Chapter 42
The explosion in the cellar was enough to silence the questioning, chattering crowd that had been ushered out of the House of Lords. Kiri’s heart was in her throat as she waited to see if the whole chamber would blow up behind them, but it didn’t.
“They must have stopped the main explosion,” Kirkland said. He’d made it to the opening even though he was far from recovered from his bout of fever. His scarlet robes made his skin look chalk-white. “Ashton, any idea where Lord Fendall might be?”
Narrow-eyed, Adam scanned the mass of excited nobles, then pointed. “There! Near that door.” Fendall was some distance away, his expression furious as he tried to fight his way free of the congestion.
“Let’s get him!” Kiri hissed, reinvigorated by the prospect of capturing the man whose selfish ambitions had almost caused such destruction.
Moving in perfect harmony, she and her brother cut through the crowd, catching up with Fendall just before he reached a door that led from the building. “My pardon, Lord Fendall, but you are required to bear testimony to this most unfortunate matter,” Adam said in a silky voice. “Blowing up the House of Lords just isn’t done.”
Fendall swung around, his feral expression revealing a resemblance to Swinnerton. Seeing Adam and Kiri closing in on him, he chose Kiri as the weaker target and lunged for her. “You’ll not stop me!”
It was his last mistake. With a sweep of her leg and a twist of his arm, Kiri sent Fendall flying toward her brother.
Adam moved too quickly for Kiri to see exactly what happened, but suddenly the baron was lying on the floor with his neck bent at an impossible, deadly angle. His scarlet velvet robes splayed around him like spilled blood.
“You should not have attacked my sister, Fendall,” Adam said softly.
Kiri remembered Mackenzie saying that her brother was one of the most dangerous men in England. She hadn’t believed it then, but she did now. Perhaps Fendall’s death had been an accident—but she wouldn’t have bet on it.
The Gentleman Usher of the Black Rod rushed up to them, his eyes a little wild because of the disruption of what should have been a solemn and stately ceremony. “The prince regent wishes to speak with you both. Follow me.”
Praying that Mackenzie and Will had escaped the cellar explosion unscathed, Kiri followed Black Rod through the crowd, Adam right behind her. They were taken to a small audience chamber nearby.
The prince regent still wore his magnificent formal robes and he sat in a high-backed carved chair that bore more than a passing resemblance to a throne. Princess Charlotte sat beside him. Her gaze and a smile went immediately to Kiri.
Kirkland was present, presumably to explain what the devil was going on. As Kiri and Adam entered, Mackenzie and Will came in through an opposite door escorted by a different court official.
Kiri smiled at the brothers, putting all her relief in her eyes since she was pretty sure she shouldn’t speak unless spoken to. Mackenzie looked even more battered and disreputable than earlier. She wouldn’t have thought it possible. But the weary smile he returned set every fiber of her body on fire.
The regent dismissed the other official but kept Black Rod. Adam murmured to Kiri, “The Gentleman Usher of the Black Rod is responsible for security in the House of Lords. Usually the post is honorary and ceremonial.”
But not this time. Based on the prince regent’s stormy expression, heads might roll. It was time for Kiri to be very, very quiet and ladylike.
She was tired enough to make that easy.
Mac watched the prince regent warily. The man had visited Damian’s a number of times and had demonstrated that he could be volatile, gracious, melodramatic, charming, willful as a spoiled child, and occasionally even kind. Here’s hoping that today his better qualities were on display.
The prince took in the disgraceful appearances of Mac, Will, and Kiri. Even Kirkland looked as if he was staying upright by sheer willpower.
Tartly the prince said, “Mackenzie, you’re looking remarkably sprightly for a dead man. Kirkland, you and your people are to be commended for stopping this plot short of disaster, though sooner would have been better.”
“Intelligence work is a chancy business, sir,” Kirkland replied.
The prince scowled. “Have you cut off the serpent’s head? I’ve had quite enough of French assassination attempts.”
