The morning the master of Eridge Castle finally arrived home was one of celebration.
It had taken two full months before Nathaniel was strong enough to make the journey from Bucharest. He still walked with a slight limp, but Alec had made him a present of a sword-cane, which he now leaned on as they made their way to the dining room.
“You spoil me, Alec,” Nathaniel murmured with a flirty smile. “You’ll have to teach me to use it properly.”
Alec grinned. He enjoyed Nathaniel’s teasing. If his preferences had been different…. Well, the Viscount of Nevill was a strapping specimen. And a very dear friend.
The cook, Mrs. Abernathy, made a bang-up English breakfast for him, with eggs and bacon and kippers and toast with her homemade strawberry jam. They gathered at the table and dug in. Nathaniel was already hatching plans to whisk them all away to the World’s Fair in Paris, where the new Eiffel Tower had been unveiled, though he said the lifts to the top weren’t quite ready yet.
“Someone will have to carry me up the stairs,” he declared. “Any takers?”
Alec laughed and poured a cup of tea.
“He’s going to milk that leg for all its worth, mark my words,” Vivienne said. “Lazy lord.”
Nathaniel smiled, then sobered a bit. “So D’Ange is gone?” He buttered a piece of toast and took a bite.
Vivienne nodded.
“Will you try to find him?”
“No,” Alec replied firmly. “We promised Anne we’d let it rest.”
Nathaniel arched a blond eyebrow. “Sounds sensible.”
Vivienne shifted a little, but gave another reluctant nod.
Anne had brooked no argument from either of them on the matter.
“And this Picatrix Club?”
“Shut down,” Alec replied. “Though the man who owned it, Jorin Bekker, was long gone by the time officers from the Dominion Branch stormed the place.” He glanced at Vivienne. “Happily, D.I. Blackwood never discovered we were there that night. He would have been … displeased we cut them out.”
To say the very least.
Nathaniel blew on his coffee. “You say a necromancer actually helped you?”
“I still don’t trust him, but I do think Koháry spoke the truth when he said he stood against the Duzakh,” Vivienne conceded grudgingly.
“I saw him kill at least four at the Picatrix,” Alec said, folding his napkin with a contented sigh. “One had captives. He freed them and saw them to safety.”
“His man Devereaux held his own in the garden.” From Vivienne, this was high praise. Her face clouded again. “He’s far more than Koháry’s servant. I intend to keep an eye on them both. ”
“Hmmm, I’d like to meet this Count Koháry someday,” Nathaniel murmured.
Vivienne laughed. “He’s exactly your type. Groomed to a fault and charmingly oily.”
“Your mind always crawls straight into the gutter, darling.” Nathaniel beamed. “But I still love you.” He went to the sideboard and helped himself to more bacon. “So D’Ange killed Adrian. And he was the pricolici?”
“That’s what Anne says.”
She’d barely spoken of what had occurred at the Chateau de Saint-Évreux. Neither of them had pressed her about it.
“But how did he come to be a beast?” Nathaniel wondered aloud.
“Not a clue,” Vivienne replied.
Lord Cumberland reached for the jam, a merry glint in his eye. “Well, good riddance. He belonged to a bad breed, and we are quite content to be freed from him and his kindred. Aren’t we, Vivienne?”
She gazed at him fondly. “Indeed we are.” She glanced at the empty chair. “Where is Anne, anyhow?”
Alec shrugged. “She said she was going for a walk in the park.”
Balthazar dragged the comb through his raven hair, parting it on the left and smoothing it down with a palm. He was freshly shaven and wore an elegant grey morning coat. He leaned into the oval mirror.
Save for the faint line at the corner of his mouth, he looked perfectly presentable for a little afternoon romp.
He’d been a very good boy since the Picatrix Club, but he was starting to feel … tired.
A fair number of the Duzakh had perished that night, but not all. And the ones who had escaped were the most dangerous. The old, clever ones. Like Balthazar.
He’d only caught a quick glimpse of Alec’s sister on the tower before she vanished. A lovely woman.
And D’Ange…. Well, Balthazar had been relieved he was already gone.
If not, they might all have ended up like the Calico Cat and the Gingham Dog, he thought with amusement.
It was a silly little limerick called The Duel Balthazar had often recited to Lucas when he was a young child. The words returned to him now.
The gingham dog and the calico cat
Side by side on the table sat;
’Twas half-past twelve, and (what do you think!)
Nor one nor t’ other had slept a wink!
The old Dutch clock and the Chinese plate
Appeared to know as sure as fate
There was going to be a terrible spat.
(I wasn’t there; I simply state
What was told to me by the Chinese plate!)
The gingham dog went “Bow-wow-wow!”
And the calico cat replied “Mee-ow!”
The air was littered, an hour or so,
With bits of gingham and calico,
While the old Dutch clock in the chimney-place
Up with its hands before its face,
For it always dreaded a family row!
(Now mind: I’m only telling you
What the old Dutch clock declares is true!)
The Chinese plate looked very blue,
And wailed, “Oh, dear! what shall we do!”
But the gingham dog and the calico cat
Wallowed this way and tumbled that,
Employing every tooth and claw
In the awfullest way you ever saw—
And, oh! how the gingham and calico flew!
(Don’t fancy I exaggerate—
I got my news from the Chinese plate!)
Next morning, where the two had sat
They found no trace of dog or cat;
And some folks think unto this day
That burglars stole that pair away!
But the truth about the cat and pup
Is this: they ate each other up!
“Now what do you really think of that?” he finished softly.
Balthazar turned as Lucas appeared in the doorway.
“Are you going out, my Lord?”
Balthazar finished buttoning his shirt. “I have a luncheon appointment. It’s not far. I’ll walk.”
Lady Tottenham’s husband was a Member of Parliament who was rarely home. They’d met at the theater three nights previous.
“I’ve contacted the estate agent,” Lucas said, trailing his master down the staircase. “He found a potential buyer for the house.”
Balthazar paused at the door, one hand resting on his silver-tipped walking stick.
In truth, he should have left a month ago. Gabriel knew where he lived. Yet he happened to like the teeming metropolis of London. The restaurants, the clubs, the parties — high and low.
The women.
Balthazar was suddenly weary of hiding in the shadows like vermin. If D’Ange decided to carry out his threat sooner rather than later… What was it the French said?
“C’est la vie,” he murmured.
“My lord?”
“Cancel the contract.” Balthazar put his hat on and smiled. “I think I’ll stay for a while after all.”