Authors: Celeste Bradley
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #Regency
"Because I am a liar."
Julia nodded. "Because you are believed to be a liar, yes, and because Wyndham could not read you as he can everyone else."
Alicia was weary of being left in the dark. "Speak to me. There might be something that I don't know that I know, or that I think you already know, but you don't, or—"
"We are called the Royal Four. We run England, more or less, although we try to keep ourselves to the needs of security and wartime."
"
You
run England. Not the Prime Minister? Not the Prince Regent?"
Julia lifted her chin. "Lord Liverpool answers to us, not the reverse. And George—as fond as I am of him—is not capable of truly running the country. Nor does he care to."
"So you and Wyndham and Greenleigh and Reardon… you are the Four." Alicia shook her head in disbelief. "I've been calling you the Four Horsemen—how close I came!"
"There is a man, a French spy who has been working against us for years, and who has been searching for what he knows as the 'Quatre Royale.' " Julia seemed serene, but she betrayed her tension by winding and unwinding her fingers. "He is doubtless the 'scarred man' you heard about in the courtyard of that public house—I did that myself, thank you—he is brilliant and ruthless and he knows far too much about us all from his days among us, pretending to be a young valet. He is not young, however. He is… old enough to be my father."
Lady Reardon patted Julia consolingly on the arm. Alicia half-expected Julia to pull away, as Wyndham would have done, but the pale beauty merely covered her friend's hand with her own and kept it there. "Now that we know that the attacks on you were real—" Julia waved Alicia's reputation away with one indifferent hand, as she very well could in truth, come to think of it. Lady Dryden was the talk of the town and everyone kowtowed to the exquisite beauty. If Julia supported her, Alicia could help her sisters without needing a penny—
After she found Wyndham.
"So, this enemy is here. He has been in this house, in our bedchamber. He can pass for a servant, in dim light at least—" She turned to Julia. "How badly did you slash your father? Would he be ill from those wounds?"
Julia drew back. "My, you are quick. Yes, he could very well be ill of infection."
Lady Greenleigh leaned forward. "He was ill even before that, remember? Dane almost drowned him." She went paler than pale. "The Chimera will hold that against him."
Lady Reardon shook her head slowly. "I don't think there's any shortage of hatred toward any of us."
Julia held up one hand, thinking aloud. "You heard others refuse his plan, you say? And he has done all the legwork on this himself—no lackeys in sight, correct?" She smiled grimly. "He has no money to hire help, nor is he in a position to convince even the foolhardy. He is alone and ill and possibly slipping into madness, if the tone of that letter is anything to go by."
Alicia frowned doubtfully. "Does that make him less dangerous? I would imagine it would make him more so."
Julia shook her head. "Not less dangerous, perhaps, but it may make him more predictable. With no help, he could not transport four large men any real distance. He could not overwhelm them except by subterfuge… poison, perhaps, although how he could trick them into taking it—" She stopped when she looked up to see some tearing eyes and quivering lips. "Oh, sorry. I'm trying to think like him, you see."
"Well, if anyone could, it would be you," Alicia said. "Let me tell you all I know." She counted on her fingers. "One, he is fevered. I could feel the heat of him behind me in the garden. I think he is perhaps very ill. Two, he is enjoying causing us all pain. He wants to
see
us hurting, I can feel it in him."
"So he would remain close, close enough to watch and relish." Willa frowned. "We have discreetly sent our servants to search all over the house and grounds. We have found nothing out of the ordinary. The men went for a ride. They did not return at their customary time. When we inquired, we learned that their horses were quite properly returned and stabled, although no one remembered seeing anyone do it."
"He does seem to slip in and out of the house very easily, for someone so disfigured," Alicia said, frowning.
Julia shrugged helplessly. "It is a very large house and there are so many unknown servants here. I'm sure he's been seen, but no one would know that he is dangerous unless we put out an alert—which would invite far too many questions."
The thought of half-dressed, drunken Society ladies and lords fleeing the manor almost made Alicia smile, until she remembered why they were here. "So he and the men are close. He is alone and ill. We have people looking everywhere. What more can we do?"
