Then he was gone as well.
Temperance stared at Caire. “Are you badly hurt? Who was that?”
“I have no idea.” He shook his head. His silver hair had come down from its customary tie during the fight, and it fanned against his black cloak. “But it would appear that the Ghost of St. Giles is no rumor.”
Chapter Ten
Meg shook her head. “That, Your Majesty, is not love.”
“What?” The king looked ominous. “If not love, then what is it?”
“Obedience,” Meg said. “Your guards tell you what you wish to hear out of obedience, Your Majesty.”
Well! You could’ve heard the drop of a pin within the throne room. The little blue bird chirped, and the king let out a sigh.
“Return her to the dungeons,” he ordered the guards. He added to Meg, “And when next you are in my presence, see to it you are properly washed.”
Meg curtsied. “To wash, I’ll need water, soap, and cloth, if it please Your Majesty.”
The king waved a hand. “See that it is done.”
And the guards led her away….
—from King Lockedheart
“I knew the Ghost of St. Giles was real!” Nell exclaimed later that evening.
Temperance turned to stare at the maidservant, aware that Winter, across the kitchen table from her, had turned at the same time.
Nell flushed at their combined stares. “Well, I did! Did he have bloodred eyes?”
Temperance smiled wearily at Nell’s excitement. Caire had escorted her home after the attack, and she’d been set upon by Winter and Nell shortly thereafter. She’d spent the last quarter of an hour answering Winter’s disapproving questions, interrupted now and then by Nell’s exclamations.
“I couldn’t see his eyes well,” she answered truthfully. “He wore a black half-mask with a long, curving nose.”
Winter snorted.
She glanced at him. “And he was wearing red and black motley, like a harlequin.”
Her brother raised his eyebrows at that, looking vaguely interested. “A theatrical costume? He sounds like a madman.”
“A mad actor.” Nell shivered with delight.
“He fought very well for a madman,” Temperance said doubtfully.
“Perhaps he’s merely a footpad with a flair for the dramatic,” Winter said drily.
“Or he really is a ghost, come back to avenge his death in St. Giles,” Nell said.
Temperance shook her head. “He was no ghost. It was a flesh-and-blood man I saw tonight, tall and lean.” She smiled whimsically. “Actually, his figure was rather like your own, brother.”
Nell stifled a giggle.
Winter merely sighed.
“Well, whoever he is,” Temperance said hastily, “I owe my life to him.”
“Which is why it is only prudent that you not see Lord Caire again,” Winter replied.
Temperance winced, knowing she’d just supplied ammunition for this argument. If only she weren’t so terribly tired! She rubbed at her temple. “Winter, please, can we save this discussion for the morrow?”
He looked at her a moment, his sad, brown eyes grave; then he nodded and stood. “I’ll spare you the debate tonight, sister, but a night’s sleep won’t change my mind. Your association with this man has brought you into danger, made you neglect your duties to the home and the children, and, I fear, imperils your good sense and virtue. I don’t want you seeing Lord Caire again.”
He nodded politely and left the kitchen.
Temperance let her head sink into her hands.
Nell cleared her throat after a moment of silence. “A cup of tea always sets me right, especially afore bed.”
Temperance had to blink back the tears that had welled in her eyes. “Thank you.”
She’d never exchanged heated words with Winter. Asa and Concord could be quite maddening in their stubborn inability to see other people’s viewpoints, but Winter had never raised his voice to her. He was a thoughtful man, not easily roused to anger, and the realization that she’d done just that tonight was extremely upsetting.
Nell placed a pot of tea on the table along with two cups, and sat opposite her. She poured the steaming tea into one of the cups. “Mr. Makepeace didn’t mean to be so… so… ah…” Nell trailed away, apparently unable to think of a word without disparaging her employer.
Temperance smiled wryly. “Yes, he did.”
“Oh, but—”
“And he’s right.” Temperance reached across the table and took the full teacup, pulling it toward herself. “I shouldn’t leave him to go gallivanting about the East End with Lord Caire. I am neglecting my duties.”
Nell poured a second cup of tea silently, stirring in a huge lump of sugar. She took a delicate sip and then placed her cup carefully back on the table, her eyes on the tea. “Lord Caire is a very… fair man, quite easy on the eyes, I find.”
Temperance looked at her.
Nell bit her lip. “It’s that hair, I think, so long and thick and shining. And silver! It’s just so very striking.”
“I like his eyes,” Temperance admitted.
“Do you?”
There was a drop of tea on the table, and Temperance placed her fingertip in it and drew a circle on the table. “I’ve never seen eyes so blue. And his eyelashes are so dark in contrast to his hair.”
“He has quite a nice nose,” Nell said with consideration.
“And his lips are wide and curved at the ends. Have you noticed?”
Nell sighed, which seemed answer enough.
Temperance bit her lip. “And they’re so firm, yet so soft. They quite take my breath away.”
She realized that she might’ve said too much with that last confession and hastily took a sip of tea.
When she placed the cup back on the table, Nell was looking at her thoughtfully. “He seems to have a special… consideration for you.”
Temperance’s eyes dropped to the table again. Her tea circle had dried up. “How can you tell that? You’ve never even met him.”
“Ah, but I’ve heard from the children and Polly,” Nell said. “Polly says that the way he looks at you gives her thrills.”
How did he look at her? Was Nell mistaking lust for caring? And why did it matter so much to her?
Temperance shook her head, placing her hands flat on the table. “His wants are unnatural. And even if they were not, what kind of a woman would I be to let my urges guide me?”