“The ending came so quickly that I’m unsure of the details myself,” Kirkland replied. “Mr. Mackenzie, Lady Kiri Lawford, and Lord Masterson can better supply them.” He glanced toward Mac and Will, silently turning the discussion over to them.
“Most of the story belongs to my brother and Lady Kiri,” Will said. He looked ready to keel over from the pain of his broken arm, but one didn’t sit in the presence of royalty without invitation. “They have spent weeks investigating possible leads to the conspirators, while I returned from the Peninsula only two days ago.”
Mac drew a deep breath as he tried to organize a concise explanation. The prince had a notoriously short attention span, and he already knew the basics of the plot.
“Lady Kiri and I started investigating after the attempt on Princess Charlotte,” he said. “We are just returned from Kent, where we learned that the kidnappers were led by Lord Fendall and his half brother, Rupert Swinnerton. They are first cousins to Joseph Fouché on their mother’s side. Apparently the aim of the plot was to restore Fouché to power by weakening Britain to the point of wanting a peace treaty.”
The royal brows shot up. “Fools. Fendall was the mastermind?”
“Yes, with Swinnerton in charge of mayhem. Apparently Fouché promised his cousins great wealth and power if their plot was successful.”
“Has Swinnerton been captured?”
“I found him attempting to set off the bomb under the Woolsack,” Mac replied. “I removed the fuse. In the ensuing struggle, he died when a small grenade went off.”
“That was the explosion heard in the cellar?” Kirkland asked.
Mac nodded. “He wished to share the explosion with me, but succeeded only in killing himself.” Kiri and Kirkland winced at his flat words.
“A pity,” the prince said coldly. “I should have liked to see the man drawn and quartered for treason. What about Lord Fendall?”
“I don’t know his whereabouts,” Mac replied. “My guess is that when he realized that his plot had failed, he fled the House of Lords. He can’t have gone far, so if a search is set in motion immediately, it should be possible to catch him.”
Though it might be hard to prove a case against Fendall. The only evidence Mac had was hearsay. If he was clever and kept a cool head, Fendall might still be in the Palace of Westminster, ready to glibly disclaim all knowledge of the plot. He could blame everything on his brother, who was in no position to dispute that.
Ashton discreetly cleared his throat. He and his sister stood side by side, looking very much like each other: strikingly attractive in a dark-haired, green-eyed way. Contained. Dangerous.
“If I may interject, Your Majesty, Lord Fendall has not escaped,” the duke said. “When Lady Kiri told me he was behind the plot, we moved to stop him from fleeing the palace. Unfortunately, he fell while trying to escape and died of his injuries.”
“How did that happen?” Will asked with a satirical glint in his eyes.
“The fault is mine,” Ashton said, looking misleadingly regretful. “Fendall attacked my sister, and when I yanked him away from her, he fell and broke his neck.”
The prince regent gave Ashton a hard glance but didn’t pursue the matter. “Well, that will save scandal. No need for the public to learn how close the French came to assassinating the royal family.”
“There is a furnace below the chamber,” Black Rod volunteered. “It can be announced that it failed and the evacuation was a precaution taken in case fire took hold. The explosion occurred as the furnace was shut down.”
“That will do nicely. The less said, the better. But before I resume the ceremony”—the prince gave Mac a basilisk stare—“it sounds as if Mr. Mackenzie has seriously compromised Lady Kiri. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Mac felt skewered as every gaze in the room—including Kiri’s great green eyes—locked onto him. His throat closed. Good God, how could he possibly speak about something so vital and intimate?
After swallowing hard, he said haltingly, “Your Majesty, during the course of this investigation, I have come to have the utmost respect for Lady Kiri’s intelligence, loyalty, and courageous service to the Crown.”
He flicked a worried glance at Kiri but couldn’t read her expression. “I would marry her if the lady would have me, but I realize that the difference in our stations might make such an offer seem an insult. The very last thing I would ever want to do is insult the bravest, most remarkable woman I’ve ever met.”
The room was so silent that a falling pin would have been audible.
