his door, and undid the lock.
“I just finished,” he told Barnes while they stood in the doorway. “I think it would be nice to go with the yellow silk, like in the guest room. It’s very cheerful. That wallpaper wouldn’t stand up to children well, though, so I was wondering, could we put in wainscoting?”
Barnes looked puzzled a moment, then nodded. “Ah, refurbishing the suite. Yes, wainscot is certainly doable.”
“The drapes could be the yellow silk, but the divans and carpets should be something darker, so they don’t show dirt. I was thinking green.”
“I could have samples sent up for you to choose from.”
Jerin winced. He was hoping to avoid anything that resembled his time with the tailor, looking at dozens of fabrics that all seemed fine to him, and needing to chose one. “If I must.”
“I will try to make it as painless as possible,” Barnes assured him.
“Let me get the list.” He left her at the door to fetch his list. Their conversation had already covered most of the main points. “The piano needs work. I-I would like to learn how to play it.”
“You don’t play?” Barnes seemed surprised, then looked as if she regretted letting it show.
“We didn’t own a piano,” Jerin told her quietly.
“I see. Arrangements can be made, with the Highnesses’ permission.” Barnes slipped an envelope out of her coat’s breast pocket. “A letter came for you from your sisters.”
Jerin took the letter quickly. “Thank you, Barnes. That will be all.” He ducked back into his quarters, blushing hotly. He had written his sisters shortly after the true depth of Keifer’s betrayal came to light, but before Ren’s announcement of being disease free. Initially he meant it to be a short, politely worded warning that he might be returned to them. His anger and fears, however, had spilled out onto the paper, all the sordid details. It ended with “ Damn Keifer, damn him, damn him,” which, he later realized, might seem deranged. When he gave the letter to Ren to post, even its haphazardly folded, ink-splattered appearance seemed slightly maniacal.
The letter back from his sisters looked so sane and unremarkable compared with what he had mailed out. Its looks, he discovered, were purposely deceiving.
Burn this, it started, once you have read it. You and your wives are in grave danger. We researched the Porters when they offered for you, and came across a piece of information that did not make sense until your letter. Eldest Porter and Kij were born to a husband who died a month after the wedding. The rest of the family was fathered by the Tibler husband. Tiblers apparently have a genetic quirk of eleven toes. According to their birth certificates, half the Porter daughters born to the Tibler line have this quirk. The Porter mothers and, of course, Kij do not. Kij’s daughter, however, has eleven toes. She could only be fathered by a Tibler. The second husband died two years prior to the birth of Kij’s daughter. Kij must have been Keifer’s blonde lover. If the princesses are digging for new information, pushing to find this lover, then the Porters must act. Tell this information to your wives in private. Warn them to be careful. The Porters have proved to be extremely dangerous, and they are being backed into a corner. Do not underestimate them! Do not let the Porters know that you have this information until they can be safely taken into custody! Do not trust the palace guard or even the Barneses with this information; anyone can be bribed. We are coming as quickly as possible. If you need anything before we reach you, remember your aunts are as close as Annaboro. BURN THIS LETTER! Eldest.
He stood, shocked still, his eyes dragged back to the line “Kij must have been Keifer’s lover.” Vividly in his imagination, he saw them in the royal wedding bed, twin blond heads bent close together, Kij’s arms and legs clinging to her brother’s humping body, Keifer’s incestuous seed spilling into his sister’s womb.
Cullen had told Jerin about Kij’s daughter, supposedly a product of a grief-triggered visit to a crib. Did Kij’s sisters know the truth? Had Keifer slept with his other sisters too, with only Kij becoming pregnant? As a younger sister, Kij could have carried a child without anyone outside the family being any the wiser. As Eldest, however, she would be in the public eye, and her pregnancy had to be explained.
And she had explained it well-no one until now even questioned the daughter’s parentage. How well Kij must lie, to baldly claim not to know the identity of her daughter’s father. To claim not to know who was Keifer’s lover!
The letter in Jerin’s hand trembled violently. Ren had told Kij that they knew Keifer had taken a lover!
She told Kij that they wouldn’t rest until the lover was found! If Keifer’s lover was head of the cannon thieves, then Kij was quite capable of murder. Jerin reeled then, realizing that Kij had murdered the entire Wainwright family, and the crew of the Onward, and all the troops shot down with grapeshot in Mayfair’s streets.
Murderous Kij knew that Ren was looking for her! Surely Kij would strike first!
He flung down the letter and rushed to the door, throwing the single lock he normally kept looked, and jerked the door open. The guard turned with surprise.
“I need to speak with Princess Rennsellaer!”
“She’s at court,” the guard said.
“Send a messenger. Tell her I need to see her immediately. It’s urgent!”
“She’ll be back within a few hours.”
“This is critical, I must talk-”
“Surely anything you require could wait until she returns.”
“If you won’t send a messenger, then I’ll go myself!”
That struck home. “Sir, a messenger will be sent.”
Jerin shut the door and carefully threw the entire series of heavy bolts, feeling safer with every clank.
After the betrothal, Ren had returned all of the Whistlers’ weapons, including Jerin’s, as a gesture of goodwill. He had put his in his wedding chest, thinking then that neither he nor any son he fathered would ever have need of them. He retrieved them now, checking over them out of habit. He had unloaded and cleaned the palm- sized derringer when he stored it. After double-checking that the pistol was unloaded, he tested the hammer, trigger, and firing pin. Satisfied it was in perfect working order, he loaded it.
Afterward, he sat on his wedding chest, heart pounding as if he had run a race. Why was he so scared?
He was perfectly safe. It was his wives who were in danger.
Am I, he asked himself, or am I not a Whistler? He might be a man, but he was also trained by the best spies the country had ever known. If his wives were in danger, he had to act. If Ren took his summons no more seriously than the door guard, then she might put off her return for hours. Surely every minute he delayed gave Kij Porter a minute to act without suspicion.
And if he waited for Ren to ride to the palace, hear what he had to say, and act upon his news, then Odelia, Trini, and Lylia-still at the courthouse-would remain in danger.
He had to go to Ren himself, and tell her about Kij.
The royal tailors had made him a walking coat to replace his old brown robe. However, it was nearly as revealing as the formfitting trousers he currently wore. Nor did it have any pockets. He changed quickly into his old walking robe, and slipped the derringer into the pocket designed to hide the pistol’s bulk. His stash pouch, with lockpicks, matches, money, and other emergency needs, he strapped up under his robe, snug to his waist. Only the most thorough of searches would find it. He also strapped the shin sheath to his right leg, fluffing his robe so it would resettle around his ankles, hiding the knife. He stood looking at his deceptive reflection, a picture of mildness.
He started for the door, and then spotted Eldest’s letter lying open on his writing desk. What an idiot!
Kij had defiled the sanctity of the husbands’ quarters once. If she or one of her agents found the letter, all was lost. He burned it, crouching before the fireplace.
It was the slightest noise that made him look up.
A strange woman stood in his bedroom door.
Their eyes locked in mutual surprise, and then the sharp, weasel-faced woman gave a smile full of evil promises, and came at him at a run.
Jerin yelped in surprise and terror, and half scuttled, half stumbled back and up.
There were other strangers, not one a Porter sister, coming out of the bedrooms. Five, all running toward him.
He shouted as he ran for the entry door. As he fumbled with the locks, he heard his guards calling on the other side of the door. Then the weasel-faced woman caught him by the hair, jerking him backward, out of reach of the locks. It felt like his scalp would rip from his skull. He screamed in pain, and spun. The woman wasn’t expecting
