Chapter 28
“I would prefer an intelligent hell to a stupid paradise.”
―Blaise Pascal
Perry did indeed carry her to the breakfast table, but right now, she could deny him nothing.
It was hard to mind when he was so truly happy, and besides, her arms and legs still felt a little unsteady—either nerves, lingering traces of the poison, or the result of lying abed for two days.
Surrendering to the inevitable with grace, she wrapped her arms around his neck and laughed as he swept her up and dashed down the stairs.
She did not even command him to put her down once they reached the bottom. She decided that even if the servants saw him fussing over her, she did not care. He had earned the right, that and more.
Perry settled her onto a chair next to his, smoothing her skirts before tucking her close. Then satisfied, he took his place at the head of the table while the others joined them, taking seats on either side.
“My usual cup of chocolate,” Charity requested when Quinn asked what she wanted to drink.
Peregrine frowned. “Perhaps a cup of bone broth would be better.”
“Perry, I was only asleep for two days,” she whispered in pique.
Quinn gave a sage nod, but his gaze slid toward Charity. The corners of his mouth quirked, assuring her he would not ignore her preference.
Perry saw her plate filled with heaping servings of eggs, kippers, roasted tomatoes, and slices of golden toast. He kept her under watchful eye while she did the same.
“You eat,” she insisted when he spent too much time watching her instead of his own plate. “Do not try to convince me you took care of yourself.”
“He did not,” Thorne volunteered from the far end of the table.
Perry set down his fork. “Is there no code of honour among fighting men?”
“There is no honour in concealing such obvious truths from your wife,” Charity replied testily, saving Thorne from answering.
But when Peregrine smiled at her—she would have to remember that he loved hearing that word, wife—she smiled back.
“Promise me you will stop fretting if I agree to remain here today?”
“It amuses me you believe that staying was a choice.” He smirked. “We cannot let my mother learn that you have recovered yet, Charity. She might change her plans if she finds out, and then we would end up squandering whatever advantage we hold.”
“He’s right,” Selina said lightly from across the table.
“Since I remain a social disgrace, I shall stay behind to keep you and Lark company. Let Marian believe she has swept us off the board while we plot her ruin from the comfort of her former home. There’s something deliciously poetic about that, is there not? ”
Charity had not imagined herself such a spiteful person, but where Marian was concerned, she could warm to the idea of being petty. Charity was the new lady of the manor, a title she had no intention of relinquishing. “Indeed.”
“Then let us return to the only question that matters,” Peregrine said evenly. “Does anyone here still doubt that the Tsar’s death is my mother’s aim?”
No one argued.
“I am more convinced she will choose the Guildhall now.” Ravenscroft pushed food around with his fork.
“Our dear Tsar has such a charming habit of wandering away from where he is expected. Unless she plans to shoot from every balcony in London, I cannot imagine how she would plan around such unpredictable behaviour. Your mother will choose a stage she can control—and the Guildhall offers a lovely proscenium.”
“He’s right. Mama does not like dealing with the unexpected,” Lark murmured. “More than anything, she despises things she cannot control.”
Like her children? “You do not have to worry about such things anymore,” Charity assured her.
Perry agreed. “My mother’s strengths are also her flaws. She’s grown so accustomed to planning her way to success—regardless of how convoluted the scheme—that she won’t expect us to be this far ahead in understanding the plot. Before the Crown summons us, let’s try to plan for the order of events.”
Ravenscroft spoke first, offering what he knew.
“Like most Guildhall events, the seated dinner will be only for the men. The sovereigns and those of highest status will be at the head table, the other tables filled out by social rank. They have erected great, draperied balconies above for the women to sit and observe during the main course, and after the meal is done, they will join for dessert and dancing.”
“Then if the objective is to catch the Tsar sitting still, the attempt will take place during the dinner,” Thorne deduced.
Charity had little trouble imagining how it might go based on Ravenscroft’s descriptions. With the right disguise, someone might easily sneak in and hide among the skirting or the servants.
“Protecting the Tsar in that circus will be difficult, but not impossible,” Ravenscroft drawled. “Prinny can be persuaded to summon a small army of royal guards, especially if one flatters his sense of occasion.”
Perry drummed his fingers on the table beside his plate, deep in thought.
