Odette Speex: Time Traitors Book 1 (20 page)

“And his friend, Mister Charles Drake.”

Odette gave him her most dazzling smile and was gratified to see a glint of desire light his eyes. He may not know her, but she knew him. “Mister Drake, a pleasure.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Swanpoole.” He bowed over her hand and glanced up at her with those lovely dark eyes so in contrast with the deformity of his character.

Looking into them, Odette felt a moment of sheer disconnect. She wondered if she was finally experiencing some form of
Poste Me
, but the scene before her never wavered or changed. In the blink of an eye it was over. Drake stood before her immaculate in his eighteenth-century garb and asking for the next dance.

They walked onto the dance floor as the orchestra struck up a minuet. Remembering the last time she had danced with Drake in the ballroom of the Empire Union Building, Odette was again impressed by his grace and lightness of movement. She thought it difficult for a man, particularly one as physically imposing as Charles Drake, to dance the mincing and intricate steps without looking somewhat silly. Not only did he avoid looking silly, he imbued the dance with a singular masculinity that was very compelling.

The dance drew them together and then apart. Their conversation was perfunctory and almost meaningless as it wove in and out with the music.

“I look forward to your next performance.”

“We are staging a new ballet.”

“Your dress is unusual.”

“It’s a costume.”

“Lovely.”

“It was meant to make an impression.”

“I think it succeeded.”

And so on.

Even a consummate actor like David Garrick would have found it difficult to be entirely authentic in a time not his own. And so Odette hardly noticed the liberties Drake took as they danced. A light touch to her waist, a brush of his hand down her bare arm, the pressure of his leg next to her own, all combined to mark his territory— his intended possession.

She hardly heeded them. Odette knew Drake would want her because he had. She felt powerful in this knowledge. She thought of her next move. She thought of finding Odell and stopping the assassination. Drake would never see it coming.

But others watched and saw, and one in particular wondered at her blithe acceptance of such intimacies.

The music stopped and Drake escorted her back to their friends. The group had enlarged to include Gabriel Wright, two other men, and a very stylish woman she had never met before. She was relieved to see Wu standing a little outside the group with a darkly handsome man.

Gabriel was elegant in a simple yet well-tailored waistcoat and unpowdered hair tied back with a black ribbon. He was not as tall or broad as Drake, but Odette preferred Gabriel’s trim, muscled physique. She glanced over at him, but he studiously avoided her eyes. She remembered her attire and blushed, wondering if he found her embarrassing.

“Odette darling,” cooed Cara in full hostess mode. “May I present Lady Caroline Winter, Lord Winter’s sister.”

“By marriage,” Lady Caroline clarified. “I was married to my Lord’s younger brother.”

Odette bowed her head and smiled, although a slight frown creased her forehead. It was not lost on Lady Caroline. “My husband died many years ago in India.”

“Oh, I am sorry,” she responded automatically.

Lady Caroline was very lovely and her gray eyes shone with intelligence. Odette could hardly credit the brother of the dissipated man standing next to her being capable of wooing and winning this vibrant woman.

It was as if Lady Caroline had read her mind. “Ah, Thomas was not at all like Lord Winter.” She turned to her brother-in-law and asked sweetly, “Don’t you agree, Horatio?”

Lord Winter took a pinch of snuff and stared off into the distance. “Yes,” he replied lazily, “Tom and I were cut from very different cloth.”

Lady Caroline smiled icily. “Well, that is certainly one way of putting it.”

“Is this gentleman from India?” Odette asked, changing the subject and indicating Aamod.

For once Lady Caroline looked startled. She blinked and glanced over at Aamod. To acknowledge a servant was odd indeed, but she only replied, “Aamod accompanied me here from India after my husband died.” She nodded to Wu. “And this… ah… gentleman?”

Odette smiled broadly. “Oh, Wu. He’s our all-around helper. We couldn’t get along without him.”

“And he is Chinese, I presume.”

“Yes.”

