Shana Galen (24 page)

“The prince?” Elinor said.

Blue nodded. “We’ll never reach him in time. Foncé walked out of the house a half hour ago.”

“And you didn’t follow?” Winn demanded.

“I thought I was needed here. How silly of me.” Blue gave his attention back to Elinor. “He’s almost to Carlton House by now. We’ll never reach the prince before he does.”

Winn felt frustration slam down on him like a fist. “Bloody hell!”

“But…” Elinor looked from one man to the other. “But we cannot give up. We cannot allow the prince to die.”

“The streets are unbearably clogged at this hour, and Carlton House is halfway across London. What would you have us do? The prince has guards who are aware of the danger he is in. There is nothing to do but hope they foil the attempt.”

“No.”

“No?” Winn echoed Elinor. “What do you mean no?”

“The Season is over, and half of the
ton
is in the country already. The other half are making preparations to leave. The streets will not be nearly as clogged as you think.”

Winn nodded. “She makes a good point.”

“She does, but it takes only one cart stuck in mud to block a street and keep us stranded for hours.”

“We could walk,” Elinor suggested.

Blue gave her a cursory perusal. “With you dressed like that and all the pickpockets and cutthroats about? I’d rather not.”

“Winn, how did you manage to arrive so quickly at Lady Ramsgate’s ball that night? You did not come home first, and surely you were not in Mayfair.”

Winn stared at her. She truly was good at this work. Did she even know she’d just given them their solution? “I didn’t travel by street.”

Blue frowned. “Boat? The Thames—”

“No. We could travel above the street and over the rooftops.”

Blue raised a brow. “I had heard you were unconventional.” He directed a pointed look at the ear bobs still tied to Winn’s ears. “But I thought you were also reasonable.”

“I don’t need to be reasonable,” Winn said, pulling the ear bobs off and wiping his face and the remainder of the rouge on his shirtsleeves. It felt good to be out of the rest of his disguise. If only he hadn’t left his boots in the brothel. There was nothing for it.

He’d lost the feminine shoes during his descent, and without any protection, his feet would be bloody by the end of the night.

“I only need to know the rooftops of London.” He held his hand out to Blue. “Ten pounds says we make it to Carlton House before Foncé.”

Blue took his hand. “Why not make it twenty?”

“Why not stop talking and depart?” Elinor said. “I’m not traveling over the roofs, so I’ll just wait here.”

Winn’s brows rose. “Oh, no you won’t.” He took her by the shoulders and propelled her toward the nearest building. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. Foncé’s men are sure to turn up, as are those who would investigate this fire. I don’t want you anywhere near it.”

“But I don’t like high places, and my balance is horrid.”

“Then stick close to me,” Blue said with a wink. “I’m nimble as a squirrel.”

Winn wrenched open the door of the old, abandoned building, stopping Blue before he could enter. “Is there anything in which you do not excel?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

Blue grinned. “You don’t want to know.” He started forward, but Winn stopped him again.

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t.” Blue pushed past him with intention now, urging Elinor up the creaky, dark stairs. Winn followed, frowning when they reached the roof and the breeze slapped at his face. He had not realized how windy it was tonight. That would make their task even more difficult. He stood before Elinor and Blue at the edge of the roof and pointed out toward the dark city. “Carlton House is that way. Toward those lights. Most of the roofs are close enough together that we can hop from one to another.”

“And if they’re not?” Elinor asked.

Winn shrugged. “We improvise.”

Elinor did not like the sound of that. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll see.” Winn stepped on the roof’s ledge and gauged the distance to the next roof. “You want to go first, Blue, or should I?”

Blue bowed. “Oh, ladies first.”

Elinor shook her head. “But shouldn’t we improvise on this roof? That’s too far to jump.”

Winn took her cold hand in his. “We’re wasting time.”

“But—!”

“One, two, three—jump!” And he pulled her into the air.

Elinor had always thought that her mother’s insistence she act like a perfect lady, which meant Elinor was never allowed to climb trees or jump out of haylofts, meant there were gaps in her education. And while she had never encouraged her own girls to climb trees or jump from haylofts—not that any were nearby—she had not forbidden it either.

