A Heartless Design (25 page)

“My dear Miss Bering,” Hayden said.

She turned and surveyed him. Hayden was dressed perfectly, playing the role of carefree gentleman to the hilt. His eyes sparkled, and the charm of manner that had gotten him so far was still there. Even now, Cordelia found it difficult to believe this man had been willing to kill her.

“Mr Hayden,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t shake, “I see you are back on your feet.”

His smile didn’t waver, but the skin around his eyes tightened. “I am delighted beyond words that you are here tonight, Miss Bering.
Cordelia
,” he added, under his breath.

She stiffened at the insulting familiarity, but said only, “Am I to think it was a coincidence?”

He said, “It seems appropriate that we meet again, for our last encounter ended far too soon.”

“A matter of opinion, Mr Hayden. I thought it rather tedious,” she said, looking around the lobby in the hope that she would see Jay appear with the manager.

“My replacement must be more to your liking,” he said, too casually.

Cordelia looked at him. “Replacement?”

“Lord Thorne. A sudden but no doubt
satisfying
companionship.”

“I do not understand your meaning, sir,” she snapped. But she understood all too well. If Hayden had even the slightest shred of evidence to prove an affair… “I will leave you now.”

“You won’t.” He moved into her path. “I think my price for the rest of the
Andraste
papers is quite clear now. The designs for the drive will buy my silence.”

She considered running, no matter what scene she might cause. “Even if I were to indulge your mad notion that you have something to hold over me—I note you offer nothing of substance to back your insult—it would be of no matter. The designs you are so keen to acquire are beyond all men.”

He grinned. “You mean your little bonfire? Oh, I’m certain you didn’t burn all of it. If those designs meant so little, you wouldn’t have kept them locked up for so long.”

“There isn’t a scrap of paper related to the
Andraste
in my home. I would take you on a tour to prove it, but my housekeeper kills all rats on sight.”

“You’ll prove it now.” Hayden pushed her toward the great doors. Cordelia protested, but as he got her to the top of the steps outside, he saw something behind them. He suddenly released her and took off running.

* * * *

Thorne noticed Cordelia leave the box, and he saw Jay leave a moment later. Suspicious, he excused himself and went off in search of the pair. He didn’t know how close Cordelia and Jay were, but he knew something must be in the wind.

He moved through the passages of the damnably popular theater, looking for either the young man or the unfairly alluring woman. He saw neither, but others saw him and innocently attempted to draw him away from his search. He ignored as many as he plausibly could, and was short with those he couldn’t.

Finally, he reached the main lobby. He spied Cordelia first—his eyes were drawn to her black hair as if it were a beacon. She was talking not to Jay, but Hayden.

Thorne was instantly furious. Cordelia had played him for a fool. She had no trouble finding the elusive Hayden. But even as he prepared to storm through the crowd, he saw Cordelia’s expression, a mixture of fear and revulsion. Perhaps Hayden forced her to come to him.

He moved forward just in time to see Hayden steer an unwilling Cordelia though the entrance. The man glanced back once at the theater-goers. His eyes widened when he caught sight of Thorne. He abruptly turned and dashed through the crowd. With an inward roar, Thorne followed him.

* * * *

Cordelia almost stumbled when Hayden dropped his grip on her arm and rushed down the steps. She would have tripped if a pair of hands hadn’t grabbed her around her waist and steadied her. She turned to thank her rescuer, and got a second shock.

“Lord Thorne!” she gasped. Her heartbeat accelerated, and it wasn’t just due to the surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I’m a fan of Shakespeare,” he said.

“Are you
joking
about this?”

He shook his head. “Shakespeare’s got a gift for language. Weren’t you listening to Mrs Siddons’s soliloquy in there?”

“Sebastien! Hayden just accosted me!”

“I know.” He let the banter fade, looking at her with real concern. “What happened? What did he say?”

“He just…I told him I burned…” She couldn’t put the words together.

“You should get back inside,” he said. “I’ll handle this.”

