Lady Avely's Guide to Guile and Peril, page 27
part #3 of Matronly Misadventures Series
“Have you tidied Robert’s room, so it looks unused?” Judith carefully fixed her new mobcap on: a pretty black velvet one with lace edges. A widow’s cap, which would be a further lure for the duke, except that she couldn’t think of that now.
“Of course,” said Mrs Ulrich. “I should mention that your companion, Miss Cultor, returned very early this morning, accompanied by another lady vampiri, by the name of Miss Belfleur.”
“Oh?” Judith was surprised. “Did they fly all night? They must be exhausted.”
“They are both asleep in the cupboard compartment.” Mrs Ulrich nodded at the wardrobe. “Together.”
Judith did not comment, though she was glad that Marigold had softened a little towards Miss Belfleur, enough to invite her into her hidden chamber. She told herself that the two of them would be far too exhausted to attempt any scenes of seduction, then remembered that vampiri had supernatural healing powers. Oh well. At least someone might be properly seduced today, if not her. She sighed.
“Thank you, Mrs Ulrich.” Judith stood, brushing down her skirts. “Now, let us confound the lieutenant.”
But when they reached the Blue Drawing Room, Ltn Greene was nowhere to be seen.
In which the castle is inundated
In the thrust and parry of heated argument, we can overlook the obvious.
— from Lady Avely’s Guide to Guile and Peril
Instead, Trebellow was there, looking outraged.
“I tried to stop him, but he vanished!” The butler held out a note. “He left you this, ma’am.”
Judith snatched it and unfolded it quickly.
Dear Lady A,
The captain is looking for the duke. I will do my best to hold him off, but he will be at Castle Lanyon shortly.
Play innocent, and keep your prize hidden.
Also, I mentioned Miss Onslow’s perfidy, and he refused to believe it. I advise you to wait until he has vented some of his spleen before broaching the subject again.
Yours faithfully,
G.
Judith looked up, staring at Trebellow. “Ltn Greene knows!”
“Knows what?” said Mrs Ulrich grimly.
“He knows we have the duke, but he seems to want to help us.” She thrust the note at her housekeeper, guessing by Trebellow’s lack of surprise that he had already acquainted himself with the contents. “Why is he helping us?”
She frowned, tapping her foot as Mrs Ulrich read the note with frowning confusion. Ltn Greene had always seemed sympathetic to them, right from the start, with his disapproval at how Drumpellier had treated the duke. Was it due to his reverence for nobility? Or his sympathy at Drumpellier’s high-handed tactics?
Whatever the reason, she would take his help and ask questions later.
She turned with resolution to her housekeeper. “Quick,” she said. “Warn his grace we must expect the captain. And then, Mrs Ulrich, we must launch the rest of our plan.”
Mrs Ulrich left. Judith glanced around the Blue Drawing Room, seeing that while she had been indulging in attempts to revive the duke’s memory, her retainers had put the room to rights. There was no sign of the recent violence wrought there. She nodded in approval, and then hurried up to the Tea Tower Room, this time finding her way with ease.
She did not want to be in the Blue Drawing Room when Drumpellier arrived. Furthermore, the comforting glow of the Tea Tower Room might soothe her nerves. She had a part to play now, and she stopped by her room first to fetch her embroidery—it would have to do, along with her black mobcap and widow’s gown, to cast a veneer of matronly respectability.
Mrs Ulrich had also set out a tea tray for her, which was very thoughtful. Judith found that her hands were shaking as she poured the boiling water from the hearth into the teapot, but the strong brew calmed her, pleasantly hot. She drank a full cup and then picked up her embroidery, giving herself a sharp dressing down: there was no need to worry. Dacian was out of harm’s way, and she had the tools to negotiate with Drumpellier. She was just lucky that Ltn Greene had given them all sufficient warning. And in the meanwhile, she could work on Elinor’s wedding handkerchiefs.
She didn’t have long to wait. Within a quarter of an hour, she heard booted heels marching up the tower stairs. Trebellow’s voice protested loudly further below.
