Before the Fire Page 25

  George clapped him on the back. “Mayhap ‘twas for the best. Laying siege to fortresses is tiring work.”

  * * * * *

  The banquet was a smashing success. Lit up by hundreds and hundreds of beeswax candles, the courtyard had been turned into a picture perfect reenactment of a medieval feast. Making their way through the tables were jugglers, acrobats, and minstrels, all vying for praise and tossed coins.

  Each table was loaded down with salted pork, legs of mutton and grouse, assorted cheeses and breads, ales, wines, and mead, plus plump tarts in a variety of tastes. There were also fruits and honeyed figs, pheasants and fish. There was so much of everything. It was a gluttonous good time for all concerned.

  When the feast drew to a close, the guests were ushered into the second floor ballroom that had been sumptuously decked out with tapestries and suits of armor to add ambiance to the grand occasion.

  Some of the guests, such as the Duchess of York and the Countess of Trent, wore not only their medieval costumes, but also sported dominos to try and conceal their identities. Kane thought that highly amusing. Seeing as how the duchess’s hair was as black as night and had a telltale single streak of silver running through it like a skunk’s main, and seeing as how the Countess of Trent was never far from her side, Kane wondered how any could mistake them for others.

  If the gentlemen noticed, however, they said nothing. They played up the noblewomen’s charade of being ladies of mystery to the hilt, inducing the older women to giggle with delicious recklessness.

  George watched the goings on from the sidelines, careful not to appear that he was doing so. His mother and Chester were out on the balcony chatting it up with a couple of visiting Italian nobles and their wives. Alex and Melea were outside, checking the perimeter for any signs of Baron Montieth. James was leading yet another besotted young lady in a set of dances. And Kane, the one he’d been keeping track of like a watchdog, was dancing with James’ father, the Earl of Trent.

  His wife had told him on numerous occasions that the vibrant sixty-two-year-old Earl of Trent could dance longer and better than any gentleman of the ton. Aside from her doting husband, of course. At least, that’s the story she always gave said doting husband.

  George’s attention was then garnered by a woman dressed in a gypsy costume who obviously wanted him to dance. Seeing it as a perfect excuse to get closer to his wife on the dance floor, he obliged her.

  All thoughts of Kane flew out of the proverbial window the minute George realized who the gypsy was. “Charlotte! For the love of God, what are you doing here?”

  Charlotte’s heart sank a notch or two, for his voice was angry instead of welcoming. She shoved that feeling aside and concentrated on the earl’s light green eyes instead. “I couldn’t stay away, George. I’m going mad without you!”

  “Charlotte, are you crazed?” He shook his head in vexation. “What am I saying? You all but admitted as much. How did you ever get in?”

  “Never mind that, George.” She drew her body closer to the earl’s. “I just needed to be with you. I needed to feel you this way one more time.”

  George studied the courtesan’s gaze and understood then and there that she meant every word she was saying. He sighed deeply. He hadn’t realized the extent of her feelings. “Charlotte, we need to talk.” At her excited intake of breath, he shook his head sadly. “Not about what I fear you’re thinking.”

  George continued to dance with his former mistress as he searched for a way to put what needed to be said into the best possible light. He never wished to hurt her. “Charlotte, you are a beautiful, wonderful, vivacious woman. I mean that, I truly do.” He looked into her eyes and smiled wistfully. “But you are not the woman for me. There is none for me save my wife.”

  “But George—”

  He held up a hand. “Please hear me out.” He took a deep breath and regarded the woman he’d given six months of his sex life to. He hadn’t known she’d thought it more than a patronage, but apparently she had, and therefore deserved to be let down gently. “You deserve more than another woman’s leavings, Charlotte. Much more. You deserve a man all your own.”

