Masquerading the Marquess (28 page)

"Luckily the bloody thing was too far away to do major damage. But I’d be most appreciative if you could stop trying to kill me with that thing."

She gave him a worried look. "Sit and don’t move. I’ll have Grimmond call for the doctor."

"Relax, I was teasing. It’s just a scratch. I’ve endured worse during fencing practice."

"Apply pressure here, and sit down so you won’t pass out and bleed all over Stephen’s carpet," she replied tartly, and left the room quickly to find a clean shirt and medicinal supplies.

James remained stoic as she cleansed the area around the wound, but Calliope grimaced, fearful she was hurting him. For a lord of the realm he was in superb shape. His broad chest was tanned and lightly brushed with hair. How would it feel to run her fingers across the planes of his muscular chest and back?

Her hands paused. Cleaning and applying ointment to the area was an intimate act of a lover or wife.

Calliope felt a light blush and continued working. She bandaged the gash and assisted him with his shirt. He grumbled about flesh wounds.

Calliope plunked down on the settee and inspected the cane. She turned it to the left and the blade retracted. She turned it to the right and it protruded.

.

"I should have been using this long ago."

James said something unintelligible.

She leaped from the seat, struck a pose and twisted left. It retracted.
Right.
Protruded.
Left.
 
Right.
Left.
Right.
She giggled. "I feel like a real pirate now."

"Calliope, will you please sit down?"

Now that the cane had lost some of its hold on her, she didn’t want to put it down. The connection to her father was still present, but it felt different somehow.

She sighed. The blade was out. One twist left and it was in. She decided to make sure it wouldn’t do any unintentional damage and twisted left again, hoping to lock it in place. To her surprise, the handle twisted open.

"What is this?" She peered into the hole. There was something wedged inside. She gingerly slipped two fingers inside and pulled out a wrapped object. Handing it to James, Calliope searched for anything else. She gave the cane another twist, but it appeared to only have the three settings.

Satisfied the cane was
closed,
she set it down and looked up at James’s shocked expression.

"What is wrong? Does your wound hurt?"

He sat in stunned silence staring at the object in his hand.

Calliope peered at it. It was a ring. The ring looked vaguely familiar.

James just shook his head. "This can’t be."

"This can’t be what?"

He held out his hand to her and she plucked the ring from his palm and noticed the image of a bird engraved in the gold.

"This is what we’ve been searching for, isn’t it?"

He nodded, a wry grin spreading across his face.

"Stephen must have found it and made an imprint."

The grin slipped from his features. "The cane belonged to
Salisbury
. "
It wasn’t a question.

The pain spread through her again. "Yes, he left it with my mother. That is why she made sure it survived the fire. The papers were destroyed with her."

Calliope felt a reassuring grip on her shoulder.

"
Salisbury
must have assumed the cane and papers perished in the blaze with the two of you. Possibly whoever set the fire thought so as
well.
"

She glanced up at him, startled out of her reverie. "What do you mean, whoever set the fire?"

He was gazing at her in a cautious manner. "It’s too coincidental and the timing was too close to
Salisbury
’s own assassination."

Had her heart stopped? Calliope took a few deep, steadying breaths.

"Are you implying that my father really did cause my mother’s death?"

"Absolutely not.
Believe
me,
Salisbury
blamed himself enough for both of you. One had only to see him to know it. Someone murdered them both." He rubbed her hands. "I need to call on a friend of mine. He knows all sorts of interesting things and may be able to tell us about this ring."

"All right, let’s go."

"No. He is a cautious fellow and doesn’t like unfamiliar faces. It will only take a few hours. I’ll be back shortly."
 

Calliope let him leave without her. She had used enough contacts when researching caricatures to know how skittish people could be with their information.

She walked aimlessly around the townhouse. The servants were keeping to themselves. Ever since the new footmen had arrived, they had been strangely quiet.
Almost fearful.
The atmosphere was driving her mad.

She plopped onto the sofa and thought about what James had said. It was hard not to blame her father. She had been blaming him for so long that it was hard to break the habit.

She vividly remembered the night when she had lost everything in her world and had approached Lady Salisbury for assistance. Yes, now that James had dredged up old memories, Lady Salisbury had definitely appeared scared. There had been fervor in her eyes and fear.

Calliope wondered what it had been like for the woman. Lillian Minton was
Salisbury
’s lifelong mistress. Everyone knew he had no intention of giving her up, and no intention of marrying.

