“No,” she continued, “I amquitecertain that it was Shaw who approached them in the first place, and the Rose was never mentioned in their private negotiations. For them, it would have been more than enough victory to be granted my inheritance at long last for themselves, just as they’d always thought it should be.” Her aunt’s lamentations over that fact had been a familiar lullaby across the years, especially once it had become clear that Margaret would only ‘waste’ those funds by pouring them into her education and independence rather than using them to buy a husband and raise her family in the eyes of the world.
Lord Riven shook his head slowly. “All that I can say in my own defense is that the founder of the firm for which Shaw works was a good friend of mine, long ago. I suppose I’ve allowed my memories of Edmund’s good work and utterly trustworthy character to influence how I view all of his successors...but of course, that was over two centuries past. What a fool I’ve been.” His eyes fell shut, not quite quickly enough to shield that flash of pain. “As you’ve just pointed out, I am, myself, a hopeless relic, no matter how loudly I’ve bristled and bluffed, this past week, in a vain attempt to hold my ground through chaos. Perhaps it will be just as well to give up that battle...andthis house and all its memories at long last.”
“Hmm.” Seeing that powerful figure slumped before her probably should have felt like victory, and yet, somehow it didn’t. Margaret’s brows drew together as she puzzled through her own discomfort. When had she evernotenjoyed winning an argument? It was inexplicable, yet she couldn’t ignore the instinctive urge to relieve that disconcerting feeling. “If you recall, you weren’t the only one who was fooled,” she finally offered. “My family tricked me, too.”
His shoulders rose and fell in a heavy shrug. “You were kept sleepless, hungry, and confused.”
“And you were woken early from your Sleep with dire warnings and urgent deadlines flung at you. No doubt you experienced some measure of confusion, as well.”
“No doubt.” Her husband’s voice was dry. When his eyes reopened, they were once more alert and wary. “Are you softening me in preparation for a new debate? I told you: I’ve already given in. You may leave tonight if you so choose. I regret the selfishness of my attempts to keep you with me.”
“Good,”she said tartly, “because they were not only selfish but also unnecessary. As you just reminded me, I was in a state of exhaustion and confusion when I first arrived. By yesterday morning, I’d had enough sleep and time to think through the facts of the matter. I have no intention of running away now, whether or not I choose to take a brisk walk or two for pleasure in the meantime.” More unlikely thingshadhappened, although not often, in her experience.
“Moreover...” She gave him a minatory glare. “Giving up your home and income may be a noble sacrifice thatyouare prepared to make, but as your wife—having had my own funds stolen—I shall certainlynotsupport you in that endeavor. As it happens, I have very little interest in sleeping in gutters.”
“Indeed.” One tawny eyebrow rose in open skepticism. “So, you’re saying that you’ve changed your mind about our marriage and now wish to remain wed forevermore?”
“Oh,really.” Margaret snorted as she raked her gaze over his sprawling, muscular figure, which had clearly been designed for dancing or warfare, not quiet scholarship. “I can’t imagine either of us could ever wish for that!Fortunately, I have a far better plan for our futures.” As she leaned forward, her pages of notes rustled in her right hand, ready and waiting to be transformed into action. “Now that we can finally stop fencing over details, I’m ready to work together and take back everything that’s been stolen from both of us.”
With her snarlingnew study partner finally tamed, Margaret dove directly into the meat of the matter.
“What it all comes down to,” she said, “is the question of your man-of-business’s motivation. Is he a mere tool or a monster himself?”
Lord Riven’s fingers tapped against the arm of his wingchair. “I suppose those are the two most likely reasons to have stolen the Rose...either to sell it or to use it for his own purposes.”
“Exactly.” Only a creature of true depravity could think to unleash more horrors across the world after what had happened the last time the Rose was used in battle. Unfortunately, with sabers currently rattling all across the European continent and jingoism running high, Margaret could imaginefartoo many potential royal buyers for such a purpose.
Lord Riven sighed. “I wish I could give you an answer to that question. Unfortunately, as I said before, I saw Shaw in our handful of meetings across the years through the lens of his finer forebears at the firm. I know he had a good college education—his predecessor mentioned how high his marks had been—but I know almost nothing more beyond that fact.