A moment later, Drumpellier burst in. He glared around the circular, beautiful room, then fixed a fulminating look on Judith.
“Where is he?”
Judith calmly laid down her embroidery. “Where is who?”
“You know very well who: the duke!”
She drew a deep breath, widening her eyes, feigning surprise. “The duke? Don’t tell me you’ve lost him!”
“You snatched him! I know it!”
“My dear sir,” she said, with great hauteur. “How dare you suggest such a thing? How could I possibly snatch his grace? I would never be so vulgar!”
“You were there last night! Ltn Greene told me! With your Travel charm!”
Judith’s lips twisted. Obviously, the lieutenant had not felt he could lie about her presence, which was probably wise, as it had been witnessed by several other soldiers. “If you know that,” she said icily, “you also know that Ltn Greene escorted me home—without the duke.”
“What were you doing at the fort, then?”
Trebellow burst into the room, puffing from his pursuit up the stairs. “My apologies, ma’am. He arrived precipitately!”
“Never mind, Trebellow, I am well aware of the captain’s tendency to treat my drawing room as his own,” she said coolly. “I was just explaining to him why I was at the Fort Pendennis last night. I wished to speak to his grace, which I did. And I have strong remarks to make to you in return! His grace had lost his memory again! How dare you make false promises to him, then undo his wits once more!”
“Nonsense,” snapped Drumpellier. “Do not accuse me of dishonourable conduct when you have been shamefully opprobrious!”
“Explain to me then, why he did not recognise me at all! He was utterly blank when I saw him on guard duty!”
Drumpellier’s eyes slitted. “You told me that he did not know you, in the cell when you saw him last.”
With a start, she remembered that Drumpellier did not know of Dacian’s letter, and the secret signal he had given her. “Nonetheless, I heard you offer him a compromise. Why was it abandoned? What has happened since then?”
Captain Drumpellier ground his teeth. “I don’t know what happened, but I wager you do.” He began striding around the room, twitching at curtains and glaring at the couches as if Dacian might be tucked underneath one.
Judith grew angrier, or at least put on the assumption of it, grateful for Ltn Greene’s warning. “I know nothing! Unless it is that you have foolishly lost him! Did you ply him with Lethe again? It would not surprise me if he went wild, and broke his way out of that dreadful fort, with his mind addled and his Gift untrammelled.”
“As far as I can tell,” gritted out Drumpellier, “his grace vanished into thin air. He must have had help, and I know exactly where to look for that!”
“You flatter me,” said Judith, keeping her hands firmly folded over her embroidery needle. Drumpellier certainly had a very angry bee in his bonnet. “Perhaps I hid his grace under my skirts when Ltn Greene escorted me home?”
“Do not mock me,” growled Drumpellier, “I will search this castle high and low until I find him. And whoever helped him—some lackey of yours, I assume. And then you will all be hanged for treason!”
Judith stiffened, glad that Perry was now far away, but feeling a little anxious for Robert. And the mention of treason recalled her bargaining chip: Miss Onslow, imprisoned deep below, and the certain knowledge that Drumpellier’s plans were wrecked in a far more decisive manner. She was mindful, however, of Ltn Greene’s advice that this was a touchy subject and best avoided for the moment. Looking at the captain’s red face, she didn’t think the negotiation would be well received. He was in too much of a frothing rage. Better to wait, as the lieutenant suggested, until he had vented some of his spleen flinging himself all over the castle, and then they could have a rational conversation.
At that moment, too, Ltn Greene himself appeared in the door. He darted a questioning look at Judith, then turned respectfully to his captain, throwing out a hasty salute. “Sir, the platoon is assembled outside, as you requested.”
“Bring them in,” snarled Drumpellier. “I want every nook and cranny searched, do you hear me? And guards at every door. This castle is under military watch until we find him.”
“Yes, sir!”
Slightly mollified, Drumpellier turned and gave Judith a savage smile. “The lieutenant here is a Healor, ma’am, in case you were unaware.”
“Yes, I was aware,” said Judith, “but I am incognisant of the relevance, unless you find his grace injured, which would not surprise me at all. He has probably gone utterly mad under your ill treatment.”