  She closed her eyes against the truth. Leavings was all she could ever have of the earl, it was true. And that was assuming he would give her even that much. She was beginning to realize he wouldn’t. “I can understand why you wouldn’t want me. I am lowly born,” she whispered, “while you are an earl.” She sighed. “And not just any earl, but an earl in line to become the next Duke of Browning when your mother’s father passes on.” She laughed humorlessly. “You can trace your roots back to the Middle Ages, back to the first earls of Kintane and Clannock, whilst I can trace mine back to no more than a tavern doxy and a sailor.”

  “Charlotte,” he said gently, “this has nothing to do with birthrank. It has to do with the heart. And Kane,” he said softly, “has mine.” He smiled. “You deserve no less.”

  “But what man wouldn’t know of my past?” she whispered dejectedly. “To the ton, I will always be just a gentleman’s whore.” She wiped a tear from her cheek.

  George drew her up by the chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “If ever you want to begin again, you have but to inform my man of affairs. He will contact me and I will set you up in another town. You’ve my word.”

  Charlotte bit her lip and nodded gratefully. “You really love her, don’t you?”

  He inclined his head. “I do.”

  Charlotte closed her eyes against the stab of guilt. “I can’t do this. You’re too good a man to do this to.”

  George furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand.”

  Charlotte quit dancing. “Go to your wife. Now! Before Montieth does. You’ve no time for further explanations at the moment. Now go!”

  Understanding dawned. She had thought to betray him, but wasn’t able to see it through. “Thank-you, Charlotte.” He kissed her on the cheek and took off into the crowd.

  George’s heart stopped when he caught up with the Earl of Trent and saw that his wife was nowhere in the vicinity. “Lord Trent, do you know where my wife has gone?” he asked him anxiously.

  The earl turned on his boot heel and smiled fondly. “Off to the powder room, my boy. Said she’d be back in a Nero-second, whatever in the blazes that is.”

  George smiled. “I thank you. If you will excuse me.”

  George all but ran from the ballroom. He stopped outside the powder rooms and noticed the lines that had formed waiting for their use. “Lady Cheval, have you seen my wife?”

  The French countess nodded. “She said she did no’ want to wait for zees line. And can you blame zuh girl? She went to zuh first floor powder room.”

  George inclined his head. “Thank-you, madam.” And with that, he high-tailed it below stairs. After checking all three powder rooms and declaring them empty, he ran his hand through his hair, ready to pull it out. He experienced a slight amount of relief upon seeing Alex and Melea stroll inside.

  “George,” Alex called out, “afraid we haven’t seen—”

  “Kane’s missing,” he cut in.

  “What?” Melea screeched.

  His eyes wide with worry, he related to the two of them the events that had transpired with Charlotte, as well as what his former mistress had informed him of concerning Montieth’s plan. Which, albeit, wasn’t much.

  “She isn’t wearing her laser-c,” Melea whispered.

  “Christ,” George muttered.

  “Never mind.” Melea slashed her hand through the air. “We haven’t the time to contemplate that. “Alex, you go find James, Chester, and Julia. Tell them to break up and search the east and west wings. George, you and I will search the grounds. Let’s move!”

  Ten minutes later, a winded Alex caught up with George and Melea. “Chester and Julia are searching the house. And I can’t find James.”

  George raised a brow. “God in heaven, tell me I haven’t been played the fool. Tell me Freemont is not one of Montieth’s cro
nies.”

  Alex shook his head, still panting. “We can’t be certain, of course, but my instincts say nay to that notion.”

  George breathed easier. “As do mine.”

  “He’s probably with Kane. Mayhap dead,” he mumbled, “but with her no less.”

  George whimpered.

  “Alex stop that talk!” Melea scolded. “We can’t think like that!” She tapped her foot on the ground, trying desperately to think, but worrying as much as George and Alex were. “Alright, here goes. George—you said Jack Turgot spotted Montieth on the grounds. Correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where?”

  George waved his hand toward the village. “South.”

  Melea mumbled something or another about being as helpful to her as defective droid. She took a deep breath. “Where, would Jack have been most likely to see him?”

  George and Alex looked at each other. They smiled. “The stables,” they said in unison.

