Behind the Mask (House of Lords) (46 page)

She nodded feebly, and he swept her up again, carrying her towards the steps.

“Not through the ballroom!” she cried. He turned and went around the back of the house, up the servants’ stairs and along the corridor to her room. Lily was waiting there, and she leaped up when they burst through the door.

“Hot water, Lily,” Eleanor said, “and some linen.”

Leo set her down in a chair and held out her arm, which was still bleeding. He reached down and tore a strip from the bottom of her ruined gown, pressing the fabric to the wound. “Tie it around the arm,” she said, “above the wound.”

When he cinched the fabric she whimpered in pain. The door burst open and Colin rushed in, coming over to kneel beside her. “What the devil happened?” he demanded.

“There was a man, in the garden,” she said. “The last one, I presume. He...he’s dead, isn’t he?” she asked, looking at Leo.

“Yes, sweetheart, he is,” her brother confirmed. He looked over at Colin. “We had better get the body off the lawn, before anyone sees it.”

Colin nodded. “Crawley is taking care of it. I saw you carrying Eleanor around the side of the house. What happened?”

“I...I killed him,” Eleanor said as Lily came in with a basin and a pile of cloths. Colin leaned over and looked at her arm.

“It needs stitching,” he said. “Bring me some thread, and a large needle.” Lily blanched, but she nodded and went out. Colin took Eleanor’s other hand in his. “You will have to be brave now, Eleanor. You have been already, of course. God, when I think of what he could have done to you...” He broke off, pressing his lips to her palm. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right,” she said. Her vision was beginning to blur. Perhaps she was in shock, Eleanor thought absently.

Leo appeared at her side again, a glass of brandy in his hand. “Perhaps she should drink this,” he offered.

“No,” Colin said. “I’ve done this before, Leo. Brandy dulls the pain, but it makes the blood flow more freely, too.” The door opened again and Lily came in once more, a small silver tray in her hands. Her face was very white.

“Don’t worry, Lily,” Eleanor said, though she seemed to be having trouble speaking clearly. “I feel dizzy,” she muttered.

“It’s the shock,” Colin said, leaning over to look into her eyes. “This is going to be very painful, Eleanor. Would you like a cloth to bite down on?”

She nodded feebly. Lily rolled up a strip of linen and placed it between her teeth. She could not scream, Eleanor reminded herself. There were a hundred people downstairs, hopefully still blissfully unaware that their young hostess had killed a man on the lawn during the
allemande
. But when Colin took the brandy from Leo’s hand and poured it over the wound, she could barely contain a cry of pain. It came out as a whimper, and her whole body shook. Colin cleaned the wound carefully as Lily threaded the needle. When it pierced her flesh, Eleanor saw stars, and then blackness as blessed oblivion took her.

When he had tied the last stitch, Colin cleaned Eleanor’s arm again and then wrapped the wound in the rest of the linen her maid had brought up. It was a blessing that Eleanor had fainted before the maid had begun to cry—the poor girl looked close to fainting herself when they finished.

Now Colin tightened the bandage and carried Eleanor to the bed. Her maid pulled back the covers and he laid her down, not bothering to worry about getting blood on the sheets. There had been a great deal of it—he would have to speak to Crawley about some sort of remedy for blood loss.

When he was certain Eleanor was comfortable, he turned back to her brother. “God, Leo,” he said, “I’m sorry. I should have insisted that Sir John take the princess home. I should have made you all stay in London and refuse to receive her. Then none of this would ever—”

“You can’t blame yourself,” his brother-in-law said, “any more than you can blame Sir John. It was Strathmore and his vile plot. These poor young men were swept up in it, just as we were.”

“Not the one Eleanor killed,” Colin said. “You weren’t there to see it, but Udad spat on his body before we took it away. The Tuareg was Strathmore’s right-hand man, apparently. Clearly he meant to finish the job his master started. But Eleanor stopped him.”

Leo nodded. “She
was
always the bravest of us.” For a moment he stared down at his sister. Then he said, “I must go and change. I’ll bid the guests farewell and make your excuses. They won’t blame a pair of newlyweds for retiring early.”

Colin nodded stiffly, wondering what Leo would say if he told him of the argument they had had earlier. But when Leo had gone, Colin sat on the edge of the bed beside his bride and realized that that conversation did not matter any longer. He had faced death before, had encountered danger and terror more times than he cared to count. But when he had seen Leo carrying Eleanor through the gardens, bright red blood staining her white gown, he had felt a sudden surge of fear unlike anything he had known before.

He could not imagine living without her. It was strange; she had been in his life so short a time, and yet now he knew that if he left her behind in London it would be like abandoning a piece of his heart.

He loved her. How had such a thing come to be? In the span of three hours, his whole world had changed.

However it had happened, it was true. And he knew what he had to do. But first he had to catch a few hours’ sleep—he could not ride all the way to London as drained as he was.