“Some healors can sense blood and bone, and Ltn Green is one of them,” replied Drumpellier with some satisfaction, “and he will personally search this castle from top to bottom.”
Judith stared back, as impassively as she could manage. Behind Drumpellier, the lieutenant gave her a wink, so she was hard put to remain expressionless.
“You will find nothing,” she said coldly. “And if his grace has managed to effect an escape, I say good luck to him. He is probably already in London.”
Drumpellier narrowed his eyes. “You stay here until I say you can leave, and I expect your servants to assist me in every way. Trebellow, follow me.”
The butler ignored him and looked to Judith. She gave a short nod. Drumpellier spun angrily on his heel, ordering Ltn Greene to come with him too. The three men left.
Judith sat very still, listening to their heavy treads receding. She recalled Ltn Greene’s wink, and remembered how he had winked before, on the ramparts last night. Had he known even then that she had snatched the duke away? What game was he playing?
Shakily, she picked up her embroidery and made a valiant attempt to continue with it. After a few minutes, her efforts paid off, as she managed to focus on the delicate stitches and calm herself. Far beneath the Tea Tower Room, she could hear soldiers tramping all over the castle, shouting instructions. It was a very big castle. It would take them a while to exhaust themselves searching all one hundred and twenty-one rooms. One hoped they would all become as lost as she had done.
One thing puzzled her more and more: why Ltn Greene had taken the unprecedented step of acting against his superior. In concealing the duke, his actions amounted to nothing less than mutiny. Did Ltn Greene know something that she did not? Did he feel he would be granted immunity by the Custos command further up the chain once Drumpellier’s outrageous plot was revealed? Her needles clacked quietly as she pondered the question, wondering how she could turn this alliance to her further advantage. If the lieutenant sensed Dacian’s hiding place, would he stay silent? Devoutly, she hoped Dacian would stay quiet. Drumpellier had been very angry. If he found the duke, he might hurl him into Austria at once.
A small smile tugged at her lips. “Opprobrious conduct” indeed! How dare Drumpellier call her actions shameful, when he had erased Dacian’s memories again, despite his gentlemen’s agreement.
Suddenly, she put her embroidery down in her lap, as a thought occurred to her. Drumpellier had denied the charge, calling it nonsense. Her brow creased, trying to recall the tenor of his denial. Oddly, she could not remember it ringing with the hollowness of a lie, though she had readily assumed it at the time, being so angry herself. “Nonsense!” he had declared, and the more she thought about it, the less she was certain it had been mendacious.
Had Drumpellier indeed being telling the truth?
She didn’t want to believe it, and it didn’t make sense. If Drumpellier had not drugged the duke, then how had Dacian lost his memories again?
Judith bit on her lower lip. It could have been a relapse, a delayed effect. Or someone else could have given him the dose.
An uneasy feeling trickled through her veins. Ltn Greene had been in charge of Fort Pendennis in Drumpellier’s absence. He would have had access to Lethe. He could have slipped it into Dacian’s food or wine. He could have done it at the barracks, either at supper or breakfast while Drumpellier was away. Dacian would not have suspected him.
Judith stared out the window, her embroidered handkerchief lax in her hands, her heart beating rather hard. Ltn Greene had shrugged her question off last night, and at the time she had thought he was protecting his captain, not willing to admit the truth. But what if the truth was that he had done the deed himself?
But why would Ltn Greene want to undo Dacian’s mind again?
The answer struck her with sudden clarity, and a swooping sensation of dismay. Dacian and the captain had finally come to an agreement. What if the lieutenant had been trying to undo that compromise? What if he was eager to hide the duke because he didn’t want that weapon in Drumpellier’s hands to be wielded against Bonaparte?
Her pulse beat in her throat. She finally realised the awful truth: Ltn Greene was acting for the enemy. It was he, not Quarles, who was Miss Onslow’s minder. He was a French spy, working from within Fort Pendennis itself. And now he was prowling around Castle Lanyon, under her own aegis.
