A Secret in Her Kiss (24 page)

Mari yanked her maid free. “I’ll keep drawing!”

Two long weeks passed before Mari implemented the second half of her plan. “I don’t know why you bother.”

Fatima, who’d come to collect more artwork, frowned. “You would hardly understand.”

Mari knew Fatima had been hiding the money she’d earned selling the pictures from her husband. Mari had discovered, from gossip she’d picked up from the slaves, that the illusion of wealth that Fatima was so proud of was only that—an illusion.

“How much have you earned since you started this? Not much. You’ve no understanding of trade,” Mari said.

“Of course I do.”

“You’re selling these for what, a copper or two to the natives?”

Fatima’s eyes narrowed as she tried to see the error in that. “Among other people.”

Mari snorted. “Come now, you’re not intelligent enough to recognize how to make significant wealth.”

Fatima stiffened. “Yes, I am.”

Mari drew another arch on her drawing of Topkapi Palace. “You’re not selling these to the rich young aristocrats on their Grand Tours.” She wrote a brief title on the bottom of the page.

Avarice gleamed in Fatima’s gaze as she calculated the huge increase in price she could demand if she altered her where she sold the drawings. “I already thought of that. In fact, that’s what I’m doing with these.” She tugged the still damp drawing from under Mari’s arm.

Fatima tucked the drawings in a pasteboard folder, waved the guard aside, and left.

Achilla handed her a clean sheet of paper. “What are the odds that one of those will make it back to England?”

“Almost nonexistent.” But if Bennett saw one, he would know.

Chapter Thirty-two

“Q
uite the pair we make, do we not?”

Bennett glanced up as his sister, Sophia, glided into the breakfast room.

Her severe black dress did nothing for her pale skin or golden hair. “I wear black for a man I do not mourn and you wear black for a woman you do not admit to mourning.”

Bennett shrugged. His sister had gotten Mari’s name from him, but the wound was still too fresh to discuss more. Two weeks on the ship and more than two months in England had done nothing to ease the rawness of it. Everyone assumed he wore mourning for his brother-in-law. As much as he disliked giving the bastard’s memory even false honor, it spared him questions so he let it pass. If someone else hadn’t beaten him to it, Bennett would’ve had the satisfaction of putting a bullet through him.

His rush to leave Constantinople had been worthless. Sophia’s husband had died a week before he arrived home. A hunting accident, it had been ruled. But there was a new haunted look in his sister’s eyes. Yet it was tempered by a new strength.

“You didn’t need me to protect you,” he’d once said. It was the closest he’d come to asking her what had truly happened.

“I needed you to remind me I was worth protecting,” she’d replied with conviction.

At least she had forgiven him for betraying her secret to her father and Darton.

Sophia lifted up a silver lid from a dish on the sideboard and shuddered at the kippers underneath. “Some of mother’s cousins are stopping by to pay their condolences today.”

“Which ones?”

“The Saunder twins.” She settled on a piece of plain toast and tea as she did every morning.

Must they turn up everywhere? “Do they still dress alike?” He’d make sure to be far away when they came to call. In his current mood, he had no tolerance for popinjays.

Sophia laughed and then looked surprised by the sound. “I don’t know.”

“Do they realize he died over two months ago?”

Over two months. The length of time staggered him. If life in the army had taught him anything, it was to move on. So why did the sound of a maid splashing water into his washbasin startle him from sleep every morning with the same desperate memories of a Turkish bath? Why did he rejoice that the cold autumn air guaranteed he’d not see another damned butterfly? Why couldn’t he accept Mari’s death?

“They were out of the country touring Europe or some such thing. I think Mother wrote you of it.”

The butler cleared his throat. “The Messrs. Saunder.”

Bennett set down his coffee. It was too late to escape.

The young men sauntered into the room dressed in identical puce jackets. “Ah, cousin,” one of them—Timothy perhaps, or was it Thomas—spoke. “Sorry for the early hour, but there’s a race this afternoon, and being family, we knew you wouldn’t mind if we stopped in a bit early.”

