Athena's Ordeal (20 page)

He could tell from her tone that something was wrong. As much as he was loath to, he took a half step back. "Yes, love?"

"We... I need to stop. I..." there was a catch in her voice and she finished in a whisper. "I'm trying to recover from you."

It was as though icy water had been poured down his back. He released her and took another step backwards. "Beg pardon?" he asked dumbly.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, then opened the door just far enough to slip through and away. The opening at the door let in a sliver of dim light from the hallway. Even that, he thought, was brighter than what was in his heart.

Quince couldn’t believe that Sabre had left him again.

"Sorry, old boy, but maidens are notoriously fickle."

The voice came from behind him. It was a mild voice, plain, but there was an undercurrent of bitterness that carried across the room like a fetid wind. Quince had never heard this voice before, but somehow he knew
, without doubt, that it was the blackmailer.

Regardless of how little he felt up to it, the duke knew this exchange would be vital. He could show no fear, no weakness. "Fortunately there are a good deal of them out there on the dance floor. Like fishing from a stocked pond, really."

"Yes, but remarkably few of them are Bittlesworth's headstrong daughter. I imagine bedding her would give you a great deal of pleasure. You've made no secret of how much you detest him."

Quince suppressed his need to defend Sabrina and focused on divining where the accursed man was in the room. "All pleasures are short lived, my lord. What I seek is satisfaction."

The blackmailer chuckled. "A quicker wit than your father, I see."

Quince was fairly sure that the man was standing across the room near the windows. Had he entered from outside? Or from the hallway? The door had been open when they came in. "My father was not slow witted, he simply didn't have as much levity as a typical hedgehog."

"Is that how you see yourself? As a hedgehog? Are you rooting about in my garden, Leo?"

The duke felt his blood run cold. "I have no right to that name. You may address me as Beloin
, or your grace. Or hedgehog, if you like. I'm sure there are some pests in your garden for me to devour."

The blackmailer was quiet far too long for Quince's comfort. When he spoke again he had moved across the room. "You don't have any papers, do you?"

"No. But I do have a determination to see Bittlesworth suffer, you're correct about that. And I will keep digging, turning over rocks to find the crawling nastiness beneath, until I am able to punish him."

"Punish him?"

"With exile at the very least."

"Odd that he has been the one to raise your ire. But no matter. Is that your only demand? Bittlesworth?"

"Yes." Quince was intrigued that the blackmailer seemed to indicate that one of the other members had been more detrimental to him than Bittlesworth. But at this point the duke only wanted to play out Robert’s goal and bring an end to this debacle.

"And you have no papers or evidence?"

"No."

The blackmailer gave a contemplative sigh. "With his attempt on your life I feel that he has shown a shocking lack of judgment. I will give you the evidence you need, provided that you guarantee me that you will stop... digging in my garden."

"You have my word."

"I'd best. Surely I don't have to explain to you that I would not bumble like him. That lovely child upstairs would suffer, for instance. Meanwhile, I shall have a packet delivered to your man of business before the week is out. Do with Bittlesworth as you wish."

Then there was silence.

Quince called out, "My lord?" He pushed the library door open to allow what dim light was available to pool in the room. He heard nothing. Saw nothing. Had the damn man vanished?

After leaving the library Sabre stumbled up the steps to Jack's sitting room. She just wanted to get away. How could it hurt this much? It felt like she had a knife in her heart. But surely if she stayed, if she allowed herself to love him, it would be worse. He was playing a dangerous game with ruthless men. He could be hurt or killed and didn't seem to care. Staying with him would drive her mad. And
, if she were being honest with herself, she feared the power he had over her. She would refuse him nothing. It humbled her to know that he could ask anything of her and she would not have it in her heart to refuse him. She curled up on the settee, weeping.

"Miss Bittlesworth?" a small voice called.

Sabre sat up, dashing at her eyes with her knuckles. "Is that you, Emmy?"

"Yes, and Cici."

She gave a watery laugh. "Oh, it's Cici now, is it?"

Emmy and Cici sat on either side of her. Emmy took her hand. "Why are you crying?"

Cici, really Jessica Telford, leaned forward to tell her new friend, "You can't ask someone why they're crying, that's rude."

Emmy gasped. "I'm sorry, Sabre, I didn't mean to be rude."

Now Sabre laughed in truth, and pulled each girl to her to kiss on top of the head. "You can, in fact, ask friends why they are crying. Especially good friends."