Colin went into the dressing room and stripped off his bloodstained clothing. Then he lay down beside Eleanor, careful not to brush her bandaged arm as he took her in his embrace. He pressed a trembling kiss to her shoulder, and as he drifted into an exhausted slumber, he whispered, “I love you, Eleanor.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

September 7, 1834

Eleanor woke to the throbbing pain in her arm, and for a moment she stared in confusion at the white bandage around it. Then the horrible events of the previous evening came back to her, and she sat bolt upright, her head spinning a little with the sudden movement.

Bright daylight was streaming through the windows, and she was alone, the place where Colin had been empty and cold.

Lily came in, her concern evident in her expression, and she set down her tray quickly so that she could rush over to inspect Eleanor’s arm. Eleanor winced as she undid the bandage, and then looked down to survey the damage. “How many stitches did he have to put in?” she asked.

“Seventeen, My Lady,” Lily said evenly, dabbing at the wound with a cloth. It looked clean and neatly done, but still Eleanor was grateful that she had been unconscious for the better part of the work. As Lily wrapped a new bandage around it, there was a knock at the door. Leo came in.

“How’s the invalid?” he asked.

“Sore,” Eleanor said. “Leo, where’s Colin?”

Her brother looked away. “He’s gone, I’m afraid.”

Eleanor swung her legs out and stood, wobbling only a little. “What do you mean, gone?”

“He came to see me early this morning. Said he was going to London with Mr. Udad, that he had business with Viscount Palmerston.”

Eleanor felt sudden terror grip her. “Did he say what business?”

Leo shrugged. “Apparently he means to resign his post.”

She went to him and gripped his arm. “He can’t do that, Leo.”

“I can hardly stop him now, can I?”

Eleanor shook her head. “No, but I can. Lily, help me out of this wretched gown,” she said, crossing the room to the ewer and splashing some cool water on her face.

“Eleanor, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to London.”

“You can’t do that,” Leo said, “you’ve been wounded. You need to rest.”

Eleanor went into the dressing room. “I assure you, Leo, I’m perfectly well. Colin cannot resign on my behalf. He loves his work.”

“Not as much as he loves you, apparently,” Leo called.

Eleanor had been rifling through her clothing, searching for her riding shirt, but when she heard those words, she froze. She came back out, the shirt in her hand, and stared at her brother. “Did he say that?”

Another shrug. “Not in so many words, but we both know Colin would never give up the work he loves for anything less. You must mean a great deal to him, Eleanor.”

She turned and went back into the dressing room. “I have to stop him,” she said.

“Why,” Leo asked, “don’t you love him back?”

“Of course I do,” Eleanor cried as Lily came into the dressing room and began unlacing her bloodstained white gown. “That’s why I have to stop him. This is madness.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Leo said sardonically, but there was an undertone to his voice that told her a small part of him approved of what she meant to do. “You cannot go alone, though,” he added.

Eleanor did up the buttons on her trousers and slipped into her riding coat.

“Try and stop me,” she said, coming out to sit in a chair and put on her boots.

“I don’t mean to,” Leo said seriously. “But I am coming with you.”

For a moment Eleanor gaped at him. But then she leaped up and threw her arms around him. “Oh, Leo!” she cried. “Thank you. I don’t deserve such a wonderful brother.”

“Of course you do,” he said, patting her shoulder. Then he held her at arms’ length. “But are you sure you can do this, Eleanor?”

“I have to,” she said.

He sighed. “I’ll have the horses saddled, then.” And he went out without another word.

When he had gone, Eleanor stood before the looking glass and swept her hair back into a serviceable chignon. Then she drank a cup of coffee and stuffed the biscuits from the breakfast tray Lily had brought into her pockets and dashed out of the room.

In the corridor, she almost ran into her mother. “Eleanor,” she cried, grabbing her arm. Eleanor winced. “Wherever are you going?”

“London,” she replied, breaking away. “Make my apologies to our guests.”

Lady Sidney stood in the hall for a long moment after her daughter had dashed down the stairs. Then, with a small smile on her lips, she went down to say goodbye to the departing guests.

Colin had worried that Udad might slow him down on the road to London, but the young man proved to be a skilled horseman.

“In my country, we ride much,” he said as they trotted down the road.

“Often,” Colin corrected.

“Thank you,” Udad said without any trace of embarrassment. Colin was glad. If he meant to make Udad into a capable assistant, the man’s English would have to improve. He had made great strides already, of course, and Colin was confident that he could learn, but he saw no reason not to begin right away, especially if he was not, after all, going to go back to Brussels. He would have to prepare Udad to accompany someone else abroad.

For a long while they rode in silence, until at last Udad said, “Lord Pierce, you are a spy?”

“No,” Colin said, “that’s not the right word. I’m a diplomat.”

“What is a diplomat?” Udad asked, repeating the unfamiliar word slowly.

“A diplomat is...a spy whose mask everyone has seen,” Colin said, and when Udad looked confused he elaborated, “My job is to get the same information a spy would, to reach the same ends, but nicely, politely, so no feelings are hurt.”