Authors: Emma Newman
“Who’s Benson?” she asked as she retrieved her earring and put it back where it should be.
He didn’t answer. He was staring at the floor, head in his hand, elbows on his knees. She sat next to him, waiting for him to come up with a suggestion, but he said nothing for what felt like hours.
“I don’t feel right. We shouldn’t be feeling anything like this so soon, there’s enough air in here to keep us alive for at least twenty-four hours, if not longer. The place is warded against all the–” He hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Fuckshitbollocksandwank. It’s carbon dioxide. The place isn’t warded against a natural by-product of breathing and whoever did this knows that. It must be being pumped in somewhere.” He stood and looked at the ceiling. “All right,” he finally said. “I don’t have anything here that can help. It’s all locked away because I’m a twat and I didn’t want you to see any of my sorcerous stuff.”
“Can’t you just do some sorcery to make some fresh air?”
He snorted. “It’s not like that.”
“Oh!” She searched for her reticule in the folds of black satin. “I have a key that–”
“Fae charms won’t work in here. It’s warded to fuck against all their shit.”
“Oh, Rupert, must you swear so much in an emergency?”
He half-smiled. “There’s no better time. I’ve been royally shafted here, but there’s a chance we can get out. I have some emergency mechanisms in place, but we’ll have to wait.”
“What’s the use of emergency mechanisms if they don’t work in an emergency? What in the Worlds are you waiting for?”
“To die.”
He appeared to be serious. “I beg your pardon?”
“It’ll only kick in if I get into real difficulties. If I lose consciousness and my breathing is too shallow it’ll start then.”
“What if it doesn’t?”
“Then this is the last time we’ll be drinking wine of an evening.”
“What kind of Sorcerer suffocates in his own house?” Her voice was getting higher but she didn’t care. “I thought you were supposed to be all-powerful.”
“I am, in the right circumstances. I don’t know how much longer we’ve got before the air quality gets too bad so we need to do a couple of things now, and then wait, all right?”
He shuffled back until he reached the wall. “Come over here,” he said as he undid his belt.
She stayed still. “Chancellor, I have no idea what you have in mind but there is nothing I want to participate in whilst you are not wearing your trousers.”
“Come over here, Maggie, for fuck’s sake. I’m just taking my belt off.”
Her ears were buzzing and she just wanted to lie down and go to sleep but he kept calling her and there seemed very little else to do. “If I die in here I’ll never forgive you.”
“You’re not going to die like this,” he said as he straightened his legs out. “But I want to make sure that you’re saved too, not just me.” He patted his lap. “Come and sit here.”
“Right, that’s it.” She started to get up but he caught hold of her arm.
“Maggie, I’m not making a totally shit pass at you. We’re probably going to die. I’m feeling about as randy as a mathematics professor. Now do as I ask, please.”
She wondered what Bartholomew would make of it all. How in the Worlds had she got herself into such an absurd situation? “If I think for a moment you’re planning to take advantage of me I’ll go and die in one of the more comfortable chairs upstairs. Alone.”
He held his hands up as she sat on his lap. She didn’t know where to look and shook with embarrassment. She remembered a parlour game they’d played the season before in which they had to sit in laps and imitate animals but they were all tipsy and besides, it was only a game. This, however… what was this?
“I’ll be taken out of here if the mechanism works,” Rupert said. His breath smelt of Cabernet Sauvignon. “I don’t want you to be left behind. That’s all.” He gathered up the front of his top as if about to take it off. Margritte considered slapping him but then he stretched the opening and brought it down over her head so they were both effectively wearing it.
“What do you think you’re doing?” It was definitely a shriek.
“Move your arms up a bit,” he said, pulling the belt around his back. “I’m going to see if this’ll fit round both of us.”
He manoeuvred her waist until she was pressed right against him and managed to pull it in enough to reach the first hole. He wrapped his arms around her and let out a long sigh. “I’m really sorry about this. For what it’s worth, I just want to promise I didn’t plan this in any way. I didn’t even think you’d stay for a drink.”
“If this thing does work, I want you to promise me you’ll never tell a soul about this.”
