Scandalous Desires

Chapter Twelve

“I have a traitor,” Mick said quietly just after midnight. He watched Harry to see how the other man would react to the news. He was almost certain that the traitor was not Harry, but then until the events of tonight he would’ve said that none of his men would betray him.

That was patently not true.

And what was more, he’d had to let Silence’s brothers bear her away because the palace wasn’t safe for her or the babe now. Conceding to anyone was not something Mick was used to doing. If any man had told him a month ago that he’d let four men walk out of the palace with something—someone—he considered his, Mick would’ve laughed in his face. But that was before Silence and the babe had come to be important to him. More important than even his self-esteem and his reputation. If that made him a weaker man, well, then so be it.

Harry’s ugly face creased as he frowned. He looked troubled at the announcement of a traitor, but tellingly, not surprised.

“Ye figure ’twas a traitor let in the Vicar’s men?” Harry asked.

Mick nodded and leaned back in his chair. They were in his planning room—the safest place in the palace for a discussion such as this. The room lay against one of the outer walls, with thick interior walls on either side. The passage outside was the only entry point and Mick’s desk lay across the room and out of earshot of anyone listening at the door.

He’d always been a suspicious man, just, it seemed, not suspicious enough.

“Did ye find out how the kitchen fire started?” Mick asked.

The big man scratched his head while regarding the ceiling critically. “ ’Twere a bit ’ard to figure out, truth be told. ’Ole place is a mess and Archie in a right fit about it. ’E said ’e’d gone to fetch some turnips and other victuals from the cellar and when ’e returned the kitchens were boiling with black smoke.”

“The chimney wasn’t stopped?”

Harry shook his head decisively. “Naw. ’Tis drawin’ well now. But me and Bert we found a pile o’ greasy rags—or what were left o’ them—by the back door. They might’ve been lit and left to smolder while the traitor took to ’is ’eels.”

Mick nodded. “Who gave the alarm for the fire?”

Harry screwed up his face, thinking for a moment. “Bran. Or maybe Archie.” He shrugged. “Everyone were shoutin’ at once.”

“And when did you realize we were under attack?”

“We ’eard a scream—must’ve been Fionnula. They came at us as we tried to get back to the baby’s rooms.” Harry shook his head. “The ’all were full o’ them, must’ve been near two dozen or more armed men. We was fightin’ them when ye came from the other way and we finally got to the rooms.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “They must’ve got to Fionnula almost at once. That vitriol doesn’t kill fast like but she was already still when I found ’er.”

Mick nodded. “The guards at the front door were hit from behind—attacked from inside the palace.”

Harry scowled. “ ’E’s a right bastard ’ooever ’e is. Lettin’ men in to kill a babe and a ’armless lass. If it weren’t for Fionnula’s quick thinkin’ Mary might be dead as well.”

“No, not dead,” Mick murmured absently. “The Vicar wanted her alive. She’d be a good hostage against me—she’s me daughter. And the fact that he knows that, means the traitor has been tellin’ him secrets for a bit. The Vicar knew about Mary, knew where she slept in me palace, and knew that I was away tonight. Come to think o’ it, a traitor might be how the Vicar found out that she was hid at the orphanage in the first place.”

Mick steepled his hands before him and stared at the rings sparkling on his fingers while he thought it out. The traitor’s identity was obvious. He felt a small twinge of what might have been grief, but Mick ruthlessly shoved the useless emotion aside. The man had put both Silence and Mary Darling in danger. The only decision to be made was what to do about it. He could expose the traitor, have him killed as a warning to his other men. Or he could let the traitor think he was undiscovered and use the man against the Vicar.

Mick looked up at Harry, still standing patiently in front of the ornate desk. “We’re goin’ to strike fast and hard, mind. I want ye and Bert to see to the repairs to the kitchen. See to it that Fionnula is buried proper with a pretty carved headstone. This news o’ a traitor stays with ye and me—I don’t want it leavin’ this room, d’ye hear?”

