Odette Speex: Time Traitors Book 1 (29 page)

“He agreed and let them go.” Gabriel was silent for a long moment.

“Johnson,” Odette whispered under her breath.

He stood up. “Yes. Johnson was Lord Winter’s gardener. Pretending to be uncle and niece, he left with my mother and they moved to Hampstead. They had plenty of money to rent a cottage in town and Johnson began work as my fa… my father’s gardener at the inn.”

Gabriel smiled. “That is how they met. Of course she was already showing, and no one really believed the story of a dead husband. But da didn’t care. He knew quality when he saw it.”

They faced each other in silence for several minutes. She was seated on the window sill, and he stood looking down at her.

“So you see, I could never judge you,” he finally said. “I, the product of so vile a man—so vile an act.”

Odette stood and came close to him. She didn’t have to tell him that he wasn’t vile. That he was good and kind and decent and that she loved him. It was all there in her eyes. She reached out and took his hands again.

“And Caroline?” she asked.

He looked at their clasped hands and said, “That night at Vauxhall, Lord Winter was at the center of a group of celebrating nobles. He was just returned from over a decade of exile on the continent for gaming debts. The old earl had died only weeks before and Lord Winter had finally come into his inheritance.

“I was filled with rage. I followed him everywhere. And when I wasn’t tracking him through the city, I thought of ways to wreak vengeance on him and his whole house.

“My work suffered and I rarely slept. My uncle, mother, father, all of them tried to reason with me, but I wouldn’t listen. That’s when Caroline showed up. Mother swears she didn’t speak with her, didn’t even know who she was.

“She sent a servant to my uncle’s chambers requesting me specifically to handle a dispute for her.” His face softened, remembering. “She put me straight alright, in that inestimable way of hers. She told me to stop feeling sorry for myself, because self-pity was at the root of my anger and rage. That I should be grateful for the family and opportunities I have.

“But mostly she spoke of her husband, Thomas. She loved him, Odette. Truly loved him. Even though he was so much older. I realized then that if he could be a product of that family and still a man of honor, so could I. She convinced me that Lord Winter was no more worthy of my notice than a fly, even less.

“She pulled me out of that darkness, and to this day I still don’t know how she knew or why she cared.”

*

After nurse had assumed the nighttime vigil, they stood together in Gabriel’s bedroom. Their clothes were a discarded heap on the floor. Moonlight from the windows washed the color from their skin and lengthened the shadows across the floor.

Odette laid her hands on his chest and felt the strong muscles beneath. She kissed the base of his throat, her lips eliciting a rapid pulse. She rested her head on his shoulder and breathed deeply giggling. She couldn’t remember being this nervous, even the first time.

She heard the rumble of his answering laugh and looked up into his eyes. His hands were encircling her waist, but now slid slowly up her body to come to rest firmly on either side of her face. He tilted her head back so that their gaze could not be broken.

“Will you remember me?” he asked gruffly. “If we succeed and you return. Will you remember me?”

She blinked rapidly and tried to look down, but he held her steady in a gentle grasp. “I don’t know,” she finally answered through the lump in her throat.

He tightened his grip and pulled her to him, kissing her hard on the mouth. She tasted salt and lightly brushed her fingers across his wet cheek. Gabriel’s hands moved to her shoulders, and he put his forehead to hers.

“Tonight I will make you remember. I will plant the seed of a memory in your brain. In the future if another man looks at you, you will see my eyes. If another man touches you, you will feel my touch. If he calls your name, you will hear my voice. When he takes you to bed, it will be me you want. I will ruin you for every other man.”

And so he did.

Chapter 32

“I couldn’t find
him anywhere,” Wu said, for once exhaustion and frustration creeping into his voice. “He hasn’t been seen or heard from in at least two days, perhaps longer.”

