Edmund shook his head. “Absolutely not. No one may touch me who has not been purified in the ritual cleansing process.”
“We took care of that downstairs.”
“Today? I thought we only offered ritual cleansing on Wednesdays and Saturdays.”
“Today is Wednesday, Sire.”
“Is it? Well then, off we go. All except for
him
, of course.” He pointed to Stansbury. “He is to have his head removed at the earliest convenient opportunity. And him.” He pointed to Franklin. “See to it that he is knighted and sent forth to find this mysterious woman who rules my rival kingdom.”
Mr. Groves bowed. “As you wish, Sire. Mr. O’Brien, Mr. Stoner, please assist the sultan to his carriage.”
“I think I would prefer to travel by camel this evening,” Edmund observed as O’Brien and Stoner linked their forearms together to form a makeshift chair. Mr. Groves helped ease him into the human conveyance. “Ouch. Do be careful with the royal leg.” Damn, but that boy Geoffrey carried a long blade. Edmund was extremely grateful he was in no danger of actually having to travel by camel.
“Sire, might I offer you a draught to soothe the pain in your leg?” Mr. Groves removed a small bottle of murky, dark liquid from his pocket.
Edmund took the potion, resigning himself to the inevitable headache that must ensue. They wished to drug him to ease his removal to whatever private madhouse they might intend for him.
“Now,” Mr. Groves nodded as Edmund returned the bottle to his possession, “as for the camels. Your Eminence, since speed is of the utmost importance, may I suggest your fastest horses instead?”
“Excellent idea. The flying ones, I think. It would be a lovely night for spin through the stars.”
“As you wish.” Mr. Groves bowed as Edmund was carried past him.
Although he had no idea where they were going, Edmund felt certain he would enjoy the journey.
* * * * *
The next morning, Edmund awoke to the sensation of sunlight piercing his eyelids. Eager to examine his new surroundings, he shook himself awake, pushed up to a sitting position and took stock of his situation.
It was a small room, greater in height than in breadth, with one sizeable window that obviously faced to the east. Outside he could see the dirty brown of dormant fields with no discernible habitation. He had been taken to the country, presumably to an asylum for those devoid of mind but not of ready cash.
Three months of rest here and he would be ready to return to London a new man.
He wished he could get up to explore the rest of the building and grounds, but he was unfortunately at the mercy of others for any movement outside the bed.
At home, his mother might just now be rising. She would know, of course, that he was no longer in the house, because she would have had to have been the one to make the arrangements to have him taken away. He could not blame her for not wanting to view his ignominious departure. In actuality, he was grateful she had not been present—it would have been much less fun playing the fool in front of his mother.
And much, much more difficult.
The clatter of horse and wheels directed his attention to the window again. He could see that some sort of carriage had crested the hill and headed toward his new residence. As the carriage drew closer, however, it passed from his field of vision, since he was so far away from the window.
Suddenly, he wanted very much to see who was arriving. Was his mother coming to visit? Jeanne and her aunt coming to assess his condition? He looked around in vain for a crutch or some other device he could lean on to make his way over to the window. Clenching his teeth to keep from crying out, Edmund turned so that his good leg was closest to the floor, then lowered himself onto that knee. He dragged himself toward the window, wincing every so often, but not as often as he had feared he would. At the foot of the window he paused for a moment to catch his breath and steel himself for the effort to stand. He swayed, clutching the windowsill but taking no notice of the view outside until the dizziness subsided.
When his vision cleared, he began to wonder if his mind were still scrambled. The young man stepping out of the carriage in front of the home appeared to be none other than the ubiquitous Geoffrey. This actually made some sense, however, for unless the young man was a terrific actor, he truly belonged in a place like this one. No one else emerged from the carriage, and after a while, Edmund realized he had been holding his breath. The young ladies who had accompanied Geoffrey to the opera—one, at least, seemed to be his sister—apparently had not accompanied him here.
The door to his room creaked open.
“This cannot be the room, for the bed is unmade and there are—oh my! I am terribly sorry!” With a wide-eyed look expressing complete and total discomfiture in one momentous flash, Geoffrey’s sister shut the door as quickly as she had opened it.
“We shall have to take him someplace else!” Her voice was muffled but still clearly audible from the other side of the door.
“Nonsense, I am sure there are other rooms that will suit,” another woman’s voice answered.
“You don’t understand.” Then the voices lowered so that he could no longer discern the words. Within moments, their footsteps retreated down the hall, leaving Edmund stunned at how his expectations could be disappointed, gratified and then crushed within the space of a minute.
Chapter Fifteen
Lucia wanted to cry as she headed into the massive drawing room where she had left Geoffrey speaking to the proprietor of Shady View. They had come so far, traveling all night, stopping for directions an untold number of times and arguing at length over just how to forge a letter with convincing physicians’ signatures.
And then when it finally seemed they had found the perfect place to hide Geoffrey, they learned it was actually an impossible place. Because Lord Rutherford—Geoffrey’s “Redcloak”—was here, too. And if Geoffrey saw him again, there was no telling what would happen. “Perhaps the head of this house can give us the name of another,” she said wearily.
Eugenie nodded, understanding the situation without a word.
Geoffrey, however, was of different mind entirely. “I am immensely pleased with this place,” he announced as they descended the stairs. “With the help of Mr. Groves and the rest of the staff, I am certain to catch Redcloak within a very short time.”
Too true,
Lucia wanted say. “Geoffrey, listen.” She pulled him aside and spoke in a low voice. “I do not believe you should stay here. This place, too, is riddled with Redcloak’s spies.”