  Chapter 37

  “He’s bleeding, you frit-foo. You best let us go before you force my hand to kill you.” Kane glowered at Baron Montieth before bending down to fuss over James. The same James who had taken the knife in his stomach that had been meant for her heart.

  Montieth sniffed disdainfully. “He’ll be dead in a few hours anyway. Gut wounds are fatal. Best leave him his dignity.” He pointed his pistol at her and smiled. “As will you. After I delight in your pleasures, of course.”

  Kane rolled her eyes. What chance he’d had of killing her died when his surprise attack ended up in James’ belly. Now the scrawny baron was as good as dead. Shaking her head, she reached for her laser-c and discovered, much to her chagrin, that she had forgotten to put it on.

  Damn! Damn! Damn!

  This meant her deadly body arts would have to be used on yet another victim who had no notion of her skill. It also meant she had to get him to lower his gun. When James moaned in pain, she realized she had to act now. She had to get the little frit-foo to talk. “What is this all about, baron? Why do you wish harm on my family?”

  Montieth peered at her as though she were a simpleton. “How easy life comes to some of us.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The baron snorted. “As if that needs explaining. Your husband,”—he spat out the word maliciously—“has had his bloody life handed over to him on a silver salver. All this has been given to him whilst others of us have been granted so little.”

  Kane raised an eyebrow. This didn’t seem to be the time to point out the fact that George worked harder than any man she’d ever met. Or the fact that this baron, who probably didn’t work at all, had been given so much more than the average eighteenth century person. “So why my husband?” She shrugged her shoulders. “Why not single out another man of peerage for your vindictiveness?”

  The baron was quickly losing his patience. “Because,” he huffed, “if your husband dies and our mutual, heirless cousin Hershel joins him, all this is mine.” He waved his hands about the place lest she mistook his meaning.

  Kane decided to goad the little troll. “The stables are yours?”

  “No you bloody idiot!” His face twisted with fury. “Blackmore! All of Blackmore is mine!”

  Well, that certainly explained things well enough. But there was one more thing she wanted to know before she turned the little frit-foo into a dream that once was. “Did you kill Nina?”

  He smiled. Actually smiled. She wanted to kill him right then and there. “She was pregnant. Of course I did. Just as I’ll kill you.”

  James growled. “Y-You b-bastard.” His breathing was becoming more and more labored. Kane noticed with a pang of worry that he was also becoming less and less lucid. She sat down on the ground and wiped his sweaty brow. “Calm yourself,” she whispered. “All will be well. I promise you won’t die.”

  Kane regarded the baron. “Why bother killing her? Any babe she carried might have been yours, you know.”

  He shrugged. “Possession is nine tenths of the law, madam. And Blackmore possessed her legally. Couldn’t chance it.”

  Kane couldn’t believe her ears. The man was more than hateful. He was a full-fledged frothing-mouthed lunatic. What humanoid could murder his own lover and potential child?

  Before she could ponder that discovery further, Montieth trained his pistol toward her chest. “We’ve wasted too much time. Forget the fuck. I just want you dead.”

  Preparing to roll and assail the baron, she was surprised when a shovel came down on his head instead. Surprise soon turned to shock, however, when she realized who she owed her thanks to. “Charlotte?”

  Panting heavily, the courtesan dropped the shovel in front of the slumped over baron. She turned to Kane and smiled tentatively. “I owed you one.”

  Kane shook her head. This was all too much to comprehend in one sitting. James’ wound, Montieth’s vile admission, and now Charlotte’s aid. “Why?”

  She sighed. “I love George, but he loves you. It would hurt him if anything bad should happen to you.”

  “You saved me…for him?”

  Charlotte nodded.

  Kane’s eyes widened. All she could say was “wow.”

  Charlotte ambled over and helped Kane tend to a now unconscious James. “It’s too bad I didn’t find you before…before…”

  Kane placed her hand on the courtesan’s arm. “Do not concern yourself. He will live.”

  “He will?”

