Chapter 28

Traveling back to cape triumph by boat was a lot easier than the overland journey had been. We didn’t return right away—not with Cedric’s injuries being what they were. Between us, Warren, and the hired thugs, Silas Garrett had his hands full keeping track of everyone. He finally hired his own muscle from among the various men looking for work in White Rock—deputizing them as temporary agents of the law. Silas used a group of them to help him take Warren and the others back to Cape Triumph. He left a smaller group to keep an eye on Cedric and me at the Marshalls’—not that we were much of a flight risk.

When Silas came back a week later, news came to us by way of the doctor who’d been making regular visits to check up on Cedric. “I told Mister Garrett you’re fit to travel now,” the doctor said. “And he plans on taking you both back tomorrow.”

We were sitting outside in the afternoon sun, with Cedric propped up in a makeshift lounge chair that Mister Marshall had crafted. Cedric’s eye was open again, and most of his bruises had faded to a yellowish color. His left arm was in a sling and would need a few more weeks of recovery. He’d also broken a couple of ribs, and there wasn’t much to treat them, aside from binding them and taking it easy.

“Fit to travel?” I exclaimed. “Like this?”

“The worst is over,” said the doctor. “Your life’s not in danger. Will the journey be uncomfortable? Possibly—especially if you’re careless. But the boat’s nothing compared to the land route.”

“I’ll be fine.” Cedric placed his right hand over mine. “And we need to get back. Warren being there ahead of us isn’t a good thing.”

It was something we’d discussed frequently: The more time Warren was in Cape Triumph, the more time he had to perfect his story and muster support from his powerful friends.

“One other thing . . .” The doctor looked a bit uneasy and cast a nervous glance my way. “Mister Garrett said to tell you that his partner had arrived in Cape Triumph and that he had your portrait—that it was a match. My—my lady.”

I held up a hand. “Please. There’s no need. Adelaide is fine.”

The doctor gave some advice to Cedric before leaving, as well as various medicines to help with the healing. When he was gone, I leaned my head on Cedric’s shoulder. “Well, that’s that. The secret’s out.”

“Exactly which of our many secrets are you referring to?”

“You know which. My identity. Er, my old one.” I sighed. “But if Silas’s partner authenticated it, then maybe my word will have greater weight. Except that now I’ve opened myself up to anyone hoping to cash in on Grandmother’s reward.”

“Do not tell anyone we’re married,” Cedric said in a low voice, guessing what I was about to say next.

“But that was the whole point! To give me protection if I was outed as a runaway countess. And I have been.”

He shook his head. “You’re key in this case—Silas will protect you now. And our backup plan was created before I was outed as a heretic. They’re going to put me on trial for that. If you’re identified as my legal wife, they’re going to cast you as Alanzan by association. I’m not going to have you hanged with me.”

“And I’m not going to have you hanged at all,” I growled. “Or let Warren go unpunished.”

But when we sailed back to Cape Triumph the next morning, I wasn’t nearly so confident. As a fledgling colony, Hadisen had no court capable of handling a major case like this, so it was being dealt with in Denham. Warren had a lot of connections there. And the Alanzan faith was illegal in both colonies.

We docked in Cape Triumph in early evening and were promptly separated. Cedric had to stay in custody throughout his trial, and it was only a small comfort that Warren and his henchmen were also in custody.

“I’m not completely insensitive, my lady,” Silas told me. I didn’t bother correcting him. If my title could strengthen our case, I’d let it be used. “I’ll make sure he’s looked after. And I’ll have a doctor check in.”

“Thank you,” I said. He gave us a moment of privacy to say goodbye, and I clasped Cedric’s hand. It was about as much as I could do, given his injuries.

“We’ll get through this,” I said. “I’ll find a way.”

“You always do.”

The old bravado was in his voice, but I caught a glint of uncertainty in his eyes. I kissed him fiercely, uncaring of any passersby who saw. And when Silas’s men led him away, I stared after them until Cedric had been swallowed by the bustling crowd on Cape Triumph’s docks.

“Miss,” said one of the hired lawmen. “Mister Garrett said we’re to escort you wherever you want to go.”

I had no idea where I wanted to go. I’d thought little beyond Cedric’s fate and now found myself in an odd situation. After years of feeling constricted and defined by the rules of others, I had no limitations now. I could move and go freely—except I had no place to go. No home, no money, no family.

But I still had friends.

“Take me to Wisteria Hollow.”

Unsurprisingly, my reception wasn’t that warm. Jasper came striding out of his office as soon as Mistress Culpepper announced me in the foyer. He pointed an accusing finger at me.

