Wicked (11 page)

Camille found herself drawn to the cobra in its glass tank, despite the fact that it was already surrounded by a group of bragging schoolboys.

“He’s just a snake! He’s all skinny!” said one.

“I could pick him up and wring his neck in a second,” boasted another.

“Does he have a neck?” wondered a third.

One tapped on the glass. The snake, which had not been in attack mode, suddenly reared up, head winged. It darted toward the boys—and struck the glass. The boys fell back in a flash.

“Let’s get out of here!” cried the one who had wanted to know about the neck.

“If you don’t tease the creature, it’s quite safe to look at it,” Camille said, walking by them. The cobra was actually beautiful. She turned to the boys. “You know, according to legend, Cleopatra asked that a basket of figs, with a cobra in it, be delivered to her. She didn’t just want to commit suicide, you see. The cobra was a symbol of divine royalty, and she believed that if she was bitten by an asp and died, she would become immortal.”

“Was that true?” asked one of the wide-eyed boys.

“Well, she’s legendary, so in a way she’s immortal. But
as far as the asp bite is concerned, I’m pretty sure she was just dead.” She smiled. “Museums are places to see things and to learn, not to tease or to damage artifacts,” she said. She turned away from the boys, then paused and added, “And yes, snakes do have necks.”

“How do you know where the neck is?” the boy asked.

“Behind the head,” Camille said, smiling.

“The whole rest of the body is behind the head!” one of the other boys noted, scowling.

“Right
behind the head,” Camille amended.

“Are there more snakes in the museum?” the fascinated boy asked.

“Just this one,” she assured him. “And when the exhibit on Cleopatra moves, so will the snake.”

“Wow! He’s the best thing in the place!” another of the boys said.

“There’s a lot more. Just read and use your imaginations!” Camille advised.

They frowned.

“Why don’t you take us around?” asked the inquisitive one. “Please,” he added quickly.

“I can’t. I have to get back to work,” she explained.

“What do you do?” the boy asked.

“Translate.”

“You can read the signs on the tombs?” Even the boy who had ridiculed the place seemed fascinated.

She smiled and nodded. “Really, go on and read the little placards everywhere. It will be fun, if you use your imaginations. I promise!”

“Let’s see the Rosetta Stone,” one of the older boys said.

They left, the one boy thanking her and looking at her with awe. Camille grinned at him and waved.

She turned to the snake again. Cobras, she knew, killed
many people. But she’d also learned that they seldom attacked unprovoked. Camille watched it, suddenly sorry for the creature. It had surely hurt to hit the glass. And yet…she wondered what she would be feeling if the glass were not there, protecting her from the creature.

She wondered how Lord and Lady Stirling had felt. Had they seen the snakes that would bring about their agonized ends? And had it all been a sad accident…or murder, indeed? Murder most foul.

C
AMILLE FOUND IT QUITE AMAZING
that she had been able to slip so easily from work just the day before. This evening, she was accompanied. Hunter, who rarely stayed long in the halls of the museum, was at her one side, Alex at the other. Sir John strode just a few feet behind.

And when they reached the street, the great carriage belonging to the Earl of Carlyle was there, awaiting her.

“Don’t go!” Alex whispered to her, sounding a little desperate.

“Camille…” Hunter whispered awkwardly. Then, and for her ears alone, he said, “I’ll marry you. Honestly.”

“She shouldn’t be doing this!” Alex said aloud to Sir John. “A young woman alone, in the company of such a…beast!” he finished lamely.

“Ach!” Sir John said, shaking his head at the two of them. “We’re speaking of the Earl of Carlyle! Respected, a war hero, a onetime friend to us all!” he reminded them indignantly.

“A man who is injured, scarred and embittered,” Hunter reminded them. “She can’t go.”

“She must,” Sir John said.

“She
will make up her own mind,” Camille said firmly. Shelby was alighting from the coachman’s chair, smiling like a gentle giant. He bowed, then opened the door for her to take her seat.