“What is it?” Charity asked quietly.
“A single assassin is too large a gamble. Too uncertain. Too easy to stop. We are missing something in her plan, and I cannot help but think it relates to the ring she used on you.”
“On me? Why?”
“I think my mother tipped her hand, but whether that was because she was forced to improvise, or because it amused her to poison you so deliberately in front of me, I’m not certain.
The Grand Duchess pointed out the punctures on your wrists we missed.
If she hadn’t done so, I think we all would have missed it.
It is a clever way to poison someone. She could easily do it again. ”
“But not herself,” Selina mused. “She will be in the balcony.”
Lark had been listening, mostly silent. “Countess Orlova introduced us to the court, but Mama spent a great deal of time talking to many of the men who will be at the front of the room.”
“So there is more than just a second traitor in his court, that traitor might also be a second assassin.” Thorne shifted in his chair. “Would it matter to Marian whose hand the Tsar dies by, so long as he dies?”
“No. One assassin could serve as a distraction for the other,” Selina said into her cup of coffee. “If there is a panic over a man attempting to attack the Tsar—perhaps he brandishes a weapon and attracts the guards—”
“No one would question one of Alexander’s men approaching and touching the Tsar.
Yes,” Peregrine said absently, his gaze distant as he envisioned how such an attack might happen.
“That does make sense. Moxley will be obvious, not discreet. But if all he needs to do is cause a distraction, it gives the other assassin the chance to do the deed. Everyone will be looking the wrong way. No one may notice the mark, and then no one will suspect the loyal man.”
“But if Moxley doesn’t succeed with his attack and the Tsar still dies, will people not question what happened?” Thorne’s brow furrowed.
Peregrine waved that off. “There are many poisons that will cause a heart to fail quickly. If there is a panic, and the Tsar clutches his chest, what are people likely to assume? A fit of apoplexy or a seizure of the heart, brought on by fear.”
“That is diabolical,” Charity said. Beside her, Lark closed her eyes in horror.
“You have met my mother.” Perry pushed his plate away, appetite lost. “We will need to watch out for someone waiting for his chance to attack Alexander.”
Quinn was called away by a guard, and after checking the situation, he requested Perry too. Everyone looked up expectantly when Peregrine returned after several long minutes.
“The summons came from Sidmouth,” he explained, passing the letter to Ravenscroft. “It appears the Tsar and the Grand Duchess are ready to talk.”
“At the Pulteney?” Ravenscroft peered at the message as if it had personally insulted him. “Well, that’s not where I intended to be indispensable today. I take it you would like me to go with you.”
Perry nodded. “Quinn, ask Dawson to drive us in the unmarked carriage. Ravenscroft and I will travel incognito.”
Sidmouth’s note instructed them to arrive at the tradesmen’s entrance to the hotel.
By that alone, Peregrine deduced that this was to be a clandestine where secrecy was the first order.
Given that he expected at least one member of the Crown present, it spoke volumes that they were willing to cede territory for this meeting to the Russians.
Peregrine took some precautions of his own. Hodges and Thorne did a sweep of the edges of the property before they departed, looking for watchers. It wouldn’t do to let a spy get word about his movements back to his mother.
Sidmouth met them at that entrance, ushering the two cloaked men quickly through the basement area and servants’ passages into an area blocked off by Cossacks.
Only then did the Home Secretary stop and turn to Peregrine, raking Perry’s appearance with his gaze.
“You look… better. I assume that there is good news at home.”
When Perry gave just a curt nod, Sidmouth let out a puff of breath.
“Good. That is good. If the Grand Duchess helped you honestly, then perhaps we have a prayer of getting out of this incident with Nicholas without bloodshed. At least between the Tsar and the Crown.” He continued dryly, “Castlereagh will be spoiling for a fight when he discovers he was left out.”
“Who else is here?” Perry asked.
“The three of us, the Tsar, the Grand Duchess, the Queen, and Prinny,” he answered.
“The Queen came in earlier to meet with the Grand Duchess for tea. Prinny had to be brought up in a most laborious manner. We had to make sure the pathway I just brought you up was entirely clear of anyone who might identify him. Us… well, we are less important.” He gave a brief, feral grin.
“And you left them alone with the Tsar? Without supervision of any kind?” Ravenscroft said, aghast.