The Magic of Gingerbread, page 17
Mr. Gibson shrugged. “He wasn’t needed.” Her former co-worker grabbed a length of rope from the telegraph desk behind her. “You have wasted time.”
“For what?” The urge to give into the hysterical laughter climbing her throat grew. “To my way of thinking, I’ve made great use of the time given to me.” At least since I arrived at this station. Had she wasted her life trying to please men who didn’t deserve her attention, wasted it on the attempt to fit herself into society’s expectations that didn’t apply, wasted it on keeping the people who might have cared at arm’s length? Sadly, yes, she had. But when she’d met Cameron, all that had changed.
I have changed.
And now the opportunity to further that relationship had vanished.
“I won’t take any more of your lip.” Mr. Gibson delivered a backhanded slap to her face. The force of the blow snapped her head back. Stinging pain heated her cheek. The metallic taste of blood hit her palate from a cut on the inside of her bottom lip. “Once that eleven-forty train barrels through, you and your troublesome friend will realize how powerful Russia can be.” After laying his revolver on the desk, he bound her wrists behind her back and pulled the rope tight.
Panic filled Eleanor’s chest. She stole a glance to a clock mounted on the wall opposite her over the door. Eleven-thirty-five. Time was literally running out. Fear prickled over her skin. I refuse to accept this is the end, not after everything I’ve survived thus far. “How?” If she could discern the plan, perhaps she could defeat it. Somehow.
Mr. Gibson knelt, and with effective movements, tied her ankles together. As he stood to his full height and reclaimed his pistol, he laughed, his eyes lit with a fervor only he understood. “I have wired explosives to the telegraph machine. A contact elsewhere will send a message at the same time the train arrives. Once the message concludes, this station house will blow and will take the train with it.”
She sucked in a breath and looked at the clock. Eleven-thirty-six. Dear God. “Innocents will die for your cause.”
“Yes, you included. I’ve wanted so badly to put you in your place.” He sneered. “You couldn’t mind your own business, could you? You had to keep poking around once that first damn message accidentally came your way.”
Her pulse accelerated. “You knew?”
“Not at first, but once I didn’t receive the second message, Lila contacted me through a different channel.” He cocked his revolver and the sound echoed through the silence.
“She was here in Paddington the whole time.” So close. “Why did the messages continue?”
He shrugged. “We wanted to see who the receiver was. Purely by serendipity it was you who intercepted them, you the ice queen who, by chance, was also connected to the Home Office operative assigned to my case.”
“You sent Lila to Covent Garden that night.” A sick sensation roiled over her. Another glance at the clock showed time had advanced a minute. It was now eleven-thirty-seven.
“I did. How could I not? She wished to claim her daughter, and I wanted you out of the picture.” The laugh he made grated along her skin. “I needed you to return to the aloof woman you’ve always been, so Lila attempted to drive a wedge of doubt between you and the unfortunate Mr. Hallewell.”
And the plan had worked all too well. She hadn’t trusted Cameron or herself, and had let the old way of thinking keep her in its clutches. “Go to hell.” I never had the chance to reconcile with Cameron. He probably thinks I hate him. Tears sprang into her eyes. I’ll never be able to tell him how I truly feel.
“Oh, I don’t think I will yet, but someone must make the sacrifice.”
In the distance, the long pull of a train’s whistle split the night, and the time slipped to eleven-thirty-eight.
“I’d love to have that sacrifice be you, Mr. Gibson.” Cameron burst into the station house with Lila’s pistol in his hand. “Mrs. Redding and I will not perish by flame tonight.” Before the Russian spy could do more than gape, Cameron pulled the trigger. The gunshot resounded in the small space and then Mr. Gibson collapsed to the floor. He clutched his knee, where blood oozed from a fresh wound.
“You will not thwart me.” The other man scrambled and then pointed his pistol, but Cameron was quicker. He darted to one side as the man fired, and then he pounced. After a brief tussle and the pistol being kicked away, Cameron punched the man so hard, Mr. Gibson’s head bounced against the scuffed hardwood before his body went still.
