Wicked Intentions (Maiden Lane #1)(53)

Caire stood back-to-back with the apparition, both figures fighting with grim precision. Caire blocked a blow with the stick in his left hand and followed through with a jab from the sword in his right. The remaining attackers circled the two men like a pack of rabid dogs. But Caire and the harlequin moved together as if they’d fought like this all their lives. No matter how the attackers tried to breach their defenses, they could find no hole. The apparition slashed a man across the chest even as Caire stabbed one in the thigh. One of the attackers gave a shout, and suddenly they fled, disappearing into the St. Giles night. Even the man who’d caught her from behind had recovered enough to run away.

In the silence, Temperance could hear her own breath rasping in her throat. The pistol in her hands shook violently.

The apparition turned gracefully, his boots whispering against the cobblestones. He swept the hat from his head as he bowed low. A scarlet feather fluttered in his hat as he replaced it on his head.

Then he was gone as well.

Temperance stared at Caire. “Are you badly hurt? Who was that?”

“I have no idea.” He shook his head. His silver hair had come down from its customary tie during the fight, and it fanned against his black cloak. “But it would appear that the Ghost of St. Giles is no rumor.”

Chapter Ten

Meg shook her head. “That, Your Majesty, is not love.”

“What?” The king looked ominous. “If not love, then what is it?”

“Obedience,” Meg said. “Your guards tell you what you wish to hear out of obedience, Your Majesty.”

Well! You could’ve heard the drop of a pin within the throne room. The little blue bird chirped, and the king let out a sigh.

“Return her to the dungeons,” he ordered the guards. He added to Meg, “And when next you are in my presence, see to it you are properly washed.”

Meg curtsied. “To wash, I’ll need water, soap, and cloth, if it please Your Majesty.”

The king waved a hand. “See that it is done.”

And the guards led her away….

—from King Lockedheart

“I knew the Ghost of St. Giles was real!” Nell exclaimed later that evening.

Temperance turned to stare at the maidservant, aware that Winter, across the kitchen table from her, had turned at the same time.

Nell flushed at their combined stares. “Well, I did! Did he have bloodred eyes?”

Temperance smiled wearily at Nell’s excitement. Caire had escorted her home after the attack, and she’d been set upon by Winter and Nell shortly thereafter. She’d spent the last quarter of an hour answering Winter’s disapproving questions, interrupted now and then by Nell’s exclamations.

“I couldn’t see his eyes well,” she answered truthfully. “He wore a black half-mask with a long, curving nose.”

Winter snorted.

She glanced at him. “And he was wearing red and black motley, like a harlequin.”

Her brother raised his eyebrows at that, looking vaguely interested. “A theatrical costume? He sounds like a madman.”

“A mad actor.” Nell shivered with delight.

“He fought very well for a madman,” Temperance said doubtfully.

“Perhaps he’s merely a footpad with a flair for the dramatic,” Winter said drily.

“Or he really is a ghost, come back to avenge his death in St. Giles,” Nell said.

Temperance shook her head. “He was no ghost. It was a flesh-and-blood man I saw tonight, tall and lean.” She smiled whimsically. “Actually, his figure was rather like your own, brother.”

Nell stifled a giggle.

Winter merely sighed.

“Well, whoever he is,” Temperance said hastily, “I owe my life to him.”

“Which is why it is only prudent that you not see Lord Caire again,” Winter replied.

Temperance winced, knowing she’d just supplied ammunition for this argument. If only she weren’t so terribly tired! She rubbed at her temple. “Winter, please, can we save this discussion for the morrow?”

He looked at her a moment, his sad, brown eyes grave; then he nodded and stood. “I’ll spare you the debate tonight, sister, but a night’s sleep won’t change my mind. Your association with this man has brought you into danger, made you neglect your duties to the home and the children, and, I fear, imperils your good sense and virtue. I don’t want you seeing Lord Caire again.”

He nodded politely and left the kitchen.

Temperance let her head sink into her hands.

Nell cleared her throat after a moment of silence. “A cup of tea always sets me right, especially afore bed.”

Temperance had to blink back the tears that had welled in her eyes. “Thank you.”

She’d never exchanged heated words with Winter. Asa and Concord could be quite maddening in their stubborn inability to see other people’s viewpoints, but Winter had never raised his voice to her. He was a thoughtful man, not easily roused to anger, and the realization that she’d done just that tonight was extremely upsetting.

Nell placed a pot of tea on the table along with two cups, and sat opposite her. She poured the steaming tea into one of the cups. “Mr. Makepeace didn’t mean to be so… so… ah…” Nell trailed away, apparently unable to think of a word without disparaging her employer.