“I don’t think so,” she snapped back without thinking. “What right…”

She was silenced by his expression as he looked back at her. “Stop going on about rights, Cor. Let me do this, if only because I’ll have an easier time chasing him as I’m not wearing skirts.” And then he was gone, running down the street at a dangerous pace. She stared after him, wondering why she let him pursue Hayden. Not that she could have stopped him, she thought with a sudden laugh.

“Miss Bering!” Jay rushed out of the door with a man at his heels. “Did you see him?”

“He got away, I’m afraid.” Cordelia nodded to the second man, guessing him to be the manager. The man apologized profusely on behalf of the theater that an attendee should assault her so. Cordelia, feeling rather guilty for misleading him, told him not to concern himself, as there was no lasting harm done. After a moment, the manager left again.

“Shall I try to find him?” Jay stared down the street with little hope.

“No. Lord Thorne is already seeking him.”

“Thorne? He was here as well?”

“He was just outside when I reached the steps.”

“Quite the coincidence,” Jay said in a different tone.

“He is not in league with Hayden.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“He once hit Hayden in the face in front of me.”

“And that’s an endorsement, is it?” The two turned back toward the building. Cordelia cast a look toward the street where Sebastien had disappeared. She worried that, whether Sebastien found Hayden or not, the consequences would be bad for her. If Hayden suspected an illicit relationship, what better way to confirm it than by having the gentleman in question appear and give chase?

* * * *

Thorne raced down the street, but Hayden had a substantial head start. The scoundrel jumped into a hired carriage, at which point the driver whipped his horse to get the vehicle moving. Thorne ran as fast as he could, but the horse was moving at a trot and soon disappeared into the gloom of an unlit street.

He slowed to a stop, not caring about the curious looks sent his way. An enterprising boy came up to him and offered to chase the carriage down for a tanner. Thorne shook his head. “I’ve a counter offer. I’ll pay you a tanner to go to the white house on Hanover Square. Find the boy watching the house and ask if he’s seen the owner today. Come find me at the Theatre Royal with the answer, and I’ll give you a shilling too.”

The boy barely waited for his coin. He hopped onto the back of a moving carriage and rode toward his destination, eager for an even better payday.

Sebastien strolled slowly back toward the theater, knowing he could do little but wait for some clue as to where Hayden would be, either back in his rooms, or in a different hideout.

In the meantime, he tried to stifle his new concerns for Cordelia. If Hayden got her to speak to him, the man knew something that could hurt her, such as her indiscretion with Sebastien. Or he offered something she needed, such as money. In either case, it boded ill. Cordelia was an intensely private person, and he knew that she could never endure the treatment of society if her relationship with him ever became public knowledge...no matter how he handled it.

But the other possibility was chilling, too. Perhaps Cordelia had saved some documents from the fire, and perhaps she needed funds badly enough to accept Hayden’s terms. Sebastien had to discover what he could about Cordelia’s true financial situation.

In any case, he could do nothing now but return to the theater and watch the last performance of the evening. Fittingly, the playbill announced it would be a farce.

The next day, driven to
counter Hayden’s move, Sebastien redoubled his efforts to find out more about the man’s dealings in London. He’d begun several threads of investigation, and one of his inquiries suddenly appeared more relevant.

Knowing that the ship Cordelia named
Andraste
required large amounts of steel to work, Sebastien used his various connections to find out whether Hayden (or anyone else) had tried to purchase steel in that quantity. He’d let Neville know about his idea, and that morning, a terse note arrived at the Thorne family home. The coded message, quite innocuous to any reader but a Zodiac member, purported to be an invitation to a game of cards. To Sebastien, it revealed that someone had information on the steel he’d been looking for.

He hurried to the location that Neville had listed in the note. It was a pub not far from the docks. A young man sat at one table near the window. He had a drink in front of him, but he hadn’t touched it. He was dressed in the uniform of a Royal Naval junior officer. By his ramrod straight spine and closed expression, Sebastien detected a certain nervousness. Yet his face also revealed a level of curiosity that marked him as more intelligent than the average sailor.

Sebastien ambled over to him. “You’re Ensign Hartley,” he guessed. That was the name given on the encoded note.