The clock clicked to eleven-thirty-nine, and the telegraph machine behind Eleanor came to life with a series of taps and ticks.
“Cameron, please release me.” Eleanor struggled against her bonds. “I have to stop that machine before the train arrives.” Urgency propelled the words and her voice cracked on the last one.
He surged to his feet. “There’s no time. I’m afraid Paddington Station will be destroyed.” Before she could utter a protest or anything else, he scooped her off the chair, and with long-legged strides carried them both out of the station, down the stairs, and over the tracks. The gleam of the train’s headlight cut through the snow and darkness. Another shrill whistle pierced the air, seconds ahead of a grand explosion. Cameron continued to run until the shockwaves from the blast threw him to the ground.
Eleanor voiced a cry, but he wrapped his arms tighter around her and pressed her to the snowy ground, covering her body with his. The intense heat of the fire rolled to their location. An eerie orange glow lit up the night. Seconds later, the train barreled past the obliterated station, never slowing or even stopping.
The train didn’t stop. Her plea must have gotten through.
“Oh, thank God.” At least none of the passengers or people who’d meet them would lose their lives tonight. She hoped if there were additional people on the property, they remained unharmed.
Moments later, Cameron stirred and sat up. The flames from the wreckage of Paddington Station reflected in his eyes. A muscle in his jaw worked. Eleanor remained on her back. She hadn’t the strength to move, let alone the will to look upon the carnage. The shock of such excitement left her shaking. “What of Lila?”
Cameron glanced at her. “I was obliged to render her unconscious yet again, after your spectacular attack.” He attempted a chuckle, but it fell flat. “She’s currently with the carriage driver who so kindly arrived on the scene to assist at that juncture. I’ll take her to Whitechapel for detainment until my superior can decide her fate.”
She breathed out a sigh of relief. “Untie me.” Shivers wracked her frame, both from shock and the cold. Snow wriggled beneath her collar to chill the skin at her nape. “Cameron?”
A slow grin curved his sensuous lips, and despite the grim circumstances, Eleanor’s pulse fluttered. “Hmm, I rather think there is some infinite value in having you at my mercy in such a manner.”
Butterfly wings tickled low in her belly. “That is not amusing. Release me.” Though she’d give anything to find herself in his arms. That brief stint when she’d been pressed against his chest as he’d carried her from the station piqued her curiosity and fired her desire.
“I will.” He leaned over her, his face close, and then whispered, “Do you promise to talk with me, a serious discussion regarding the future and other things?” His stormy eyes darkened as he waited on her response.
“Yes, but later and not here. This is too grim a place.” The clatter of alarm bells rang in the distance. “And it would seem the police force is on its way.”
“Indeed.” He worked quickly at her bonds, and when she was free, he assisted her into a standing position. “Is it too much to hope that my sister notified Father or the Home Office?”
Eleanor massaged her wrists. Another round of shivers wracked her body. “She is as efficient as you, and said she would when I spoke to her earlier.”
“You went to my home?” Surprise wove through his voice.
“Yes, to warn you, and when I found you’d already gone, I...” What else was there to say?
“You poor thing.” He whipped off his fancy tailcoat and then wrapped it around her shoulders. “Your teeth are chattering.”
When she worked her arms into the sleeves and she inhaled his citrus scent that clung to the garment, she stifled a sigh. “It’s been a long night.” Was this the sort of activity he encountered on a regular basis?
“Definitely not a silent one.” Cameron then trailed his gaze up and down her person. “You are beautiful, and that gown only enhances it.”
“I... thank you.” Heat jumped into her cheeks but did little to warm the rest of her.
“Come.” He slipped an arm about her shoulders and escorted her toward the waiting carriage.
“Thank you, for the rescue. Without you here...” She let the sentence trail off. Other words, more urgent ones, sat on her tongue but she couldn’t release them, not with the flames crackling in the air and the sharp smell of burning wood infusing everything. The scene wasn’t conducive to perhaps ushering in a romance.