But now, as Winn forced her, again and again, to take her life in her hands by jumping from a perfectly stable and solid building and into nothingness, Elinor realized that perhaps it had not been her mother who was primarily responsible for the gap in Elinor’s education. She now knew that even had she been allowed to climb trees, she would have preferred to keep her feet planted safely on the ground.

Winn and Blue were another matter entirely. They were more like birds than men. They jumped from building to building as though the feat was nothing. Once Winn had laid a board across the space between two buildings, saying this jump required improvising. But Elinor had thought walking across the far-too-narrow board much more frightening than simply jumping. She preferred no more improvising, thank you very much, and did not protest at all when Winn suggested they travel the remainder of the distance by foot on the ground beneath.

They found a building with a door providing roof access, and made their way through a quiet inn. The public room on the first floor was all but empty, and the innkeeper, who was busy wiping down tables, looked at them curiously as they came down the stairs.

“Lovely accommodations,” Blue said breezily. “So sorry we cannot stay.”

And they walked out the door and kept on walking. “How do you do that?” Elinor asked. “How do you think of lies so easily?”

“The trick is not to lie,” Blue said. “Keep to the truth as much as possible. The accommodations
were
lovely—although not to my taste—and we could
not
stay. All true.”

They moved aside as a group of inebriated young men plowed past. Elinor continued, “I would try and explain myself and make a muddle of everything.”

“Never explain yourself,” Blue told her.

“You’ve become quite good at that,” Winn muttered.

“Why, thank you, old boy. High praise indeed from Baron.”

Elinor looked at Winn. “Do you have any rules?”

“Yes,” Winn said. “Stay alive.” He moved ahead of them, and Elinor glanced at Blue, who was looking studiously at the bare wall of a building they were passing.

“Was it his fault?” she asked quietly.

“To what are you referring?” Blue asked.

“You know,” she said. “If
I
know, you know.”

Blue sighed, his expression pained. The more she looked at him, the more she realized he really was a very handsome man. He must have been very skilled at disguises to make himself look so plain and non-descript. “I wasn’t there. I don’t know what went wrong, precisely.”

“Then give me your imprecise opinion.”

She expected more hedging, but Blue spoke earnestly. “No, it’s not his fault. These things happen. That’s why this work is dangerous. Plans go wrong. Missions go awry. Our work is unpredictable. But none of that will help him.” Blue nodded to Winn, who was striding quickly ahead of them.

“Why not?” Elinor asked.

“Because that’s not who he is. He’s a protector, and when someone close to him is hurt or killed, he will always blame himself. Did he tell you about the mission?”

“It was an assassination?”

“Yes. Baron is not usually given those assignments. As I said, he’s a protector. He does better saving others than he does… disposing of them.”

Elinor noted they were nearing Carlton House. She could see the trees of the neighboring park. “What can I say?” she asked. “How can I show him he is not to blame?”

“You’ll never show him. He must forgive himself. He must realize he cannot save everyone. Crow knew the risks, as we all do. Baron was no more responsible for him than I am for Baron.”

“What about me?”

Blue smiled. “We’re all responsible for you, but if we’re in time to rescue the prince”—he nodded to the columns lining the portico of Carlton House, just coming into view—“then you might just earn your place among us. With a little training, of course.”

Elinor’s heart leapt.
She
an actual agent for the Barbican group! She was so caught up in her imaginings, she almost ran right into Winn, who had stopped in front of her. He was looking at Blue. “How do you want to approach this? It’s better if we don’t alarm the household.”

“Agreed. Come with me. I have a secret entrance.”

“Let’s hope it’s not also Foncé’s secret entrance.”

And just like that, Elinor’s excitement faded. The prospect of seeing Foncé again made her knees weak. He’d almost killed her merely hours before. She must be mad to willingly seek him out after her narrow escape. She looked at Blue and Winn. She supposed madness was a trait the Barbican required.

