Fateful (11 page)

Once I’d calmed myself, Daisy handed me a knotted handkerchief that held something heavy inside. “When you get your next afternoon off, don’t come back here. I need you to go to Salisbury.”

I’d never been anywhere as enormous as Salisbury in my life. And so far away—perhaps even five miles! “What do you want me to do there?”

“Pawn this.” With that, Daisy opened the handkerchief to reveal an ornate gold pin.

I gasped. “You didn’t—Daisy, you didn’t steal it, did you?”

“I’m not a thief!”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you were,” I said, and that seemed to pacify her.

But still she insisted, “I didn’t steal it. It was given to me. I need the money now, and I think it’s worth a lot.”

“I’ll do it,” I said. “I promise.”

Probably the pawnbroker gave me a poor deal, but he gave me fifteen pounds, as much money as I’d ever seen in one place at one time. That money kept Daisy going, and little Matthew once he was born, until earlier this year when she married Arthur the butcher. Arthur’s a good man; in fact, he treats Matthew as though he were his own son.

So Daisy’s all right now, I tell myself as I finish mending Lady Regina’s sleeve. And maybe she did steal the pin. I’d always thought so.

But if it was kept in that box, Daisy would have needed the key to get inside it. Nobody gives a nursery maid a key like that. So she couldn’t have stolen it after all. Somebody had to give the pin to her, just as she said.

Only two men would have been in a position to give it to her. One of them is the Viscount Lisle, but he was in London that entire winter, not to mention that he’s so fat he hardly has the energy to climb up the staircase, much less chase girls.

The other—

I lay the dress out neatly for Horne’s inspection, then slip into Layton’s room. If anyone asks why I’m in there, I’ll say I need to borrow some blacking. But Horne’s busy chasing after Beatrice, and Ned’s taken himself off on some errand, so I have a few moments alone.

On Layton’s desk is a packet of his calling cards. I glance down to see that they read
layton matthew lisle
.

I’d thought that was his full name, but I was never sure—my job keeps me busy with Irene’s doings, not his. Back in the days when I was a housemaid, I was always away from the family as much as possible. Horne even made us take the rickety old back stairs all the time so the Lisles wouldn’t have to see any evidence we existed, as though their house stayed clean by magic.

But Daisy would have been near the family all the time, as a nursery maid. Layton must have stopped in often to see his little sister, when she was merely a cute infant to be cuddled a bit and then handed aside for someone else to care for. He was more dashing then; he drank less. Perhaps he was charming to her. Perhaps he made her promises.

However it came to pass, now I know: Layton is the father. They didn’t throw her out just for having a baby; they threw her out for having
his
baby. For being the mother of their grandchild.

I always knew how cruel the Lisle family had been to Daisy; now I see what hypocrites they are too. Anger boils inside me, clenching my fists and throbbing at my temples. To think I grew up admiring them as the noblest family for miles around. They’re wretched. They’re vile. I’ve spent the last four years of my life mopping floors and scrubbing laundry for people who are lower than dogs.

The door to the bedroom opens, and I try to compose myself before Ned or Horne sees me. But when I turn, I see Layton himself.

Mikhail is with him.

Chapter 10

“WELL, WELL,” MIKHAIL SAYS. HE’S LOOKING AT ME, but he speaks to Layton. “May I congratulate you on how charmingly you’ve decorated your cabin?”

Layton replies, “Nothing brightens up the boudoir like a pretty girl.”

They roar with laughter like they think that’s the most hilarious joke in the world, and maybe Layton really does, since he’s the one who made it. But Mikhail keeps his gaze on me the whole time. I can see the wolf beneath the surface; there’s more beast to him than man.

For one moment, I’m afraid he’s going to attack me where I stand—but no, he wouldn’t, not in front of Layton. Still, I have to grab the back of the nearest chair to support myself, and I see that my panic pleases Mikhail immensely.

“This will only take a moment,” Layton says, as he changes jackets, tossing his first one in a heap on the floor for Ned to deal with later. “You must meet my mother at luncheon, Count Kalashnikov. Though, I warn you now, she’ll start by trying to marry you off to my sister.”

