Chapter Sixteen
Sixteen
I struck off through the crowd, which was now thoroughly soused, thanks to the excellent alcohol Marcellus had provided, to find my bosses, hoping they wouldn’t be soused themselves.
I started my search in the corners, since I knew Mr. Connors didn’t like parties or crowds, and I figured he would know where Lord Hennawi was (I had no idea what Lord Hennawi’s feeling was about crowds or parties).
I was pleased to find Mr. Connors in conversation with one of the duke’s assistants—not so much because of the individual but because Mr. Connors was in conversation.
“Good evening, Miss Hastings,” he said as I approached.
“Good evening, sir.”
“Have you met Mr. Hall?” Mr. Connors said. “He works with the Duke of Astelwyth.”
“Yes, the duke introduced us earlier,” I replied. The gentleman nodded.
“Mr. Hall has been telling me about some of the improvements the duke plans to make. Given the circumstances, the duke feels it might be wise to improve our borders, to prevent undesirables from entering the country.”
“We want to preserve Great Britain as it is,” Mr. Hall said with marked enthusiasm. “The Great Revelation has changed many things, but we don’t want it to change who we are as a people.”
“What type of undesirables?” I asked. I tried to keep my tone neutral, but I already felt wary of this plan—there were so many ways this could go off the rails.
He spread his hands out in explanation. “The type that would come in and influence certain species against us, against our government. We want a unified people.”
“You mean species,” I corrected.
His expression tightened. “Yes, species, of course.”
“This will help in your work, Miss Hastings,” Mr. Connors said with enthusiasm. “There won’t be bad apples for you to have to resolve conflicts with. If all the species have the same nationalism at heart, it will be easier to negotiate.”
That wasn’t true at all, but this wasn’t the place to debate it.
Mr. Connors had always seemed a bit naive to me, and this conversation was proving me right.
It was something I liked about him—he seemed eternally optimistic that all the species could get along, even though it was clear there were some that were just diametrically opposed but had to tolerate one another to survive.
I’m looking at you, cat and dog shifters.
“Is this about the portals the duke mentioned?” I asked. “It seems that some demons crossed through in Cornwall, I believe.”
Mr. Hall grimaced. “Yes, well, we don’t want any of that kind of activity going on here. If someone comes through—no matter how they come through—we want a full accounting of their place of origin and where they will be when they are here.”
At its face, it didn’t sound too awful. It made sense, particularly when applied to the Cornwall situation.
Nobody wanted demons just appearing, willy-nilly.
But neither did we want more scrutiny of what types of species were allowed to enter, never mind who would be the individual who’d make that decision.
I imagined it would be the duke, and I couldn’t think he would be as tolerant as, say, Lord Hennawi, Mr. Connors, or even the Queen.
“I see” was all I said. I was too far down the hierarchy to make a fuss about it without knowing more, but I was going to have to keep tabs on this effort as well as the whole double spy thing.
I didn’t want my work, and my country, to become as intolerant as I’d heard some other countries had been post-Revelation.
I could be naive as well, but I had hopes of all of us coexisting.
Not so my position would ever be entirely redundant—beings would always have disputes, and there would always have to be other beings to help resolve them; I wasn’t that naive—but so we could live without the constant threat of one species trying to lord it over another (literally, in the duke’s case).
I knew there were beings on the other side—species separatists—and they were just as dangerous as the duke and his minions.
In fact, it was impossible not to find beings with strong opinions about how the various species should interact with one another.
It was up to the government, as well as the threat of Queen Victoria’s fangs, to keep everyone in line.
Should those impediments be removed, then the chaos Marcellus and I believed was the intent behind the assassination attempts really would come to pass.
“Have you had fun this evening, Miss Hastings?” Mr. Connors asked, his tail moving only slightly. “I quite enjoyed the theme. Hell on Earth! Quite clever.”
“I have, thank you, sir.”
“You assisted in planning all of this, did you not?” Mr. Connors continued.
“I did.”
“Oh, so you are friendly with the Devil?” Mr. Hall said.
“Not with the Devil, per se, sir,” I replied. “I have spent more time with the Devil’s son, the Marquis of Hell.” And by “spent more time,” I meant did all sorts of inappropriate things while also acting as a double agent spy of sorts.
Oh, I was coming up in the world, wasn’t I?