Bennett gave thanks Sophia wasn’t truly a grieving widow.

“We’re sorry for your loss.”

His brother chimed in, “Quite.”

Sophia smiled thinly. “Thank you for your concern. How was your travel?”

“Splendid. I quite envy all the time you spent in Europe, Prestwood.”

Bennett picked up the newspaper. “Indeed, army life was ideal for seeing the sights.”

Thomas waved a limp hand. “I’ve always regretted that Mother wouldn’t allow us to purchase commissions. We would have looked smashing in regimentals.”

Bennett didn’t even bother to dignify that comment with a reply.

Sophia filled the awkward pause. “Where did you visit?”

“Everywhere. Although Paris was unfortunately disordered.”

“How inconsiderate of them,” Bennett muttered. Didn’t they have a race they needed to prance off to?

“Tell me where else you visited,” Sophia asked with so much false brightness it was a miracle no one was blinded.

They both puffed out their chests, but Timothy deferred to Thomas. “As a matter of fact, we decided that since you have a dead husband and all, we’d distract you by allowing you to be the first to view our drawings from our trip.”

Bennett turned his attention back to the newspaper. If these fellows were as clueless in their art as they were in their interaction, he had no desire to endure it.

Sophia made suitably pleasant remarks for a few minutes. Then her tone changed. “That is truly incredible. Which one of you drew it?”

She actually sounded honest.

Curiosity got the better of him and he lowered the newspaper.

It was a sketch of Topkapi Palace.

“Neither of us, actually. We found it at a bazaar in Constantinople. They are all the rage. Anyone who comes back without one is quite the buffoon. Why, Lord Percy bought seventeen of them, so you can see its value.”

It was rather skillfully done. He rose from his seat to see the sketch more clearly. In fact, it was damned good. The artist had captured the stateliness of the building but added a touch of mystery and seduction.

His eyes narrowed.

It couldn’t be.

He studied it again. The sweeping lines and intricate detail melded to create not just an object, but a moment.

It was Mari’s.

Bennett snatched the paper from his cousin’s fingers and stumbled from the room.

Blood pounding in his ears, he locked himself in the library and hurried to the window to look at the drawing again. He’d never seen her draw anything other than plants and insects, but it was hers.

His breath was ragged as he gingerly held the paper. Who was selling her work? What kind of sick, greedy monster would sell the work of a dead woman?

The words at the bottom finally trapped his attention.

Walls of wood threaded with veins of silk
.

He’d written that line right after he’d arrived in Constantinople. The paper rattled in his hand, and he placed it on the windowsill before he dropped it. When had she drawn the palace? There were only a few days between when she had rescued his poetry book and her death, and he’d been with her for most of them.

A loud buzzing filled his ears. Had he gone mad?

Perhaps. But he felt a whole hell of a lot better than he had sane.

Bennett flung open drawers in the desk until he found the magnifying lens, then he dragged the heavy oak desk into the pool of sunlight offered by the window. He scrutinized the drawing until his sister’s concerned knocks at the door faded and the daylight was replaced by a dozen candles blazing around him.

Finally, in the ornate pattern on an archway, he found it. He read the message three times.

Mari was alive.

Chapter Thirty-three

“Y
ou’re sure?” Daller asked as Bennett paced impatiently in front of him. His cousin’s face was pale with shock.

Bennett pulled the much creased drawing from the pocket of his laborer’s garb. He hadn’t wanted to risk Esad discovering his return. He showed Daller the location of Mari’s message hidden in the lines. “Talat is holding her prisoner and she’s alive.” Or was as of a month ago, but he refused to consider any other possibility. He’d wanted to storm Talat’s house as soon as the shipped docked, but he couldn’t risk coming this close and then dooming her with a poorly executed attack.

Daller exhaled as he peered at the location Bennett indicated. “Son of a— You say you want a sketch the interior of Talat’s house.” His cousin smoothed his mustache. “I’ll do you one better I will come with you myself. I wish I could send embassy troops with you as well, but that would be tantamount to declaring war.”

