Chapter 15
When Sidney returned to our bedchamber after escorting Alec upstairs to the rear guest chamber and through the hole in the wall leading into the neighboring town house, he found me still in bed propped up against the headboard.
I had been ruminating over everything we’d discussed and at first, I failed to note the small furrow that had formed in his brow.
It was only after he’d begun to smooth out the folds in the blanket draped over my lap that I noticed, for my husband wasn’t prone to fretfulness.
I reached out to clasp his hand, stilling his movements. “The telephone stopped ringing.”
His hand turned over, grasping mine in return, his thumb brushing back and forth across my knuckles. “I had Nimble remove it from the hook.”
I squeezed his fingers in gratitude, having suspected as much.
“Took the knocker off the door as well.”
I studied his drawn features. “You were remarkably calm about finding Alec here.”
“Yes, well, if our situations were reversed, I suspect I would have done something similar just to ensure you were all right.” The corners of his lips quirked upward. “Though I did warn him not to do it again.”
I returned his smile. “An order I’m sure he took well.”
Sidney didn’t miss my sarcasm. “Actually, he urged me to have the hole in the wall repaired.”
My amusement faded, realizing Alec—who never worried about anything—must be well and truly concerned if he was willing to sacrifice his stealthiest access to our home and also the opportunity to irk Sidney by making surprise appearances. “Are you considering it?”
His deep blue eyes lifted from our joined hands. “We were dashed lucky the Auxiliaries didn’t find it during their raid, Ver. I fear we wouldn’t be so fortunate should they decide to pay us a visit again.”
It was a good point. I bit my bottom lip. Yet, I could imagine how suspicious it would appear if we suddenly engaged contractors or carried in lumber and plaster.
“Did they leave behind enough supplies next door that you and Nimble might be able to contrive something?” From what I’d seen, the house had been abandoned mid-renovation with the detritus of construction scattered everywhere.
“I think so. Though it might not be pretty.”
I shrugged, for it hadn’t been pretty to begin with.
Sidney’s gaze had dipped once again to where his thumb brushed against my skin. I could tell he had something else on his mind. “Xavier also suggested we disobey our orders and return to England immediately.”
I stiffened in surprise, latching on to the word that seemed least like Alec as I grappled with the ramifications of this statement. “Suggested?”
Sidney’s mouth creased into a humorless smile.
“His exact words were more along the lines of, ‘Kent, are you an eejit? Get her the bloody hell out of here!’ With a few more choice invectives sprinkled in.” He scrutinized me for my reaction.
“Even offered to help me charter a private boat to ferry us off the island.”
Admittedly, I was at a loss for words, overcome by shock and alarm, and then suspicion. “What did you say?” I stammered, curious but also playing for time.
“That your safety is my concern, and he’s the idiot if he thinks I haven’t already been looking into it.”
Sidney had sprinkled this statement with his own assortment of expletives, but I was less startled by them than by his admission. “You have?”
His expression suddenly turned fierce. “I know we decided otherwise, but I don’t give a toss for their directives.
Winter and Sturgis and your Chief and the whole lot of them can go to hell, for all I care.
” He released my hand, gesturing with his arms in emphasis.
“And the way I see it, Ardmore and his bloody-minded machinations are no longer our concern. We did our bit. We stopped him from poisoning half of Dublin with that bloody phosgene. We kept it hush-hush, as ordered. And instead of kissing your feet, as they rightly should have, those bastards up at the Castle knocked you around,” he growled.
His cheeks flushed with fury. “So yes, I’ve been looking into ways to whisk you out of here and leave this utter foul-up to them.
It’s doubtful they’d attempt to send us back once we’ve reached London.
Especially not if we made enough noise. It would be too big a scandal.
” His eyes narrowed. “And they know what leverage we hold.”
I sat silently through this tirade, my heart racing in the face of his anger even though it wasn’t directed at me.
I’d known Sidney was struggling to reconcile himself with the treatment I’d endured and to accept that he couldn’t have done anything to prevent it, but I’d not realized quite how greatly it gnawed at him.
It was writ in the stark lines of his face as he fought to master his own emotions, in the hollowness of his voice as he continued.
