Leon ran to see what Ambrose had done while I consoled Dawn. Sitting in my lap like a small child, she sobbed. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her cry. She cried the hot tears of anger often enough, but sorrowful tears were rare. They flowed down her cheeks and fell in big drops onto our dresses. I let her cry. I still hadn’t asked her what happened when Ambrose came shuffling in, Leon in tow.

Leon carried a limp Angus in his hands and the sight of that furry body renewed my daughter’s sorrow. “Can we…?” I didn’t finish my question because Leon shook his head. Dawn whimpered. “What happened?” I asked my son.

Ambrose proclaimed, “Dawn was jealous that Angus loved me more. She kicked him when he wouldn’t come to her and now he won’t wake up.” Ambrose reached up, grabbed the dead dog from Leon, and demonstrated for me. The grinding of its little neck bones made me queasy. He held it down at his side, by the scruff of its neck.

Dawn watched me as I watched my son. “That’s not what happened, Mama,” she whispered. I turned to her. “He did it on purpose. I was outside reading on the bench and Angus—” her voice cracked on his name “—came up to me. All I did was pat his little head and Ambrose got so mad. He yanked Angus away. He hurt him and then when Angus wouldn’t stop whining, Ambrose wrenched his snout hard to the side. There was a little snap and I knew…”

“Liar! You did it because you’re still mad about your paper dolls.”

Dawn stood up, fists clenched. “I am not a liar! I don’t care about the dolls anymore. All I did was pet him.” Her sudden switch from grief to ire had me worried we’d had too much contact.

“Shut up,” Ambrose screamed. “Angus was mine. Everyone thinks you are so special because you’re a girl. A girl isn’t special! I will be a gentleman. I will be Earl of Brooksberry! Everything here will be mine. Mine to sell or break or burn. You’d better hope you are married before it comes to that.”

“Ambrose!” I was stunned at such a selfish and cruel speech. I wasn’t sure where he’d picked up the idea that men had total control over their female family members, but he seemed to grasp it very well. I had not raised him to think that way.

Not knowing who to believe, I sent them both to their rooms while I thought. Remembering how we had told Ambrose, “Next time you feel the urge to wreck something beautiful, choose something of your own,” Sally felt it was entirely possible he had killed Angus. It could have happened as Dawn said. I hated to think my baby was capable of such a thing. Sally refused to accept that Dawn was capable of killing.

Leon buried Angus in the garden silo and went to his own house for the night. Neither of my children would come out of their rooms for the funeral.

 

An idea struck me in the middle of the night and I sat up in my bed still half asleep. Sally grumbled about how we needed our rest for tomorrow. It would be Tuesday and we must be strong mentally and physically for the tenebrae with Paetus. I jotted down a note in the dark and tried to get back to sleep.

In the morning I was more excited than I cared to admit. There was something about a man like Paetus submitting to my will, needing what only I could give him. I hadn’t told Leon about the arrangement; I guessed I would have to after we were married.

My midnight scribbling was almost impossible to read. I finally deciphered three useless words: “body or ego.” Sally said that’s how it always was with dreams. They seem so important at the time but in the light of day make little sense.

In the breakfast room, I ate with my children. Neither of them spoke or even acknowledged the other. Dawn’s face was red, her eyes swollen from crying. Was she upset by the events or riddled with guilt? Ambrose showed no signs of mourning Angus. He was young and perhaps did not comprehend the finality as Dawn did.

“Have Leonus bring us a new Angus,” Ambrose commanded between bites.

Sally wondered at his use of Leon’s old name but I was sure I had slipped up and used it often in front of the boy. “I think not, Ambrose.”

“Why?” he demanded, throwing down his fork. “There are lots of other puppies. Get me another.”

“Yes but there was only one Angus and he is dead. You promised to take care of him—”

“I did not! He did.”

I ignored that he interrupted me. I didn’t ask who he meant. Leon had vowed to feed and exercise Angus. I told Ambrose, “You are obviously not ready for the responsibility of your own hound.” He started to argue again but I held up my hand. “Perhaps we will try again after I am remarried, but if we do, the dog will be all of ours and not yours alone.”

Ambrose scowled at me.

 

My temper flared. Tuesdays could not come soon enough. The tenebrae called to me. I needed to dominate. The BDSM lifestyle was not yet defined at that time. What we had with Paetus wouldn’t have fit into the current definition anyway. In reality, the submissive has all the power, ending the game at will. That is not how it was with us. There was no safeword, no act too depraved for Paetus. He was completely under my control. I knew I could end his life in that body and he wouldn’t stop me for he had hundreds of other bodies.