“Nonsense. Mr. Groves has just assured me that I will have his utmost cooperation in capturing the criminal. He has provided a room to use as headquarters for our search initiative, and—”
“Do you not think that it might be a ruse? That Mr. Groves might be working with
him
?”
“No, certainly not,” Geoffrey sniffed. “I am an excellent judge of character.”
Lucia sighed. “I am sorry, Geoffrey, but we will have to leave. We simply cannot stay here.”
“But I’ve arranged everything!” He stamped his foot. “You cannot make me leave.” He ran over and hid behind the gold draperies hanging in a long window nearby.
“Geoffrey, I can if I must,” Lucia called out in warning, hoping he would not test her on this score.
“But perhaps you do not need to,” Eugenie suggested.
“What?” Lucia wondered if she’d heard her friend correctly.
“Perhaps he can stay here for a while.”
“But if he sees Lord Rutherford—”
Eugenie held up her hand. “You’ve said yourself that Geoffrey’s ‘professions’ never last more than a week or two.”
“Yes, but—”
“Well, Lord Rutherford is injured, is he not? He is not likely to be out of his room much, if at all in the near future. So by the time Geoffrey does see him…”
“He will be onto a new occupation. Yes, I see.” She looked over at Geoffrey as he stood entwined in the draperies. She could indeed make him leave if she chose, but it might prove extremely difficult. Disastrous, actually. She did not have guardianship over him, and if she attempted to gain guardianship, she would risk alerting authorities who might not approve of his unauthorized “transfer.”
He could stay here for a short time. Just until she could arrange to take him back to Hertfordshire.
Only one question nagged at her mind. How would Lord Rutherford feel about the arrangement?
“Eugenie, I do think you are right. But I should speak with Lord Rutherford and ensure that he will not object to confinement in the same home as his attacker.”
“I do not think that he will even notice. He seems so far beyond reason.”
“Some of the time, yes. And yet…” There was an intelligence in his eye, a sense of understanding that she had never discerned in her brother or sister. Of course, it could simply mean that his disorder was quite different from their own. The truth could only be discovered upon greater acquaintance with the man. “I feel I must speak with him.”
Eugenie shrugged. “Very well. Ask Mr. Groves if he can arrange a meeting.”
* * * * *
What do you say to a man who’s been stabbed by your brother?
Lucia paced the floor of the first floor visiting parlor as she awaited the arrival of Lord Rutherford. Located in a corner of the house, the parlor was lit from windows on two sides of the room, creating a cheerful, sunny atmosphere that contrasted sharply with her own gloomy portents of doom.
Eugenie is right. Lord Rutherford will understand. Geoffrey will not see him until he’s given over his detective delusions. No harm will come to anyone.
Lucia found that she had stopped pacing and was now chewing one of her fingernails.
She started to pace again, purposefully clasping her hands together behind her back so as to protect her nails from inadvertent carnage. Then she tripped on a small ripple in the carpet, careening into a chair just as she heard the sound of footsteps at the door.
“I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage.”
“What?” She whirled around at the sound of the musical voice she remembered from the Adrington soirée.
Lord Rutherford hobbled into the room on a crutch. Each step was hesitant, as if he were unused to using the crutch and forgot that it had to be moved. He bowed his head for a moment. “Forgive me for not showing you proper courtesy.”
“Do not think of it.” The sight of obvious need brushed all thoughts of propriety from her mind. She rushed over to assist him into a chair, taking his elbow as if he had been one of her dearest friends rather than a stranger. Or perhaps it was
because
he was strange that she felt no shame in her forward action. A proximity that would have frightened her with any other man felt perfectly natural with him.
“Thank you.” His smile was a little shyer this time than she remembered. Was he embarrassed at needing assistance? Or was he embarrassed by her touch? He cleared his throat. “I hope you will forgive me for speaking to you without having been properly introduced.”
She looked to the door to await the arrival of Shady View’s proprietor, but no one else entered the room. When it became obvious that they would remain without a chaperone, she turned back to him. “I thought Mr. Groves would accompany you, introduce us and so forth.”
Lord Rutherford shook back an unruly shock of hair. “He seemed to be under the impression that we were already closely acquainted. And I suppose he thought the other young lady—your companion—would accompany you.”
“No. I came alone.” Lucia felt herself flush—obviously she had come on her own. And now, once again, she found herself in the improper position of being in a room alone with Lord Rutherford. He might begin to think that she was arranging these meetings on purpose. “That is, I thought it best to speak with you in private.” Well, no, that would not have been appropriate at all. Her cheeks grew even hotter. “I mean, simply in front of Mr. Groves.”
Lord Rutherford nodded toward the doorway. “I suppose, if we leave the door open, no one will think it too improper?”
“And not many of my acquaintance will be likely to see me
here
.” With a sigh of relief, Lucia smiled as she seated herself on the settee, then clamped her fingers to her lips as she realized her mistake. Lord Rutherford appeared so absolutely normal that for the moment she had forgotten that he, as well as her brother, was an unfortunate inmate of the institution. “I am sorry. I meant no…” She let her words trail off as she looked down, uncertain what to say to amend her insult.
“Are you truly sorry?” His voice held a note of challenge that was completely unexpected.
“Why, yes.” She looked up again.
“Then I want you to prove it.” He sat forward slightly, a faint gleam twinkling in his eyes. His smile was no longer shy. In fact, it seemed so much the opposite that she immediately felt she should be on her guard.
Her mouth seemed very dry all of a sudden. She licked her lips. “I beg your pardon?”
“Kiss me.” His expression grew reckless, and he would have come across as arrogant if he did not bear so much resemblance to a hopeful puppy.