“Well, we are an eclectic group tonight,” Caroline said with practiced disinterest, but Odette caught a quick, meaningful look between her and Aamod.

The conversation lagged, and for a painful second threatened to lapse into awkward silence had Cara not fortuitously recalled the other new members of the group.

“Oh! Forgive me, I almost forgot. Odette, let me also introduce Mister Simon Keller and Mister Cyril Redmond. Gabe’s friends.”

To greet them properly, Odette stepped away from Drake’s side and saw Gabriel’s jaw visibly unclench.

So it was Drake and not the dress, she thought as she smiled and acknowledged the introduction.

Odette recognized them both from the coffeehouse—the tall, handsome cynical one and the serious, soulful one. She wondered if Gabriel had told them anything about her.

“I’m pleased to meet you both. Mister Wright’s family has been so kind to us. Any friends of his are welcomed acquaintances.” Their startled yet gratified expressions confirmed Odette’s suspicion that he had not.

Gabriel relaxed further and smiled warmly at her. Drake looked appraisingly from one to the other a slow seductive smile on his lips. He stepped close to her again and taking her hand held it lingeringly to his lips. “May I have this next dance?”

Odette felt a prickle of irritation but forced a coquettish smile. “Mister Drake, I would love to…” He moved to take her arm. “…but I promised a dance to Mister Wright and he has yet to claim it.”

It was a risky move. Gabriel might interpret the most “gentlemanly” act to relinquish her to Drake. But she needn’t have worried.

“Indeed, Miss Swanpoole.” Gabriel stepped forward and bowed over her hand. “It would be my pleasure.”

Charles Drake evidenced no obvious signs of displeasure and stepped back politely to allow Gabriel a place at Odette’s side. But to Odette’s practiced eye, the slight thinning of his lips was enough to tell her he was really quite angry. Gabriel’s overly embellished courtly bow and fleeting look of self-satisfaction caused Odette to hastily suppress a giggle.

His lighthearted mood, however, lasted only until they took their places among the other dancers. Odette tilted her chin up defiantly at his stern gaze.

“What have I done to earn such a censorious look?”

“That man,” he replied with barely contained contempt. “The liberties he took with you are outside the bounds of polite society. He put you in a compromising position. And you let him!”

She blinked and stammered, “I… I don’t understand.”

He looked at her intently. Gabriel may have been angry, but he still had his wits about him. Odette was legitimately confused. She had no idea to what he was referring.

“Charles Drake. He… well… he.” Gabriel blushed. “The man touched you intimately while dancing,” he finally spat out.

“He did? But surely I would have noticed.”

Pushed past his limits, Gabriel looked about him. The dance steps had moved them to the far end of the dance floor. He could barely see their group through the gathered couples. With surprising stealth, he detached Odette from their set and guided her across the piazza to one of the shadowed wall recesses bordering the marketplace. Remarkably it was unoccupied.

He gathered her in his arms and kissed her. It was one of those kisses that sent a tingle down her spine and goose bumps up her arms. It was pure sensation. Her actions had no connection to conscious thought. She wasn’t thinking when she pushed up on her toes and threw her arms around his neck. She wasn’t thinking when she arched her back to press every inch of her to him. She gave in to that kiss like nothing she had ever done before.

With a stifled groan he broke away. He stood with his hands around the back of her neck, his thumbs resting just beneath her chin. He looked down at her and said gruffly, “Did you notice
that
, Miss Swanpoole?”

She smiled up at him giddily. “Yes, Mister Wright. But I think you’re the one who has been compromised.”

Gabriel’s heart thumped hard against his chest and he put his arms around her again. Drawing Odette close with her head resting on his shoulder, he knew she was right.

Chapter 23

To the casual
observer Lady Caroline appeared the same as always. She gracefully wove her way through the crowd, casually nodding to an acquaintance here and lifting her hand in salute to another over there. Serenely above it all—followed by her foreign servant. So wealthy and well-connected she could ignore convention, some thought spitefully. Others, more informed, saw what Gabriel saw. A good woman who had anonymously helped finance some of the most important social projects of the day. Certainly the tall Indian was an oddity. But whatever her proclivities, they had no bearing on her generosity.

