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Twenty-Three

Nobody had moved a muscle since we dismounted our horses. Who would? We each had a weapon. I certainly wasn’t afraid to use

mine.

Dalton plunked the butt of his shotgun on the grass and leaned on the barrel. “You know, now that I look a little closer,

you do look like the devil’s dew-beater , doesn’t she, Wilkes?”

“So what is this?” I jumped in before the inspector could pry open his foaming mouth. “Some grand team-up between an adulterer

and an evil little clotpole?”

“The only evil one here is you!” Wilkes took a menacing step forward, his arms up, stopped only by Dalton. “That you, you...

negresse had the audacity to bribe me into framing an innocent man—”

I snorted. “Please. Nobody’s innocent.”

“Quiet!” Wilkes’s ears flamed red the more furious he became. “You manipulated me.”

“Using your indiscretions against you,” I added smoothly. “But as I’ve been told, Miss Andrea hasn’t been found of late.”

I looked at Dalton. “Is that your doing?”

Leaning on his gun, Dalton crossed his legs with a cocky grin. That seemed confirmation enough. “You have your connections and I have mine. Miss Andrea’s on a trip to Australia at the moment. Which means the leverage you have over the inspector has vanished down under with her.”

I hope he at least put her on a proper ship with proper food. I scowled. “And when you told Wilkes his problem was gone, that’s

when his lips loosened.” He ratted me out as soon as he could. Well, it wouldn’t have been difficult to put two and two together

with how Wilkes reacted at the sight of Andrea at Miss Welsh’s tea party. All he would have to do was hunt her down.

“When Wilkes told me what you’d done to him, we bonded quite well. We’re very similar, you see, since we both have reasons

to despise you, Miss Bonetta.”

I rolled my eyes and groaned. “Enough with the theatrics. What do you want?” I sounded nonchalant, but my heart was beating

hard. My hand’s grip on the gun grew ever tighter.

“I want you in handcuffs, you—” Wilkes’s whole body swelled. He looked as if he wanted to jump me and tear out my hair. Again,

Dalton stopped him.

“You can arrest me,” I told him. “But then you’d have to reveal your part in this whole dirty affair. You’re the pride of

Scotland Yard and you were willing to frame a man just to keep your wife from finding out about your extracurricular activities.”

A devilish smile spread across my lips. “Speak a word about this to anyone, Inspector Wilkes, and there’s no scenario in which

you come out unscathed.”

“You filthy—”

“Also I believe I left no evidence of my involvement with Bambridge.” I shrugged. “In fact, by getting rid of Andrea, you

got rid of the one person whose existence could provide concrete evidence of your blackmail. If the crime doesn’t exist, then

neither does the criminal—and how in the world can anyone punish a criminal who doesn’t exist?”

It was Dalton who spoke next, as Wilkes seethed, stepping out in front of him, closing the distance between us just enough to threaten.

“Wilkes and I had this discussion. And we came up with a solution.” He tilted his head, his mocking gaze challenging me. “We

go to the Queen.”

I shifted on my feet, swallowing the growing lump in my throat. “You’re going to tell on me?” The irritation was clear in

my voice. At least, I hoped it was.

“Why not?” Dalton shrugged. “Unlike the law, the Queen doesn’t operate based on specifics like evidence, rationality, and

logic. You’re the Queen’s ward. Imagine if the rumors of your extracurricular activities came out?”

He was right. Gossip knew no logic and needed no evidence. The Queen would not want any rumors to spread about her goddaughter.

It would only reflect poorly on her and she didn’t need that, not now of all times.

“So she’d keep it quiet,” I snapped back. “She’d make sure the whole dreadful truth never saw the light of day. Which means,

I suppose, we’re both saved. You get to keep your job without anyone questioning your easily malleable morals and I keep my

illusion of innocence.”

“And how do you think Queen Victoria will keep the affair quiet?” Dalton said. “If Wilkes is fired suddenly, so soon after

his promotion and the very public arrest of Bambridge, it’ll only make people ask questions. The Queen won’t like questions.