“Aye,” Harry said slowly. “But where will ye be, Mick?”

“I’m goin’ after me lasses—Mrs. Hollingbrook and Mary Darlin’.” Mick grinned. “We’re goin’ to double-bluff the bastard. Whisper it about that I think the Vicar will be expectin’ an attack so I’m delayin’ me hand. Me leavin’ London will add truth to the lie. But once I’m gone and he’s restin’ easy I want ye and Bert to attack the Vicar’s gin stills. They blow easily, gin stills, nice and high. The Vicar will be thinkin’ I’d attack his person, not his stills. We’ll strike him where he earns his gold and cripple him.”

Mick stood and began gathering papers on his desk. He still had to have a hasty meeting with Pepper if he were to leave London in the morning. The investments Pepper had made for him were now more important than ever.

Harry was silent and after a bit Mick glanced up at the man, half-expecting a protest.

Instead Harry merely looked sad. “ ’Twould be kinder to let ’er be.”

Mick didn’t pretend misunderstanding. “Aye, and if I could leave me Silence alone, none o’ this would’ve happened in the first place.” He stood a moment, tasting the bitter irony on his tongue. Then he looked at Harry. “Can ye do all that while I fetch her from whatever country wilderness her family has hidden her in?”

“Oh, aye,” Harry said grimly. “We’ll blow that old bastard sky ’igh, never ye fear.”

“FOUR MEN KILLED and you didn’t even get the baby,” Charlie said softly. He looked at the carved marble headstone as he spoke, but he addressed the man at his side.

Freddy was standing close enough to hear Charlie’s murmured words, but far enough away that he could swiftly duck any sudden blows. No fool, he.

“ ’E’d ’idden the babe,” Freddy said.

“You should’ve found her.” Charlie stroked the cold marble. Grace had been a good woman—a loyal woman. “That babe means a lot to me, Freddy. I think I made that clear, did I not?”

Freddy shifted uneasily. “Yes, sir.”

“And the woman? The one you were supposed to kill with the vitriol?”

“She were out wi’ Charmin’ Mickey. Went somewheres in a fancy carriage, all rigged out in silks.”

Charlie glanced up slowly. “Did she indeed?”

Freddy looked alarmed at his tone. “Sir?”

“Now that is of interest,” Charlie mused. “He’s never taken one of his doxies out before, has he?”

“She sits at ’is right ’and at ’is dinner table, too, so our spy says.”

“Ahh. Then I’m glad you didn’t kill her outright after all.” Charlie drew a deep breath and tilted his head back, feeling the dawning rays of the sun on the right side of his face. He felt nothing at all on the left side, of course. He traced the ragged ridges and furrows, the unnaturally smooth valleys, with his fingertips. Not since that day sixteen years ago when a small, beautiful boy with hatred in his black eyes had thrown vitriolic acid in his face.

“I’ve waited years for this day,” he mused.

“For what, Vicar?”

Charlie lowered his chin and smiled into Freddy’s horrified eyes. “For the day that Mickey O’Connor chose a woman of his own.”

THE DAY WAS well established when Silence woke from restless, dream-filled sleep. She lifted her head and immediately winced at the crick in her neck. Outside the carriage window the rays of the sun shone on gray fields rolling away to the horizon.

“We’ll make Oxford tonight,” Temperance said from across the carriage.

She held Mary Darling in her lap. Mary was cradling a brand-new doll, but she cast it aside when she saw Silence was awake and stretched out her arms mutely.

“Already?” Silence murmured as she took the babe. She’d not traveled much outside London in her life, but she knew they’d gone a great distance in the night. A great distance away from Michael.

“We changed horses in Chepping Wycombe,” Temperance said, “but you did not wake. Caire tells me that we’ll stop again in a bit for luncheon. There’s a lovely inn in the next town with a cozy back room where we can sup in private. We stopped there on our way to Caire’s estate in Shropshire after the wedding.”