“No doubt your sister is utterly charming,” says the man who is apparently Count Mikhail Kalashnikov. The thought of him touching Irene, coming anywhere near her, makes me sick. To me, he says, “How very . . . healthy you look, my dear.”

Mikhail must have assumed that Alec would kill and eat me.

I realize that Mikhail and Layton have only just met, and almost as quickly realize that this is how Mikhail has planned it. Having failed to rob me, he’s going to befriend the Lisle family—all to get closer to that box and the treasures inside.

As much as I hate Layton at this moment, I know I ought to warn him, for Irene’s sake if nobody else’s. But how can I? I can’t tell the Lisles the truth about Mikhail without revealing facts that will make me look like a lunatic. Even if I said only that he tried to rob me, they’d think it was absurd. He’s in first class, just like they are; why would he try to rob anyone?

“It’s a pleasure to make such a congenial acquaintance as yourself aboard ship,” Mikhail says as he strolls around the small room. “So many pompous toads upstairs. I like men about me who are young and vigorous. Who want to drink deeply of the pleasure of life.”

“Hear, hear,” Layton says with relish. Is he thinking of my sister? Some other girl he ruined just for his pleasure?

“And to think I knew your dear uncle. Humphrey was a most ingenious man.”

“We all thought he was a bloody fool, to tell you the truth.” Layton’s honesty is as disarming as his smile; he looks almost handsome again for a moment. He can appear to be a good man when he chooses, but I know now that is nothing but a sham.

“I shall redeem his memory, then, as we improve our acquaintance. I look forward to spending more time with you and your family while we’re aboard.” Mikhail is standing slightly behind me now, and I can feel his gaze on my back. “And as I said before, your room has lovely . . . accommodations. Tell me, Layton, how accommodating is she?”

Layton laughs as hard at Mikhail’s joke as he did at his own. I am torn between anger so great that I want to slap him and the horrible, crawling sensation of Mikhail stepping closer to me.

But I reveal nothing. I stand straight and tall, and my face remains still. I’m stronger than these worthless men will ever know.

“Excuse me, sir.” Quickly I walk out of Layton’s room, and neither of them bothers to stop me. Maybe I should have grabbed the tin of blacking to cover my tracks, but now that I’ve left Layton’s bedroom, nobody’s likely to ask me why I was in there in the first place.

“There you are,” Horne says. “Lady Regina sent word that she wants her Italian shawl. She’s up on the boat deck. Take it to her, and look lively about it.”

I’m eager to get out of here, and as far away from Mikhail as possible. But it strikes me as odd that Horne’s sending me instead of going herself and leaving me to deal with Beatrice for a while. The child’s a terror this morning. I can see that she’s already managed to smear jam over the entire front of her pinafore. One thing you learn in service: Anytime you’re asked to deviate from your expected duties, try to find out why. “Don’t you want to go?”

That’s Horne’s cue to snap at me as she usually does. Instead she pauses, and her rheumy eyes become distant. “I don’t like being up on deck. Seeing the waves.”

“Why ever not?” You’d think it would at least make a change from the same old suite of rooms, however elegant they are.

“It gives me a bad turn, is all. I don’t like the look of it.” She tries to brush it off, but I know what I just saw. Mean old Horne, whom all of us fear, is scared of the ocean.

Maybe I ought to pity her. Remembering what she said to Daisy, maybe I ought to laugh at her. But mostly I want to get out of this place. I snatch Lady Regina’s shawl from the table and practically run through the door.

For the next few minutes, I argue it out with myself—partly because I have to know, and partly because, upsetting as it is to think of my sister’s plight, it is a great deal less scary than Count Mikhail Kalashnikov.

Did Layton force Daisy?
He’s no prize, but surely he’s not as nasty as that. And she’d hardly have named their boy after him if he had. All those things she said about having chances to advance ourselves—she was talking about Layton then, I’m sure of it. Daisy can’t have been stupid enough to think he would actually marry her. But maybe he talked about setting her up in an apartment in London. He gave her the pin; probably he gave her some other money as well, because she must have lived on something before I pawned it for her. When she became pregnant, she would have known that was the end of that. Did she ever tell him, face-to-face? Hardly matters—he has to have known, when the family fired her if not before, and he never lifted a finger to help her or my nephew. Probably she named the boy Matthew to shame him into giving her a few more pounds.

