Duke of Midnight (Maiden Lane #6)(49)

“Ah, yes.” Scarborough frowned down at the gammon steak on the plate before him. “Wakefield did take off yesterday like a startled hare. I’ve never seen the like. I do hope,” he said jovially, glancing at Artemis, “that he didn’t take your teasing about the Ghost of St. Giles badly, Miss Greaves.”

“I do not think the duke is so easily frightened,” Artemis replied.

Scarborough raised his eyebrows and spread wide his hands. “And yet Wakefield has fled his own country home.”

Artemis’s heartbeat picked up. The last thing she wanted was suspicion being cast Maximus’s way now.

“But the duke said he had urgent business in London,” Penelope said, her brows drawn together in a puzzled frown. “I don’t see how that can have anything to do with something Artemis said.”

“No doubt you’re right,” Scarborough said at once. “Yet his abrupt departure has left his younger sister to travel alone to London.”

“But surely Miss Picklewood will be accompanying her?” Artemis pointed out.

“Not as I understand it,” Scarborough said to her. “Apparently Miss Picklewood received news this morning of a friend in Bath who has been struck by a sudden illness. She’s already left to go to her side.”

“Then Lady Phoebe will simply have to make do with her lady’s maid on the trip to London,” Penelope said dismissively.

“A servant is hardly the same as a companion, especially for a lady in Lady Phoebe’s condition,” Scarborough mused. “As I said, it’s a pity that Wakefield found his business more urgent than his blind sister.”

Artemis winced at the blunt words. Yet, the duke’s insistence on the subject might be used to her advantage. Penelope usually only gave her a half day once a week to do as she pleased. Even if Apollo were gravely injured, Artemis very much doubted that Penelope would let her go to the Duke of Wakefield’s London home for more than a couple of hours. But if she thought it was her own idea…

Artemis cleared her throat. “I know that Wakefield is very fond of Lady Phoebe.”

“Of course, of course,” the duke rumbled.

“In fact, I suppose he would be very grateful if someone were to volunteer to travel with his sister.”

Penelope wasn’t a complete widgeon. She immediately understood Artemis’s hint—understood and didn’t much like it. “Oh, I couldn’t. Why, with you and my maids and all my luggage, we barely fit in the carriage on the way here. It’s simply impossible.”

“That is too bad,” Artemis murmured. “Of course, Phoebe could take her own carriage and only you could travel with her.”

Penelope looked horrified.

“… Or I could go.”

“You?” Penelope squinted, but it was a calculating squint. “But you’re my lady’s companion.”

“No, you’re right,” Artemis hastily demurred. “Such an extravagant gesture of kindness would be too much.”

Penelope frowned. “You really believe Wakefield would think me extravagantly kind?”

“Oh, yes,” Artemis said, wide-eyed with sincerity. “Because you will be. And if you lend me for the time that Miss Picklewood is away, why, Wakefield will hardly be able to thank you enough.”

“Oh, my,” Penelope breathed. “What a very good idea.”

“You are beneficence itself, my lady,” Scarborough announced as he bent over Penelope’s hand, and winked at Artemis.

Chapter Ten

At the peasant’s words, one of Herla’s men leaped from his horse, but when his feet touched the ground, he crumbled into a pile of dust. King Herla stared and remembered the Dwarf King’s warning: none of them could dismount before the little white dog or they, too, would turn to dust. He gave a terrible cry at the realization, and as he did so, both he and his men faded into ghostly forms. Then he spurred his horse and did the only thing left to him: he hunted.

Thus King Herla and his retinue were doomed to ride the moonlit sky, never quite of this world or the next.…

—from The Legend of the Herla King

“Will he awake?” Maximus stared down at the madman later that morning.

Viscount Kilbourne was hidden away in the cellar under Wakefield House, having been smuggled in along the secret tunnel. Maximus and Craven had set up a cot down here, close to a brazier of glowing coals to keep him warm.

Craven frowned at his motionless patient. “ ’Tis uncertain, Your Grace. Perhaps if we were able to take him to a more salubrious place above ground…”

Maximus shook his head impatiently. “You know we cannot risk Kilbourne being found.”

Craven nodded. “ ’Tis said on the streets that Bedlam’s governors have already sent for soldiers to hunt down the Ghost. Apparently they are quite embarrassed at the escape of one of their inmates.”

“They ought to be embarrassed by the entire place,” Maximus muttered.

“Indeed, Your Grace,” Craven replied. “But I still fear for our patient. The noxious fumes from the brazier, not to mention the damp of the cellar—”

“Aren’t the best conditions for an invalid,” Maximus cut in, “but discovery and a return to Bedlam would be much worse. He wouldn’t survive another beating.”