Lady Caroline thought little of any of them or rather she cared little what they thought of her. Right at this moment, she was anxiously searching the crowd for Gabriel and Odette.

The presence of Wu and his connection to Odette had startled her. Master Yuan had spoken at length of Wu. He was important and special. After Master Yuan’s disappearance, she had sent one of her trusted servants to scour the city for Wu. Only to find him here with Odette, flaunting his presence like two reckless children.

She glided up to the wall with the recessed archways. Lady Caroline had some idea where young lovers might go, and she had little doubt that those two fit the description.

“Ah.” She breezed past the first recess. “Do excuse me Lady Fortescue and, oh yes, Miss Twill.”

Good Lord, she’s boinking the governess, Caroline thought with amusement. She remembered only too well that good lady’s nasty remarks about Aamod.

Several other recesses were quickly inspected without turning up Odette or Gabriel or anyone else she knew. Thank goodness.

“My lady,” Aamod’s deep voice interrupted her. She looked over as he nodded to the far end of the wall where a stone bench was partially hidden by a large shrubbery. On it were the two delinquent lovebirds. Their bodies turned to each other and heads bent close together.

She was only a few feet away before they noticed her. Her lips twitched. Really, their reaction was most admirable. No quick, jerky movements or hands snatched back from a warm clasp. They transitioned smoothly into prim seated positions with hands innocently resting on individual laps. Their expressions were ones of mild delight that Lady Caroline should join them.

She arched an eyebrow. “Really, children, I’m not one to scold.” They looked at her sheepishly. “But I can’t guarantee others won’t.”

Gabriel blushed and stood. He cleared his throat. “You are right, of course. My ungentlemanly behavior has opened Odette to condemn—”

A little gurgle of laughter erupted from Odette. He looked back at Caroline whose eyes were also full of amusement.

“What’s so funny?” he demanded.

“Gabriel,” Odette soothed but still with a catch of laughter in her voice. “Look at me. A private tête-à-tête with you is the least scandalous thing I’ve done all evening.”

“She’s right,” Caroline agreed. “Odette’s outfit and reputation are what prompted an introduction to that detestable yet undeniably gorgeous man, Charles Drake. Why else would Lord Winter condescend to speak with such low company?”

Odette felt Gabriel stiffen beside her, but Caroline continued on blithely, “Odette may look and dance like a woodland fairy, but to men such as they, she is just—”

“Don’t say it!” Gabriel exclaimed furiously.

Odette was startled and watched as Caroline laid a hand on his arm. It was all he could do not to brush it off. He looked away from her tightlipped.

“Gabe, forgive me,” Lady Caroline pleaded. “That was insensitively done. I meant nothing by it. Their beliefs are not my own. You know this.”

He looked down at her and breathed deeply. Covering her hand with his own, he said, “I know. It’s just seeing him, and knowing…” He broke off shaking his head.

Odette was confused. Were they speaking of Charles Drake?

“There you are!” It was Cara, followed by Wu. “I’ve been looking all over for you. David is just tickled pink that you’ve made such a splash and is trying to finagle the bandleader into playing a suite from his next ballet. And, he wants you to dance.”

“You cannot be serious!” Odette exclaimed.

Cara nodded and replied blandly, “Serious as an Irishman with a fiddle.”

“No, I won’t!” she declared. “He really is incorrigible.”

“Well, then we’d better beat a hasty retreat because his bloodhounds are out looking for you.”

*

Odette lay awake. Careful not to disturb the sleeping Cara, she turned over on her side to look out the window. A deepening fog pressed against the glass leaving drops of water to run rivulets down the window panes. It was one of those nights when the mist seemed to catch every particle of light and cast back over the world an eerie glow.

She sighed and sat up. Her exhaustion was of the restless type. Her body was weary, but her mind kept replaying the evening’s events. Her thoughts batted back and forth like a tennis ball between the serious and sweet, the clear and the confusing.