My sessions with Paetus satisfied us both. I blindfolded him, stuffed cotton in his ears, and clamped his nose closed, isolating his sense of touch so that he could feel more. He complimented my genius and thanked me for every stroke. Using my specially adapted cane, I reduced his back to quivering ground meat. The scent of his blood wafted up into my nostrils and I had an idea.

I invited him to dinner.

Leon hated the plan, although he agreed when I explained my reasoning. Paetus arrived on time, followed by the five most powerful Incola in England. They each came with an entourage of at least twenty men. What I was doing had never been done. All Incola are inherently suspicious of others of their kind. Besides the Incola Club, which Paetus declared a safe zone, no more than a few ever gathered in the same room.

Paetus instructed me how to word the invitations to convince them that I had shopped around for the placement of my “future” children. Not a single man declined but that didn’t mean they trusted me. Betrothed to Julian at such a young age, I never had to endure the mating rituals of the wealthiest Englishmen. They dressed in London’s finest, brought their largest and fittest Carrier guards, and casually mentioned their income, how much land they owned, or their number of servants.

Bragging came easily to Incola, subtlety not as much. I knew the wealth and status of each, before we ever went down to dinner.

No other women were invited, so our seating was inappropriately uneven. Nobody minded. When soup was served, my tester, Percy Richards, tasted it from the serving dish. All attendees gasped when his face went red. He clutched at his throat and gulped down my own wine. To calm everyone down, I broke a strict etiquette rule. I spoke Incola business aloud in mixed company. “Paetus tells me most of you have been in these bodies for quite some time. I designed my courses with that in mind and brought in a guest cook from Her Majesty’s foreign territory—India. The bill of exotic fare can be found beside each of your plates. I am certain you will find the cuisine to your liking. The soup is not poisoned. It is simply too spicy for a man as young in his flesh as Mr. Richards.”

My guests had their own testers try every single course, even after Percy had already done the job. Each had the same reaction. The Carriers struggled to retain composure, dripping sweat from their rosy faces, assuring their masters the food was safe though spicy. The Incola praised each of the ten courses more than the previous, with the tandoori chicken, made both hot and red by the over-abundance of red chili powder and cayenne, being the favorite. These men couldn’t get enough of the zesty condiments like ground mustard seeds and black peppercorn, three-pepper chutney, and pickled ginger.

Those seated at the table became concerned that I did not eat the same food. I explained, “My body is exactly the age it appears and I cannot stomach all the seasonings.”

As I was the only woman in attendance, it was perfectly natural for my guests to retire into the smoking lounge without me after the potent brew of Indian pressed coffee was finished. Ed rushed into the vacated dining room to fill a canister with the scent of each Incola, drawing from their chairs. I had him start with the one I knew least and end with Paetus. If his scent wasn’t clear, we could always get another sample. I assisted Ed in labeling each with the Incola’s name.

Rushing to join the men as soon as I was finished, I was shocked to find Ambrose in their midst, wearing his bedclothes. He sat on Paetus’ lap. Leon looked pale, his mouth gaping, his cigar unlit. I rang for the governess and hurried my son off to bed. He looked pleased with himself and, when we made it to the hallway, told me he should like to be invited to the next Incola party since he would someday be one of the greats. Skipping up the stairs, deaf to Mrs. Ledger’s admonitions, Ambrose left me wondering where he’d heard about Incola and his own nature. Dawn must have told him. I planned to have a serious talk with her in the morning.

I rejoined the men to find a game of poker forming. Leon still stood where he had when I left but had since drained his drink. I was seated next to Paetus. Sally made a joke about catching up and I downed two gin and tonics. I called the game and dealt.

Before we looked at our cards, Paetus leaned over and whispered, “Whatever I have done to fall out of favor can be undone, I assume. I will give you anything you desire. Our old agreement is nothing compared to what I will do to claim her.” When I looked at him in confusion, panic bubbling just below the surface, he said, “Your boy said that you’d found your daughter, that she lives here and that you didn’t want me to know about her.”

Sally took over when I became speechless. “I knew he would tell you,” she said nonchalantly. “It’s why I sent him down. Leonus is the one who found her and he was keeping her secret. He plans to bring her out into society properly. I think he wants to sell her in exchange for the power he seems incapable of securing on his own.”

“Of course he does,” Paetus replied with a disrespectful scoff. “I will play along and bid for her hand along with the others. Find out what it is he wants and I will offer it to him. Surely he will not be with us for much longer and you will need no more power. Combining your two houses and then joining ours through marriage will give you more than you will know what to do with.”

