“The princess is not here,” Neri said.
Archer’s head went light with relief. “What a shame,” he got out. “And here we were so eager to welcome her. Perhaps in time. How might I best serve you in her stead?”
Neri was still not looking at him, only aiming an expression of dark betrayal at Gerry and the dog as he straightened his wig. “I have come to make the house ready for Her Highness.”
“Ah.” Archer’s voice cracked again. “She is coming soon, then?”
“She follows in a fortnight,” Neri said, “in an armed ship for her protection. She has commanded me to precede her and to make comfortable her dog.”
“A fortnight,” Archer repeated. “To make comfortable her dog.”
Neri adjusted his spectacles and looked sourly at Gerry. “I have tried everything. Everything! But the beast does not wish to be made comfortable by me.” He turned back to Archer. “You have received my correspondence? You have prepared the canine chamber?”
“The...” Archer could not think how to respond. The correspondence? Thecanine chamber? “If you have sent advance notice, Signor Neri, I fear it went astray. But we can certainly—ah—make ready. Make... something... ready.”
Neri glanced around at the house. The front parlor was in relatively good repair, thanks to Ruby and her companions, but the hounds in the blue parlor were still barking raucously as Wall attempted, in a muffled voice, to quiet them. “This house does not appear ready.”
Archer swallowed. His throat was very tight, but he kept on smiling, like a puppet with a single painted-on expression. “To be sure. We have recently been in the process of some renovations to the lower chambers.” He thought of the piles of smuggled rugs in the upper tower, and the lace stockings in the stables, and—oh God—the absolute masses of extremely illicit and brightly colored silk in six separate wardrobes spread out across the house. “Perhaps you might tour the grounds while we air out your chamber.”
If Archer were very lucky, perhaps Signor Neri would fall off a cliff.
“Just so,” Neri said, and then he paused. His gaze traveled over the assembled company, from Alice behind him to Tamsin and Lamentation and Ruby and then to the place where canine sounds still echoed. “You are... hosting guests? At the princess’s home?”
Archer’s belly pitched. Disaster loomed.
But he could do this—surely he could do this. He could invent some tale, allow the story to embroider itself as it passed his lips. This was what he did: talked and talked and somehow made people believe him.
But Ruby spoke first.
Her bare hands locked together beneath her breastbone. Her hair was honey-dark from seawater, curling up in wild sandy tangles as it dried. All the distracting pink had faded from her cheeks; she was pale, eyes dark, lips pressed into a line.
“Signor Neri.” Her voice wobbled. “These gentlemen are the staff of Pomeroy House. And I am...” She licked at her lips, then tried again. “My father is...”
For the space of a moment, Archer thought she too meant to dissemble. To convince Neri that she was where she ought to be.
But her eyes had gone huge and tragic, and she swiped at the salt on her cheekbone before she spoke. “My father is the Earl of Hangleton, ambassador to Monfalcone. I am... not acquainted with the princess. I am only visiting.”
Only then did it dawn on Archer what was happening. Damned plainspoken impossible woman—she meant to tell the truth.
He wanted to shake her. He wanted to clap his hand across her mouth. Just like that, she was going to give herself up. Abandon her dream of independence when she’d only now begun to live it.
Why would she do it? Did she fear that Signor Neri might report her presence to her father?
But no. She had spoken first—had chosen to reveal herself to Neri. The signore would not have known her if she had not admitted her identity.
Archer looked at the ivory heart of her face. Her mouth. Her storm-tossed eyes, all raw courage and tenacity.
If she was afraid, he realized, it was not for herself. It was for him.
These gentlemen are the staff of Pomeroy House, she’d said. The first thing—the very first words out of her mouth had been meant to protect his crew. She was poised to get herself sent home to take suspicion offhim.
And even as he realized what she’d intended, he also knew that he could not let her do it.
“Hangleton sent the ladies from London at my request,” Archer heard himself say. “His daughter and two of her companions.”
There was a moment of startled silence and Archer tried very hard to think what to say next.
Ruby’s lips parted. “I—”