“I promise. And you can relax. Lean your head back if you need to.”
“I do not.”
She sat with her back as straight as a poker, trying to keep as much of her body away from his even though it was proving impossible. His breath tickled the back of her neck and she felt hot and sleepy and slightly sick. It was like her corset had been laced too tightly and, no matter how deeply she tried to breathe in, it never felt enough.
“If I’m going to die, though,” he said after a while, “having a beautiful woman sitting on my lap whilst I suffocate is a great way to go.”
“I think you’re insane,” she mumbled back. She felt his chest rising up and down, up and down and then she realised she was leaning against him, her head on his shoulder. “Rupert,” she whispered after a while. “Are you frightened?”
He didn’t reply and she tried to twist around to look at him properly but didn’t have the room. Her chest was hurting and her lips were tingling and she had the sudden thought that if their bodies were found like this it would be the scandal of the decade.
A loud bang against the partition wall made her yelp. There was another and cracks appeared in the plaster. The third made glasses smash on the floor above and the cracks widen. She watched paint flakes fall as her vision was peppered with blue lights. Something broke through as her sight tunnelled, something made of metal as tall as a man moving towards them at great speed before she slipped away with Bartholomew’s name on her lips.
12
Carter filled most of the seat opposite her in the carriage and Cathy had taken to staring out at the mists to feel less crammed in. He rode in silence and seemed quite content once he’d checked the carriage over before they’d left the house.
The kiss Will had left on her cheek was still on her mind. He’d come out to the lobby when he saw the carriage pull up and saw her dressed for visiting. “Where are you going?”
“To see Charlotte Persificola-Viola,” she said, noting the way Carter stood to attention whenever Will was there. “Freddy’s sister-in-law.”
“Oh. Did she invite you?”
“…No. I just wanted to meet her. It’s part of what I should be doing, isn’t it? Getting to know the women of the Court.”
He smiled and embraced her. Carter looked away. “That’s exactly right. Why are you starting with her?”
Her heart had smacked the inside of her ribs as she wondered what to tell him. She couldn’t risk telling him about the files Max had delivered to her, but staying as close to the truth as possible was the best policy when dealing with the Fae and probably husbands too. “She employed the woman who was my Governess to teach her children. I thought it would be a good thing to talk about… you know… something in common.”
He kissed her forehead. “I knew you’d be a fine Duchess. You’re too clever not to be. Just make sure you don’t overdo it, and rest if you need to.”
She’d wanted to comment that finding something in common with Charlotte hardly required a university-level education but kept it behind her teeth. He was just trying to encourage her and bolster her fragile confidence. She smiled back at him. “I’m trying. In every sense of the word.”
He’d asked her to tell him all about it at dinner and she fiddled with the buttons at the wrist of her gloves as she wondered what would come after they’d eaten. The previous evening he’d elected to stay at the Tower for private audiences after the Court was done and she was asleep by the time he’d got home. If he was home for dinner, there was no chance of such an easy way to avoid him.
Then she remembered Lucy’s excitement, her exuberant speculation about which one of them would fall pregnant first and how wonderful it would be to have children close in age living in the same city. She and Tom had been married for months and trying for a child just as long. She was horribly open about it with her. The only good thing about enduring the conversation was hearing that it took some couples a while to conceive. She still didn’t want to take the risk though.
Cathy sighed at the mists. Committing to staying with Will made it almost impossible to avoid having children, especially with the additional pressure they were both under. She’d considered trying to find a way to get contraceptives from Mundanus. Even though she’d been cursed she’d still read all the literature provided by the universities she’d attended, so she knew exactly what she needed and how to get it. But there were two major obstacles. The first was getting to a family planning clinic without any of the staff seeing it and reporting to Bennet. Another visit from Max was risky enough. The second was the fear that if Lord Iris summoned her back into Exilium he would be able to detect what she was doing and she couldn’t bear to think about the consequences.
“Is something wrong, your Grace?” Carter asked. “Is the carriage making you feel unwell?”
“I’m fine.” She smiled. “Carter, did you ever know anyone who changed their job?”
“Well… house servants progress through the ranks, if that’s what you mean, your Grace?”
