Two gentlemen were in deep discussion. One motioned Lyon over to join them. As soon as he moved toward the dining room Christina edged her way over to the table. She made certain no one was paying her any attention, then she cleaned and sheathed her knife.
She hurried over to stand beside her aunt. The Countess was administering blistering advice to the distressed woman draped on the settee.
'I believe we've had enough excitement for one evening,' Christina told her guardian when she was finally able to catch her attention.
'Yes,' the Countess answered. 'We'd better be on our way.'
Lyon was blocked in the dining room, listening to absurd suggestions as to how two ancient gentlemen thought to trap Jack and his band.
After ten minutes or so, he'd had his fill. His attention kept returning to the unusual dagger he'd held in his hands. He'd never seen the like before. The weapon was crudely made, yet toned to needle-point sharpness. The handle was flat. Whoever owned the knife certainly hadn't purchased it in England.
Lyon decided to take the weapon with him. He was highly curious and determined to find the man who'd thrown it.
'I'll leave you gentlemen to think your plans through,' Lyon announced. 'I believe I'll see Princess Christina and her guardian safely home. If you'll excuse me?'
He didn't give them time to start in again but turned and hurried back inside the drawing room. He remembered telling Christina to wait for him until he returned. He shouldn't have left her alone, assuming she was still frightened enough to need his comfort. He sincerely hoped she was, for the thought of offering her solace was very appealing.
Lyon was already planning how he'd get Christina away from her guardian. He just wanted to steal a few minutes so he could kiss her once more.
'Well, hell.' Lyon muttered the obscenity when he realized Christina had vanished. He glanced over at the table where he'd left the knife, then let out another foul expletive.
The knife had vanished, too. Lyon 's mood blackened. He considered questioning the guests, but they were all still occupied rehashing their reactions to the robbery. He decided not to bother.
Lyon turned to look again at the alcove where he and Christina had stood together during the robbery. A sudden revelation popped into his mind. No, he told himself. It wasn't possible.
Then he strolled over to the alcove and continued on until he was standing next to the balcony railing.
A good twenty feet separated the balcony from the sloping terrace below. Impossible to scale. The railing was shaky, too weak to hold rope and man.
His mind immediately jumped to a ludicrous conclusion.
Lyon shook his head. 'Impossible,' he muttered out loud. He decided to put that puzzle aside and concentrate on the real worry now.
Lyon left Baker's house in a black mood. He was too angry to speak just yet. He determined to wait until tomorrow.
Then he was going to have a long, hard talk with Rhone.
Chapter Four
Edward always wore white. Colors displeased him . He preferred me to wear long, flowing Grecian-styled gowns of white also. The palace walls were whitewashed once a month, and all the furnishings were devoid of even a splash of color. While Edward's peculiarity amused me, I did comply with his wishes. He was so good to me. I could have anything I wanted and wasn't allowed to lift a finger in labor. He only bound me to one rule. Edward made me promise never to leave the pristine palace grounds, explaining it was for my protection .
I kept my promise for almost six months. Then I began to hear rumors about the conditions outside my walls. 1 believed Edward's enemies spread the rumors of brutality solely to cause unrest.
My maid and I changed into peasant clothing and set out on foot for the nearest village. I looked upon the outing as an adventure.
God help me, I walked into purgatory.
The solicitors in care of the Earl of Acton's estate called upon Countess Patricia Cummings Tuesday morning at ten o'clock. Misters Henderson and Borton were prompt to the minute.
The Countess could barely contain her enthusiasm. She ushered both gray-haired gentlemen into her study, shut the door behind her, and took her place behind the scarred desk.
'You'll have to forgive such shabby furnishings,' she said. She paused to give both men a brittle smile before continuing. 'I was forced to use the last of my reserves to dress my niece, Christina, for the season ahead of us, and there just wasn't anything left over. Why, I've had to turn down many requests for visitations with my niece-too embarrassed, you understand, to let anyone see the way we're living. Christina has caused a sensation. I'll marry her well.'
The Countess suddenly realized she was rambling. She gave a dainty little cough to cover her embarrassment. 'Yes, well, I'm certain you both know this townhouse is only on loan to us for another month. You did receive the bid for purchase, did you not?'
Henderson and Borton nodded in unison. Borton turned to his associate and gave him an odd, uncomfortable look. He poked at his cravat. The Countess narrowed her eyes over the rudeness. 'When will my money be transferred into my hands?' she demanded. 'I can't go on much longer without proper funds.'
'But it isn't your money, Countess,' Borton announced after receiving a nod from his associate. 'Surely you realize that fact.'
Borton blanched over the horrid frown the Countess gave him. He couldn't continue to look at her. 'Will you explain, Henderson?' he asked, staring at the floor.
'Certainly,' Henderson said. 'Countess, if we might have a word in privacy with your niece, I'm certain this misunderstanding will be cleared up.'
Henderson obviously wasn't intimidated by the Countess's visible anger. His voice was as smooth as good gin. He continued to smile all through the foul woman's tantrum. Borton was impressed.
Patricia slammed her fists down on the desk. 'What does Christina have to do with this meeting? I am her guardian, and therefore I control her funds. Isn't that the truth?' she screeched.
Before Henderson could answer, Patricia slapped the desk again. 'I do control the money, don't I?'
'No, madam. You do not.'
Christina heard her aunt's bellow all the way upstairs. She immediately left her bedroom and hurried down the steps to see what had caused the Countess such an upset. Christina had learned the difference between her aunt's screams long ago. This one resembled the protest of a trapped owl, telling Christina her Aunt Patricia wasn't frightened. Just furious.
She reached the library door before she realized she was barefoot. Lord, that would certainly push her aunt into a tither, Christina thought. She hurried back upstairs, found her impractical shoes, and quickly put them on.
Christina counted five more shrieks before she was once again downstairs. She didn't bother to knock on the library door, knowing her aunt's shouts would drown out the sound. She threw the door open and hurried inside.
'Is there something I can do to help, Aunt?' Christina asked.
'This is your niece?' Henderson asked as he hurried out of his chair.
'Christina, go back to your room. I'll deal with these scoundrels.'
'We'll not speak to you of the conditions set down in writing by your father, Countess,' Borton said. 'It is you who must leave us alone with your niece. Those were your father's wishes as spelled out in his will.'