Odette looked at his calm, weary face and swallowed her anger. She had barely made it back to her own bed in time to avoid the servants going about their morning chores. When she awakened in late morning, Gabriel had already left for Hampstead and Wu was missing. She and Gabriel had discussed his plans to assure the safety of his mother and sister, but Wu’s absence was unexpected. Odette knew that, in all likelihood, it was of his own volition. But anxiety gnawed at her stomach until he walked in shortly after she came down for breakfast.

His self-appointed mission to find Charles Drake had been a failure. Donning his English clothes, he had scoured the city while the rest of them slept. Wu had staked out Drake’s favorite haunts, and was fortunate enough to overhear several conversations regarding his unexplained absence from at least two occasions.

“He was expected at Lady Whitley’s for a masked ball and later in the evening at a gaming hell with Sir Reginald.”

“Who did you hear this from?” Cara asked.

“Servants and cabbies mostly,” he answered vaguely. “Also, Lady Whitley.”

Cara blinked. “Lady Whitely?”

“Her boudoir is rather large and cluttered.”

“Good God! You were in her bedroom!”

“How could you!” Fancy had been silently glowering at Wu since his return and could contain herself no longer. “How could you go spyin’ without me? You told me you were goin’ to bed!”

Tom took this inopportune moment to enter and announce, “I saw ’em, Wu. They was quiet-like, but I saw ’em. And they took the bod… I mean Mister Aamod and the rest.”

Fancy, practically speechless with fury, confronted an unusually tense Wu. “You took Tom?
Tom
!”

“You were upset,” he began in a soothing voice, “I thought—”

“You thought what?” she interrupted, unappeased by his mollifying tone. “That it would be better to take
Tom
? Leave me behind to rest and recover? You do know he’s the one who actually saw the dead bodies. Odette says he puked all over the place.”

“Hey, wait a minute…” Tom interjected, sounding mildly offended.

Fancy faced Tom with a sweet smile that fooled no one. “Oh, it ain’t nothin’ against you, Tom. It’s just Wu and me here are supposed to be partners. Or, so’s I thought.”

“All of you! Please!” Odette glanced over at Wu, who looked back at her miserably. She understood all too well that look. The overwhelming need to protect the ones you love, knowing your ability to do so was pitiably limited.

“Fancy, I know you are angry,” she continued. “But you and Wu must sort this out later. Right now, right this minute, we likely have half the city looking for Lady Caro—”

“Ahem,” Tom cleared his throat dramatically. “Sorry to interrupt, miss, but that’s what I come to tell Wu here. He asked me to keep watch on the house figuring some folks might come to remove the bod… ah… I mean Mister Aamod, Mister Graves, and Cook. And they did! Big men. With masks!” Tom was very satisfied with the ominous silence that met this pronouncement.

“The same people who attacked our cottage,” Odette finally said to the room at large.

Tom nodded, not at all sure what he was agreeing to and then added, “I was hiding in the room above the stables so’s I could see the whole back end of the house. And not two minutes after they was gone, I seen this sharp-looking little fella come out from behind the vegetable crates just below my window.”

The quick exchange of looks between the other four was almost comical.

“Hershel!” Cara exclaimed. “That can be none other than Hershel.”

“Well, miss, I don’t know his name, but I followed him anyways.”

“You followed him,” Odette repeated with raised eyebrows.

“Yep. And you won’t believe where he went.”

“The magistrate’s office on Bow Street,” Fancy answered in a dampening tone.

“How’d you know?” Tom looked disappointed at his stolen thunder.

“He’s a runner,” she responded, not quite able to keep a superior inflection out of her voice.

“Well, that’s odd,” Tom replied, almost to himself. “You’d think there’d be a hue and cry over what he’d seen.” He looked around the room. “What I’m tryin’ to say, is there ain’t no one looking for Lady Caroline. And if’n anybody saw som’em last night, they ain’t talkin’.”

“He is correct.” Geoffrey had entered silently and stood just inside the door. “From what I can discover, the attack on Lady Caroline’s household is not widely known, if at all.”

Odette acknowledged him with a warm smile. “So it seems the culprit has removed the evidence, especially now that Lady Caroline is not there to take the blame. But that does not explain why an investigator from Bow Street would remain silent after witnessing its removal.”