“But I was here, and you rescued me first, so thank you in return.”
Conversation could wait, for they were both alive and more or less unharmed. “Cameron, I—” Abruptly stopping, she turned to him, grabbed his lapels and brought his mouth to hers. She put every ounce of feeling into that all-too-short kiss before she let him go. Her aches and pains were forgotten as warmth flowed through her veins.
“I understand.” He gave her a silly grin and set them into motion again. “I should play the hero more often if this is my reward.” At the carriage, he briefly hugged her and then placed a fleeting kiss to her forehead. “I must talk with the authorities, find out who’s in charge, make appropriate arrangements for Lila.” He tucked an escaped lock of mahogany hair behind her ear and held her gaze. “Will you wait for me?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “For as long as it takes,” she whispered as he left her and headed toward the fire and the gathering of the police force.
Chapter Twelve
December 25th
Sometime after midnight
By the time the carriage pulled up in front of Cameron’s Hanover Square home, the party his parents had thrown had concluded. The whole ride back, Eleanor remained quiet. Shivers had wracked her body, from cold and shock, and he refused to let her go back to her boarding house until he she’d been thoroughly warmed and had someone near to look after her.
Thank goodness Ada was asleep. It wouldn’t do to have the child excitable right now, or to have to explain the events of the evening.
As soon as he and Eleanor entered the house, Lorraine assumed command, and Cameron was only too happy to surrender to her care, for he needed a moment to catch his breath and compose his thoughts. Dawn on this Christmas morning would not come before he’d told Eleanor what was in his heart.
“You’re back!” Lorraine ran down the entry hall and threw herself into his arms, nearly knocking him off balance. “Eleanor promised she’d do it, and she did.” Then she embraced Ellie in a fierce hug that had his thorny rescuer blushing and attempting to extricate herself. “Thank you so much.”
Once released, Eleanor swayed on her feet. Cameron slipped an arm about her waist. “I think perhaps that a Christmas miracle helped.” Then her teeth chattered, and she said nothing more.
Lorraine glanced between them. “You are both chilled to the bone.” When Edgars joined them in the hall, she continued, “Warm baths for you both. Eleanor will sleep in one of the guest rooms tonight.” When Ellie voiced a protest, his sister held up a hand. “No, no. I owe you this, at least. Let me take care of you. It’s Christmas, after all.” She looked at the butler. “Take Cameron in hand, if you will. I’ll monitor Eleanor’s care.”
“Of course, madam.” Edgars shot him an amused glance. “Come along.”
“Where are Mother and Father?”
“Mother has retired for the night. Father is out, no doubt closing the scene you two have just escaped from.”
“I see.” Cameron lingered. He turned to address Eleanor, but his sister shoved him ahead through the hall. “Talking later. Baths first then a light repast. After that, conversation.”
“When did you become so managing?”
His sister giggled. “It’s been a slow progression.” With one more push, she then linked her arm with Eleanor’s and escorted her along the corridor ahead of him. “While I draw your bath, you can tell me about every harrowing detail, for Cameron never regales me with any tales of his mission.”
He shook his head as he mounted the stairs behind the butler and wished his sister luck. Ellie probably wouldn’t open up without a long period to thaw.
Two hours later, sufficiently clean, warm, fed, and clad in light wool pajamas and a gray robe, he exited his bedchamber, intent on finally talking to Eleanor. He met his sister in the hall. “Where is Ellie?”
She looked him up and down, and nodded with approval. “She’s tucked into her bed and occupies the room next to mine. Poor thing could barely keep her eyes open.” Lorraine smiled. “But she has the most gloriously long hair that gleams mahogany in the lamplight.”
“It is quite unfair that you’ve seen such magnificent tresses down before I have.” A stab of disappointment went through him. “I wish to talk with her. There wasn’t time earlier.”