“No. No. I don’t care who you are or what titles you allegedly have. You cannot come crawling back here after everything you’ve done to us. You chose to walk away from this life. Don’t try to get it back.”

“I’m not,” I said. “I just . . . well . . . that is . . . I don’t have anywhere to stay.”

We’d gathered an audience of my beautifully styled peers, making me self-conscious about my bedraggled appearance. Charles was among them. His return to Osfrid to help recruit the next batch of girls had been delayed after all the recent developments. “Jasper, the girl was one of our own, and she may very well be one of our family once this business with Cedric is settled.”

Jasper turned on his brother incredulously. “‘This business?’ He’s being tried for heresy and assault! There’s only one way that can be settled.”

“Assault?” I asked in surprise. “Have you seen him?”

“That’s the story going around,” Jasper said. “That you two got desperate when it became clear you weren’t going to be able to pay off your debt to Warren Doyle. So you staged an attack to make it look like raiders had come after him—only his men got there in time to save him.”

My jaw nearly hit the floor. “Is that what they’ve come up with? It’s a lie! Come on. You must know Cedric better than that.”

“Actually,” said Jasper, face grim, “I really don’t feel like I know my son at all. What I do know is that before you came along, he wasn’t abducting noblewomen, practicing heresy, or assaulting government leaders. So you’ll understand when I say politely as I can: Get out of my house.”

“She can stay with me.” Aiana strode forward from those gathered, as cool and confident as ever. “And don’t look at me like that, Mister Jasper. I rent my own home and can do as I like. Come on, Adelaide.”

What else could I do? There was no home for me here. I had to take whatever allies I could get—though I was surprised to find that my two biggest ones hadn’t been in the foyer.

“Where are Tamsin and Mira?” I asked, once I was inside Aiana’s home. It was a surprisingly spacious suite of rooms above a tavern in the city’s busy entertainment district. The soundproofing was good, but I could still make out the faint tinkling of piano music from below.

Aiana had been putting a teakettle on her large stove and turned to me in surprise. “You don’t know? About Tamsin?”

“What is there to know? Did she get married or something?”

“Sit down,” Aiana ordered.

I obeyed, settling into a chair covered by a blanket with an intricately colored turtle design. I wondered if it was Balanquan, but the look on Aiana’s face made me forget all about art. “Where is Tamsin?”

Aiana pulled up a stool and sat across from me. “Adelaide, Tamsin was lost on the day of the storm a couple of weeks ago—the tempest? Part of it hit you too, right?”

I almost thought I was mishearing, that we were somehow talking about our initial sea voyage. “Lost . . . what do you mean, lost in the tempest?”

“She was in Mister Doyle’s party—going back to Hadisen. They were practically engaged, and he was going to show her around. They were approaching the bay as the storm was rolling in, and they say she panicked and . . . well, left. No one knows what happened to her.”

“Panicked? Tamsin’s never panicked in her life!”

“I don’t know anything firsthand, only what they tell me.” Aiana’s calm was impressive. “She didn’t want to get on the boat during the storm. She ran away from the party. They tried to find her, but it was too late—especially in those conditions. They searched for her the next day, but there was nothing.”

I put my head between my hands, afraid I would faint. “No. That’s impossible. You’re confused. She was lost once—this can’t happen again! She wanted that marriage more than anything. She wouldn’t have let a stormy crossing hold her back . . .”

And yet as I spoke, I wondered. Would she? The tempest had upset me with painful memories of that night at sea. What had it done to Tamsin? Maybe the thought of boarding another ship in the storm really had been too daunting. But enough to run off alone into the night?

“I’m sorry,” Aiana continued, oblivious to my mental revelation. “I thought word would’ve gotten to you, especially since Mister Doyle took the blame upon himself and still paid the Thorns her price.”

“How nice,” I said, lifting my head. Anger was easier to deal with than grief. I still couldn’t truly process this. “I’m sure Jasper was glad to make a profit on her after all, especially if . . .” My words gave way to a gasp as I replayed what she said. “Warren knew . . .”

“He was there when it happened.”

I jumped to my feet. “Why didn’t he say anything to me? I talked to him the morning after that storm! How could he have not mentioned that my best friend disappeared?”

“I don’t know.” Her face was filled with compassion. “The more I hear about Warren Doyle, the more certain I am that I can’t ever guess what he might be thinking.”

I felt a sob catch in my throat and swallowed it back, not wanting to cry in front of her. Understanding, Aiana got to her feet. “Mira’s at a social engagement. I can get her excused early. I think it’d be good for you to be together. You can make yourself at home, and I’ll pay one of the girls downstairs to bring up hot water for the tub.”