Wu straightened up from his perch on the sofa back and shook his head impatiently. “We can wait no longer. What Mister Gordon knows and what he will do next is not something we can discover by discussion. We must come at this from several different directions.”

“I agree,” Odette said firmly. “And I have a plan.”

*

It was a strangely cool night for late August, and Benjamin Franklin had thrown a light cloak over his evening attire. He picked up an elegant walking stick from the hall table and twirled it expertly before grasping the handle and tapping it lightly on the floor. He took a moment to affect a casual stance or two and then shrugged his shoulders and laughed silently at his own conceit.

He pulled an old silver pocket watch from his waistcoat, but before he could declare the man late a brisk rap on the knocker heralded the arrival of his coach. Not averse to opening his own door, he discovered a large black man standing on his landlady’s stoop.

Finding the general run-of-the-mill hired coach shabby and dirty, Franklin had every intention of leasing a private conveyance while in London. Not only would it prove more commodious, but also lend a particular dignity to his role as colonial diplomat. As yet, he had little time to devote to this task; thus, his reliance on the more up-scale hansoms provided by Mister Doolittle’s Coaching Service.

The large man saluted him with the handle of his whip and said, “Ignatius Harris, at your service, sir.”

“Where is Henry this evening?” Franklin asked, referring to his usual driver.

“Henry’s feeling a bit poorly, sir.” Ignatius ushered Franklin down the steps and opened the coach door for him.

Benjamin Franklin stopped at the steps and asked curiously, “Are you a freeman, Ignatius?”

“I am that, Mister Franklin.”

“Have you ever been a slave?”

“No. My father was from the West Indies and my mother is white. I was born here,” he replied.

Franklin nodded absently and stepped into the carriage. Before Ignatius could close the door, he leaned out and asked, “What would you do if someone tried to take away your freedom?”

“I would fight,” Ignatius replied unhesitatingly.

“And if your opponent surpassed you in number and ability?”

“I would fight anyway,” Ignatius answered. “People fighting for freedom are stronger than those fighting against it. I might die. But maybe I’d win. Either way, I would be free,” he concluded with a firm nod of his head. He shut the door and climbed onto the driver’s seat. He took the reins from the youngest of his five sons.

Benjamin Franklin smiled contemplatively and sat back into the cushions as the coach smoothly made its way out onto the Strand. He was a loyal Englishman. He loved this country. Conversation in coffeehouses and meetings with thinkers of all stripes stirred his intellect and invigorated his daily life. His connection to England was deep. He had come here as a very young man, a boy, really. Poor and abandoned by his benefactor in the colonies, he had worked in a printer’s shop until he could earn his way back home.

When he was a boy that home had been Boston, now it was Philadelphia. Franklin looked out the window at the metropolis of London. He could lose himself in the intellectual and social life of this great city. He turned back to the interior of the coach and looked thoughtfully down at his crossed arms. But it would never be his home. The colonists were a tough and resilient people. A little uncultured perhaps but they were vigorous in their pursuit of progress and knowledge.

Right now, however, they were an angry and frustrated people. They were frustrated at the power of the Penn family to overturn the will of the assembly and extract vast wealth from the colony.

His mission to convince King George to intervene on the colony’s behalf was not an easy one. He would bring his complaint before the King and Parliament, but he knew there were many who were unsympathetic. Indeed, there were those who viewed the colonies as mere territories and its people as much property as the land itself. But he had to believe they would listen, that reason and justice would prevail. This was England, after all, the most civilized country in the world.

He thought suddenly of the last time he had said those very words aloud. The girl in boy’s clothing—he had not solved the mystery of that encounter. In all likelihood she was a madwoman, a troubled soul, but it rankled that she knew of his efforts to form a united congress. If she was simply mad, why single him out?

He looked up and started violently. The carriage was so well sprung he had not noticed when it stopped, allowing Odette to slip in quietly. She had settled herself across from the American diplomat and was prepared for his reaction.

