Nero's Fiddle (12 page)

“Helen of Troy’s fan. According to the book, it is said to attract admirers, inspire love, and make men your willing supplicants.” Cara imagined having such an object might be handy.
That would shake things up around here.

“Well, she certainly did that. How did it end up at the theatre?”

She forgot the book, her eyes closed as Nate massaged her scalp. A purr welled up in her throat. “Father was unclear on that. Reading between the lines, he had his eye on a singer and perhaps planned to gift it to her.”

“Given he placed it in such a public spot, I wonder if it’s still there.”

“I guess we’ll find out. The notebook says it’s concealed in a box he used to frequent. Behind one of the decorative roses is a small panel at the front that can be removed. Behind that is a coded safe that should contain the fan. If it hasn’t already been discovered.” She picked up a tiny gold key. “This was stuck to the page about the fan.”

“Good. It will be the perfect opportunity to show off my viscountess.” He laced his fingers around her neck. “Wear your dragon diamonds with that new red velvet dress. I want to see you wrapped in fire.”

London, Friday 10
^th
January, 1862

he horses trotted along Bow Street. Moonlight slid over bronze rumps and gave off golden flashes against the passing buildings. They joined the queue of carriages waiting to discharge passengers under the portico of the opera house. Cara craned her head out the window to watch as some poor noble decided to beat the crowd by being lowered from airship onto the roof. The woman in full evening gown swayed back and forth with the slight wind. Her ostrich feather headpiece disappeared on a gust and her skirts blew up around her waist to reveal lacy drawers. Cara couldn’t help the laugh that welled up.
Probably not the entrance she planned on making.

Nate shook his head. “They are far too high. What were they thinking trying to drop passengers from that height? Their captain must be an idiot if he can’t hover lower than that.”

As Cara stepped to the pavement, screams came from above as staff tried to winch the woman to the flat roof. A crowd gathered to witness the impromptu show and ruin the woman’s reputation by discussing her undergarments.

“So we won’t be doing that next time?” she asked.

He gave a huff. “I think we shall, just to show them how it should be done.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about the wind lifting my dress and showing my drawers.” She leaned in close to him. “You know I don’t wear any.”

“It’s one of the many reasons why I love you,” he whispered. He took her arm and escorted her up the wide stairs into the foyer.

The roof was three stories above their heads with rose-coloured marble columns to hold it aloft. Chains lowered chandeliers closer to the patrons. Thousands of tiny lights and crystals glittered and threw sparks around the soaring space.

Nate slid Cara’s cloak from her shoulders, revealing the deep red velvet dress clinging to her form. Embroidered gold-thread flames licked around the hem of the train and reached up to encircle her waist and side, the perfect complement to the dragon diamonds around her neck. The scale backing threw molten claws whenever the light caught the gems.

Curious and hostile glances alike followed them as they wound their way up the stairs. Brick the bodyguard trailed behind, resplendent in formal wear and enjoying his change from working the docks strapped in a metal exoskeleton.

Nate’s box was positioned close to the stage and Brick swung the door open. He did quick visual sweep around the plush interior before he stood back to admit them. The box was furnished in deep red, from striped wallpaper to curtains, and even the velvet on the chairs. The little room had two rows of three chairs at the front. The back half held a sideboard for serving drinks and food. A champagne bucket stood in a tall steel frame.

“I could disappear in here,” Cara said. “I match the curtains and walls.” She ran a hand down the heavy drape held back with a golden cord.

“Oh, I would find you.” Nate poured champagne into two flutes and offered one to Cara. “Brick will wait until the show is underway and then see if the box your father used is occupied tonight.”

“What if there are people in there?” she asked, sipping her drink.

“He will inform them the box is unavailable.”

The orchestra below played a few bars, alerting patrons that the show would soon begin.

“Bodyguards really are handy.” Cara took her seat at the front of the box, aware of curious eyes glancing their way. She was grateful for the way each box was angled, giving the occupants a degree of privacy from those around. They could see out, but only those directly opposite could see in, and even then, only the front row of chairs was visible. Those seated below could only see her when she stood or leaned over the railing.

The curtain rose on stage and
La Traviata
began. Cara watched with rapt attention as the story of the famous courtesan unfolded. Brick slunk back in during the second act. He whispered that he moved on the box’s occupants during the short intermission and stayed a while longer to ensure no one slipped back in.

“Are you coming to retrieve the item?” Nate asked from beside her.

Below, the curtain dropped on the empty stage, the only way they could pry Cara from her seat. “Yes, I could do with a stretch.”

They strolled down the corridor, ignoring the other nobles who didn’t know quite how to cope with their presence. Nate ignored them and Cara practiced her poker face. The press of people thinned as they reached the end of the hall. Nate opened the door while Brick stood guard.