“This way,” Blue said, and Elinor followed him into the darkness.

***

Winn was impressed by Elinor’s ability to keep up with him and with how easily she melted into the shadows. Blue led them around the perimeter of the prince’s London residence, Carlton House. The house was French in style and furnishings and had been touted by those considered experts as nothing short of
astonishing
. It had cost the country quite a tidy sum to outfit the royal residence with all the opulence the prince required. Winn had never been inside. He didn’t remember ever receiving an invitation, though that was more Elinor’s arena.

“Have we ever been invited to Carlton House?” he asked in a whisper.

“No,” she said. “I suppose we aren’t fashionable enough.”

“You’ll have your chance to see it now,” Blue said, “if we aren’t shot by the guards.” He gestured to the roofs, where Winn spotted the shadow of a man patrolling. “Melbourne asked the prime minister for additional men to protect the prince. His Highness wanted his own men, the 10th Royal Hussars.”

Winn almost laughed. A cavalry regiment patrolling Carlton House on foot? Except it was not amusing, because if he and Blue could circumvent the prince’s protectors, so could Foncé.

“Shouldn’t we alert them to our presence?” Elinor asked, sounding worried.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Blue asked.

Elinor looked somewhat nervous at this answer, but that was because she was still sane. A few years of this work, and she’d be as daft as the rest of them.

Blue held up a hand, and Winn stopped, grasping Elinor by the shoulders to halt her as well. Blue tapped quietly on a window. A moment later, the drapes parted, and a woman peered out. As soon as she spotted Blue, her face split into a huge smile. “One of your admirers?” Winn asked.

Blue shrugged then stepped back as the woman pushed the window open. He leaned over to speak to her quietly, and Winn took the opportunity to pull Elinor close.

She was trembling.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing. I’m cold.”

Winn could well believe it, considering she was wearing next to nothing and the night was chilly. “Is that all?”

She frowned at him. “Do you ever feel scared?” She shook her head. “Never mind. I’m sure experienced agents don’t feel fear.”

Winn had the overwhelming urge to pull her into his arms. Since Blue was still talking the woman—probably one of the house staff—into allowing them inside without going through the proper channels, Winn gave in to his urge.

She felt warm and soft in his arms and far too vulnerable. “A good agent always feels fear when it’s warranted,” he said, his lips brushing her silky hair.

She looked up at him, her brown eyes so dark and lovely. “Is it warranted tonight?”

“Sweetheart, after what you’ve been through tonight, I’m amazed you’re still standing. It’s warranted.”

“You don’t look afraid.”

And he realized he wasn’t. He wasn’t afraid—not for himself. He was afraid for her. And even more than that, he was afraid he would lose her, and it would be too late. “Ellie, I need to tell you something.”

She arched her brows in silent question.

Winn cleared his throat. This was his wife; this was the woman he’d fallen in love with. She had told him she loved him more times than he could count. Why should it be so difficult for him to say the words now?

Because she had not told him lately?

Because he feared after so many years of neglect her feelings had changed?

Because he was really a complete and utter coward?

“Ellie—”

“We’re in,” Blue said. “Ladies first.”

Elinor gave Winn a regretful look then turned to climb through the window. Winn watched her go, astounded that he was simply standing there, watching the woman he loved dive—literally, as her leg caught on the sill and she tumbled awkwardly inside—into danger. While the servant helped Ellie to her feet, Winn grabbed Blue’s arm.

He nodded to the woman. “Who is she? Can she be trusted?”

“The prince’s mistress is with him. She is the current paramour’s maid. And no, she cannot be trusted.”

“But she’s letting us in.”

“Only because I told her I knew what her mistress had done, and if she helped me now, I’d look the other way if she happened to run off.”

Winn swore.

“You prefer to leave your wife with her?”

“I don’t want her near Foncé again.”

“We don’t always get what we want.” Blue gestured to the window. “After you.”

Once inside, Blue led them quickly along a dim corridor, decorated with too much red. He supposed it was considered fashionable, as Elinor gasped at almost every new painting or furnishing they passed, but Winn always preferred the simple to the garish.