Odette stood and walked over to the window. The soft, sheer chemise smooth against her legs. She looked down into the cloaked garden.

Gabriel. Just the thought of him made her smile and hug herself with a delighted shiver. After several more kisses, they had sought the relative privacy of the shrubbery bench to talk—much of it nonsense. In between endearments and fumbled caresses, she was able to inform him that Charles Drake was the man who held Odell’s fate in his hands.

Drake. Odette shivered again, but this time with revulsion. That she had once found him attractive, much less compelling and exciting, she could hardly now fathom. But she had. She did, as much as she hated to admit it. His smug self-assurance irked her, but she was flattered by his desire and attention. She waved his image away with an impatient hand.

Gabriel! Wonderful, Gabriel! Remembering his kisses, Odette smiled again and gently touched her lips. She felt warmth in the pit of her stomach and a flush steal up over her cheeks. Embarrassed that just the thought of him could elicit such longing, she laughed shakily and dropped her hand again to her side.

The untimely interruption of Lady Caroline had prevented serious discussion. Caroline and Gabriel’s subsequent conversation and his momentary anger were left unexplained by the untimely interruption of Cara and Wu. To avoid an even more untimely interruption by David Garrick, Lady Caroline had offered her carriage to escort them home.

Light fingers brushed her cheek and Gabriel was off to find his friends. She, Caroline, Cara, and Wu had crowded into the carriage with Lady Caroline’s servant taking the footman’s place at the back. During the short trip to their lodgings, Caroline had wrangled from Odette a promise to ride out with her the next morning.

“There is much I wish to discuss with you,” she had insisted.

Odette was puzzled as to what such an elevated personage would have to discuss with her. She had noticed Lady Caroline’s interest in Wu. Her intelligent gaze lingered on his elaborate robes and exotic features.

Odette shook her head suddenly.

Of course!

Her mind must be covered in mist as well! Or rather, too full of Gabriel.

Wu’s Hindu mystic! Lady Caroline’s servant. What was his name? Aamod! He was Indian. Perhaps even Hindu.

Odette had little formal knowledge of the Indian culture but knew that many of its inhabitants were of the Hindu religion.

She took an excited turn about the room and stopped again in front of the window. Perhaps Lady Caroline had some clue as to the whereabouts of Master Yuan. Maybe she even had knowledge of who was behind the attack on their carriage.

Odette stared so intently out into the garden she imagined a sucking and swirling movement within the fog. She blinked. Focusing her eyes, she stepped closer to the window. It wasn’t her imagination. The mist swirled with two individual whirlwinds. One was near the arched arbor entrance and the other near the herb garden.

She ran to the dressing room door and flung it open. Wu’s cot was empty. The blankets were thrown back hastily. Running through the dressing room, she opened the other bedroom door to find Fancy sleeping peacefully.

Back in her bedroom, Odette leaned over the supine figure of her friend and hissed, “Cara. Wake up.”

Cara propped up on her elbows and looked at her groggily. “What? It can’t be morning.” She plopped back down and turned over on her side. “Go away.”

Odette shook her. “Cara, get up. There’s someone in the garden.”

Cara sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Someone in the garden?”

“More than one, I think. And Wu is not in his bed.”

“What do we do?”

“We go down and take a look,” a voice said firmly from the dressing room door. Both women turned to see Fancy standing with a fireplace poker in her hand.

She looked vulnerable even holding the heavy piece of iron. The short, rumbled hair framed her pale face and her petite hourglass figure was covered in a simple cotton nightgown. Yet her fierce expression left little doubt that she was perfectly capable of bashing someone over the head with a poker. Odette grabbed the other poker from their small hearth and handed Cara the heavy silver candlestick from the dresser.

