Heart of Iron

Seven

“Come in.”

Will shot a look down the hall, his booted heels muffled on the Turkish runner. He could sense Lena in the house somewhere, but not nearby. Which suited him perfectly for the moment.

Slipping inside the study, he closed the door behind him. Morning light spilled through the windows. An ungodly hour of the morning, in fact. He’d barely slept, his mind replaying every scene from the night before. As soon as he grew close to the edge of sleep, the memory of Lena’s fear scent would sweep through him and his eyes would jerk open again. He needed to know more. Especially about the one name that frightened her.

Barrons looked up from his desk, his dark eyes widening slightly. “Will.” He leaned back in his chair, his progress marked by the shifting of well-oiled leather. Dressed in a black velvet coat, the only sign of color was the spill of white lace at his wrists and throat. A little ruby pin winked against the lace. “You do realize the price on your head isn’t lifted until you sign the prince consort’s document?” He lifted a sheaf of papers, frowning. “Which is right here, I believe.”

Will crossed his arms over his chest. “What d’you know about a man named Colchester?”

“Colchester?” Barrons’s hands stilled on the paper. “He used to be a friend, until I orchestrated the duel between his cousin Vickers and Blade. Why do you ask?”

“Why would Lena be afraid of him?”

Barrons straightened, a dangerous look coming into his obsidian eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Had business with her last night. When I found her she were terrified. O’ him.”

Barrons leaned back in his chair. “Tell me.”

Will relayed the story, omitting any mention of the code or the letter. “Don’t know ’im. Ain’t never heard much about him.” He scratched at the stubble on his jaw. “Is he dangerous?”

“All blue bloods are dangerous.”

Will met his stare. “Can he get to her?”

For once, Barrons’s cool composure vanished. Uncertainty shadowed his brow. “I don’t know. She has a companion and she only ever attends events with a chaperone or myself. But there are ways to get around that for a man like Colchester.”

“What does he want with her?”

“I can only presume,” Barrons replied. “Vengeance against me. Or perhaps some interest in Lena herself. Rumor has it he’s hunting for another thrall.”

“You wouldn’t let that happen?”

Barrons leveled an intense look upon him. “What’s your interest in the matter?”

“Blade protects his own,” he replied promptly. “And I protect him. He wouldn’t survive goin’ up against another duke. I want this stopped before it gets to that.”

“I see.” Barrons gestured toward the chair facing him. “How do you propose to stop it?”

Will sank into the chair. “Thought of a way to protect Lena and help with the prince consort’s task. Killin’ two birds with one stone, so to speak.”

Barrons gestured for him to continue.

“This ruse of the prince consort’s—me, dressed up like a court jester and bobbin’ to his tune—it ain’t gonna work. I don’t know nothin’ of court ways.”

“And?”

“Who better to teach me than Lena? Keep me from makin’ too big a fool of meself, or steppin’ on the wrong toes.”

“Unless they happen to be Colchester’s…upon whom you wish to step quite firmly, if I may guess where this is going?” Barrons leaned forward. “He’s a dangerous man, Will.”

“So am I.”

Barrons examined him for a long moment. Then nodded. “A verwulfen bodyguard. It would certainly give most sane men pause. Done. I’ll inform her that she’s to help present you to the court and squire you about.”

“If she’s with me, then he can’t make a move.”

“Don’t do anything untoward,” Barrons warned. “Remember your cause—if you kill Colchester, you can wave good-bye to any assistance or goodwill from the prince consort. Including this reform of the laws that you are so anxious to establish.”

Will bared his teeth in an anticipatory smile. “Would you like to let Lena know about her new duties, or can I?”

***

“Hike in blood taxes!” the headlines screamed.

Lena dipped her spoon into the crater of her boiled egg, her gaze darting over the article. “Mrs. Wade, have you seen this?” she asked, gesturing with the spoon. Runny yolk dripped over the paper and she hastily put it down. “They’re raising the blood taxes! From two pints a year to three. Anyone who hasn’t donated in the last month must attend a mandatory bloodletting in the next two months.”

“A young lady doesn’t speak of such things. Especially over the breakfast table.” Meticulously carving her sausage, Mrs. Wade’s lips thinned. “Have you read the society pages? What did you think of the description of Miss Hambley’s gown?”

“A withered daffodil? Rather accurate, if I do say so,” she replied distantly. “It must be in response to the draining factories burning down. The Echelon must be dangerously short of blood supplies.”

Though they kept thralls for fresh blood, they also needed a supply of chilled blood on hand. It was dangerous to take too much from a thrall, and draining one to death was in utter poor taste. The only lords who could afford to keep and maintain enough thralls to survive off of were the great dukes who ruled the city. The rest of the Echelon were forced to buy blood from the government-owned draining factories or keep blood slaves.

“The working class won’t be very happy about this.” There’d already been three riots this year, twice about automaton factory workers taking jobs and then again when a young woman was found drained to death in an alley.

Mrs. Wade made a disapproving sound and stabbed a piece of sausage.

A knock sounded and Leo appeared in the doorway of the dining room, dressed in his usual strict black. “Ladies,” he greeted.

Mrs. Wade snatched her napkin to her lips. “Good morning, my lord. You are joining us for breakfast?”

“I’m afraid not.” He glanced toward her and Lena stilled. From the look in his eyes, Leo was up to something.

“Yes?” she asked, her heart starting to pound. Had he heard of what happened to Adele? Or Cavendish?

“I’ve a favor to ask,” he said, resting his hip against the edge of the dining table.

“Of course. What is it?”