The young man nodded carefully. His skin showed a permanent tan, probably from serving in warmer climes than England. “That I am. Logan Hartley. I doubt you’re going to tell me your name.”

Thorne smiled. “A little confused?”

“I got orders from my superior officer’s superior officer to come here and have a drink at eleven o’ clock in the morning today. So here I am.”

“Thank you for coming.”

Hartley shrugged. “As I said, orders. From the meeting place, I guess this probably isn’t quite official.” He looked more closely at Thorne, thinking fast. “Is it safe to assume that something in one of my regular reports attracted the attention of the War Department?”

Thorne nodded. “Something like that. Do you remember offering any information about a large amount of steel?”

That was not what Hartley had expected to hear. He frowned for a moment, then his face cleared. “Steel. Yes, of course. What do you need to know about it?”

“Whatever you can tell me.”

“Not much more than I put in my report, actually. I serve on the
Providence
. Our current assignment is to patrol the channel and keep watch on the French and Breton coasts. It’s been quieter work since Trafalgar, so we’ve been able to explore the shoreline more, and even venture a bit into Bonaparte’s territory.” 

Listening carefully, Thorne thought he detected traces of an unknown accent in the young man’s voice. He said, “Go on.” 

“A few weeks ago, we found a small harbor that’s extremely well hidden. It’s a river mouth, in fact. Though the river is supposedly non-navigable for ocean-going vessels, we found it to be significantly larger than initial reports indicated. So we began to sail up the river.”

“And what did you find?”

“A shipyard. Small. Very well concealed. But in use, and not for commerce. It must be part of the French plan to rebuild their navy without our seeing what they come up with.”

“There was steel there?”

Hartley nodded. “We found an unusual amount of metal plating. Definitely some sort of iron or steel. A funny color, though, as if it was coated with something.”

Thorne inhaled. Exactly what any builder of the
Andraste
would need. Cordelia had been absolutely right about all sides wanting to try to get her father’s plans. He remembered how Cordelia described the construction of the ship. “How much metal would you say was there? Enough to entirely cover a ship’s hull?”

Hartley nodded. “A smaller vessel, yes. Whether it would actually float with all that weight on the hull is another concern. We couldn’t decide if that was truly their intention.”

“How many men were in this contingent? Who saw the shipyard?”

For the first time, Hartley looked away. “Well…in fact, I went alone.”

“Alone? Why?” Thorne asked.

“Because I could. I was curious.”

“You violated orders?” Thorne sensed that some side of Hartley didn’t care for rules. He still couldn’t place the young man’s accent.

Hartley looked uncomfortable. “Not exactly. I was instructed to scout the perimeter, mostly to ensure the
Providence
wouldn’t be sighted. There were no orders to go inside the shipyard itself. But neither was I under orders to leave immediately.” He rushed on, “I knew I could get in and out unseen, and that the chance might not come up again. If anyone knew we were there, they might have closed it and moved it elsewhere. If the Royal Navy does this the right way, we can keep an eye on the place with no one the wiser.”

“You’re telling the Royal Navy what to do?”

Hartley shook his head. “Who’d care what an ensign thinks?” He looked directly at Thorne. “But you could suggest it, sir. They’ll listen to you…whoever you are.”

“Maybe I will.” Thorne stood up. “I expect that your discretion about this meeting will match your perception.”

“Certainly, sir.” Hartley nodded curtly. It was obvious that he was a little offended by the suggestion that he would talk.

“Thank you for your information. You may return to your ship. After you finish your drink, of course.” Thorne turned to leave. “Oh, and Hartley,” he said.

The young man looked up. “Sir?”

“The next time you want to storm one of the enemy’s secret materiel dumps, perhaps you should take a comrade.”

For the first time, Hartley allowed himself a faint grin. “I should have thought of that, sir.” 

Thorne left, laughing inside. Hartley reminded him of himself, years ago.

* * * *

Hartley’s news gave Thorne more to think over, and more to worry about.

He already suspected someone was trying to build the ship Bering and Lear designed. But they clearly had not gotten the essential component. That implied that Cordelia was telling him the truth. She had every opportunity to give or sell the designs to Hayden. She didn’t.