"Are we good friends?" Emmy asked softly. Raised most of her life on a farm, she was still a bit hesitant in her role as companion to a countess.

Sabre joined hands with both of the girls, lacing her fingers with theirs. "We are the best of friends."

"Then why are you crying?"

"I'm very sad."

"Why?"

"Because my heart has betrayed me. It insists on loving a man that it shouldn't."

Cici finally spoke again. "That doesn't make sense."

"Nothing about the heart has ever made sense to me, I'm afraid."

"No, I'm saying that you should trust your heart."

Sabre sniffed and smoothed the girl’s hair back. It was even lighter and silkier than Quince’s. "What makes you say that?"

"My heart has never led me astray, but many times I have thought myself into trouble."

Sabre resisted the impulse to tell the girl that at her age she had hardly seen enough to make such a determination. She didn't want to ruin the coze that was making her feel better. Perhaps it wasn't her Haberdashers, but sitting here with the young ladies had a familiarity that comforted her. Instead she asked, "What sort of trouble have you thought yourself into, love?"

"When I was a little girl I became convinced that our father hated us, and that was why he never came to see us."

"What did your heart tell you?"

"It remained stubbornly silent on the subject. That's why my mind made up stories. Then one day an older brother I had never met came and my heart knew him. He was as familiar to me as my other siblings. When my brother told me that I was lucky to have never known my father, lucky that mother had hidden us away, I believed him."

Jessica spoke with a calm, clear confidence that Sabre had rarely heard. After a moment she realized where she had heard the tone before. Herself. But whereas Jessica derived her greatest confidence from her heart, Sabre had only ever trusted her mind. Trusting her heart would be a tremendous leap of faith that she wasn't sure she was capable of. However, one of Jessica's statements kept ringing in her head. 
My heart knew him. My heart knew him.
 Sabre's heart knew him. Right now, considering for the briefest moment that she go running back into his arms, she felt her heart burbling with happiness. Which was the greater risk? The possibility of losing him to danger? Or the surety of losing him by turning away as she had for the past fortnight? Even as she tried to free herself of him, she continued to worry about him. Just this evening she had taken on the task of observing all the guests in the hopes of identifying the blackmailer among them. In the hopes of helping Quince. She ran back through the assortment of facts she had put together this evening about the attendees of the ball and suddenly gasped. "Oh no! I saw him!"

"Saw who?" Emmy and Jessica said together.

She stood up. "I need to find Quince."

They heard a door close in the hallway. "Emmy? Cecilia?" It was Jack's voice. Followed closely after by Quince. "Jessica?"

The girl looked at Sabre with a knowing smile. "Ask and ye shall receive."

"We're in here," Sabre called. A light filled the doorway as the ever-practical Jack had actually brought a candle. But Quince preceded her into the room.

The blackmailer's threats had left Quince in a panic over his sister and Sabre. He had collected Gideon, Robert, and Charlie to scour the downstairs looking for the blackguard and asked Jacqueline to take him to his sister. But upon checking both her room and Emmy's they had been missing. Unable to find either Sabre or Jessica at that point he had been ready to tear London apart, if necessary. Now here they were. Both girls were taller than Sabre, yet somehow she managed to have them safely under her wings. Not trusting himself to speak, Quince walked forward and hugged Jessica. Sabre leaned into him and he put his arm around her as well.

"Quince," she said. "I think I saw him."

He drew back to look down at her. "Who?"

"Draco."

"How do you know?"

"His own arrogance. He was wearing a pin. Jack, what's that symbol called? Where the serpent is eating its own tail?"

"Ouroboros," Jack supplied.

"Right. Ouroboros was also called a dragon. And there was a gem in the middle of it. Red tigerseye. Also known as dragonseye."

Quince mulled that, fighting his need to pull her to him. "Perhaps. What did he look like?"

Sabre closed her eyes. "He wasn't very tall. Older, perhaps the same age as Jack's father. Light brown hair going to gray. He wasn't particularly notable other than his dark green jacket and that pin."

Quince looked over at Jack and she nodded. "I'll go tell them."

"Tell who what?" Sabre asked.

"Someone was in the library," Quince said. "He spoke to me after you left and then he seemed to disappear. Gideon and your brothers are looking for him. If the man
you saw was the same one who spoke to me, then the description will be helpful to them."

Sabre looked worried but after a moment she merely leaned against him again, resting her head on his shoulder. He held both her and Jessica close.