This box was further back, smaller, and seemed somehow sadder and less polished. The wallpaper not as opulent, the carpet cheaper, and the champagne bucket tin instead of silver. The front still had the same ornately carved roses with their central emblems.

Cara knelt on the carpet in front of them and Nate sat back on his heels next to her.

“Which one?” he asked as they looked over the row of four.

She ran a finger over the wooden petals. “I don’t know. Try them all until we find one that opens.”

The climbing roses encircled an oval shield with the opera house emblem of the lion and chained unicorn. She let the pads of her fingers run around the edge, trying to find a hidden catch or hinge. Then she pushed, although that seemed clumsy as anyone who bumped into the side would trigger the catch and open the hidden compartment.

Nate experimented with his shield and after several long minutes they each moved to the next one along and tried the whole process again. Cara muttered about her father under her breath. When she watched his casket dropped into the earth, she thought she washed her hands of him, never expecting to be following the clues left in his notes. In a small way, he still controlled the path of her life and it grated.

“Ah.” Her nail caught on something. A tiny depression hid under one side of this emblem. She pushed a fingertip into the groove and pulled. With a soft pop, the unicorn and lion swung open to reveal a tiny locked metal door.

Nate dug into his pocket and handed Cara the gold key. She twisted the key in the lock and the next door gave with a click. Within a small safe lined with green velvet sat an ordinary looking fan. Cara pulled the object out; the now familiar tingle of electricity ran over her skin as she touched an artifact of power.

“Said to make men do your bidding.” She turned to Nate with a smile on her face.

“I already do your bidding, wench.” He took the delicate fan from her hands. “Stop getting ideas right now.”

She screwed up her face.
Spoilsport.

Nate locked and shut the hidden panel. He escorted Cara back to their opulent seats just as the curtain rose for the final act. As she settled, a knock sounded at their door and murmured conversation washed over her.

Nate returned to her side. “I need to take care of some business.”

She waved her fan, the mundane one, not the powerful one in Nate’s jacket pocket. “I’ll be here.” The unfolding drama below held her attentive captive. The courtesan had given up her life to live in the country with her lover.

Nate dropped a kiss onto her forehead. “I’ll take Brick, but we won’t be long.”

Cara clasped her fan close to her chest and leaned forward, enthralled by the emotion of the opera below. Her entire focus centred on the woman on stage and the drama of Violetta’s life. The fallen woman now on her death bed.

Sometime later came the snip of the box door shutting.

“Did you find it? You’ve been gone for ages,” she called without turning. Below, the ill-fated woman lamented that she reunited with her lover too late, her death now imminent.

“That’s a pretty necklace, miss. I’ll be having that. I’ve never seen diamonds flash so red before.”

She turned at the unknown voice to find a man dressed in a brown street suit, not tails like the evening demanded. One extended hand held a knife. Nate’s encouragement to wear the unusual diamonds apparently attracted a little too much attention. She reached up to touch the row of dragon scale-enhanced gems around her neck. “I’m rather fond of this necklace myself.”

He waved the knife at her head. “Let’s do this quietly, eh? Don’t want to interrupt the performance.”

She rose from her seat and pointed to the champagne bucket. “Mind if I have a drink before you rob me? I find I am suddenly parched and need to quiet my nerves.”

He inclined his head. Cara rose, picked up the bottle and topped up her glass. She placed the bottle back on the side table and ran a finger along the metal edge of the cooler while she sipped champagne. She played for time, knowing Nate and Brick could not be far away. Plus, he would respond to her increased pulse rate and burst of alarm.

The man took a step to close the gap between them. She sat her glass down and contemplated her options. A rattle from behind and the intruder turned his head, his attention caught by the turning door knob.

Cara curled her fingers around the lip of the cooler and seized the momentary distraction. With the bucket in both hands, she spun and connected the solid object with a less solid skull. The man’s eyes widened in surprise and then rolled up into the back of his head as his knees crumpled and he keeled over. Ice cubes rained down his body from the upturned container.

The door swung open and Nate’s body filled the void. He stared at the downed thief. A trickle of blood oozed from the wound in the man’s head and dripped to the carpet beneath his body. Nate gave a huff. “Damn it, woman, at least allow me the pretence of rescuing you.”

She dropped the dented bucket back in its cradle and a smile played along her lips. She raised her hand to her forehead. “Help,” she whimpered. “Somebody help me.” She glanced at Nate from under half-closed lashes as the music rose from the orchestra below and spilled into the box.

“That’s better,” he muttered. He gave the prone man a prod with the tip of his shoe.

“Business concluded?” Cara asked, watching Nate inspect the intruder.

“Yes, for now.” He patted his jacket pocket. Satisfied by the lack of response from the thief, he stepped over the body and then pulled loose a curtain tie. The lush velvet drape tumbled free slid along the front of the box. With the cord in hand, he advanced.