She felt a moment’s panic, and more. Hunter MacDonald had just said that he would marry her! Take him up on the offer, call the fellow’s bluff! she thought on the one hand. He was attractive, renowned and definitely a man with the kind of charisma that could seduce. And she had felt herself drawn to him so very often….

But the Earl of Carlyle, wretched though he might be, held Tristan. And strangely, she realized that, although the man was boldly bribing and using her, there was something about him and his passion that was equally alluring. He offered no false deference to her sex, age or appearance. Even in his anger, and despite his ruse, there was an honesty about him that seemed as great a pull upon her now as any other. She was intrigued, and she wanted answers for the man, whether they proved innocence and accident, or…something far more sinister.

She turned to the men surrounding her. “I thank you all. The Earl of Carlyle has offered hospitality to my guardian, and I must go.”

As the carriage pulled away, she couldn’t help but wonder at the true thoughts their words might have masked.

E
VELYN FOUND
B
RIAN
hard at work in his library, once again poring over the journal his mother had kept on that last, fateful trip to Egypt.

“Brian, you are going to make yourself quite insane,” she told him gently.

He looked up at her, as if unaware that he had bid her to enter or even that she had come into his private realm. Ajax, of course, had given her a woof and wagged his tail. As usual, he dozed at his master’s feet, taking on the task of watching out for the world, since his beloved human seemed quite incapable of noticing all else when he was involved.

Brian stared at her, as if weighing her words. He had taken to wearing the mask at all times, even in his own castle, since they were offering hospitality to certain “guests.”

He shook his head. “I’m close, Evelyn. I know it. I’m very close.”

“Yes,” she said gently, “but you’ve read that journal a thousand times over.”

He arched a brow. “I thought you’d be pleased. I went out, I had lunch at the club with Lord Wimbly. And, you’ll be pleased to know, I’ve made arrangements for the fundraiser this weekend.”

“Have you?”

“Yes, yes,” he said impatiently. “I’m taking Miss Montgomery. Though I must say, the woman is something of an enigma. Her guardian may have been knighted for service to our Queen, but he is a petty thief nonetheless. So where did she come across her excellent knowledge of Egyptology?”

“I’ve an idea how you might find out,” Evelyn murmured.

“Yes, I intend to get one of the men delving into her past immediately,” Brian said.

“My idea was easier,” Evelyn said.

“Really? Pray, do share your thoughts with me.”

“Ask her,” Evelyn said.

He smiled ruefully. “Ah, but will she tell me the truth?”

“It is a place to start,” Evelyn said. “Shelby should be returning with her at any moment. I’ve set you up to dine here together, alone, at eight.”

“I can’t actually force her to stay,” he reminded her.

She smiled. “Ah, but her guardian is doing poorly.”

“I thought he was but bruised.”

“I’ve seen to it that the bruises still cause pain.”

“Good Lord, Evelyn, you did not do injury to the man?”

She laughed. “No, Brian! We’ve simply had a discussion, that is all.”

He gazed at her, shaking his head. “You’re quite a marvel, you know.”

“I simply do my best to serve,” she said, smiling sweetly. Then she looked solemnly. “Seriously, Brian. Ask her what you want to know. Perhaps she will tell you the truth about herself. And if it’s not the truth, you’ll discover that easily enough, I’m certain.”

“Perhaps. But…”

“But?”

“Well, when we first spoke, she was masking the truth with a far greater fervor than I usually cloak it in myself.”

“You can’t seriously believe that Miss Montgomery is part of a conspiracy against you!” Evelyn said.

“All I know, Evelyn, is that it seems everyone is playing at some kind of masquerade or another. And that Miss Montgomery definitely has her secrets.”

A
S SHE OPENED THE DOOR,
Camille heard the soft moan. Fear swept into her heart.

“Tristan?”

“Camie, love, is that you?”