Movement shifted at the edge of her vision. Will. Stepping into the room, his hands shoved into his pockets and satisfaction burning in his eyes.

Lena stared. His collar was open, revealing a healthy slice of tanned flesh, and he hadn’t bothered to shave. With his burning amber eyes and the stubble on his jaw, he looked eminently dangerous. A silver claw hung from the leather thong at his throat.

His mouth curved with a rusty smile, sending her pulse into a frenetic tempo. Oh Lord! She’d rarely seen him smile. And certainly not at her. The result was rather devastating.

Leo cleared his throat and Lena tore her gaze away. “Absolutely not,” she snapped.

“You haven’t heard the proposition yet.”

“I don’t need to.”

“Carver’s received a commission from the Crown,” Leo continued.

The words jerked her attention away from Will. “A commission?” What could the prince consort possibly want of him? For that was where the commission had to have come from. The queen might sit on the throne, but she was the prince consort’s puppet-on-a-string. She barely dared speak without his permission.

“There’s a delegation arriving from Scandinavia in a week.”

“There is?” she asked breathlessly.

“Just some political business for the Council and the prince consort,” Leo said. “Nothing interesting, I’m afraid. But you know how feelings run between our two countries. It was felt that Will’s presence might be some sort of soothing factor.”

Lena nodded slowly, her mind scalded with shock. Will was involved in this?

“He needs tidying up,” Leo continued. “Both in manners and appearance. And he also needs someone to guide him through the dangerous waters at court. Unfortunately, I don’t have the time…”

Oh, yes. She saw where this was going.

“You want me to escort him.” Her eyes narrowed on Will. “I wonder whose idea that was?”

He didn’t even have the grace to appear guilty. Leaning against the door, he smiled his cat-got-the-cream smile.

The one that did so much damage to her insides.

“Your skill in navigating the Echelon would serve your country in good stead,” Leo replied.

“My, it’s so terribly well thought out.” Inside she was boiling. How dare he? And yet this was precisely what Mr. Mandeville had warned her about when she first agreed to spy for the humanists. She couldn’t allow her feelings to disrupt such an opportunity.

Finding out about the Scandinavian treaty was more important than braining Will Carver with the soup tureen.

“You’ll help us then?” Leo asked.

“I could hardly refuse such a gracious offer. We’ll start tomorrow.” She ran her gaze over Will’s unkempt hair, the glorious honey-brown strands that tangled about his shoulders. “Though heaven knows where I’m going to begin.”

“He doesn’t need to be perfect,” Leo said. “Just polished. And taught what to say.”

“Or rather, what not to.” Her eyes narrowed. “He’ll have to look like a gentleman at least. A haircut, a shave…possibly delousing.” A smile blossomed. “A complete new wardrobe. Dancing lessons.”

Will arched a brow. “I ain’t dancin’.”

“You’ll dance if I tell you to dance. You’ll bow when I tell you, and you’ll keep a civil tongue.” A part of her almost couldn’t wait. “Otherwise I’ll wash my hands of this whole affair and you don’t want that, do you?”

Oh no, he wanted to be nice and close. To keep an eye on her.

His eyes narrowed, the message in them perfectly clear. This would be war. But he had no choice but to accept her terms.

Leo looked between them. “Is there anything that I should be aware of?”

“No,” both she and Will retorted.

“Nothing at all,” she added, glaring at him to make sure he didn’t mention anything to Leo.

***

“I suppose you think this is amusing,” Lena said, pulling on her gloves with a sharp jerk.

Will leaned against the wall, lazily watching her. Her cheeks were pale but her eyes spat fire. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to press her back against the Chinese wallpaper and lick his way down her throat.

Dangerous.

He could control this urge, this desire. He had to.

Flexing his fingers, he glanced down the hallway. The chaperone was hovering like a service drone, her eyes flaring wide every time she saw him looking, as though she half suspected he’d pounce on her. Will was tempted to snarl at her. See if she had an attack of the vapors.

“Would it bother you if I admitted I were enjoyin’ every minute of this?”

Lena paused, her top hat resting rakishly on her head. Her fingers tangled in the purple ribbons and their eyes met in the mirror.

“I warned you,” he whispered, leaning closer so that his image came into the polished glass too. With his dark coat, he looked like an enormous shadow behind her slender purple figure. The big, bad wolf, ready to devour her.

Her scent enveloped him, tempting him to do just that. He wanted to press his face into her neck and breathe her in, let his hands run down over the corseted curve of her hips…

Lena looked up at him helplessly. Some hint of his hunger must have shown on his face for her lips parted with a soft exhalation.

“I will find out what you’re up to,” he warned.

She broke the spell, tugging sharply at her ribbons as she tied them. “Enjoy the moment, Will. It shall be the last time you get the better of me.” With a sweet little smile, she added, “And consider this my warning.”

“What d’you mean?”

She turned in a froth of skirts. “This is my world now and you’ve got no idea what the rules are. You’re not going to learn a thing and I…I am going to take great pleasure in this.”

She tried to step past him and he refused to back away and give her room. Lena’s breathing hastened, but there was no sign of it on her face as she squeezed past, her hips brushing against his thigh.

“What do you—?”

“Tomorrow. At noon,” she said, fetching her parasol, some lacy bit of fabric that would do naught to stave off the weather. “It wouldn’t do to have you come here too often. People might start to wonder. So I’ll come to you. At the warren. I can claim to be visiting my sister or helping her with some project.” She ran one last glance over him. “Do try to be clean and appropriately dressed. Tidying you up for society is going to be a rather monumental task as it is.”