"We can wait," Julia said grimly. "Until he makes the next move."
That was logical, Alicia supposed. Sensible and well-thought out.
She didn't like it one little bit.
The door to the fireworks castle opened, casting a bright flare of light into four pairs of dark-accustomed eyes. Stanton blinked back the smarting ache and strained to peer through the blur.
The figure in the doorway was slight, merely a sliver of darkness against the glare.
Alicia?
No, Alicia was no longer here with him.
"Bastard," Dane growled.
Stanton warily relaxed against his bonds, careful to relate nothing of the hope which had just died within him.
The Chimera had arrived.
He strutted into the room, a small man whose face was horribly torn, whose eyes gleamed with fevered madness, who was worn so thin it did not seem possible he was still alive.
He walked to center of the floor and gazed at all of them in turn. "Look at you four, bound and helpless, overcome so easily by one man." He cackled, a mad sound that lifted the hairs on the back of Stanton's neck. "The mighty Royal Four—the legends themselves, laid low by a bit of opium and black tar. Don't they teach that particular trick in that spy school of yours?"
Stanton lifted his chin. "What spy school would that be? And who is this Royal Four you speak of?"
The Chimera smiled. Something unpleasant oozed from his scars when he did. God, the man was entirely mad to let that infection continue untended.
"You could play your little word games with Napoleon," the man said, "If I planned to let you live that long. I wish I could take you back with me, for that upstart dared to tell me I was suffering from an excess of imagination—he dismissed me because of you lot! Me!"
"Or perhaps he realized you've gone stark, staring mad," Reardon said conversationally. "I've heard that about you myself."
The Chimera smiled again, looking almost cheerful. "I've considered that. But I am not mad, you see. I am finally free. I do not work for that plebian emperor any longer. I am, shall we say, more of a bounty seeker now."
Stanton snorted. "There has been a bounty on the Prince Regent since he was twelve. He is too well protected."
The Chimera widened his eyes. "Fat Prinny? Is that who you think I'm after? I'm disappointed in you, Wyndham. I'd heard you were much more intelligent than that. Of course, it explains how I was able to catch you in this little wasp trap of mine."
He squatted before Stanton and patted his boot fondly. Stanton held very still, waiting for the moment, but the Chimera stayed just out of kicking range.
"You know," the Chimera mused aloud, "When I sent her to you, I didn't intend for you to make the poor girl your whore, Wyndham. She was only supposed to take the story to your attention, then go home to her safe, quiet slow starvation with the shreds of her reputation intact.
You
made a public spectacle of her, dragging her to this den of filth, forcing her into your bed, parading her before the world in those disgusting gowns that you purchased for her… have you no shame at all, my lord?"
It was all sickeningly true, and eventually, if he survived, Stanton fully intended to feel very bad about his actions. At the moment, only one item penetrated his focus. "When you sent her to me?"
The Chimera nodded. "I was recruiting behind a most revolting public house when I saw her hiding next to the privy, listening. I followed her home to kill her—because I felt in a killing mood, you see—"
Stanton didn't let his dismay show. How close Alicia had come to death that night!
"Then I thought better of it, and made use of her. Much the same as you did, in the end. Isn't it interesting that we both used her, Wyndham, but that you hurt her the most?" He lovingly traced his facial scars with the tips of his fingers. "Who's the monster now, do you think?"
More scalding truth. Later, Stanton planned on feeling very, very bad for what he had done to Alicia.
Later.
"And you seduced her. Did she fall in love with you while you put her in my path again and again, like a pretty little worm on your hook?" He shook his head in disbelief. "You English are so sentimental, and your women are ridiculously emotional." He pressed his hands over his heart. "Oh, my dearest," he said in high, quavering voice—a flawless imitation of Millie, Alicia's companion—"do you really think my lady ought to take her story to Lord Wyndham himself? He's such dark, brooding fellow!"