“This is beyond the bounds of prankery!” he exclaimed. “I will have you thrown from this coach posthaste with no regard to your delicate gender! Indeed, why should I?” he concluded, looking disapprovingly at her trousers. “For you obviously do not!” He reached up to rap the roof of the carriage with his walking stick.

“A useless gesture,” she said, adopting a bold demeanor. “Mister Harris is perfectly aware that you are in no danger from me.”

Benjamin Franklin noted the honorific of “Mister” that she bestowed upon the Negro. “Ignatius, I take it, does not work for Mister Doolittle but is in your employ.”

“
Mister
Harris is his own master. He is my friend and agreed to help me speak with you.”

Franklin settled back into the cushions once again. It was as if the fright of a moment before had never happened. His face was a mask of genial interest. It was obvious to Odette that this was a man who rarely found himself at a disadvantage.

“I am expected at Mister Peter Collinson’s home at half past seven,” he stated conversationally.

“You won’t be late. This will not take long.”

He waved his hand in a gesture of acquiescence and said, “Go on.”

“My name is Odette Speex, and I was born over two hundred years in the future,” she began. Seeing that he regarded her with mild passivity, she continued, “I don’t expect you to believe me. In fact, I am sure you think me a lunatic or worse, someone out to discredit your cause. What you cannot know is that your cause will become much bigger than the Penn family and the grievances of a single colony. You and the others, all thirteen colonies, will rebel in less than twenty years.”

He pursed his lips. “I am no tra—”

“It isn’t treason,” she said firmly, “its revolution. It’s for freedom.” She unknowingly echoed Ignatius’ words. “It’s for a new world. And you succeed.”

He was silent, looking at her.

“You succeed,” she repeated. “And from the American Revolution, others are born. My brother tells me it wasn’t a perfect world, but it was evolving, always trying to be better. But I never knew that world. Do you want to know why, Mister Franklin?” She looked at him expectantly but didn’t wait for him to speak before answering her own question. “Because someone decided to change it—or rather stop it before it could happen.”

“Who is this ‘someone?’ he asked reasonably.

Odette gritted her teeth and said, “I don’t know.” He opened his mouth to object, but she rushed on. “I know some who are involved. My brother….” She swallowed. “It was my brother’s invention that allowed Charles Drake to travel to this time and put in motion a plan that derails the American Upraising and preserves aristocratic rule for centuries. A plan that begins but does not end, I believe, with your murder.”

He regarded her for a moment before asking, “Am I so central to the creation of this new world?”

“My brother says you are unique… perhaps one of the greatest minds in history.” She closed her eyes trying to remember Odell’s exact words. “Not only a great and diverse intellect, but a spirit so generous he shared it all with the world at no monetary gain to himself.”

“I am flattered.”

“You should be. Odell is brilliant.”

“And it is his invention, you say, that got us into this mess.” He smiled at her in his catlike way.

“He was tricked,” she replied defensively.

“Not so smart of him.”

Caught, Odette laughed and looked out the window. “No, not so smart,” she agreed. “Young and arrogant.” She looked down at her hands.

Odette heard him clear his throat and realized she had not spoken for several seconds. Taking a deep breath, she continued, “Charles Drake and his associates changed the course of history, creating the world I grew up in. A time much like this except stagnant, mired, for the majority, in poverty and desperation.”

She smiled self-consciously and brought her hands out in front of her in a half-pleading gesture. “Look. I know you don’t believe any of this. What sane person would? But my brother from this other time… the real time… sent me back to stop it. So I’m going to do my best.

“I know we have already made changes. I believe whoever is behind this is worried. He… she… has put a plan in motion. But it may not be the same. All I ask is that you are vigilant. We… I have colleagues… friends… will do our best to keep you safe. I advise you to stay at home as much as possible and only join the company of well-known friends. Do not go anywhere new or out of the way. You
must
be careful!” With the urgency of her words she had leaned toward him, her hands gripped tightly together in her lap.