Page 31 of To Break the Rules

“I suppose it is,” Silas admitted, ignoring Fred’s crow of laughter.

“Well, well. Don’t tell me she’s wielding a trident,” he quipped, chuckling at the idea. “I mean, I know I told you she sounded dangerous, but….” Fred trailed off, arrested by the look in Silas’ eyes. “Not really?”

“She placed this in Lord Ulceby’s pocket, and the man nearly had a heart attack when he saw it. I believe she also left a drawing of the same symbol in his study, which produced a similar reaction.”

The way Fred’s eyes widened in shock didn’t make Silas feel better.

“She’s out for revenge, Fred. I know it. Believe me, I recognise the signs.” Silas stood and ran a hand through his hair, wishing he had Lucia’s trust, that she would confide in him. “I want to know why,” he told his riveted valet. “I want to know Ulceby’s secrets, and why that trident nearly sent him to his grave.”

Fred let out a breath. “I dunno, my lord. I’ll try to remember where I saw that thing before, but….” He stopped, considering. “I met Ulceby’s valet once. Miserable old tosspot he was though, working for such a man, who can blame him?” he added. Silas could hardly disagree. “Don’t reckon my chances of getting anything out of him, but… I’ll try, if you like.”

“Yes.” He nodded, regarding Fred intently. “I want to know everything there is to know about the Earl of Ulceby. I want to know everyone he owes money to; every secret, every vice. Leave no stone unturned.”

“You can rely on me, my lord.”

“Good man, Fred,” Silas said with real gratitude. “I know I can.”

The glow of pleasure and pride in Fred’s expression rather surprised him, until he remembered how his father had treated the man. Fred had deserved a great deal better than that. With that in mind, Silas retrieved two gold sovereigns from his coin purse. He put the first in Fred’s hand. “You might need this to, er… encourage his memories,” he said with a wry smile before placing the second beside it. “And that’s for your trouble.”

Fred blushed and shook his head. “That’s not necessary—”

“I know, but heaven knows you’ve earned it, and more besides. I know I’m not the easiest man to deal with, Fred. Let me show my appreciation at least, and tell me if you need more to make any of his staff talk.”

He watched Fred stare at the two gold coins for a moment longer before the fellow smiled and tucked them into his waistcoat pocket. “You’re wrong, as it happens. Compared to your sire, you’re a doddle, though I shall deny saying that the next time you show me up by going out looking like you’ve been set upon by footpads.”

“As you wish,” Silas replied with gravity, suitably chastised.

He smiled to himself as Fred left the room whistling a merry tune.

Chapter 9

Dearest Dharani,

I wish you could have seen his face when he saw Kali’s trishul. I could almost see her foot on his chest, just as you described her to me, squeezing the air from his lungs. He thought your curse had been brought down upon his head, and so it shall be, but it will be I who strikes the final blow.

―Excerpt of a letter from Miss Lucia de Feria to Shrimati Dharani Das.

9th July 1814. The Earl of Ulceby’s residence, Hyde Park, London.

“If you would be so good as to wait here, my lord, I shall inform Lord Ulceby of your visit. He rarely receives callers before ten o’clock.”

Silas nodded as the unsmiling butler left him alone in a lavish drawing room. Every surface dripped with gilt, and priceless ornaments adorned mantles, tables, and every other available surface. It was grandeur on an epic scale, a show of wealth and power that made Silas’ skin crawl with the vulgarity of it. No wonder the fool was on the brink of ruin.

He shook his head, staring about him, and took a moment to inspect an unusual bronze. It appeared Indian in origin and depicted what he took to be a deity. The male figure had four arms, and in each hand he held an object: a large shell, a mace, a small disc, and a lotus flower.

The image of Lucia’s brightly clad ayah standing against the grey of a London street returned to his mind, her piercing eyes appearing to regard him with a sense of inevitability, as if she’d known he would be there. A shiver ran down his spine, and he jumped a little as a voice pierced this thoughts.

“Barbaric, isn’t it? Don’t know why I keep it. Nasty heathen thing, but it’s worth a pretty penny.”

Silas swung around to see the earl had walked into the room. His eyes were heavy, dark circles beneath them that suggested he wasn’t sleeping well, but he was straight-backed and an imposing presence. Tall and thin, the earl had steel grey hair and the kind of face that suggested he’d earned the look of jaded cynicism it bore. Nothing soft or kind had ever come from this man, and it was evident in his eyes.

“I am glad to see you are recovered,” Silas said, moving to sit down at the earl’s invitation.

“I am,” the man said, a thin smile at his lips. “Though no thanks to any but you, it seems. I owe you a debt.”

“Not at all,” Silas said easily, doing his best to be amicable when every instinct told him this man was not to be trusted. “I was happy to help, and your son was there too, of course.”

Ulceby snorted, a look of disgust colouring his expression. “There is nothing worse than reaching my age and realising you have sired two sons, neither of which is worth a damn. Fribbles, both of them.” He stared at Silas, a calculating look in his eyes. “Your father despised you for what you did, you know,” he said, the words designed to strike their mark, though Silas did not show a reaction. “But I wouldn’t have done. I admire you. You’re not afraid to get your hands dirty if the situation demands it. That takes guts. I think perhaps we are alike in that regard.”