We played cards a while, drinking and smoking until a most uncivilized hour. When the last had left, we went on lockdown. My London house, designed by my former husband, was as much a fortress as it was a palace. Solid steel shutters slid home on every window. The reinforced doors were all locked and bolted. Guards were drawn in from the street and posted atop the roof and at the gate. The five most powerful Incola in England knew about Dawn, knew she was here, ripe for the picking. All of them, Paetus included, knew that I would go to war to keep her from being stolen.

Waiting in the parlor, Leon told me what had happened with Ambrose. The boy had strode in, cocky as any young lord, and gone straight to Paetus. They shook hands before Leon could cross the room. He had tried to negate Paetus’ gift of touch and prevent Ambrose from spouting the truth to any question asked, but the other men crowded around my son, obstructing Leon’s path. “And who do we have here?” Paetus had asked good-naturedly, likely knowing full well.

“I am Lord Ambrose Lawrence,” my son had replied.

“Ah, the only child of the beautiful Lady Brooksberry.”

As he and the boy still pumped hands, Ambrose had proudly said, “As Julian Lawrence’s heir, someday I will be an Earl, but I am not Mama’s only child.”

“Really?” Paetus had glared at Leon and pulled Ambrose into his lap.

“Yes, Mama has a bastard daughter too.”

I interrupted Leon’s story to tell him what Paetus had whispered to me at the card table. Leon shook his head in disbelief. “Ambrose didn’t say that you don’t want Paetus to know about Dawn. He said, ‘Archelaos doesn’t want you to know about her. He wants to keep her for himself.’”

Baffled, I wondered how Ambrose had known any of those words. I had never named Archelaos in front of him nor used “bastard” or “Incola.” My story about Leon being the one who didn’t want Paetus to know about Dawn may have ruined our facade. Who knew what Paetus or the other Incola thought.

Mr. Boyd brought Andrew in, reported all safety measures were in place, and escorted us to the library. I sent Mr. Boyd and all the household servants to bed. Their days started earlier than mine.

Mr. Hall waited for us there among my books, very pleased with his findings. The catalog had recognized each of my guests as a Carrier. With their scent signatures, he hoped his device would be able to decipher those with well-developed techniques for transferring their ego to another.

“Might it be able to recognize an Incola and,” I said with hope, “possibly when that same Incola is riding inside another?”

Ed smiled broadly. “It might. Now ya’ see why I’m so excited.”

“Why did we not think of this before?” Leon asked. Kissing my cheek in a comically loud fashion, he declared me a genius. I tried not to show the titillating effect even such a comical kiss had on me. The warm imprint of his lips on my face tingled. “You’re no half-wit either, Mr. Hall. I don’t wonder if having a tinkerer might just become all the rage.” He called for Andrew and Auley, who stood guard in the hallway, to join us.

They agreed to the plan Leon outlined. The catalog already had them both on record. Leon would ride them and have Ed do a reading and see if the catalog could recognize him inside the body of another. Since Leon’s technique for transfer involved disrobing, the men went into the secret room off of the library to spare me the embarrassment.

Ed stuck his head out to inform me of the progress. His catalog sensed something different about the men when Leon was inside. He needed to recalibrate his invention with this new information. He would need more samples for comparison and Sally told him she had an idea. Andrew and Auley left to go back on duty. Ed headed to his workshop.

Leon moved slowly when he finally emerged, though not as weary as Archelaos always had been after riding one of his Carriers and returning to Julian’s body. Sally theorized it was because Leon didn’t demand such complete control. Archelaos exercised his will over every part of his Carriers.

My fiancé had attempted to re-dress but, failing to do so, settled for buttoning his dinner jacket over his unfastened shirt. “Until morning, my dear.”

“Wait. Don’t go.”

Smiling, he admitted, “I have no intentions of leaving here tonight. I wouldn’t, not even had I the strength to go. You and Dawn must be protected and oh…”

Pressing my lips against his rendered him speechless. I had never been quite so bold. He made no protest when I removed the clothes of his upper body, the ones he had worked hard to retain. The feel of his hard muscles beneath my fingertips was extraordinary. Angling his head slightly, his lips parted and I took the invitation. Tentatively, I explored his mouth with my tongue. He groaned and, wrapping his arm around my waist, pulled me against his body.

Pulling away from the kiss, Leon pressed his forehead to mine. “I really must sit down. My legs are shaky.”

Mine were too, although I didn’t say so. “I think lying down might be better.” Smiling slyly at the ground, I put my shoulder under his and my arm around his waist. We made our way through the silent house, up the stairs to my bedchamber.