They gathered quietly on the landing. Hearing no sound from below, the women crept cautiously down the staircase. Odette led the way with the other two close behind, their various implements at the ready. In some part of her brain Odette registered the absurdity of the situation. Her subconscious gave a spurt of laughter as her hands tightened on the poker, remembering all too vividly the nightmare carriage ride with the wounded Fancy. She noted for the first time that none of the stairs creaked and gave silent thanks to the late staymaker for not skimping on the tradesman’s quarters.

Like children playing choo-choo train, they shuffled down the short hallway. They had barely reached the sitting room door when a crash from the dining room split the silence and sent them running toward the noise. Odette stopped at the threshold trying to comprehend the rapidly paced action in the small, darkened room. The large wooden hutch had toppled over, and a sprawled figure lay face down beneath it. Wu was on the table dancing just beyond the reach of a sword wielded by a large masked man.

“Get back!” Wu yelled. “Get back upstairs!”

But his plea fell on deaf ears as Fancy rushed into the room swinging her poker. She slashed viciously at the man’s booted legs but missed. Odette gasped and moved frantically to intercept his downward thrust toward Fancy’s exposed side. Her whole body vibrated with the impact of his sword on her upraised poker.

Fancy scrambled out of range. Odette knew she could never lift the poker fast enough to ward off another blow. Wu was quicker than either she or the unknown assailant. His foot swung out and with amazing force struck the man full in the face. A loud crack followed by an agonized groan was evidence that Wu’s blow had caused significant damage. The man dropped his sword arm and covered his nose with his free hand. Blood flowed profusely from between his fingers.

Wu feigned toward him, but his sword quickly rose again. Venom glittered out from the eyes behind the mask. Odette knew that wounded though he was, the man was still very dangerous. The stand-off stretched on for several seconds until suddenly the man stepped back and plunged his sword into the inert form of his trapped comrade. He then leapt over the wooden hutch and ran out into the night. Wu ran after him disappearing like a ghost into the mist.

With a loud clang, the three women dropped their weapons as one and ran to the mortally wounded man. Cara and Fancy lifted the hutch just enough for Odette to wedge a stool under it. They all gently pulled him from beneath the heavy piece of furniture. He groaned faintly as they turned him over. His eyes barely registered their presence and his jaw worked as if he were trying to speak. Odette leaned closer, but instead of words she heard his teeth grind together and a labored swallow. She stood back appalled as his body convulsed and foam issued from his twisted lips. The agonized spasms lasted only seconds. Finally his rigid muscles relaxed, and he lay motionless.

The three women stood back open-mouthed and stared down at the inert form of the masked man.

Stating the obvious, Fancy said flatly, “Well, it's for certain sure he's dead.”

*

Hershel Gordon surveyed the shambles. The small dining room appeared to serve more the purpose of sewing room and kitchen combined. Miss Mills’ materials were undisturbed, neatly stored in the cabinets along the inside wall. There were three doors. One opened out into the kitchen garden, another into the hallway, and the third into an ample pantry beneath the stairs. The large hutch was propped up on a small stool with broken crockery and glass strewn around it. Beside it lay the body of a man. He was large and heavily muscled with close-cropped blond hair and a neatly trimmed beard.

When Hershel arrived shortly past dawn, the body was covered with a blanket. He had pulled the blanket back to reveal an unknown man wearing a mask of unusual design. He stood now turning the length of black silk over in his hands. It was a hood of sorts, fitted over the head with the mask reaching half way down the face. A long, narrow rectangle of material was cut out from temple to temple, allowing for complete range of vision. Two wide lengths of silk were ties that secured neatly at the back of the head. The silk was soft and heavy—an expensive mask for a common thief.

He turned and walked the few short steps to the sitting room where the three women waited. They were disheveled and clearly tired, but Hershel had to admit that they made a pretty picture. Each was wrapped securely in a modest yet expensive dressing gown, silk slippers on their feet. He was surprised at the short tresses of the two younger women, an unusual, if strangely becoming style. They sat arrayed on the sofa and large armchair. The youngest one was drooping off to sleep.

It was a lucky happenstance that he, or anyone for that matter, had been at the rotation office when the young Oriental boy had alerted Bow Street to this latest outrage.