I could only nod by way of answer, and as soon as she left, I broke down in tears. The stress of everything came crashing down on me, and I didn’t even know what I was crying for anymore. Cedric, Tamsin . . . what good was I to the people I loved if I couldn’t keep them safe? Was this some kind of divine punishment for running out on my responsibilities in Osfrid?

I was red and puffy-eyed when the girl came to fill the tub, and she politely pretended not to notice. Sinking into that kind of bath was a luxury I hadn’t experienced in almost a month. Baths at the Marshall place had been sparse in water. And cold. Really, after my time in Hadisen, everything in Cape Triumph seemed luxurious by comparison. Aiana’s rooms were on par with a royal Osfridian estate as far as I was concerned.

The water was dark gray when I finally emerged, and my head felt slightly better. Not good, but functional. I couldn’t stand the thought of putting on my dirty claim-working clothes and borrowed a long, thick woolen robe from Aiana’s closet. A lot of time had passed, and I wondered if Mira’s event had been far away or if there’d been difficulty in getting her out of it.

In the end, Aiana delivered. Mira walked through the door with a bundle of clothing in her arms that she promptly dropped as she ran across the room to me. I pulled her into a hug and felt the tears come anew. Aiana discreetly retreated to the kitchen and bustled around in the cupboards.

Mira was the same as ever. Beautiful. Fierce. But not as dressed up as I’d expected, based on Aiana’s comment about a social engagement. The violet organdy dress she wore was well-made but too plain to be anything from the Glittering Court. She wore her mother’s shawl over it, and her hair had been tied with a ribbon behind her neck with obvious haste.

“Mira—how did this—Tamsin—”

“I don’t know,” she said, her own voice cracking. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard. Two men came back from the boat to deliver the news—witnesses who swore she wouldn’t board the boat during the storm. They say she ran off into the woods and that Warren was devastated.”

I found that unlikely, recalling his blasé attitude the morning after. The morning after . . .

The storm blew up while we were crossing the bay last night.

Failing to mention Tamsin’s disappearance wasn’t the only odd thing from that conversation with Warren. He’d also said the storm had blown up while they were on the water—not when they were boarding. And really, if it had happened beforehand, would any of them have gotten on the ship?

“The storm was bad here,” Mira continued, eyes shining. “They said it was bad for you too. And the fact that we haven’t heard anything from Tamsin in weeks . . . well, it’s hard to know what to think. If she did survive, where is she? Why hasn’t she gotten in touch? I’ve had some people . . . resources . . . searching, but there’s just been nothing to find.”

The despair sank back into me. “I can’t lose her again.”

“I know. I feel the same way. But you have to put that grief aside for now. We’ll cry for her later—a lot. I hear you have other things to worry about, Lady Witmore.” Her gaze fell on my pendant, which I’d kept on. She lowered her voice. “Or should I say Mistress Thorn?”

I shot a panicked look toward Aiana in the kitchen. “Is it obvious? Is this some telltale Alanzan charm?”

“No, not at all. They’re selling that style of necklace all over town with different flowers. I just recognized the bishop’s lace and took a guess.” Mira hesitated. “But I wouldn’t wear it to court if I were you. You can’t let anyone think you’re Alanzan. And you can’t let them think of you as some frontier woman either. You need to walk in and remind them that you’re the Countess of Rothford.”

She said that last part as she walked across the room toward the dropped clothing. “We tried to collect as much as we could for you around town. There are plenty of dresses not being worn at Wisteria Hollow, but if Jasper noticed you wearing one in the courtroom, there’d be hell to pay.”

“You think he’ll actually be there?” I asked bitterly. “He didn’t seem to care what happened to Cedric.”

Aiana, overhearing, strolled up to us. “He cares what happens to his business, and this all reflects on it. He’ll be there.”

A knock sounded at the door, and we all jumped. Aiana’s casual attitude vanished. She grew tense and alert, her eyes narrowed like a cat’s, as she slowly approached the door. Placing one hand on the knob, she used her other to pull a knife out of her coat that was as long as her forearm.

“Who’s there?” she yelled.

“Walter Higgins,” came the muffled response. “I’m looking for Adelaide Bailey—Cedric Thorn’s partner.”

The name rattled in my head, and suddenly, it clicked. “That’s Cedric’s agent! Let him in.”

