Chapter Thirty-Three

A brisk night wind blew through the market, cutting through Derek’s trousers and ruffling the tails of his jacket. He followed Jess’s gaze up to the statue. What was she thinking? Did she recognize the man? The pose? Was it some memory from Verbonne?

He opened his mouth to ask, but before he could she was sliding her spencer jacket off her shoulders and shoving it into his arms. The leather harness that held four of her knives came off next. She slid one knife free and then dropped the harness into his arms as well.

“What are you . . . ?” Derek trailed off because she had already left their little alcove and was clambering up onto the plinth of the statue.

One boot wedged into the folds of the king’s robes, then another stepped on the thigh of the leg propped on a rock. Soon her hands were gripping the statue’s shoulders, and her head appeared over the top, knife clenched between her teeth. A few more moments and she was clinging to the back of the statue like a young child. She hooked one leg over the top and then was sitting on the shoulder, hugging the statue’s head, one leg exposed from boot to knee.

One very shapely leg exposed from boot to knee.

She took the knife and began banging the top of the head with the handle, giving Derek something other than her leg to look up at.

Dull thuds rang through the market.

As much as Derek wanted to drag her down from the statue and ask her what in the world she thought she was doing, his time might be better spent watching for anyone else who might want to come along and do the same.

After tucking the mass of knives, leather, and fabric under his arm, he set up a pattern of looking from street to alley to house to Jess and then back around again.

On his third glance up to Jess, which felt like hours later but couldn’t have been because the partial moon still shone down on them, a thin piece of statue flaked away, revealing a glint of metal. It was difficult to drag his eyes away and look around the area once more. On his return to Jess, she’d exposed another portion of metal.

He could see the shape now. The crown of the statue was a bowl turned upside down and covered.

Curiosity overwhelmed him, and he darted out of the alcove to pick up a fallen piece of statue. Thin stone with a mixture of stucco and plaster underneath. There was likely a simpler way to remove it from the statue, but Jess wasn’t going to wait around for Derek to figure it out.

Over the thuds and grunts Jess was sending about the area, another sound emerged. The rattle of wheels.

“Jess,” Derek hissed, but she was too focused, having just managed to get her knife below the edge of the bowl. The stone casing was falling away rapidly now. Another few minutes and the bowl would be free.

The question was if she could get it free and get away before whoever was coming their way arrived.

The best thing Derek could do was hide so that she didn’t have to worry about him as well as herself. He darted back to the alcove just as an old carriage turned the corner. It had once been a grand vehicle, but time and use had left its mark.

Derek nearly choked as he got a better look at the carriage. He knew that carriage. It drove straight toward Jess and the statue, as if that had been its destination all along.

A man climbed out, older and with a slight limp. He made his way to the base of the statue and looked up at Jess. “I couldn’t have trapped you better if I’d planned it.”

Jess looked down at him, somehow managing to smirk even from her crazy perch atop a piece of marble. She pried one more piece of stone loose and flung the piece at the man.

He stepped back just in time for it to land at his feet instead of on his head. His face was turned away from Derek, but the sneer was clear as he looked up at Jess. “This is the bloodline that I am to believe is fit to rule my forefathers’ homeland? A hoyden willing to expose herself in the middle of the marketplace.”

“It’s the bloodline that put this thing up here to begin with,” Jess said, not pausing in her work. She stabbed her knife beneath one edge of the bowl and started trying to work it free. “How did you know I was here?”

“We’ve been following your friends since they left Wiltshire. They made it exceptionally easy, though I must admit I was surprised that they all convened at the Duke of Marshington’s house. They hardly seem the type to socialize in such . . . elevated levels.”

“Yes,” Jess said with a grunt, “it boggles the mind that a marquis and a duke might know each other.”

Derek shifted his weight. What should he do? If he ran back to the inn, he’d never be able to get help here in time. Besides, he refused to leave Jess alone, even if he was a measly rescue option. If the limping man kept insulting her friends, she’d be throwing that knife at him. Derek had a feeling the only reason it hadn’t happened already was because she’d only taken one knife up there with her.

“When the report came to me that you had gotten into a carriage with them and come here, I was surprised. You’ve managed to avoid notice for quite a while.” The man hobbled another step closer, and his horses shifted.

The jangle of harnesses spurred Derek out of his frozen shock. He needed to do something. As amazing as Jess was, she was stuck up on top of a statue. Unless she’d learned how to fly, she was going to have to climb down that statue, and no matter how quickly she did it, that man was going to be there, most likely with a weapon.

“Such a shame you couldn’t track me earlier, Lord Bradford. It would have been much simpler to catch me when I was on your property.”

