Melville’s smile faded. He looked at Daniel. “Bannister, yes?”
Daniel’s eyes widened.
Melville nodded as if Daniel had confirmed his identity. “Take Lady Adelaide back to her room, fast as you can, there’s a good chap. Let’s keep her out of this, hmm?”
Adele opened her mouth to protest at Melville’s high handling, but he shot her a glance that seemed to say more than he had actually spoken aloud. His gaze shifted to Daniel and back.
He wanted her to get Daniel out of the room.
Adele put a hand to her temple, and made it shake. “Oh dear, I really do think I need a drink. Daniel, that Scotch…”
“Damn good idea,” Daniel murmured. He unchocked the bedroom door by dragging the pillow away with his heel, then lead her out.
“I’ll get this sorted out,” Melville called from behind them.
“Check under the bed!” Adele called back.
ADELE POURED TWO GLASSES OF scotch, one of them far larger than the other. She pushed the full glass up against the back of Daniel’s hand, where he leaned heavily against the big worktable, his head down.
He gripped the glass.
“Drink,” she said softly and took a sip of her own.
For five minutes, she let the scotch touch her lips, while Daniel drank the full glass. While he drank, the castle awoke around them. Lamps were lit. People stirred. Alarmed voices called out to each other.
Eventually, two members of the Scottish Royal Regiment came into the kitchen. The officer nodded at Adele and Daniel, removing his cap. “May I have your names, please, sir? We’re to account for everyone.”
“Is the King safe?” Daniel asked.
“The King was our first priority. He is safe and well, sir.”
“Good,” Daniel said. He gave his name, and Adele’s.
The officer took note of their names in a small exercise book, nodding as he wrote. “You might be best heading for your rooms, sir,” he told Daniel. “This flap is likely to take the rest of the night.”
“And we’ll be in the way,” Daniel guessed.
“Something like that, sir.”
“Can you tell us what has happened, officer?” Adele asked, keeping her voice timid. “We’ve heard shouting, and someone said there had been rifle fire in the house…”
The officer shook his head. “We’re still sorting that out, m’lady. But it is perfectly safe inside the house, now. You can return to your room without fear.”
Adele didn’t bother correcting his impression that she was concerned for her safety. Instead, she turned to Daniel. “Do you mind if I retire? It has been quite the evening…”
Daniel poured another inch of scotch into his glass. “I’m going to drink this and turn in myself. Let’s talk in the morning, yes?” His gaze met hers.
Adele gave him a small smile. “I imagine Mr. Melville might want to speak to us both. I know I want to speak to him. Goodnight, Daniel.”
She made her way to her room on the next floor—the same floor as the King’s, but in the opposite corner. On the way she glimpsed people in dressing gowns and slippers, in clumps of two and three, heads together as they discussed the drama.
Adele did not pause to talk to anyone even though everyone looked up as she passed by, expecting her to stop and share what she knew with them. There was not a single nose in the air. No one turned their back on her.
Instead of stopping, Adele kept her gaze ahead, as if the corridors and corners she passed were quite empty, and continued to her room.
Her room was as she had left it, the lamp turned low, the bedclothes tossed back. Her slippers were beneath the bed where she had left them. She suspected she would sleep more soundly for what was left of the night than she had in many long weeks.
Instead of locking the door and heading straight over to the bed, Adele went over to the dressing table and opened her reticule.
“Mrs. Becket.”
Adele cocked the heavy gun, turned and aimed toward the space behind the door. “Frau Lorenz.”
The blonde woman stood where the opening door had hidden her. She held a gun of her own. Her eyes widened as she saw Adele’s pistol. “You knew I was here?”
“Bergamot and spices,” Adele said. “Guerlain’s Jicky, I believe.”
The woman grimaced. “You are much smarter than my first impression of you.”
“I’ve learned a great deal since I met you and your husband.”
“That was earlier tonight,” Evelyn Lorenz pointed out.
“It was. Why are you here?”
“You’re one of Melville’s people.”
“What makes you think that?”
“You spoke to absolutely everyone tonight. I watched you swanning around with that beau of yours. You were sizing us all up.”
“Is your husband part of this, Evelyn?”
“Siggy?” She laughed. “He won’t allow morning newspapers on the breakfast table because he thinks real news might disturb my constitution.” Her smile faded. “Even Peter didn’t understand. He said Melville would work to place someone inside the palace as a last ditch effort to stop us, only when I said I thought it was you, he laughed at the very idea.”
Adele grimaced. “Everyone always overlooks you.”
“As they do you,” Evelyn replied.
“You didn’t.”
Evelyn hefted her gun. “Have I measured you properly, though? Maybe you only play at this. Perhaps you are the spoiled upper-class woman everyone thinks you are and the only dangerous implement you’ve ever handled is an embroidery needle.”
“I suppose that is entirely possible,” Adele replied, her heart thudding.
Evelyn considered her. “Men won’t tell you that it takes a different sort of courage to fire a weapon at someone. An unusual courage, one I don’t think you possess, or you would have used that gun the moment you knew I was in your