They turned a corner and faced two armed men standing at attention. “Who goes there?”

“Who goes there?”
Winn echoed. “We don’t have time for a play set in the Middle Ages.”

“It is I,” Blue answered with exaggerated formality. “Lower the drawbridge.” Apparently, he felt they had all the time in the world.

The men’s shoulder’s relaxed slightly, and they loosened their grip on their rifles. “Agent Blue,” the one on the right said. They were dressed identically in scarlet coats faced with deep yellow, and caps so tall they would have had to duck in any establishment not so spacious as Carlton House. “The prince is not to be disturbed.”

“Yes, I know,” Blue said. “I was present when he gave the order. I am countermanding it.”

“You don’t have the authority,” the one on the left said.

“We’d obtain the authority,” Winn drawled, “but by then the prince will be dead. He might be dead already.”

Both men jerked. “What are you saying?”

“Oh, yes, start a panic,” Blue muttered.

“I’m saying we have information that points to the collusion between the prince’s mistress and the leader of the Maîtriser group. Foncé may be within at this very moment, splitting the prince’s fat belly.”

“If this is some kind of hoax…” the guard on the left began.

“It’s no hoax,” Blue said. “Open the door.”

The guards exchanged a look. “Open the door!” Blue bellowed. The men jumped to attention and pushed the double doors open just in time for Winn to glimpse the form of a man running through another set of doors.

“I have him,” Blue said before racing after the intruder.

Winn started after the woman, who was trying to make an equally quick exit from the antechamber, then realized he needed to give the stunned guards a directive. He looked around helplessly, his gaze landing on Elinor. “Catch her,” he ordered his wife, trying not to think too much about the danger he might be sending his wife to face. Elinor looked equally surprised by his order but recovered quickly and raced through the doors.

“Alert the household, and send for more guards to surround the perimeter,” Winn told the guards. “Foncé must not be allowed to escape.”

“Yes, sir!”

Winn raced after Elinor and saw she’d cut off the other woman’s escape route and was backing her against a small desk in a corner. In the prince’s bedchamber, there was a shriek and a crash. He jerked his head toward the prince’s room. “I have her. Go see to the prince.”

“But—”

“Elinor, go!”

With a scowl, she raced through the next set of doors just as another crash, followed by yet another girlish scream, echoed.

Winn glanced back at the prince’s mistress just as she raised a pistol and fired. He feinted left, and the ball of a pistol smashed into the wall behind him, shattering a painting of some distinguished woman or other. Baron didn’t hesitate. He roared into action and tackled her before she could prime the pistol again.

But she was quick. They hit the floor in a tangle of arms and legs, and she slipped out of his grip, somersaulted away, and was on her feet again. “You bastard!” she spat.

He jumped to his feet. “You’re the one who shot at me.”

They circled one another. “I’m going to kill you, bastard.” She was attractive and moved with agility, despite all the rounded flesh she had on display. He’d thought the prince favored older women married to peers of the
ton
, but he didn’t know this woman. And then she pulled a knife from a fastening on her leg and made a slashing motion at him.

Baron’s eyes widened. This little vixen was a far cry from the pampered courtesans and spoiled wives of Society. “Who the hell are you?” he asked.

“No one. His Highness’s mistress. Let me go.”

“I don’t think so.”

She slashed at him again.

“Is this your idea of foreplay?” he asked, ducking the knife. “Because I rather prefer something with costumes. You could be the saucy chambermaid”—he ducked again—“and I could be the frigid butler who needs warming up.”

“I’ll show you foreplay,” she spat.

He jumped back and narrowly avoided a knife slicing across his gut. He thought about kicking her in the chest—his feet were already bloody and numb from the walk here—but she was a woman, and he still believed in chivalry. “Very well,” he conceded, knocking a chair over and tossing it in her path. She had to jump to avoid it, giving him a moment to strategize. “I’ll be the saucy chambermaid. But just this once. And I draw the line at frilly aprons.”