His voice sounded faint, weak. Camille rushed to the bed and sat at Tristan’s side, looking down at him anxiously. “Are you all right?” she demanded.

“Righter than rain, child, with you before my face!” he said. Still, he winced as he spoke.

“What’s hurting you, Tristan? Perhaps you have broken bones. I’ve really got to get you out of here and into a hospital!” Camille said worriedly.

“No, Camie. No!” He grasped her hand then. He might appear weak, and it seemed that he was suffering, but his grip was surprisingly strong.

“No, lass, my bones are not broken. That I can tell, for
I can move the old things without going into crushing agony. No, child, it’s just that I’m aching, you know?”

She sat back, staring down at him, not at all sure whether to be worried or furious. She set her free hand on his forehead. “You’re suffering no fever,” she told him.

“There you are, see? I’m just…weak. And sore. I’ll be better, given a wee bit of time to heal.” He gave her a tremulous smile. “It’s not life-threatening, child, I’m certain.”

“Oh, it may be!” she warned. “I just might throttle you when we get out of here!”

“Ah, now—”

“Tristan, you might have jeopardized my employment.”

“A lass should not be working,” he said, and his misery sounded real enough.

She sighed. “I’ll not throttle you on one condition.”

“And what is that, love?”

“You never, ever do something so incredibly stupid again! This man is a monster, Tristan. I’m not certain he could have gotten you hanged, but he could have seen to it that you rotted in prison for a very long time,” Camille reprimanded.

“Ah, now…the man has so much!”

“And intends to keep it. I’m not at all sure he’s sane.”

Tristan suddenly seemed to get a fresh surge of strength. He sat up halfway in the bed, frowning fiercely. “Why, lass, if he’s so much as lain a finger upon you—”

“Tristan! Nothing like that. It’s just that…oh, never mind. He’s associated with the museum, you know, through his parents and their deep interest in Egyptology. And he’s convinced that they were murdered.”

Tristan frowned then. “They were killed by asps, or so I believe.”

“Yes, I guess he can’t accept that truth. If it is the truth.”

“What are you saying?” Tristan demanded.

She set her hands upon his shoulders, suddenly concerned that she had said too much. “Never mind, Tristan. It’s just that I’m anxious that you get well, and I’m so angry with you! How could you do this!”

“Camille, I’m so sorry. But I should be providing for you. ’Tis sad, lass, that you have to…go out and work for a living!”

“Tristan, I like what I do. I
love
what I do. And it’s not sad in the least. You looked after me when I was too young to do so. Now, you must allow me to look after you. And don’t help me! You mustn’t help me anymore, do you understand? What you’re doing is no good.”

“Actually,” Tristan murmured, “I’m usually a pretty good thief.”

“Tristan! You must swear to me right now and before God that you will never, ever go out to steal anything ever again!”

“Ah, now, lass…”

“Tristan!”

He settled back like a sulking child. “I
am
good.”

“Tristan!”

“Well, now, we made our way on my charms, as they say, for a good many years.”

“We don’t need to do so any longer! At least if you behave yourself, we will never have to live on your ‘charms,’ as you say, again. Swear to me that you’ll never pull another foolish caper such as this!”

He mumbled something.

“Swear!” she demanded.

He looked up at her. “I swear, lass. There, are you happy? I’ll never pull a foolish caper such as this one again.”

She cocked her head. “Not good enough.”

“What?”

“You’ll do some other foolish deed and say that it wasn’t a foolish caper such as this one. You know what I want you to say—and mean. That you’ll never seek to steal, commit fraud or do anything illegal—whatsoever!—again.”

“Camille!” he protested indignantly.

“Now!” she said firmly.

And so he repeated her words, leaning back on his pillow, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked worn indeed, and rather like a petulant child. “You shouldn’t have to work,” he said again with a sigh. “You should be married, lass, to a fine man who’ll give you all the fine things in life.”

