside him. “We’ll do something about this, Mr. Henry.”

“Ah, I don’t need anything.”

“Ballocks!”

“We’re a mile from Grandauer Hall,” Drew said, as the carriage bolted down the lane behind their escort.

He took a careful look at Henry’s face for signs of shock. But the man was a tough old bird and the princess seemed in her element.

“You’ll have to stop squirming, Mr. Henry, or you’ll lose even more blood.” Caro was already tearing at the hem of her petticoat, ripping a small gash in the silk with her teeth. “Was that a highwayman, Drew?”

“He was waiting for us.”

“You mean waiting for
me
,” she said, gazing up at him directly as she ripped the petticoat with a tug. “Just as you said: like a duck in a shooting gallery.”

That was coldly sobering realization he saw glittering brightly in her eyes—that her own carriage wouldn’t have held up under the assault. “Indeed, Princess.”

“Can you hold up Mr. Henry’s arm for me, Drew? Carefully.” Though the carriage wheels jolted them along the rutted road, she gently moved the man’s shoulder and positioned his arm.

“That’s a hell of a princess you got there, boss.” Henry twisted woozily in the seat and gazed with moon-eyes at the woman.

Indeed she was. Quite remarkable for a princess.

For anyone.

“Then sit still for her, Henry,” Drew said, supporting the man’s arm with both hands while the princess adjusted the bloody sleeve.

“This might hurt a bit, Mr. Henry.”

But the man just kept grinning at her as she
wrapped the expensive silk ruffle around the wound.

She was a singular wonder, this royal, with her concern for Henry and her quick thinking and her uncharacteristic disregard for her wardrobe, after all that cooing about Vincent’s fine designs.

Caro tried to still her heart from its racing. She’d never before felt death snapping at her heels.

Or been a terrifying threat to the people around her, to poor Mr. Henry, who’d merely been driving her home from a silly tournament.

And Drew, who stood fiercely over both of them, supporting himself with his arms and legs, watching for trouble through one window and then the other.

“We’re here, Princess.” A moment later they were pulling through Grandauer’s portecochere, then around to the side entrance.

Wexford was out of the carriage and directing his staff in all directions.

“Henry’s caught a bullet in his arm, Brunson,” he said, easily hoisting Henry out of the carriage. “I’ll take him downstairs. Go get Wheeler.”

Feeling utterly helpless, Caro caught up with Drew as he supported Henry into the house and down the stairs to the butler’s quarters.

“I’ve had no experience with bullet wounds,” she said, holding open the door to the butler’s pantry, “but I’ve got a good stock of—”

“Not to worry, Princess,” Wexford said as he hefted Henry onto a daybed. “Wheeler was a battlefield surgeon; he knows all about bullet wounds. He’s saved my hide a few times.”

“Wheeler!” Henry shouted as he struggled to sit up. “Not that old barber!”

“Stop your thrashing, Henry,” Drew said, easily pinning him back against the bed while he glanced up at Caro with serious eyes. “Shock, I think.”

“All right, everyone out of here!” Wheeler had come through the doorway like a general, his tone and manner far different from the easy-natured man who’d helped her load the wagons a few days ago.

“He’s lost some blood,” Caro said, bending over the wound alongside Wheeler, “but not a dreadful amount.”

“Good to hear, Princess Caroline. Now leave.”

“If you need medicine or bandages, there’s a cupboard full in the pantry.”

“We’ll be fine here.”

“Come, Princess.” Drew had her by the upper arm and was tugging her out into the corridor.

“I should stay and help.” She tried to stop him, but he merely tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.

“Wheeler does his best work alone and with cannonballs flying over his head.”

“But, great heavens, it’s all my fault.” She hurried along, trying to match Drew’s determined stride.

“What’s your fault?”

“That! What happened to Henry! If it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t have been shot.”

Drew laughed but kept walking toward the main stairs as though on a mission. “How do you figure that?”