“Whenever I summoned him, he smiled, he nodded, he never once argued...and he acted terribly, appallingly afraid when he woke me this week.” Grimacing, Lord Riven pinched the bridge of his nose. “I did remind him I haven’t fed from the vein in centuries, but...well. Either he did not believe me or he was playing upon my conscience to soften me for his deception.”
Margaret worried at the sheaf of papers with her thumb as she thought it through. “Was he that fidgety man who stood behind you at the wedding, with the elaborate moustache?”
“Rather like a walrus, yes. He fiddles with it when he’s nervous.”
“I noticed.” It had been a surprisingly distracting note during the surreality of her midnight wedding. “And I seem to recall...” Margaret’s eyes narrowed with the effort of searching through the details in her memory of that night. “As you were escorting me into your carriage, he stepped into another one—an expensive-looking conveyance, I thought. There was no family seal on the side, so I doubt it was one of yours. How muchdoyou pay Shaw, exactly?”
Lord Riven shrugged. “My general practice is to write to my banker every five or ten years and ask what the going rate is for good service. Then I pay a bit above that.”
“Certainlynotenough to afford that carriage, then.” Margaret gave a sharp nod. “In that case, I believe we may settle upon ‘tool’ as the most likely description for his function. I expect he was approached by someone who’d come across a rumor of the gem’s location”—her jaw clenched with irritation; if anyone should have heard that sort of rumor, it was her!—“and they paid him an exorbitant sum to ferret out the truthandfind a way to get hold of it for them.”
“God!” Deep lines furrowed her husband’s skin as he closed his eyes. “After all these centuries of guardianship—everything I had to give up along the way—to be tricked out of the Rose so easily in the end...!”
Margaret eyed him curiously. “Whatdidyou give up, exactly? I’ve read through all of the original records, but they’re rather scattered when it comes to details of the final handover.”
“Quite.” Lord Riven’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “I suppose you couldn’t think any worse of me than you already do, so I may as well share the gory details.
“It was in the final rounds of the last war of the northern cross, nearly two and a half centuries ago. I’d left to travel the continent for pleasure just before the war broke out—a Grand Tour, young men call it nowadays, although mine was long delayed by other responsibilities. Of course, I should have hurried back when the news of the first battle reached me in Berlin, but I was still young and feckless at that point. I’d been waiting for years for my great adventure, and I thought all the rumors must be blown out of proportion.
“I couldn’t imagine good Englishmen killing each other in that day and age over such rampant, holy nonsense. I was insufferably certain it would be over within a month and not worth changing any of my plans.” His lips compressed. “Needless to say, I realized my mistake far too late. By the time I returned, my older brothers were both gone, lost to the ravages of war. Even my father hadn’t long left to live, though it was illness and heartbreak that took him in the end. But he was tormented by the knowledge that the Rose, our greatest responsibility, was left with no clear line of descendance. With my brothers gone and I unmarried—and proven to be unforgivably unreliable—he was terrified that the family line would end with no one left to guard the Rose, our ancient compact broken.” Lord Riven’s throat flexed behind his cravat. “I did the only thing I could to reassure him and grant him peace in his final days.”
“You allowed him to Turn you with the Rose.” It was the only way the transformation could have been accomplished; already-Turned vampires could pass the curse onwards with a simple blood rite, but anyone else would require the gem’s assistance. Margaret tilted her head as she studied her husband. “Yet vampirism removes the chance of children, which could have created those descendants he yearned for.”
“If either of my brothers had survived, he would have trusted them to guard the line moving forward. But as for me...well. Neither of us could pretend I hadn’t abandoned the family and left my brothers to fight without my help. Thus, it only made sense that I pay the price for my selfishness by taking on the family’s greatest purpose forevermore.”
“And never leaving this estate ever again?” Margaret murmured. “Was that part of the agreement, as well?”
Lord Riven’s gaze dropped to the thick red liquid in his glass, which he swirled for a long moment without speaking. Finally, he said, “In the few days he had left, my father never thought to demand that promise of me.”