“I don’t want the fine things in life,” she insisted softly. “Tristan, I love you and Ralph. I’m happy to take care of you—”

She winced, aware that she had said the wrong thing. Tristan had his pride. That was why he saw his working as a thief to support her preferable to the honest employment with which she could support him.

“Camille!” he said firmly, indignantly. “It’s not right for a lass to support a man.”

“Tristan, do you believe that we are living in the Dark Ages?” she countered. “You fostered my love of learning as much as—”

She broke off as they heard a tap at the door. Without being bidden, Evelyn Prior cracked the door open. “Miss Montgomery, you have returned,” she said pleasantly.

Camille stiffened. “Yes. Shelby left me at the door.
Naturally,
I came to see Tristan immediately.”

“Naturally,” Mrs. Prior agreed. “However, the earl awaits you now, in the master’s sitting room, where dinner will be served.”

Camille smiled sweetly. “I had thought that I should
dine quietly with Tristan, and not take such undue advantage of the earl’s…hospitality.”

“Ah, but the earl awaits you.”

“I’ve supped already,” Tristan told her.

Camille glanced at him, frowning. “We are most
accidentally
guests here, sir!” she reminded him.

“Miss Montgomery, if you would be so kind…” Mrs. Prior persisted.

Camille inhaled, staring at Tristan.

He grinned. “You must go, lass. The Earl of Carlyle insists.”

Forcing a smile, Camille rose. “You are certain that you are growing stronger here? That there is nothing so serious that we shouldn’t get you to a hospital?”

She thought that Tristan glanced a little uneasily across the room at Mrs. Prior. “Camille, I am certain that I don’t need a hospital. Only time to repair and gather my strength.”

Camille turned sharply to stare at the woman. She gave no hint of having offered Tristan any dire warnings; she appeared to politely await Camille and nothing more.

“As you wish,” Camille murmured. She kissed Tristan on the forehead and followed Mrs. Prior out the door.

“He seems to be doing very well,” Mrs. Prior said, smiling as if she really felt a sense of keen relief.

“Yes,” Camille murmured. The day now seemed tediously long and traumatic. She was exhausted and not sure she wanted to spend the evening with the man who was so blatantly using her to his purposes.

Apparently Mrs. Prior realized that she was not in the mood for small talk, and kept silent as they traversed the long hall leading to the master’s quarters.

Once again, Brian Stirling awaited her, hands clasped behind his back as he stared out the windows into the darkness of the grounds.

Ajax sat before the hearth. Tonight, however, the dog offered her something of a welcoming whine as he thumped his tail on the floor. He did not rise. He wouldn’t come to her, she knew, unless given the go-ahead by his master.

“Miss Montgomery. My Lord,” Evelyn murmured.

She started to turn and leave, but the earl swung around, calling her back.

“Evelyn!”

Mrs. Prior walked in, waiting as bidden.

He turned to give Camille a long and careful assessment, his eyes teal that night as they took in her length, head to toe.

“We must find Miss Montgomery some suitable clothing,” he said at last.

“There are certainly some garments we have here that will suffice,” Mrs. Prior said. “I will look into the matter immediately.”

He waved a hand in the air. “For her work, yes. Certainly we’ll find enough that’s…serviceable. But if she’s to attend the fund-raiser with me, she must be properly attired.”

“She’s quite slim,” Mrs. Prior mused.

Camille felt her cheeks flaming. This was simply rude, whether the man was an earl or the Prince of Wales himself.

“Excuse me, but
she
is standing right here,” she informed them both. “And if you will allow me time to go home, I have my own, very
serviceable
clothing there.”

“I’m quite aware that you’re there, Miss Montgomery. We humbly beg your pardon,” he murmured. He didn’t
humbly
beg a thing, she was quite certain. “There hasn’t been a convenient time for you to go home, I’m afraid. I believe that, even on such short notice, the sisters could
make up something wonderful for Miss Montgomery,” he said. “Evelyn, please tell Shelby that he must bring Miss Montgomery to the cottage in the woods before coming here tomorrow evening.”