“If she was going to stab me, she’d have done it while I was alone in the room with her earlier. I’m so terribly disappointed in you, Oglethorpe.I shall have to cancel my plans for your knighthood. Your man seems to be injured, Esme. Attend to him while Mr. Brown and Mr. Stanwick see to the traitor in our midst. I’m certain this castle has a room somewhere that was set up to hold prisoners at one time.”
“Indeed it does, Your Majesty,” Glasford said. “’Tis rather cold, damp, and uncomfortable, I’m afraid.”
“It sounds like perfection.”
Leaving O to be handled by the others, Esme moved over to crouch beside Marcus. “What the devil did you think you were doing, bursting into the room like that, hurling yourself at O? That was not the plan. You were supposed—”
Placing the revolver at his hip, he wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck and brought her in for a searing kiss.
Chapter 26
Word of the happenings within the Queen’s wing spread through the castle-like manor with amazing speed, and before Esme knew it, she was in the grand parlor with Victoria, who had decided to delay her departure for Balmoral until everyone saw that she was uninjured and could be reassured that all was well in hand. Because of her fear of illness, she never traveled without a physician, and he was now attending to Marcus.
Esme wished he was here with her because she was rather uncomfortable with all these people gathered around inappropriately in their nightclothes, listening intently as Victoria regaled them with the truth of her visit and how very close she’d come to death.
The Queen’s ladies and any of the husbands who had seen the aftermath of what had transpired had been sworn to secrecy regarding whathad truly happened and who had been involved. Marcus was being given all the credit for stopping the assassination attempt, which Esme knew would probably not sit right with him, but it was best that her involvement be limited to being the wife of a hero.
In the event she ever needed to investigate or gather information from those in attendance tonight, she needed to be forgettable. Once she was forgotten, Marcus could claim to have hired an actress to assist with his ruse. He could carry on with his life, and so could Esme.
Word had been sent to the Home Office and once all of the guests departed, O would be brought out of the dungeon and transported to London under the watchful eye of the Queen’s guards. Esme could only hope that the Home Secretary wouldn’t be too upset with her for striking out on her own and not keeping anyone there apprised of the situation. But based upon how it had all turned out—that one of their own was untrustworthy—surely they would see the wisdom in her strategy.
Footmen who looked as though they’d recently been roused from their beds were passing by with trays laden with brandy. Esme grabbed two drinks before walking over to Brewster, who was standing near a window looking like a puppy who had just been kicked. Or perhaps he was contemplating leaping through the glass to make his escape. She offered him a snifter.
Ducking his head slightly, he shook it. “I told him everything. O. I was assigned to him as well,but he would only ever meet with you. When he sent word that he wanted an audience with me, I have to admit that my head swelled. I thought at long last I was being recognized.”
“I’m sorry if I made you feel unimportant.”
“No, it was him, not you. Then when he wanted me to keep him apprised of what you were doing, I thought it was because of Stanwick, that O trusted him no more than I did and that he thought Stanwick might be turning your head or distracting you from our purpose. It never occurred to me that he wished you harm or that”—he looked toward Victoria—“he was the one all along, the one we were searching for.”
“Obviously it didn’t occur to any of us. When I reflect on where he wanted to meet, how eerie he made things—Marcus described the catacombs as practically medieval, and I have to agree with him now. I thought O was simply eccentric, but I believe he might be living in the past.” She nudged the snifter against his hand until he finally took it.
“You didn’t tell me everything about what was going on tonight. It was right for you not to trust me.”
“It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you, Brewster. But I learned long ago that the fewer people who know everything—the safer it is for everyone.”
“I shall resign after this. I think I make a better butler anyway.”
She smiled. “You can still be my butler.”
“After I nearly got you killed? I told him you were going to Podmore’s, the night you found thelad dead. That might be the reason he had him killed. I’ve never had actual blood on my hands, but I feel like they’re coated in red now.”
“You shouldn’t. It’s not your fault. And I do hope you’ll reconsider staying with the Home Office. You have experience and knowledge that is of real value.”
He gave her a sad nod. “O ruined a lot of lives. I suspect more than we’ll ever know.”
Sitting up in his bed, Marcus sipped on the scotch the Queen’s surgeon had left for him. The bullet had done no real damage, having gone into the meat of his shoulder. He’d chosen to have the lead removed without the benefit of ether or chloroform. He’d also declined the use of laudanum before or after. He didn’t want to be drowsy or fall asleep. He wanted to find that damp, cold chamber where they’d taken Oglethorpe and beat the hell out of him until he cried for mercy—and only then would Marcus decide whether to grant it. The man had pointed a revolver at Esme and fired! He’d tried to kill her. Marcus was still consumed with such rage that it was a wonder he didn’t ignite.
He’d taken some satisfaction in seeing Esme landing blows against the man’s jaw, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to deliver a few jabs himself.
Hearing the door that connected his room to hers click, he glanced over to watch her entering. She was still wearing her red gown. Her hair was slightly askew, but it only made her all the moreappealing. As she lowered herself to the edge of the mattress, she didn’t appear to still be cross with him. Instead, she reached out and gently touched the bandage. “Must your shoulder take the brunt of all the attacks?”
Leaning in, she pressed a kiss there, and something inside him seemed to come undone and bloom throughout. What he felt for this woman was terrifying.
After setting his glass on the table beside the bed, he threaded his fingers through her hair. “He was going to kill you.”
“I anticipated it and was already moving out of the way. But when I saw you lunging at him—I’d have never forgiven you if you’d died.”
Her words shouldn’t have brought him solace, and yet they did. They proved she cared for him. At least some. “Better me than you.”