Shakily, she thrust her embroidery aside and stood. But even as she took a step towards the door, she heard boots again on the stairs. Wringing her hands together, she hoped desperately it would be Drumpellier, so she could come clean and lay the whole tangle before him.
But it was not Drumpellier who appeared at the door, but his lieutenant.
In which a captain is resolute
A generous action might conceal an injurious intent.
— from Lady Avely’s Guide to Guile and Peril
Ltn Greene shut the door behind him and turned to smile at Judith. She stood still, trying to paste a welcoming expression upon her face. Words stuck in her throat like dry wool.
“You’ve done a wonderful job of concealment,” he said, admiringly, and came into the room. “I would never have known that sitting room was there, if I could not sense the duke inside. Who cast such a brilliant Illusion?”
She ignored the question. “Is the duke safe?”
“Yes, I haven’t told anyone.” He bowed his head. “Drumpellier’s plot is abhorrent, as I’m sure you agree.”
She was reminded of Miss Onslow’s careful half-truths. Of course, it must have been Ltn Greene who had warned Miss Onslow that she was dealing with a Truth Discernor. The two of them had been working together all along.
“Thank you.” Judith licked her lips. “I am grateful for your help.”
Ltn Greene gave her a close look. “It is the least I could do.” He tipped his head. “Has his grace recovered his memory yet?”
“Not yet.”
“How did you whisk him out of there?”
“I had help. Friends.” She hesitated. “They’ve gone now.”
Ltn Greene raised his brows. “Both of them?”
“Yes,” she said. “They Travelled out of here.”
There was a long pause, and too late Judith realised her mistake, for as a Healor he would have found Robert’s hiding place. He sighed, tapping a finger against his thigh. “A Truth Discernor, lying to me. Why would you do that, ma’am?”
She said nothing, and he took a step towards her. Watching him, it was as if her vision wavered then straightened. Ltn Greene’s friendly, faintly apologetic look vanished, to be replaced with grim determination. The blinking eyes hardened, his lips thinned, and even his cheeks seemed to grow hollower.
“You’ve figured it out, haven’t you?” His voice was no longer friendly. “A clever little Discernor.”
“Figured what out?” she said stupidly, in a bid to play innocence. But her eyes darted to the door.
He stepped in front of it. “Ah, suddenly you wish to leave! But not yet, I’m afraid. Though you’ve been most helpful,” he added. “My poor captain is so focused on your meddling that he hasn’t noticed mine.”
She swallowed. How could she have been fooled by his act of boyish charm? “What do you mean? What meddling?”
“There is no need to look so worried: our interests align, Lady Avely. I tried to help his grace from the start, surely you know that? I gave him some untainted food, in a bid to help him recover his memories. It worked for a while, and he became quite recalcitrant.” He sighed. “Then Drumpellier got to him, with some sort of gentleman’s agreement, if you can believe it.” Disdain smeared the lieutenant’s features, as if he did not believe it possible for Drumpellier to behave with nobility.
Judith said nothing. Dacian had written of an unexpected ally. She had thought he meant Yvette, but he must have been referring to Greene, trying to muddy the waters by helping him.
“And then you undid it all,” she said finally. “Why?”
“Oh, I hoped that the duke might skewer the assassination plot, if he lost his memory again.” Ltn Greene paused. “But then you appeared, with your little rescue attempt! So I turned a blind eye while you whisked him away. It was quite pleasing to sit back and watch the chaos unfold.”
She turned her back to him and walked to the window. Anger swirled through her, clouding her vision. Anger at Ltn Greene, as well as with herself. She should have questioned the circumstances more. Instead, she had eagerly accepted his help and assumed the worst of Drumpellier.
“I suppose you ordered Miss Onslow to kill Sgt Finlay,” she said calmly.
“Oh no. She did that all by herself, stupid girl. Finlay might have worked for us if we gave him enough inducement. Who cares if he was a libertine? She didn’t need to murder him for it. Still, she managed it quite well—except then she tried to kill me. I suppose she decided she wanted to end the game and make amends.”