“Then perhaps you can assist. The duke wishes to be kept apprised of the Devil’s movements”—at which point my eyes met Mr. Connors’s—“but discreetly. He doesn’t wish to disturb the Queen.”
I would need a diagram to figure out how to navigate through the morass I seemed to find myself in. I hadn’t expected, when I’d been given this assignment, that it would be so complicated.
At least I wasn’t in as much danger of being engulfed in flames as I was at the start of it, I told myself. Silver linings and all that.
“I will do what I can within the constraints of my position, sir,” I said in as mild a tone as possible.
“We will contact your office, Mr. Connors,” Mr. Hall said, nodding. He offered a quick bow to me, then strode off.
“Hmm,” Mr. Connors said as we watched the other man leave, “are you certain you can handle that? Dealing with the duke? Not that I wish to but we could talk to Lord Hennawi, if you think that would help.” His tone was doubtful, however, and his tail gave an anxious twitch.
“I can manage it, yes.” If I could handle the whole double agent thing as well as doing illicit things with my devilish contact, then yes. Though of course I couldn’t say anything of the sort to my boss.
There were limits to my unprofessionalism.
“It’s only two weeks until the Exhibition.
It can’t come soon enough—this is very stressful.
The tabloids have seized on the Devil’s presence here and are making up all sorts of rubbishy trash about it.
Did you know they’re insisting the Devil went to the Tower of London and was appraising the various methods of torture? ”
I winced. “Well…” I began.
“And that he’s been seen in the park around children?”
That would be when he was riding the dandy horse. I should have tried to guide him to an isolated area, but the chances of my being able to direct the Devil to do anything were slim to none.
“Well,” I said again.
“The staff at Clarence House is apparently terrified of him.” Mr. Connors shook his head. “But they are more terrified of the Queen, and she’s told him he is to be accorded the best service while he is here.”
“Hopefully the Queen will give them all a holiday after he is gone.” In two weeks. Which would mean the marquis would be gone as well.
My heart should not be constricting like that when I thought about it. But here I was.
I’d have to make the most of the next two weeks, then. I didn’t want to live the rest of my life in regret.
“Is it time to go yet?”
A weary Hannah found me around two in the morning. Her wings were drooping, and her eyes were bleary. “I saw Lily about half an hour ago. She said she would meet us at home.”
My eyebrows rose. “She’s still—you know.”
Hannah nodded. “She is having an excellent time.”
“Well, I am very glad she came along, then. I hope she managed to get some information from any of her partners tonight.”
“Have you found out anything?” Hannah asked.
I wrinkled my nose. “Not so much but there are bits and pieces. I imagine once Marcellus and I sort it all out—”
“Sort what all out?” Marcellus said, joining us.
“Good evening, my lord,” Hannah said. “Your party is quite the success.”
“Of course it is,” he replied smugly. “Your friend was very helpful with the planning.”
“Of course she was,” Hannah said, mirroring his words.
He blinked in surprise at her wit, and I silently applauded my friend.
“And I realized, my lord,” Hannah continued, “that our landlady’s next communal meal is next week. You should come dine with us, then.”
Though at this moment, I wanted her to be less quick-witted.
The thought of the Marquis of Hell sitting down to eat with my friends and the rest of the boarders at the rooming house made me itch in a prickly, unpleasant way.
It would be just another reminder that he couldn’t fit into my life—that though he might come to my house, he would eventually have to leave. Forever.
The less he was integrated into my life, I reasoned, the better.
And here Hannah was, encouraging more integration.
“I would love to,” he said, shooting me a wicked glance.
“I’m back,” Lily said. I turned to see her approaching from behind me. “What would you love to do?” she asked interestedly, looking between me and Marcellus. I immediately started to blush, and she grinned.
“Miss Green has invited me to dine with you and your fellow housemates next week,” Marcellus said.
Lily clapped her hands. “Excellent! Hannah makes a very good pudding, and Mrs. Collins is a good, if basic, cook.”
“She does make a good shepherd’s pie,” I added.
His eyes lit up. “Perhaps she’ll share the recipe. I didn’t manage to get it from the cook at that pub we went to.”
Wonderful. My illicit demonic lover showing such a sweet, normal side of himself made him even more endearing. Which was going to make the next week even more difficult.
I wish I weren’t so entangled with him, but I couldn’t deny it any longer—I rather thought I might have fallen in love, darn it all.