“It would hardly be conducive to good order in society for an illegitimate gambler and businessman to marry one of the highest-born young ladies in the land,” the prince regent agreed, “but the situation is demmed improper.”
“Indeed it is, Your Majesty.” Will smiled at Kiri. “But as head of Mr. Mackenzie’s family, I would give such a union my wholehearted blessing.”
Mac felt a lump in his throat the size of Tower Bridge. “Lord Masterson has always been the best and most supportive of brothers, and I am grateful beyond words for his approval of my deepest wish.” His gaze returned to Kiri. “But my fear is that her family would disapprove, since she is the one who would be accepting far less than she deserves. I . . . I don’t want her to be the cause of becoming estranged from her family.”
And her family was represented in this room by Ashton, the reserved, enigmatic duke who had just broken the neck of a man who had been fool enough to attack his sister. Though Mac had always liked Ashton, he found the other man more than a little intimidating. He braced himself for Ashton’s verdict.
“My sister is very dear to me and I wish for her to find as much happiness in her marriage as I have found in mine,” the duke said slowly, his gaze fixed on Mac. “If she wishes to marry Mr. Mackenzie, I will not object. I believe that her mother and stepfather would also accept the marriage, given Mr. Mackenzie’s exemplary service to the Crown. But the choice, of course, is Lady Kiri’s.”
Mac stared at Ashton, shocked speechless. The prince, however, did not suffer such shock. “Still demmed irregular,” he said peevishly. “
Demmed
irregular!”
“Papa.” Princess Charlotte spoke for the first time. She was enjoying this immensely, her fascinated gaze going from Kiri to Mac and back again. “I believe I know a way to mitigate the disparity in their stations to some extent.” She leaned over to her father’s chair and whispered something in his ear.
The prince looked first startled, then wickedly amused. “An excellent thought, Charlotte.” He got to his feet and fumbled through his layers of robes. “Where the devil is that ceremonial sword? Ah, here it is.” Rather awkwardly, he pulled the long, elaborately decorated sword from the sheath on his left hip. “Mr. Mackenzie, kneel before your sovereign.”
Mac stiffly knelt before the prince regent. Every muscle in his body protested the abuse he’d suffered in the last few days.
The prince rapped Mac’s right shoulder sharply with the flat of the sword. “Damian Mackenzie, in recognition of your honorable service to your country and your sovereign, I bestow on you this knighthood.” Another sharp tap, this on his left shoulder. “Arise, Sir Damian Mackenzie.”
The back of the sword clipped Mac’s ear as the prince lifted it away. Mac could only be grateful it wasn’t the sharp edge of the blade.
Dazed, he persuaded his aching muscles to get him to his feet. He was Sir Damian? A knight? “I . . . I thank you, Your Highness. You honor me beyond what I deserve. Any loyal Briton would have done the same in my place.”
“But they might not have done it so well.” The prince sheathed his sword. “This narrows the gap between you and Lady Kiri. So, will there be a wedding to regularize your behavior?”
Kiri hadn’t spoken since entering the room, and her fists were clenched at her sides. “I don’t know, Your Majesty. Mr. Mackenzie hasn’t asked me.” Her eyes narrowed. “The matter would need to be discussed.”
“Well, get to it then,” the prince said impatiently. “Charlotte, Black Rod, come along. The ceremony must be resumed without further delay.” They left the room, Charlotte glancing bright-eyed over her shoulder.
When the royals were gone, Will said with a glint of amusement, “We three peers should also be in attendance for the royal speech, but I’m not dressed for it, so I think I’ll go to Mac’s house and sleep for a couple of days.”
“Maybe you should get that bone set first,” Mac suggested. “But otherwise an excellent idea. Kirkland, how about you head for home before you drop in your tracks?”
“What, and show common sense?” Kirkland murmured. “I’ll last long enough for the ceremony. Then I’ll go home and sleep for a day or two.”
“If we leave now, Kiri and Mackenzie will have a chance to settle matters.” Ashton laid a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “My carriage will take us home to Ashton House after the ceremony. Kiri, you don’t have to make a decision today if you’re not sure about it.”