Neither could Bennett contact the local police. Talat knew Mari was a spy. Bennett couldn’t risk him turning her over to the local authorities as a traitor. If only Abington hadn’t left the city months ago, the man would’ve been worth an army.

His cousin stood. “I may not be able to give you troops, but I know Talat. He’s not unreasonable. If he hasn’t killed her already, there’s a chance we can convince him to free her.”

“No. I won’t give him the chance to kill her.” Bennett rested his hand on the sword at his side.

His cousin nodded. “I will do what you think best.” He removed a pistol from his desk and placed it in his pocket. “If we travel in my coach, there is less chance of you being recognized.” Daller sent for his coach. Bennett’s fingers tightened, then uncurled at his side as they climbed in the coach and started their slow progression through the streets. Now that he knew she was alive, each second she remained in captivity was intolerable. He couldn’t shake the fear that something might happen to her that he could have prevented if he’d arrived a few minutes earlier.

Their route took them past the Sinclair residence. Workmen swarmed in and out, repairing the damage. Only a few blackened shadows near the roof remained as proof of the destruction.

Perhaps he couldn’t take soldiers, but he could add to his reinforcements. He had Daller stop the coach.

Bennett knocked on the door. Selim started when he saw who was there. “Major?”

“Where’s Sir Reginald?”

Selim inclined his head. “He’s indisposed.”

Which meant he was poppy-eaten. Damn.

Selim seemed to read his expression. “Sir Reginald gave up opium after Mari died. Some days the illness from the lack is worse than others. Do you wish me to convey a message?”

“Mari’s alive. Come with me to get her.”

Selim sputtered. “I cannot. First I must—”

Bennett didn’t hear; he was already striding back to the coach.

Talat’s home towered over the street, a huge fortified monstrosity. Heavy stone latticework covered all the windows. Daller ordered the coach to halt around the corner and Bennett leaped down. Using a group of merchants traveling down the street for cover, he surveyed the perimeter. The walls were high. It would be difficult to enter without being seen.

Mari was in there. The hope that had burned painfully in his chest since he’d seen the drawing intensified, making him labor to draw in each new breath. Yet mixed with the hope was desperation. Each second she was in there was another second she was in danger.

Daller waved him over to a tiny alley between Talat’s house and his neighbor’s. The space between the buildings was so narrow, Bennett’s shoulders brushed both sides. A small gate interrupted the wide expanse of wall. He silently approached to investigate. “Is this a servant’s entrance?”

A gun pressed into his ribs. “Now it is yours. Walk.” Daller ordered.

Shock tensed his muscles but then pooled into disgust in Bennett’s gut. “Mari was right. You were the one who betrayed her.”

The ambassador dug the gun deeper into his back. “She never liked me.”

“You can add me to that category.” Perhaps it would be worth a gunshot in the back to turn and plant his cousin a facer.

The slave who opened the gate didn’t blink at the sight of a man held at gunpoint.

Daller sniffed behind him. “I’m indispensable to many people now.”

Bennett provoked him further, hoping he’d leap again to his own defense. “Because of what you did or what my father handed you?”

The gun burrowed into Bennett’s spine until he could feel the perfectly round outline of the barrel. “Since I helped Talat gain the ear of the sultan, I’ve gained the ear of the sultan. Those arrogant bastards at the Foreign Office can’t make do without me. I don’t need to rely on your father’s paltry charity.”

“But why capture Mari?”

Daller pushed him through the door. “I intend to find out. I ordered her killed.”

A hot rage burned at Daller’s casual utterance of those words. Thrashing his cousin to within an inch of his life would be worth a bullet.

He twisted suddenly, catching Daller’s gun hand. A wild shot splintered into the tile wall as Bennett drove his fist into his cousin’s jaw. When Daller tried to block, Bennett grabbed his arm and twisted it behind him. The man squealed and the gun tumbled to the floor.

“Do release my associate, Major.”