“No, I meant someone who changed specialism.”
He shook his head. “I’ve never heard of anything like that, your Grace.”
Charlotte’s was the first name that had leaped out from Miss Rainer’s Agency file. She had employed Rainer as a lady’s maid, then four years later Miss Rainer became her governess. The two roles were completely different in terms of status and had different implications for the member of staff. As a lady’s maid, Rainer would have lived her whole life in the Nether, never being expected to fetch and carry in and out of Mundanus. But as a governess she would only sleep in the Nether while her working hours would be spent in the nursery wing in Mundanus. If Carter was anything to go by, Miss Rainer wouldn’t have initiated the change and for her mistress to insist the Agency allow her to change positions – and thereby shorten her life significantly – seemed rather odd.
“Are all Agency staff given a specialism when young?” she asked Carter.
“Yes, your Grace, apart from those brought in later of course.”
She nodded. “Like the Rosas.” She wondered where they’d ended up.
“And the people who grew up in Mundanus.”
Cathy sat forwards, all attention on him now. “What do you mean?”
“There are some staff who join the Agency after being born as mundanes. There’s one in your household, your Grace. Coll Jones was a mundane and entered the Agency just under two years ago. I hope you don’t mind me knowing, it’s just that I reviewed all of the staff when I took on my position.”
Had he chosen to live as a servant? Why in the Worlds would he want to do that? “But how do they end up at the Agency? Surely that’s a breach of the Treaty?”
“I’m certain the Agency wouldn’t do such a thing.” Carter seemed genuinely appalled at the implication.
“Of course not,” she said lightly. He wasn’t the person to speculate with.
The carriage was slowing down and Cathy looked out of the window to see a large Georgian house, one built of Portland Stone rather than the Bath stone she was used to. It had neat ornamental hedges at the edge of the drive, a subtle way to demonstrate wealth, and a stylised violet set into a stained-glass panel above the front door.
As the step was lowered she reviewed what she knew of Charlotte and her husband Bertrand. He was the younger brother of Freddy Viola and, from what she saw of him at the Court, seemed to be the exact opposite. She couldn’t remember seeing him with his wife, probably because he’d been managing Freddy’s attempts to sour the room against Will the whole evening.
Dame Iris had told her that Charlotte was one of the most beautiful in the Court but when beauty was the standard Cathy didn’t really think it was anything of note. She wanted to know if she held the same ideals as Miss Rainer and, if she did, whether she would be a good ally. All she’d learned from the Agency file was that she married Bertrand almost one hundred years ago and aside from a problem with her first lady’s maid – one that Miss Rainer had been brought in to replace – there was a standard turnover of staff. There was nothing mentioned about her maiden name or family, which surprised Cathy, but other than that everything seemed normal. They were sidelined politically, thanks to Freddy’s constant bad behaviour, and lived quietly enough not to merit more than a passing mention in the Dame’s Londinium Who’s Who. The only reason Dame Iris had mentioned them at all was because of their wealth, something Cathy had already learned from Margritte. Cathy wondered where she was and how she was coping with the grief. The guilt she carried with Will sat like stones in her stomach.
Carter helped her down the steps and she smoothed out the creases from her skirts. The dark blue gown was wider in the skirt than most of her clothes and had a large collar with wide lapels. Her maid had chosen it to cover the fact that her corset wasn’t as tightly laced as normal, on the insistence of the nurse. It was the only time the nurse had said something she’d been glad to hear.
The footman pulled the chain for the doorbell and Cathy took her time to go to the door. She’d sent a message ahead that she intended to visit. It was strange to think that Charlotte might be worrying in the same way she dreaded every time Dame Iris came to the house. Cathy didn’t like the thought of people being similarly terrified of her. She wasn’t going to be like that.
A butler answered the door and she was invited in. Carter went first, eliciting a sniff from the butler. She followed, amused by Carter’s diligence. No family would be stupid enough to attack the Duchess of Londinium at their own house when both households were aware of her visit. It would no doubt get back to Bennet, but it was one of her duties as Duchess to visit other wives. She just had to make sure that none of the servants overheard their conversation.