Still being cautious, Aiana cracked the door and peered out before finally opening it all the way. A small, wiry young man the same age as Cedric stood there in a smart suit. His face gave away little as he took us all in, but he struck me as someone who filed away every detail he saw.

“Walter,” I said, stepping forward. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Cedric’s spoken very highly of you.”

Walter gave a small nod of thanks and tried to pretend I wasn’t in a robe. “He spoke very highly of you too. I always thought he admired more than just your artistic knowledge. Now I hear that’s true.”

I winced. “Does everyone in this city know the story now?”

“Pretty much,” said Walter. Mira and Aiana nodded in confirmation. “I’m leaving town tomorrow and had some news I thought I’d best share now. With Cedric, uh, detained, I thought I should discuss my business with you. Is there someplace we can talk privately?”

“You can talk in front of them,” I said. Art forgery seemed pretty insignificant now.

He hesitated and then gave a shrug of acceptance. “I have another potential buyer—one willing to pay out a lot more, once he heard there’s competition. And he’s closer too—about a two-hour ride from here.”

“Well, that’s sort of good news,” I said. “Not that it does us much good with Cedric locked up.”

“It doesn’t do anyone any good because he too wants some kind of authentication.”

I groaned. “And here I thought these colonials would be easy marks.”

“Well, the good news is that the other man wanted an art expert to verify it. This new one will settle for ‘any knowledgeable and cultured Myrikosi who can tell the difference between dross and gold.’ His words, not mine.” Walter paused, his gaze falling meaningfully on Mira. “And I heard you have a Sirminican friend. Sirminicans look a lot like Myrikosi.”

Mira glanced between us in confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but if you’re trying to include me with art experts, I don’t think I’m who you need.”

“You’re exactly who we need,” I said eagerly. Cedric had described Walter as someone who would always figure out a way to close a deal, and now I understood. “You can do a Myrikosi accent. I used to hear you do it back at Blue Spring. All you have to do is meet this guy and tell him the painting he’s interested in is an authentic piece from one of Myrikos’s greatest masters.”

“Is it?” she asked, looking impressed.

“Um, not exactly.” After weeks of no movement on the painting, I had a brief surge of excitement over this. Mira in her finery could certainly pass herself off as an upper-class Myrikosi woman, and sell this man on the painting. Then reality hit me again. “But it’ll have to wait. I can’t chase down the painting sale right now. The money from it was supposed to help us build a life together. It won’t do us any good while Cedric’s locked up.”

Walter cleared his throat. “Begging your pardon, but there’s never really a time when money won’t do any good.”

“He’s right,” said Aiana. “I don’t understand the means either, but if you have access to significant money of your own, it could come in handy. You don’t know what you’ll need to do while this trial goes on.”

I didn’t quite follow, but Walter was more blunt: “Never underestimate the power of a good bribe.”

“Maybe . . . but there’s no time. At least not right away. You said you’re leaving town tomorrow?”

Walter nodded apologetically. “For a week, down in Lyford Colony. Other people in need of my services.”

“And I need to be at the courthouse in the morning,” I said. “No one can go with Mira.”

Mira looked between both of us, puzzled. “Why do I need anyone to go with me? I’ve just got to meet this man and act like I know about art? I can do that.”

“It’s too dangerous,” I insisted. “We’ll wait for a better time.” Although, as I spoke, I wondered if there’d ever be a better time for anything.

“Actually . . .” Aiana’s brow furrowed in thought. “Tomorrow might be the best time. There’ll be a lot going on the first day of the trial. Everyone will be distracted. If Mira disappears for part of the day, it’s less likely to be noticed.”

I still didn’t like it. Not because I didn’t think Mira could pull off anything—but because I couldn’t handle the thought of another friend going off into danger. “I’ll be back,” she said, knowing what I feared. “Go to court tomorrow. We’ll take care of this. You can give me the information?”

Walter produced a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “Here’s his name and address. And that’s the location of the man holding the painting right now.”

“You don’t have it?” I exclaimed. The second address was in a neighboring town in Denham.

“I survive in this business by making sure nothing’s ever linked directly to me. The painting’s safe, but certainly not hanging in my own bedroom,” he said. “If he agrees to the deal, you can complete the transaction yourself or wait until I’m back to do it. Just don’t spend my commission.”

“We’ll help you with the rest,” said Mira. “We’ll make it work.”

“All for money that may or may not help Cedric,” I muttered.

Aiana rested a hand on my shoulder, a steely look in her eyes. “Having a backup supply of money isn’t just about helping him. You need to accept that there’s a chance Cedric may not get out of this. And if he doesn’t, you’re going to need your own resources to escape.”