Derek cringed at the name but pushed away the fear that rose in him upon hearing it. How did she feel facing the man who had taken and possibly even killed her family? Derek couldn’t afford to experience such empathy right now. She needed him to think.

“So that was you at my home. I wondered. I had to act as if it was.”

Derek couldn’t overpower Lord Bradford. Neither could Jess. Whatever tricks she might possess, her size could only do so much, and she was up there with only one knife that, by now, would be excessively damaged. Even with a limp, Lord Bradford was taller and had the benefit of being a cruel and—Derek suspected—somewhat insane man.

There wasn’t anything Derek could do about the confrontation, but there had to be a way he could help. He needed to think like Jess.

Movement. Forget the details and consider the movement.

“Such a shame that you didn’t know what you had,” Jess taunted. “You could have found the bowl years ago if only you’d known.”

“Finding it years ago would have meant nothing. If Napoleon had won the war, my cousin would have been placed in control of the area, as was his right. Since that did not come to pass, now he shall rule the country outright.”

“Why is she on top of a statue?”

The whispered voice in Derek’s ear almost made him scream. Only a large hand suddenly covering his mouth stopped the sound. The hand knocked Derek’s spectacles loose, and he reached up to fix them as he turned to look at the whisperer.

If London could see the Duke of Marshington now, they really would tremble in fright. He was dressed head to toe in black, with a pistol tucked in the waist of his trousers.

Derek peeled the duke’s hand from his face and said, “Because that’s where the bowl is.”

“And the man?”

“Lord Bradford.”

Derek looked back at the scene in front of him, gaze trailing from the statue to the carriage. “If we can distract him once Jess gets down, can we make a run for it? There’s only one servant, and Bradford limps.”

Ryland shook his head. “There’s nowhere to run but streets. The carriage will easily be able to give chase before we can get somewhere unless we break into a house. Then we’re still trapped.”

That made perfect sense. The carriage was also likely where Lord Bradford intended to stuff Jess as soon as she climbed down. The logical thing to do, then, was make sure the carriage didn’t go anywhere. If only he knew how to do that.

Ryland apparently had other plans, since he was sliding a knife from his boot. “We’ll have to make sure Bradford doesn’t go anywhere.”

Whatever Ryland intended made Derek’s stomach heave. “Is that necessary?”

One dark eyebrow rose and looked at Derek as if he was simpleminded. “Unless you have a better idea.”

“There is a closer claim to the throne. A direct line from King Nicolas,” Jess called down as she slid the knife around the bowl a bit more, still working to dislodge it from its decades-old perch.

He couldn’t watch her now. Derek looked back at the carriage. Could it be disabled quickly and quietly? He didn’t know anything about carriages. Well, not anything practical. This was an old carriage, with huge wheels and C springs. None of that would keep the carriage from moving.

Wait. C springs. Derek slid one of Jess’s knives from the pouch. Would it work? He didn’t know, but it was the only idea he had that didn’t involve possible murder, so he was going with it.

“I have an idea.”

Both of Ryland’s eyebrows shot up now.

Derek swallowed hard and slid a knife from the harness Jess had left with him. Even if his plan succeeded, he wasn’t willing to risk that Jess’s legs would be able to run. They’d been gripping that statue for a while. “Once she gets down, we’ll need to get away quickly. Can you get horses?”

“I can get horses. Jeffreys is already preparing the carriage.” The duke paused. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“No,” Derek said. “But I think it’s better than killing him, don’t you? Traitor or not, he deserves a trial.”

The duke nodded, but his face was grim. “We’ll try it your way. But if anything happens to Jess—”

“It won’t.” Derek had to believe that, had to believe he’d be willing to do something to keep it from happening. “As a last resort, I’ll throw myself on Bradford. Should slow him down a bit.”

Ryland shook his head and slipped away.

Derek tried to ignore the continued taunting between Jess and Lord Bradford. He slipped out of the alcove, walking as quietly as possible across the square to the back of the carriage. Two thick leather straps held the body of the carriage to the springs. Would he even be able to cut through them? Only one way to find out.

“Where is your other friend?” Lord Bradford asked. “The one who followed you about my house like a whipped puppy.”

Derek nearly fumbled the knife, but he held tight to it and began dragging it across the leather. A fine line appeared, barely breaking the surface. He sliced faster.

“He followed me until I climbed up here. He can’t stand the defacement of art, I’m afraid. Doesn’t have the constitution for it.”

Derek grinned. She had to know how his stomach had turned when she made her first bang against the top of the statue. Cut, cut, cut. The knife was finally making progress, the weight of the carriage body helping to stretch the opening he was making. A few more swipes should do it.