Lorraine rolled her eyes. “Talk indeed. I know what you want to do.” When she caught his gaze, heat crept up the back of his neck. “Father returned while you were cleaning up. I passed their door not long ago, and he’s snoring. You won’t have a better opportunity to be with your Ellie than now. No doubt our parents will have a multitude of questions for you both over the breakfast table.”
“You’re not scandalized?”
“No, dear brother.” She hugged him and pulled away with a smile. “I’m delighted for you. Eleanor is brave and determined and wonderful. Don’t muck it up, or I’ll take you to task myself.”
“I’ll try my best.” The old, silly wish he’d sent out that long ago night in Victoria Station as he tracked Eleanor resurfaced in his mind.
If I had one wish, it would be for a woman to need me for me, not for what I might give her or to improve her social standing. I want a lady who surprises me at every turn, whose presence is as unexpected as a rare gift beneath a tree.
His Ellie was all of those things and more. Yes, what he wanted to say tonight was right. Then he noticed the beaded handbag Lorraine carried. “Is that Ellie’s?”
“She left it in the parlor when she came here looking for you before she dashed off into the night to play heroine.” Lorraine gave the bag to him. “I peeked inside. She carries every piece of gingerbread you’ve given her.” Then she pushed on his shoulder. “Go meet your destiny and be happy.” Afterward, she entered her room and closed the door softly behind her.
With his pulse thrumming hard in his temples, Cameron moved to the next door down. Quietly, he rapped on the wooden panel. When bid to enter, he let himself into the room, and once he closed it, he found himself suddenly tongue-tied as he gazed across to the woman reclining in the bed.
Clad in a borrowed nightgown of the finest white cotton lined with lace at the neck and cuffs, with her face scrubbed pink and the ruddy waterfall of her hair—it was indeed glorious in the dim light coming from an oil lamp burning at the bedside table—freshly combed and damp about her shoulders, she resembled a wood sprite escaped from the forest.
“I...” What the devil had he come here to say? He couldn’t stop staring at her. God, she was so beautiful. He frowned when he caught sight of a purpling bruise on her cheek. If Mr. Gibson hadn’t died in that explosion, Cameron would have killed the man himself for laying a hand upon her. Finally, he cleared his throat. “I wanted to thank you for saving my life.”
Her grin was as serene as the Madonna’s. “I didn’t think about it. I only saw you in danger, and I couldn’t bear it if you would have died.” She shrugged, the pragmatic woman he’d come to know and adore. “And when Lila threatened you, I’m afraid I became quite agitated.”
“You were more than that, Ellie,” he murmured but held his position near the door, her bag clutched in his fingers. “The way you handled yourself, how you beat Lila with your damn umbrella—”
“Of which I’m afraid I’ve lost,” she interrupted.
“I buy you another, completely customized by you down to the last detail,” he assured her and tightened his fingers on the handbag’s strings. “I was impressed. When I feared Mr. Gibson might shoot you, I took action.”
“And here we are.” Eleanor pleated the counterpane. “What will happen now? An official inquiry?”
“One of several, presumably. Father returned from there not too long ago. My superior also joined the scene to investigate. I briefed them both and then turned Lila over to their custody. I’m afraid England doesn’t take kindly to finding traitors in their midst.”
“What of you? That had to come as a shock, the mother of your child a covert operative.”
“Yes, but I refuse to think about that now.” How had he not seen it before? Cameron forced such things from his mind. “She is well and truly out of my life and that of Ada’s now. It is all that matters.”
Silence brewed between them, full of words neither said.
“You have the look of a man who has something on your mind,” Eleanor finally inserted into the quiet. She patted the side of the bed. “Why don’t you join me so I don’t feel like I need to shout across the room?”
“I do, actually. Have something on my mind.” He closed the distance and when he perched on the side of the bed, he loosened the strings of her hand bag and dumped out the pieces of gingerbread.
As she frantically scooped up other objects that weren’t foodstuffs and crammed them back into the bag, he unwrapped each gingerbread piece from the linen napkins. “What are you doing?”