These thoughts weigh me down as I hurry along the boat deck, salty ocean breeze whipping my black uniform dress around me, with the shawl under one arm. I’m so distracted and nervous that I think I could walk by Lady Regina and Irene without even noticing them.

But perhaps that’s wrong, because I recognize the next familiar face I see instantly.

Alec.

He looks as impeccably put together as he did yesterday, in a charcoal gray suit cut perfectly to his body; the transformation from animal to gentleman is complete. The only elements of his appearance that are out of place are his wild chestnut curls and the sadness in his green eyes. It’s almost startling, how alone he seems. How did I miss it yesterday? How did the glamour of his handsomeness and charm disguise the pain he’s in? Now that I know it’s there, it seems to surround him, a kind of halo in reverse.

But a man in pain is more dangerous, not less. I must never forget that.

Alec’s gaze meets mine. In that first instant, warmth spreads through my chest, like a flower blossoming into fire.

But he looks away almost instantly and begins walking in the opposite direction. Of course—he said we had to remain apart, for my own good.

When he said that, though, Alec didn’t know what I know now.

I decide to call to him, and I nearly shout
Alec
before I think better of it. “Mr. Marlowe!”

He stops at once. As I hasten to his side, he whispers, “Tess, I told you—”

“Forget what you told me. Mikhail’s made friends with Layton. He’s in the Lisle family cabins now.”

“Has he threatened you?” Alec’s eyes narrow, and there’s the wolf again. My breath catches in my throat.

“Not yet.”

“He will.”

“He’s going to get whatever is in that box,” I say. “He’s determined to get it no matter what, and he’s willing to go through me to do it. Eager, I think. Are you so sure he’s on this ship to initiate you? Perhaps he’s been after the Lisles the whole time.”

A few people are glancing in our general direction, and Alec notices at almost the same time I do. “Follow me,” he says.

We walk a few steps along the deck—me slightly behind so it won’t look as though we’re together—and I follow him through the next door. This turns out to lead to a very peculiar sort of room with odd machines all about. And strange metal weights are on the floor; I remember that the strong man at the county fair lifted them. Barbells, I think they’re called.

My confusion must show on my face, because Alec says, “The ship’s gymnasium. The men come here to practice rowing, or box. You know, to build their muscles.”

Only gentlemen leading a life of leisure would need to go someplace special to build muscles. After spending four years toting buckets of water up multiple flights of stairs, I bet I could successfully arm-wrestle most of the first-class male passengers on this ship.

Thinking of the gap between gentility and servants reminds me of Daisy, and what’s become of her due to Layton’s irresponsibility. It must show on my face, because Alec’s expression softens. “Are you all right? You look as though something’s troubling you. Something besides Mikhail, I mean.”

His concern touches me more than it should. “You’re very perceptive.”

“You’re pale.” I can tell that Alec doesn’t want to be worried for me, and yet he can’t stop himself from asking, “Can I get you—water, or a glass of sherry, maybe? We should find someplace more comfortable for you to sit.”

He thinks I’m weaker than I am, and it ought to irritate me. Instead, I stare at him almost in shock, because—he’s treating me like a lady. Not like a servant. Alec wants to take care of me, I who have always had to see to the needs of others. As small a gesture as it is, I never expected even that much from a wealthy man. From anyone, perhaps. And in this moment, I realize how good it would feel to have someone take care of me once in a while.

But Daisy’s secrets are hers, not mine, and there are more pressing matters at hand. “I’m all right, truly. Mikhail—he says he’s a Count Kalashnikov. Is that true?”

“Entirely true. He’s one of the wealthiest men in Russia, a friend to the tsar.”

“So he says.”

“I believe it. The Brotherhood’s influence stretches to the highest rungs of society, Tess. There’s no one too high or too low for him to reach.”

“We’ve got to figure out what Mikhail’s after, then. If they’re as mighty as you claim, and they’re sending someone that influential after a dusty old box of the Lisles—then there’s something enormously important in there. And who knows? Maybe it’s something you could use.”

Alec looks at me with new respect. “I like the way you think, Tess. But I told you before; I have no idea what he’s after. Who knows what’s in that mysterious box?”