  “Yes.”

  Charlotte bit her lip and nodded. Eyeing Kane up and down, she got her first good look at the countess. She shook her head, laughing at herself in the process. “How I ever thought to lure George from a woman that looks like you is beyond me.” She pointed to herself and sighed dejectedly. “You are far grander.”

  Kane took Charlotte’s hand in her own. “That is not true. You are quite beautiful.”

  “No I’m not.”

  “Yes you are, but that isn’t the issue.”

  “Then what is?”

  Kane sighed deeply. She knew a few women in her own time that suffered from Charlotte’s low sense of self-worth. “The issue of love has nothing to do with beauty. It has to do with the heart.” She smiled. “Not every woman—or man—would have had the courage to do what you just did. You’ll find the right man. I know you will. But use your heart to lure him instead of your breasts. Then how can he resist you?”

  A single tear slid down Charlotte’s pale, lovely cheek. “Do you really think so?”

  “I know so.”

  She sniffled. “Thank-you.”

  Kane pulled her into an embrace. “It’s I who should thank you.”

  And such was the scene that the Earl of Blackmore walked in upon, with Alex and Melea right behind him. Disconcerted to find his wife and former mistress hugging like two old school chums, he cleared his throat, blushing profusely.

  “George!” Kane wailed. “Charlotte saved my life!” She pointed to the fallen body of Montieth lying off to her husband’s right.

  “Good god!” George bellowed. He ran outside and instructed Jack Turgot to get rope to tie up the baron with and to then summon the constable.

  When he returned, it was to find Alex slinging an unconscious James over his shoulder. “Will he be alright?”

  Kane nodded. “I’m going off with Alex to work on him. Melea will stay with the baron. Please make certain Charlotte gets home safely.”

  She turned around and smiled at her husband’s former mistress. “Thanks again. And don’t forget the things that I told you now.”

  Charlotte shook her head. “I won’t. Not ever.”

  * * * * *

  “Well I for one feel a hell of a lot better.” James shook his head, marveling over the fact that he was not only alive, but his wound was practically healed.

  George grinned. “My wife is one hell of a healer.” He inclined his head formally, turning the topic in a serious tone. “By the by, I won’t soon forget what you did out there. Were it not for y
ou, my wife and unborn child would be dead.”

  James’ cheeks stained scarlet. “Think nothing of it.”

  “Like bloody hell. That was no small feat, man!”

  James nodded, still blushing.

  Kane plopped down on the edge of James’ bed. She grinned up at Alex, Melea, and her husband. “What a night. We’ve managed to throw a sensational party, made all the more memorable when James saved me from the frit-foo, not to mention my husband’s old lover jumping in at the last moment, and on top of it,”—she turned more serious—“we know what became of Nina.”

  George handed James a glass of spirits. “The man was daft. Completely, undeniably insane.”

  James snorted.

  Melea sat down on James’ other side. “What you did was so heroic. Thank-you for saving my best friend’s life, my lord.”

  James’ red face turned purple with embarrassment. “It was nothing, really. I just managed to throw myself in front of the blade.

  Kane grinned. “You’ve become a romantic legend already, you know. The ladies downstairs are swooning over your good deed.”

  George laughed. Clutching his breast dramatically, he turned his voice into a mimic of a school gel coming into her first season on the marriage mart. “Oh mummy, you simply must get the viscount to make an offer for my hand.” He batted his eyelashes. “I will go mad if I can’t have him.” His performance came to an end as he fell to the bed in a faux fit of the vapors.

  The audience went wild, clapping their hands and laughing uproariously, until the earl stood up and took a bow.

  James threw a book at him. Half laughing and half groaning, he looked at Alex. “Is it really that bad down there?”

  Alex grinned. “In a word, yes.”

  The viscount groaned for real.

  Chapter 38

  The following morning, Kane and Melea were so busy saying their good-byes to the departing guests that they realized it would be well into the afternoon before Melea could transport the kabitross to 2429.