Bennett lifted his head and met the cold gaze of Talat. The bey was surrounded by a dozen guards with swords drawn. With a growl, Bennett released his cousin. “We are not finished.”

Daller dusted himself off with shaking hands and smoothed his rumpled coat. “Oh, I think we are, Prestwood.” He picked up his gun and returned it viciously to the small of Bennett’s back.

“Come.” Talat gestured with a tilt of his head.

His guards ensured they followed as the bey led them to the main hall of the house. Talat sat, then reclined on a couch, and selected a nut from the tray resting by his elbow. “Now drop your weapons, Major.”

Bennett removed his sword. One of Talat’s guards retrieved it.

“And the pistol and knife I’m sure you have hidden on your person.”

Bennett reluctantly surrendered those as well.

“Search him.”

The guard checked him for additional weapons. When he found nothing, he nodded to Talat.

“You may put your gun away now, Daller. My men have him covered.”

The pressure on Bennett’s spine disappeared. The fool. Bennett doubted his cousin noted it, but while five of Talat’s men kept their swords drawn and their eyes trained on Bennett, two guards kept theirs directed at Daller.

Talat gestured negligently while his other hand caressed the hilt of his sword. “What’s the meaning of this?”

Daller stiffened. “I should ask you the same question. Is Miss Sinclair alive?”

Bennett’s breath solidified in his chest as he awaited the answer.

Talat lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Perhaps.”

It would take only three steps to reach Talat and strangle an answer out of him. If Bennett had been armed, he might have taken the chance. Instead, he shifted his feet, carefully sliding a few inches to the side. Outflanking the guards was his best chance at survival.

“I ordered you to kill her,” Daller said.

Only years of training kept Bennett from going for his cousin’s throat.

The bey stroked his thin beard. “Yes, it’s always been your mistaken idea that I follow your orders. You are a shortsighted fool.”

Daller’s chest puffed in outrage. “The influence you now enjoy is thanks to me.”

“How sad. You actually believe that.” Talat laughed. “I used you.”

“I’m the one who arranged for you to have the ear of the sultan.”

Talat laughed. “No, I believe that was the pasha weeping in his home like a sick old woman.”

“Yes, because he thinks Miss Sinclair dead, which was my plan.”

“So neat.” Talat leaned forward, his gaze menacing. “What about when he recovers from his grief? He’s already spoken with his solicitor about his fortune, you know.”

Daller cheered slightly. “Then we move ahead with the second part of the plan.”

Talat sneered in contempt. “It won’t do us any good to kill him. Even with Mari gone, the money isn’t going to Fatima. He’s leaving it to a university.”

“He can’t! Without his money we’re doomed.” Daller shakily removed his snuffbox.

Esad’s dowry. Another piece of the puzzle fell into place, and Bennett exhaled in disgust.

“Then it’s a good thing I decided to keep her alive. Esad will pay a great deal to get her back. Enough, at least, to pay off my debts,” Talat said.

“What about my debts? They resulted from helping you gain your current position. You agreed to repay me.” Daller dragged his hand through his hair.

Talat shrugged. “If it had been up to you, she’d be dead. Besides, you couldn’t even convince her, a plain spinster, to marry you. You had your chance at the money and failed.”

Daller smoothed his hair with jerky strokes. “You should’ve told me she was alive. Part of that money is mine!”

Bennett used the outburst to sidle away another inch.

Talat cracked a nut with his fingers. “Why should I have told you? I’m not the only one who’s been withholding information. When were you going to tell me she was a spy?”

Daller paused, a tuft of hair jutting out awkwardly above his ear. “When did you find out?”

“When you ordered me not to try to kill her again after Chorlu, my suspicions were roused. Why wouldn’t we want her dead before Esad could surrender his fortune to her? Her butler kindly informed me of where she was drawing next and the truth was obvious.”

So he had been correct in his suspicions as well. Selim had betrayed her, too.

“So you sent the thief at Midia,” Daller said.

Talat shrugged. “Much cleaner than your tactics. Wasn’t she supposed to report to you?”