Quince had left his sister upstairs with additional footmen posted outside her door but had to repress the instinct to go check on her again. The search of the house had turned up nothing.
 After the earl and countess bid their last guests a good evening they joined the group gathered in the library. Both Bittlesworth brothers were present, as well as Sabre. The duke looked at Robert, wondering what he would be willing to say in mixed company. The younger man seemed to take that as a signal and rose to speak.

"I am afraid that I have caused his grace, and all of you, a great deal of trouble. His grace has received threats over the past month because I spread rumors that he was in possession of some papers that he was not."

Gideon spoke up. "That was a damn sight more than threats, Robert."

"What do you mean?" Sabre looked at Quince. "What does he mean?"

The duke shook his head. "It doesn't signify."

Sabre jumped to her feet. "Don't you dare! This is exactly what I was afraid would happen."

She tried to reach out and touch his jaw near his wound again, but he captured her hands. Frowning, he said, "I'm fine."

The earl spoke again. "The greater question to me is whether you are still in danger."

Quince shrugged. "The man I spoke to tonight seemed to indicate no. He has offered to provide the evidence that Robert needs on his original target."

Robert, now leaning against a table with his arms crossed, considered that information. "In exchange for what?"

"Leaving him alone. He was very clear that the threats to my mother and sister remain should we do anything to discomfort him."

"I don't trust him," Gideon said.

"Nor do I," Quince agreed. "He blamed the incident the other day on our original target, but I'm not sure I believe him."

"Agreed," Robert said. "The style isn't fitting. Although one can never account for the creativity of employees."

Charlie finally spoke up. "It's quite obvious that some of you know a few things the rest of us don't. Is that how this conversation is going to go?"

Quince and Robert eyed each other and the duke finally nodded that it was Robert's call on what to say.

Robert stepped forward again. "My original target was our father. I seek to get him exiled."

Charlie's eyebrows shot up and then he nodded, considering. "I can understand that."

"Oh, Robert, I’m not that mad at him." Sabre said, referring to her fury over their father not allowing Justin to go on Tour. The reason she had retreated to Robert’s house.

He gave his sister an indulgent smile. "I know, poppet. But I am."

She looked confused and shifted her gaze from Robert to Quince. The duke shrugged. As if he knew what went through Robert Bittlesworth's mind. It was interesting, however, that Charlie accepted the news so easily.

"So who is the other man?" Charlie asked.

Quince and Robert looked at each other again. "We don't know."

"He threatens your family, makes an attempt on your life, and you're just going to let this lie?" Charlie pressed.

"What else would you have me do?"

"Find him. Make him pay."

"And any misstep in finding him will alert him that we have not left him alone, therefore putting my family in even more jeopardy."

"I agree with Charlie," Gideon said. "We need to do something."

"It's my family and I say it is too dangerous to pursue."

Charlie stepped forward. "Considering your relationship with our sister, I would say it affects our family as well. What if there is another attempt on your life and we lose her?"

"Robert, I was hoping that Sabre could continue staying with you. Fortunately, when he saw us in the library he suspected that I was attempting to seduce her as a jab at your father."

Robert gave a dry laugh. "He ascribed his own motivations to you. Obviously he has not studied you at all."

Charlie glared at Sabre. "What were you doing in the library with the duke?"

She patted her brother's arm. "It doesn't signify."

Her light-haired brother glowered at Quince, obviously not satisfied with her answer.

Jack finally spoke. "Sabre? What do you think the right thing to do is?"

She pursed her lips and looked thoughtful. "We can't do anything until we've assessed his strength, and that means we have to find out who he is. Without him realizing that is what we're doing."

Quince felt a pain in his heart as he thought of how his sister could be affected. "It's too risky."

"Which is the greater risk? Trying to defeat him or living with an axe hovering over your head?"

Robert added, "With a man like that, he will start using his power over you to extract favors."

"You would know, wouldn't you?" Quince asked acidly. Turning to Sabre he said, "Any risk to my sister is unacceptable."

"Quince, she is at risk so long as this man is free to do what he likes. And he won't know what we're doing, not if we're careful. Let's start with what we know. I think that I saw him. Although I'm sure I would recognize him again, his looks are too pedestrian to be notable.
It would be difficult for me to describe him to someone else in a useful way."

"I didn't recognize his voice," Quince said. "And that means he's not active in the House of Lords."

"Good," Sabre said, nodding. "Any other thoughts?"

Robert spoke up. "Based on the details from his second letter he may be on speaking terms with your mother, which may mean that she would have further information if supplied with his description. We might get a name that way. Even if a false one, it could prove useful."