It was something that had always troubled Calliope. It was an accepted fact that
Salisbury
would never marry another because of his love for her mother. Therefore, why hadn’t her father married her mother? Was it societal restraints or something else? It was the unanswerable question that haunted her.

Calliope backed away from the thought. She closed her eyes and tried to conjure more pleasant thoughts.

A few hours passed before the front door opened and James entered the room, looking more energetic and healthy than when he had left.

"It’s a Falcon ring," James said.

She waited patiently for him to explain and was fortunately not disappointed.

"There was a secret society formed to depose Bonaparte. The members worked behind the scenes and received no aid from the government. Only a handful of men have these rings, and I’m fairly certain neither Stephen nor your father possessed one."

"What was the name of the society?"

"There was no official name, though the Falcons’ stuck because of the insignia. Their rings identified them. The general populace knew nothing of the group. In fact, most people in the government still are unaware of them. Hell, I thought it myth."

He was silent. She could almost hear his brain chugging away.

"My source was aware of only one member of the society." He paused for a long moment and then said, "Holt."

"Lord Holt." Her thoughts whirred. "What does his son have to do with this whole situation? And why is his birth certificate wrong?"

James again hesitated. "
lf
I’m right about when Holt was married, then it would point to his only son and heir being illegitimate."

She gasped. "Then he couldn’t inherit."

"A powerful incentive to make sure no one found out."

"And Ternberry had the certificate."

James’s mouth was grim. "Yes."

"We should search their offices. At least Ternberry’s, since he definitely won’t be there."

"It’s not that easy
. "

"Pffff, I saw how easily you broke into Pettigrew’s rooms. Let’s go."

She could see in his face that he wanted to go.

"I’ll go alone."

"Oh, no.
I’m coming with you or else I’ll find a way to do it on my own."

He started to shake his head, but then paused. "Yes. You have the right." He surveyed her from head to toe. "Do you have anything more suitable to wear?"

Calliope didn’t give him time to change his mind. She raced up the steps and into her room. Pulling out her old trunk, she found an old costume from a play where she’d been an extra chimney sweep. Changing quickly, she grabbed a black cap and ran back down the stairs and into the study.

A brief stunned moment passed as he viewed her black breeches and shirt.
"Absolutely not.
Go back and change this instant."

A mutinous look slid into place and she temporarily forgot her tenuous position. "This is the perfect outfit. No one will recognize me, and if they do, I can simply say it is a foil for your odd ways."

His brows rose, but he turned and strode out the door. She grabbed her black cape to cover her garments and ran after him. He called up the carriage and they stepped in. James did nothing to hide his irritation.

She twisted her hair and shoved it into the boy’s cap. "How will we know if Holt is out?"

"He’s out. But rest assured, if we decide to search his townhouse we’ll make sure before venturing in."

James exchanged words with his driver. The carriage stopped only a few blocks down the street. Looking around one last time to be certain no one was watching, he grabbed Calliope, and they darted into an alley. Someone moved out of the shadows. She immediately recognized the man, and James instructed him to ready "Number Three." James’s regular carriage rolled down the street.
A diversion.

Number Three turned out to be an old hackney. It was hitched to a pair of unremarkable brown mares. She cast him a questioning glance but he continued to rattle off instructions to the driver. Jenkins, the driver, disappeared into the darkness, then reappeared a few minutes later, winded, but dressed in common garments. He had replaced the resplendent livery worn by Angelford servants.

"Let’s go."

Calliope climbed into the carriage and settled herself on the faded but surprisingly comfortable seat. James hauled himself in and sat across from her. They moved down the drive and set off for Ternberry’s, on the other side of
Mayfair
. James drew the curtains and darkness enveloped them.

"I will turn you over my knee if you leave my side. Understand?"

A protest rose in her throat. She swallowed it when she realized how tightly wound he was. The air was charged. She nodded and then realized he couldn’t see her. "Yes."

They remained silent until the coach slowed.

"
l
told Jenkins to stop down the street. We will walk the rest of the way. Ready?"

She grabbed his outstretched hand. It felt right.

James secured her cape and threw a greatcoat around his shoulders. It must have been inside the carriage. Calliope started to wonder how frequent an occurrence these types of trips were for him. No one would mistake them for Lord and Lady now.

Lord and Miss, she amended.

They approached Ternberry’s house from the rear, crossing through a number of yards to reach it.

There were only a few windows in the back. Ternberry must not have been too fond of the light.