got himself burned at the stake for his troubles. Or—”
“Shut it, damn you!” Jasper’s voice was low, but it was harsh enough to cut through Horn’s awful recitation. “I know. I know all that, damn it.”
Horn closed his eyes and said quietly, “Then you know none of us could have done it.”
“Someone did. Someone set a trap and walked four hundred men into an abattoir.”
Horn grimaced. “Shit.”
A maid entered then, bearing a laden tea tray. Both men were silent while she set it up on a corner of the desk. The door closed gently behind her when she left.
Jasper looked at his old friend, his comrade in arms so long ago.
Horn pushed a pile of papers to the side of his desk. “What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to help me find who betrayed us,” Jasper said. “And then help me kill him.”
IT WAS WELL past the dinner hour when Lord Vale finally returned home. Melisande knew this because the large sitting room at the front of the house had a terribly ugly clock on the mantelpiece. Fat pink nymphs cavorted about the clock face in a manner that was no doubt meant to be erotic. Melisande snorted. How little the man who had designed that clock knew of true eroticism. At her feet, Mouse had sat up at the sound of Lord Vale’s arrival. Now he trotted to the door to sniff at the crack.
She pulled a silk thread carefully through her embroidery hoop, leaving behind a perfect French knot on the right side of the fabric. She was pleased at how steady her fingers were. Maybe with continued proximity to Vale, she’d overcome her terrible sensitivity to him. Lord knew that the anger that had built during the hours she had waited for him certainly helped in that regard. Oh, she still felt his presence, still longed for his company, but those feelings were presently masked with exasperation. She hadn’t seen him since breakfast, hadn’t received word that he wouldn’t be home for supper. Theirs might be a marriage of convenience, but that didn’t mean that simple courtesy must be thrown out the window.
She could hear her husband talking in the hallway with the butler and footmen. Not for the first time that evening, she wondered if he’d entirely forgotten that he had a wife. Oaks seemed like a capable man. Perhaps he’d remind his master of her existence.
The ugly clock on the mantel chimed the quarter hour, the tones tinny and flat. Melisande frowned and placed another stitch. The smaller yellow and white sitting room at the back of the house was much prettier. The only reason she’d chosen this sitting room was because of its proximity to the front hall. Vale would have to walk past to go to his rooms.
The sitting room door opened, startling Mouse, who jumped back and then, as if realizing he’d been caught in retreat, leapt forward to bark at Lord Vale’s ankles. Lord Vale gazed down at Mouse. Melisande had the distinct impression that he wouldn’t mind kicking her dog.
“Sir Mouse,” she called to prevent any tragedy.
Mouse gave one last bark, trotted over to her, and jumped up on the settee beside her.
Lord Vale closed the door and advanced into the room, making a bow to her. “Good evening, madam wife. I apologize for my absence at dinner.”
Humph. Melisande inclined her head and gestured to the chair opposite her. “I am sure the business that detained you was most important, my lord.”
Lord Vale leaned back in his chair and laid one ankle over the opposite knee. “Pressing, yes, but whether important or not, I don’t know. It seemed so at the time.” He flicked a finger against the skirts of his coat.
She set another stitch. He seemed somehow downcast this evening, as if his usual joie de vivre had deserted him. Her outrage deflated as she wondered what had made him somber.
Lord Vale frowned at her and Mouse. “That settee is covered in satin.”
Mouse laid his head on her lap. Melisande stroked his nose. “Yes. I know.”
Lord Vale opened
“Shut it, damn you!” Jasper’s voice was low, but it was harsh enough to cut through Horn’s awful recitation. “I know. I know all that, damn it.”
Horn closed his eyes and said quietly, “Then you know none of us could have done it.”
“Someone did. Someone set a trap and walked four hundred men into an abattoir.”
Horn grimaced. “Shit.”
A maid entered then, bearing a laden tea tray. Both men were silent while she set it up on a corner of the desk. The door closed gently behind her when she left.
Jasper looked at his old friend, his comrade in arms so long ago.
Horn pushed a pile of papers to the side of his desk. “What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to help me find who betrayed us,” Jasper said. “And then help me kill him.”
IT WAS WELL past the dinner hour when Lord Vale finally returned home. Melisande knew this because the large sitting room at the front of the house had a terribly ugly clock on the mantelpiece. Fat pink nymphs cavorted about the clock face in a manner that was no doubt meant to be erotic. Melisande snorted. How little the man who had designed that clock knew of true eroticism. At her feet, Mouse had sat up at the sound of Lord Vale’s arrival. Now he trotted to the door to sniff at the crack.
She pulled a silk thread carefully through her embroidery hoop, leaving behind a perfect French knot on the right side of the fabric. She was pleased at how steady her fingers were. Maybe with continued proximity to Vale, she’d overcome her terrible sensitivity to him. Lord knew that the anger that had built during the hours she had waited for him certainly helped in that regard. Oh, she still felt his presence, still longed for his company, but those feelings were presently masked with exasperation. She hadn’t seen him since breakfast, hadn’t received word that he wouldn’t be home for supper. Theirs might be a marriage of convenience, but that didn’t mean that simple courtesy must be thrown out the window.
She could hear her husband talking in the hallway with the butler and footmen. Not for the first time that evening, she wondered if he’d entirely forgotten that he had a wife. Oaks seemed like a capable man. Perhaps he’d remind his master of her existence.
The ugly clock on the mantel chimed the quarter hour, the tones tinny and flat. Melisande frowned and placed another stitch. The smaller yellow and white sitting room at the back of the house was much prettier. The only reason she’d chosen this sitting room was because of its proximity to the front hall. Vale would have to walk past to go to his rooms.
The sitting room door opened, startling Mouse, who jumped back and then, as if realizing he’d been caught in retreat, leapt forward to bark at Lord Vale’s ankles. Lord Vale gazed down at Mouse. Melisande had the distinct impression that he wouldn’t mind kicking her dog.
“Sir Mouse,” she called to prevent any tragedy.
Mouse gave one last bark, trotted over to her, and jumped up on the settee beside her.
Lord Vale closed the door and advanced into the room, making a bow to her. “Good evening, madam wife. I apologize for my absence at dinner.”
Humph. Melisande inclined her head and gestured to the chair opposite her. “I am sure the business that detained you was most important, my lord.”
Lord Vale leaned back in his chair and laid one ankle over the opposite knee. “Pressing, yes, but whether important or not, I don’t know. It seemed so at the time.” He flicked a finger against the skirts of his coat.
She set another stitch. He seemed somehow downcast this evening, as if his usual joie de vivre had deserted him. Her outrage deflated as she wondered what had made him somber.
Lord Vale frowned at her and Mouse. “That settee is covered in satin.”
Mouse laid his head on her lap. Melisande stroked his nose. “Yes. I know.”
Lord Vale opened
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