“For some reason she has never liked me. I had to make sure I had all her drawings.”

“Why would you need to hire Abdullah away from me to follow her, unless you’re such a fool that you can’t even control your own people? But that seems to be the case, Abdullah was working for me all along. He was the one who found me the thief.”

As Daller blustered, the rest of the clues fell into place. The shot at Chorlu had been intended to keep Mari from getting the dowry. But then Abington had revealed Mari’s identity and Daller realized that the woman he was trying to murder was the one who’d provided the intelligence that so pleased his superiors.

Greed and ambition motivated the attack at Chorlu. The other encounters had been attempts by Talat to confirm Mari’s espionage and by Daller to keep her under surveillance.

Daller glared resentfully at the bey. “If you knew what she was, why didn’t you turn Miss Sinclair over to the sultan? It would’ve been an impressive capture.”

“This is why I don’t follow your orders. You don’t think things through. My wife is the pasha’s niece. If Mari’s exposed as a spy, her association with the pasha will take him down in disgrace. If the pasha falls, his entire family falls with him. It would be like shooting myself in the foot.”

Daller sniffed a pile of powder from his nail. “You’re not as wise as you like to think. You’ve mucked things up royally.”

“How so?”

“Miss Sinclair’s death would and did pass without much notice, but the earl won’t let his son’s death go uninvestigated. It’s why in my original plan, I had him leave alive. But since you chose not kill her, Miss Sinclair’s slipped a message to him and he’s returned. How are we to explain Prestwood’s death?”

Talat shrugged. “I found him spying and killed him in a struggle.”

Daller dropped his snuffbox. He swore as it clattered across the tile, leaving a trail of snuff scattered behind it. “That won’t work. If he’s incriminated, it’ll cast guilt on me.”

While the guards watched the jeweled box skittering to a halt against the wall, Bennett moved a whole two inches.

Talat smiled. “A conspiracy leading straight to the English ambassador. The sultan will be quite pleased that I personally killed both spies.”

Daller froze. “You traitorous bastard.”

The bey finally stood. “Kill them.” He flicked his finger and his men advanced, swords drawn. Daller scrambled to draw his pistol, but Bennett didn’t wait to see his fate. With a quick lunge, Bennett reached the side of the nearest guard. Before the man could attack, Bennett struck him in the armpit and ripped the sword from his fingers. The others charged, but Bennett tossed the disarmed guard in their path, slowing them. Bennett backed toward the wall to keep them from surrounding him.

Two men attacked at once. He succeeded in wounding one, but a third attacked from the side, knocking the sword from Bennett’s hand.

“This is taking far too long.” Talat drew his sword and advanced on Bennett.

“
Talat Bey!
” The door burst open and a swarm of men poured in, led by Esad Pasha with Selim close behind.

Dressed all in black, the furious pasha held a well-polished curved sword. The butler, on the other hand, wrung trembling hands together.

Talat edged closer to his guards. “Your pretty little maid will suffer for this, Selim.”

The butler paled but stood his ground next to the pasha. “I’m through with your threats, Talat.”

Esad advanced on the bey. “Where is Mari?”

Sweat beaded on Talat’s forehead. “She’s a spy, you know.” Yet his eyes flickered to a corridor on the far side of the room.

Bennett exhaled slowly. She was alive.

The pasha’s sword didn’t waver. “Then tell me why you’ve been harboring an enemy of the state in your home?”

With a cry, Talat swung his sword. The pasha blocked the attack and retaliated with one of his own. Outnumbered, the bey’s guards scrambled to escape but were confronted by Esad’s men.

Daller slunk toward the door in the chaos.

“Major!” Selim tossed him his sword.

Satisfaction filled him as the familiar weight settled in his hand. He leaped at Daller, nicking him in the upper arm. But as he thrust again, a guard fleeing from one of Esad’s man stumbled between them. The panicked guard swung his sword wildly, deflecting the stab meant for Daller, then reattacked. Bennett blocked the strike with a growl as the ambassador slipped out the door.