"Good," Sabre said again. "And we can probably get that information from her without alerting her to why we need it. To ensure she doesn't accidentally tip him to what we are doing. What else?"

"We know..." Quince paused and looked at Robert. "We know he has two unsavory friends, one of whom he is willing to condemn in order to save himself. So there is an additional person to be on the lookout for."

"And we don't know what that person's motivations might be," Robert added. "The group seemed solid for years, but with one turning on another? Anything could happen."

"We also know," Gideon added with a frown, "that the man has bought his way in, or otherwise infiltrated, at least two houses. Between the way Quince's notes were delivered and how he managed to disappear here."

"And knowing that my sister was here."

"Could that have been a good guess on his part?" Sabre mused. "Rather than actual intelligence?"

"What do you mean?" Quince asked.

She shrugged. "It's a classic chess move. When the king is threatened he withdraws into his castle. Anyone with a sufficient knowledge of how your household is run could surmise that you would remand your sister to Gideon for protection."

"But it seemed rather specific knowledge," Robert countered. "Describing her as being upstairs when she could just as easily be at Kellington or somewhere else. Typically someone who is guessing will hedge their bets with a more general description in the hopes of being nearly right rather than completely wrong."

"On the other hand," Quince said, "if this is the dragon, my impression is that he is more of a gambler than most. He might make a bold statement at high risk."

"I'm sorry," Charlie said, "the dragon?"

As Quince and Robert exchanged another look, Sabre said, "Do you know what a Hellfire Club is?"

Charlie nodded. "Yes."

"That's essentially what this group of men was, a Hellfire Club."

Jack raised a brow. "Demon worship?"

"We haven't seen any evidence of that." Robert said, then
sighed. “Yet.”

Quince nodded. "And we say the dragon because the four of them took nicknames from constellations in the spring sky. Leo, Ursa, Draco, and Cygnus.”

"And do we know who any of them are?" Charlie asked.

"Our fathers," Quince answered, indicating himself and the Bittlesworth siblings.

Gideon snorted. "Your fathers were in a Hellfire Club, yet somehow 
I
 got the nickname Lord Lucifer?"

"I don't like the sound of this," Jack said, moving closer to Gideon. "Robert, isn't there anything the government can do?"

"Not without evidence."

"Which, if I'm following correctly," Charlie said, "the dragon is willing to provide against our father?"

"Correct," Robert said.

"And which one is our father?"

"Cygnus. The swan."

Charlie turned to Quince. "And your father was?"

"Leo. The lion."

"Which," Jack said, "leaves Ursa the bear completely unaccounted for, so far."

Charlie shrugged. "Perhaps he passed on, like his grace's father did."

Quince and Robert had another pregnant pause that prompted Jack to say, "What?"

"Draco," Quince said, "is a second generation member."

Charlie frowned. "How does that work?"

"His father inducted him into the group,” Robert said. “For some years they were referred to as Draco Senior and Draco Junior. Until the elder Draco passed on."

Charlie's eyes widened. "Did father....?"

Robert nodded. "He took me to a meeting some years ago. It did not hold the appeal to me that he had expected."

Sabre turned to look at him. "That's why you don't speak to him."

"I have not spoken to him directly since that night, no."

An uncomfortable silence descended on the room.

"Is there anything more we can do this night?" Jack asked.

Quince shook his head. "I think not."

"Jack, can I stay here?" Sabre asked. "I can help you keep an eye on Jessica."

"Of course."

"It might be best," Gideon said, "if we continue to refer to her by her alias."

"Agreed," Quince said. "If he isn't certain she is here then there is no reason to verify his assumptions by having her name commonly enough used for the information to be bought off the servants."

Gideon looked affronted at the insult to his staff but didn't say anything.

"Come on, Charlie," Robert said, clapping his brother on the shoulder. "I'll give you a ride home."

Quince bowed to Jack. "It was a lovely ball, Lady Harrington. My apologies that this drama has shadowed it."

"Don't worry," Sabre said. "Jack loves mysteries ever so much more than balls."

Quince bowed to Sabre as well. "Miss Bittlesworth."

She curtsied. "Your grace."

Quince turned to Gideon to bid him good evening but was cut short by the earl saying, "I'll walk you out."

Once they gained the hallway
, Gideon stopped him with a hand to the shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"Of course I am."

His friend gave him a grim look. "No one knows you better than I do, Quince, and I know that you are not all right. That was simply an invitation to tell me why."