“That’s where we’re headed then? Shropshire?”

“Yes, we thought it the safest place—away from London where we can guard you and Mary properly.”

At the mention of her name Mary made an impatient wiggle. The baby climbed from Silence’s arms and sat beside her, though that certainly wouldn’t last long. Mary hated sitting still, except when looking through the little illustrated book Michael had given Silence. She loved the little men in their funny boats and the strange monsters that rose from the tiny cobalt sea…

Silence remembered with a pang that the book was back at the palace. She’d probably never see it again.

She sighed heavily and showed the baby her dolly. “Where is Lord Caire?”

“He’s riding outside,” Temperance replied. “He thought we might like the time alone together.”

Silence flushed, looking away from her sister’s too-perceptive sherry-brown eyes. Temperance always had been maddeningly helpful and levelheaded. “I should thank you, I know.”

Temperance pursed her lips thoughtfully, “But you won’t?”

“No, no, I will.” Silence took a deep breath, trying to organize her muddled thoughts. “Thank you, truly.”

“But?”

“But I didn’t need rescuing.”

Temperance simply looked at her, eyebrows slightly raised.

“I know,” Silence burst out. “He’s a pirate and… and a terrible, nasty person who hurt me badly before and I was in his clutches—”

Temperance cleared her throat delicately. “I heard you were rather enjoying his clutches.”

“Winter tattled, didn’t he?” Silence asked darkly.

A corner of Temperance’s mouth twitched. “It was Asa, actually. He sounded a bit like an elderly maiden with shocked sensibilities.”

Silence crossed her arms under her bosom and slumped rather mulishly in Caire’s rich carriage seat. “I suppose he and Concord are riding outside, too?”

“No.” Temperance shook her head. “Concord had to get back to the brewery. Asa rode with us as far as Chepping Wycombe last night, but then he muttered something about business that couldn’t wait and left.”

“Humph.” Silence didn’t know whether to be hurt that her rescue apparently didn’t rate very high on Asa’s to-do list or relieved that she wouldn’t have to face him again over luncheon. “Winter?”

“He had to stay at the home, naturally,” Temperance said gently. “They are rather short of help at the moment.”

And that was her fault, as well. Silence bit her lip, looking out the window as the gray scenery passed. The sun had risen fully, but it was rather defeated by the late winter landscape. The day looked cold and unwelcoming.

She’d made a muddle of this, she knew. She’d gone to Mickey O’Connor’s house initially intending to merely endure to the best of her ability—and she’d ended by calling him “Michael” and kissing him enthusiastically in his bedroom.

Well, but that was the thing, wasn’t it? He was no longer Charming Mickey O’Connor, infamous pirate, to her. She found him charming, yes, it was true, but charming in a much more intimate, personal way. She’d never been tempted by the pirate.

She was deeply tempted by the man.

“That dress is quite lovely,” Temperance observed in a carefully even tone.

Silence swallowed a lump in her throat. Her indigo dress was lovely—and she’d probably never have occasion to wear it again. He’d promised to take her to the opera once more and now he never would.

“He’s seduced you, hasn’t he?” Temperance asked quietly.

“Not in the way you mean,” Silence answered without looking away from the dismal view. “I haven’t gone to his bed. But, yes, I suppose I am seduced.”

“I don’t understand.”

Silence shook her head slowly. “He’s different than what everyone thinks him. Well, different and yet the same. He’s so… so much more. More charming, stronger, more clever. I don’t know if he has any sense of shame, but I do know he feels—and feels deeply. And… and that fascinates me—the difference between his public face and his private face.”

“None of that sounds like he cares at all for you,” Temperance said.

“Doesn’t it?” Silence stared at her lap. “I think he does care something for me, actually. You haven’t seen the way he’s taken care of me, after all. But I’m not sure that really matters in the end—whether he cares for me or not. It has no bearing on my feelings toward him.”