The truth struck Stanton hard, and he saw Reardon flinch as well. The distinctive voice Alicia had heard behind the pub—an intentional imitation of one of Prinny's closest friends. They had forgotten something very, very important when they had dismissed the Chimera's ability to take a disguise—the man was a perfect mimic. Their stupidity had kept this game going on far longer than it should have—and caused Alicia far too much pain in the process.
Later.
Now, they needed to get their hands—preferably their fists—on this suppurating madman.
"I've sent a letter to my beloved daughter, Julia, telling her to stay right where she is and to remain with the party at all times, her and her three little friends. I want them sitting in the front row, cheering on the flames that will burn you to death. Won't that sit well with them later, when they sift your charred bones from the ashes?"
The Chimera grinned merrily and strolled from the shed. Just at the door, he turned. "I was going to cut your throats while you slept and then I decided to save it for when you woke. I didn't realize that my little smoke-bomb would steal your voices so thoroughly that a dog wouldn't hear you from outside this door. I rather like the idea of you burning to death wide awake and screaming without a sound." He tilted his head, his scars giving his face the appearance of a death mask in the shadow. "And then I shall make off with your precious explosives and armament inventor, the esteemed Mr. Forsythe. Napoleon has wanted him for a long time and will reward me very handsomely, but your mad genius never leaves his damned tower… until now."
He left with a cheerful wave. They heard a clang and a click as the Chimera locked them in.
Dane swore raspily and long. Marcus shook his head. "We ought to have seen that coming, I suppose, although I didn't even know there was a bounty on Forsythe."
Stanton nodded, regret and fury turning him colder than ever. "There has been one for longer than I've been the Falcon… but Forsythe keeps to the Tower of London. There seemed to be no need for alarm."
"Until now," Reardon said. "Do you think Forsythe could be forced to work for Napoleon?"
Stanton shrugged. "I think Forsythe would die first—unless Napoleon gave him some irresistible puzzle to solve. Forsythe isn't the most political of men."
Then something else that the Chimera said came back to Stanton.
Julia "and her three little friends."
Alicia had come back to him—just in time to watch him die.
Alicia took the note from Julia and gazed at it in horror. "We're simply supposed to sit there, like dolls on display, while he does something horrible to our men?"
"At the Prince's table, in full view of everyone at all times. All four of us—which means that he is still watching, if he knows you are back with us."
"That's why he wants us out there during the fireworks display. He wants to watch something—but what?"
"Well, I won't do it. I love Wyndham—" Lady Reardon made a small happy sound. Alicia glanced askance at her. "Yes, we can go into more detail later. As I was saying, I love Wyndham, but I don't work for your Four Horsemen. I will take no part in some hideous mockery of a party while Wyndham is captured—"
Julia took her hand, hard. "Alicia, look at me. If we do not obey to the letter, he will kill them all. I
know
him."
Alicia looked back at Julia, her emotions raw upon her face. "Julia, he's going to kill them anyway."
Julia looked away. "I know." Then she looked back. "But as long as he thinks we're being good little dolls, we might find something, some way—"
A footman tapped on the door, then opened it. "My ladies, there is a Lady Alberta Lawrence here to see you."
Alicia looked up in surprise to see Alberta rush into the. room. Just as Alicia gained her feet, Alberta flung herself tearfully into Alicia's arms, nearly knocking the two of them back to the sofa.
"Alberta! What is wrong? Is the family all right? Oh, Alberta, what are you doing
here
?"
Across from them, Willa frowned. "Is this one of your sisters, Alicia? She ought not to be in Cross's house."
Alicia gazed back worriedly over the sobbing Alberta's shoulder. "I don't know what would make her come here. It must be something awful."
Black fears of the vicious man who had accosted her in Cross's garden swept into her mind. Someone like that was capable of anything—someone like that must know that her family lived close by. She pushed Alberta back gently but firmly. "Alberta, you must take a breath and tell me what has happened." She gave her sister a little shake for emphasis. "
Now
."
Alberta gulped a few more breaths and sniffed mightily. Four dainty handkerchiefs were instantly offered. Taking one, Alberta's eyes widened as she apparently took in her sister's companions for the first time. "Oh! I'm so sorry to have interrupted. It was terribly rude of me—"