He stopped. What would happen then? Would the crash alert them that he was there? Would one strap keep the carriage from rolling?

He turned his attention to the other strap. Best to get it nearly worked through as well. Then a couple quick cuts should have the entire back end dislodged.

“Why does your cousin want to rule a country he’s never lived in?” Jess asked.

Derek hacked at the second leather strap. How did she not have the bowl free yet? It had been completely uncovered long before he’d ducked behind the carriage.

“We grew up with the stories of the glories of Verbonne. Then we had to watch from England as your grandfather and uncle threw away everything that had made our legacy great.”

“One would think”—Jess gave a grunt—“that you would care more about the country you’ve been tasked with running instead of one under the care of your enemy during the war.”

“My father left me a burden, but my mother gave me a legacy. Once my cousin is in power, I will be able to be a voice of unity between our nations. Verbonne will be a great ally for England, creating a solid port to the continent and opening new trade routes.”

Derek used his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his brow. He certainly wasn’t cold now.

“Thank you for freeing the bowl,” Lord Bradford said. “If you toss it down, I’ll be on my way, and you’ll be free to climb down at your leisure.”

Derek’s time was up. Whether Ryland had located horses or not, Derek was going to have to grab Jess and get out of there.

With all his strength he sliced at the leather. One strap pulled free, the sudden weight stretching the other so thin the slightest pressure of the knife started a tear, and in moments the back of the carriage went crashing onto the springs. Derek snatched up Jess’s jacket and knife harness, intending to round the carriage and see if Jess needed help.

Shouts rose and a shot rang out before he’d managed to find his footing. Chaos exploded. People started leaning out their windows, lending their own shouts to the ruckus. Two horses burst from an alley to Derek’s right.

“Nice job,” Ryland said, tossing Derek a set of reins. “Climb on.” Then he rode into the fray, presumably to rescue Jess.

Derek wasn’t the best of horsemen, but he knew how to ride. He mounted and turned to find Ryland at the base of the statue, waving a pistol in the air as Jess wriggled down and fell across the back of the horse, a large bowl clasped in her arms.

With a shout, Ryland kicked the horse. Derek followed, trusting his horse to follow Ryland’s as Derek used one hand to secure his spectacles and the other to try to find a place to tuck Jess’s jacket and harness. The jacket probably didn’t matter so much, but the knives likely did. He folded up the harness and shoved it in his jacket pocket, squeezing his horse with all the strength his knees possessed. At the moment, that wasn’t much. He felt two breaths away from fainting.

As they charged through alleys and toward the edge of town, Derek kept his head down and prayed. He and God had been on good terms since Derek was a young man, sitting for long afternoons with the local priest as Derek examined all the different carvings and artworks in the church.

Never had Derek had to trust Him like this, though. There was something so different about knowing danger existed, about even brushing against it, than there was about living through it.

The horses slowed at an inn on the south edge of town. Derek’s legs wobbled as he slid to the ground, but the beaming grin on Jess’s face restored a bit of his strength.

“We did it,” she cried, holding the bowl aloft. It was difficult to see in the pale moonlight, but the bowl appeared to be some sort of hammered metal, decorated with carvings on the outside and lined with jewels on the inside. Centered in the bottom was a large iridescent opal. The waterstone.

“So we did,” he said quietly. He had just enough time to realize the full reality of it before she was there, hugging him with one arm, her tiny body pressed against his side while the bowl jutted into his stomach. He grunted but wrapped one arm around her shoulders to hold her there just a bit longer. His head lowered until his cheek pressed against her hair. The jumping of his insides calmed as he held her and breathed.

A sleepy stable boy came out of the inn’s stables and collected the horses as a carriage rolled into the yard.

Before it had stopped rocking on its wheels, the door flung open and Kit jumped out, looking a bit more than disheveled, a dress thrown on haphazardly over her night clothes.

She walked straight up to Jess, ignoring Derek completely while she leaned in to hug Jess’s other side. “Thank goodness you’re safe.” Then she stood back, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared. “I can’t believe you let me sleep through the entire thing.”

Jess pulled away from Derek but continued grinning. “It all went rather quickly. You didn’t miss much.”

Didn’t miss much? Derek still thought fainting was a very real possibility. He’d never been as frightened as he’d been at the back of that carriage.

“We really do need to get out of here before he manages to follow us,” Ryland said, clamping a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “Nicely done, but if you’re going to faint, please climb into the carriage first. Makes the entire process a bit easier.”

Mouth dry, Derek nodded, dimly wondering if he should be offended by the duke’s statement, but without Jess’s warmth to distract him, he was a little too shaken to care.