“You warned me that I was in real danger.”

“You can be a bit reckless, Princess. But you seemed to understand well enough.”

“But I didn’t, Drew. Not really, not deep down inside where it counts.” She stopped him at the bottom of the stairs, held fast to his elbow, a little dizzy from
the horror of it all. “Breaking into the library was nothing compared to this! Henry was nearly killed today, on my account!”

“My operatives know the risks.”

Drew seemed so unconcerned about the danger.

“But it could have been you. Or Tweeg or any one of my subjects who happened to be standing near me. I can’t just stand around and let that happen again.”

He studied her with a half smile. “I don’t know about you, Princess, but I’m going to bed.”

“Just like that, Drew? After you’ve been shot at?” Her own blood was aboil and his seemed as cool as a deep mountain spring.

“It’s well after midnight, and we both look as though we’ve fought the battle of Agincourt.”

Caro looked down the front of her gown, which had been so grandly medieval that morning. She’d added streaks of dear Mr. Henry’s blood to the lace, and had shredded her hem.

Drew didn’t look much cleaner, with his knees muddied and his sleeve torn.

“But what about the investigation? The evidence?”

“It’ll keep till morning. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to check on something in the investigation room and then I plan to sleep for a few hours.” He touched his forehead with the tip of his finger, then climbed the stairs.

“Drew?” she called to him, feeling a little set adrift by his departure, wanting to go with him but knowing that he was probably better off on his own just now.

He stopped and turned, his studied patience as clear as his weariness. “Yes?”

“I wanted to…well, to thank you. For putting up
with my…stubbornness. After all, you must have far better things to do in your work than to be playing nanny to me, watching my every move.”

He took a long breath and then sighed. “You’re not the worst royal I’ve ever had to watch, Princess. Not by any stretch.”

She wondered what he meant by that. And if he could possibly hear her heart bounding around inside her chest. “Still…thank you for saving my life…again.”

“My pleasure, Princess.”

She was pretty sure the pleasure must be all hers. Especially as she watched him continue up the stairs. All shifting muscle and confidence.

And clearly ready to die for her, for his loyal agents, for his queen.

What a fine man. Such an easy heart to love.

Not that she did. Or could ever.

Gratitude would have to do.

But she couldn’t go to bed without checking on Henry herself. She ducked back into the sickroom and was pleased to see his wound for herself, clean and already well stanched by Wheeler’s skills.

“The bullet took a healthy chunk out of his arm,” Wheeler said as he applied a poultice and began to wrap it with a strip of bandage.

“But he’ll be all right?”

Henry stirred and laughed at something in his laudanum-induced sleep.

“Don’t give him another thought, Princess Caroline. I’ve known Henry a long time. He’s taken far worse than this and lived to tell the tale.”

They were such an extraordinary group, Drew’s
band of agents. Men and women, young and old, a family of sorts.

“From what I hear, Mr. Wheeler, you’ve extracted a bullet or two from the earl himself.”

“Three, if I recall. From various parts of the man.”

Which made her recall the dark scar she’d seen on Drew’s bare shoulder that morning.

Which made her recall the rest of him.

All the rest of him.

“That’s not very lucky of him, Mr. Wheeler.”

“He’s lucky as a dozen cats, Your Highness. Though when his lordship is focused on an assignment he doesn’t give much thought to his own safety.” Wheeler winked at her, then went back to his close work.

“I’ll definitely keep that in mind, Mr. Wheeler. And in the meantime, please let me know how Henry is doing, or if he takes a turn.”

Reassured by Wheeler’s confidence in Drew’s luck and his own healing skills, Caro started toward the back stairs and her chamber, but then changed her mind and hurried toward the library, past the low voices coming from the investigation room.

Because it was high time she started helping Drew investigate who might be trying to kill her.

Whoever they were, they couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn.

And why not start at the very beginning of her life? The library, with all its stockpiles of Boratanian documents, was the perfect place to begin her search.