“Perhaps not,” Temperance said, her voice hard now. “But you must see that it has a great deal to do with how I feel about Mr. O’Connor. I don’t want to see you hurt again. And I’m not the only one who feels thusly. I’ve never seen Concord so beside himself.”

Silence winced. “Was he very angry?”

“I think it was mostly worry, but of course he showed it as anger—he is a man after all. It took Winter half the night to convince Concord to go home to his family. Otherwise your Mr. O’Connor might be sporting a blackened eye this morning.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Asa was quite upset, I think, though one can never quite tell with him, and Winter… Silence, Winter has been terribly grim. He loves you, you know, in his own quiet way, and I think he’s spent the time you were away worrying constantly.”

Silence closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I never meant to make Winter worry. But Michael said we were in danger. And last night proved his concern quite real.” Her lips trembled again at the memory of Fionnula’s poor, ruined face. “The Vicar’s men killed the girl who’d been looking after Mary.”

“I’m so sorry,” Temperance said sincerely. “Caire and Asa have been watching Mickey O’Connor’s house for the last two days, waiting for a chance to come and get you out. When they saw the smoke and the commotion, they sent for Winter and went inside.”

Silence nodded. “The guards were killed at the front doors. Otherwise they would never have made it past the front hall.”

They didn’t say anything for a while, Silence thinking of Fionnula and worrying about Michael, still in danger from his enemies. Mary played for a bit, then let her dolly fall to the floor and knelt on the seat to look out the window.

Finally Silence sighed and glanced over at her sister. Temperance seemed younger somehow, she realized. She wasn’t more than eight-and-twenty of course, but for many years Temperance had been so grave, so mature and… and stodgy. “Marriage suits you.”

She had the satisfaction of watching her elder sister blush. “Oh! Thank you.”

Silence smiled a little. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Being loved. Loving in return.”

Lord Caire might be an intimidating man, but when he looked at Temperance something seemed to go still behind his eyes and he became entirely focused on her. Silence shivered. Had William loved her with such all-consuming devotion? She realized, a little sadly, that no, he hadn’t. She might’ve built a life around him—and the dream of him—but he had always been quite autonomous.

“It’s simply wonderful,” Temperance said, interrupting her gloomy thoughts. “Sometimes I find myself just looking at him and smiling. He’ll catch me and give me the most puzzled look and I can’t help laughing in his face and then he…” She shook her head and stopped. “Well, marriage is wonderful. I never knew it before.”

“You didn’t love Benjamin as you do Lord Caire,” Silence murmured. Temperance had been married very briefly when she was only a girl.

“No, I didn’t,” Temperance said quietly. “I never knew I could be this close to another person. It was such a surprise to me. But it’s not a surprise for you. You had this same thing with William.”

Temperance’s voice was gentle, but Silence still braced herself for the arrow of pain at the mention of William’s name. Strangely though, the hit wasn’t as bad as she expected. Oh, the pain of William’s loss was still there, of course. Perhaps it always would be. But it was dulled now and a little distant.

The pain that was close and immediate was the loss of Michael.

Silence sat stunned at the thought. She’d become intimate with him, it was true, but she never believed that Michael might mean something permanent to her. The notion was disquieting. After this morning she wasn’t even sure she’d see him again.

“Silence?” Temperance asked tentatively.

Silence sighed and shook her head. “Oh, I’ve created a mess!”

Her sister smiled. “It can’t be as bad as all that.”

Silence gave her a speaking glance. “I think I may be falling in love with a pirate.”

Temperance blinked. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh.” Silence leaned her head back against the squabs. “He’s entirely the wrong man for me. Not like William who was calm and kind and—”

“And good,” Temperance put in drily.

Silence glanced at her helplessly. “What am I to do? I’m not even sure I’ll see him again.”

“You won’t want to hear this,” Temperance said gently.

Silence scrunched her nose and turned back to the gloomy view. Still, she couldn’t ignore Temperance’s words:

“But perhaps it’s for the best.”