“But the ports and ferries are being watched, specifically for us.”
My stomach dipped. “How do you …?”
“I have contacts of my own, Ver.” His tone bordered on withering. “Men, like Maxwell, who I served with. We’re too well-known, and those on surveillance duty have been ordered to report to the Castle if we’re spotted trying to leave the country.”
I turned aside, struggling now with my own agitation. How dare they! After all we’d done, to not even trust our word? This was undoubtedly O’s doing, but I couldn’t help but feel betrayed by them all.
“Did you explain all this to Alec?” I asked Sidney.
“Yes. Lest he do something stupid.”
“So, we’re well and truly trapped here.”
I didn’t quite know why this realization troubled me.
I’d already accepted that we had to at least pretend to cooperate with the stipulations of my release, and I did want to see Ardmore face justice.
But I supposed in the back of my mind I’d harbored the consolation that if we found ourselves up against the wall, we could always escape and brazen the consequences. Now, it wasn’t so simple.
Sidney’s demeanor softened. “I’m afraid so.”
I inhaled deeply, forcing a brave face. “Right. Then, we’re simply back to where we were before.
” One look at my husband’s expression told me he wasn’t fooled, but I persisted regardless, not wanting to add to his burden.
“Did you have a chance to look through what George has been able to decrypt so far from Smith’s journal? ”
His brow furrowed as if he might argue, but then he allowed me to divert him. “Yes.”
“Anything interesting?”
He shook his head. “Not like you hope.”
“Not even the weapons and munitions George mentioned?”
He shifted, leaning his hip against the mattress as he scowled at a point on the wall to the right of the door. “Truth be told, I’m not entirely sure he’s referring to weapons.”
I recalled that George had told us Smith mostly wrote in his own peculiar code, denoting places by nicknames he’d given people and moments in his past. I groaned, recognizing that Sidney could be right. “What about his mentions of Adele?”
“From what I can work out, most of them occur late in the journal and seem to relate to the events of earlier this spring when Miss Baverel was arrested and killed. He even mentions us.” He turned to look at me, a spark of dark amusement twinkling in his eye. “Curious what sobriquet he gave you?”
“Given his propensity for crudely referring to women by their anatomy, I shudder to think,” I remarked dryly.
“The Scarlet Torpedo.”
I rolled my eyes, which brought a smile to Sidney’s lips. “At least that’s better than Cherry Nibs.” I arched my chin. “What did he call you?”
He arched his eyebrows in mock seriousness. “The Boy Scout.”
“I’m sure for Smith there was no greater insult.”
He huffed a laugh. “Maybe the decryption will mean something to you.”
“I’ll try. Though I fear that any information we can interpret will prove out of date. After all, Smith died seven months ago.”
Sidney reached out to tug one of the auburn curls framing my face, pulling me from the gloom I was sinking into. “You figured out the location of the phosgene from Smith’s code. Maybe his journal still has something useful to tell us.”
I offered him a grateful smile. He was right. It would be premature to give up hope yet.
However, three days later, I was ready to hurl Smith’s journal at the wall.
I had twisted my brain into knots trying to work out the hidden meaning behind his vulgar, bigoted words.
Even decrypted, the entries made little sense.
Each new page unraveled merely added to the jumble.
I was beginning to think it was a miracle that we’d gotten anything of use from it.
Meanwhile, we’d finally received word from Sturgis the previous evening about the particulars involved with Lieutenant Harlow’s murder.
As such, I was venturing out for the first time since my release from the Castle to pay a call on Mrs. Harlow.
That is, if one didn’t count the impromptu press conference we’d held on our front steps the morning before.
I’d armed myself by donning one of my most fashionable, but conservative outfits, making sure to adopt my public persona as social darling.
But while I dabbed on my lip salve and smiled as I prettily accepted the Castle’s apology, I didn’t attempt to mask the damage that had been wrought to my eye or smooth over the timidity I felt when asked about it.
I knew how to play the game, providing vague enough answers that the reporters might wonder what lay behind them but not so insinuating that anyone could accuse me of being defamatory or ungracious.