But I do wonder: How well does Her Majesty like you?”

I gritted my teeth, my expression grim because I knew the scenario Dalton was painting before my eyes. The Queen, to keep things quiet, would let Wilkes carry on with his job. Whatever reprimand he received wouldn’t ruin his standing—the blame would fall on me, the wayward, rebellious goddaughter who clearly didn’t know her place and role in society. The fact that she was forcing my marriage to Davies was proof she already didn’t trust me. If she knew what I was up to, if the threads began unraveling, what would she do to me? Would she move up my wedding? Banish me to Australia like so many criminals?

Would she get rid of me entirely?

I thought of Ade’s glassy eyes as he sank beneath the ocean waves, and began to tremble. I couldn’t stop it. I placed a hand

on my left arm to tamp it down, but thinking of Ade’s death sent a wave of panic through me. I was a good child. Brilliant,

kind, and of fair temperament. That’s what Captain Frederick Forbes had said about me to anyone who would listen. To the Queen.

And what happened to the ones who didn’t play their roles?

I hated Dalton because the question he’d asked was too easily answered. How well did the Queen like me? Nonsense. Her love

for me was conditional.

“From the pained expression on your face, it’s very clear you’d rather me not tell the Queen about what you’ve been up to.”

I hadn’t realized my face had changed at all. I’d practiced for so long to keep it unreadable. My hands balled into fists.

“Here’s what you will do to make it up to poor Inspector Wilkes, who has suffered at your hand like so many innocents.” Dalton

picked up his gun and twirled it around. I gripped my own weapon, ready. “You will become Wilkes’s puppet from now until he

deigns to relieve you of your duties. Isn’t that right, Inspector?”

As Dalton looked back at Wilkes, still flushed but somehow satisfied at the turn of events, he puffed out his chest. “I wish

to enter politics. You, Miss Forbes, will insist upon the royal family’s endorsement.”

“Politics?” I laughed long and hard. “Despite your proclivity towards corruption, I’m afraid you have neither the intellect

nor the grit to win a seat in your own broken home, let alone Parliament.”

As Wilkes bared his teeth at me, Dalton took over the negotiations. “You will do as he says or he will voluntarily reveal your treachery to the Queen. I believe Bertie says she’s having a séance soon, is she not? What a perfect stage to air out one’s demons.”

Dalton exchanged a triumphant glance with Wilkes, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. He could give a whit about what Wilkes wanted.

This was about what he wanted. It was why he found Andrea and went to Wilkes. Why he paid Bambridge’s bail.

Sass was using Wilkes. Now that he had Wilkes’s complete trust, he could easily one day twist my servitude to the inspector

in his own favor. If I refused to do as they pleased, they’d go to the Queen. My activities would be revealed. My freedom,

maybe even my life, would vanish.

But something was bothering me about this arrangement. Something about Dalton’s priorities in all this didn’t quite make sense....

“Well, that’s settled then, isn’t it?” Inspector Charles Wilkes clapped Dalton’s shoulder before mounting his horse. “I’ll

see you at the Queen’s séance, you little wench. I’m sure the prince won’t mind giving me an invitation. You’d better be there

too, to sing my praises. That’s my first command. I have a political campaign to get ready.”

He kicked his horse and left Dalton and me in the clearing. The fog was starting to lift, but only ever so slightly. The chill

still prickled at the nape of my neck. Though it was Dalton’s unhinged grin that made my hair stand on end.

“How does it feel to lose, Sally?” Dalton balanced his gun on the back of his neck as I slid closer to my horse. “To be beaten.”

“But have I been beaten?”

Dalton’s slow frown told me I had his attention. Good. I patted my horse’s light brown hide gently as I continued to “think

aloud.”

“Revealing me to the Queen. Even without concrete evidence, using her fear of scandal and gossip to expose me. That should be enough for you. So why not just do it? Take Wilkes and demand an audience with Her Majesty right this moment. You could get revenge for your mother without having to waste another second. What’s this ‘be Wilkes’s puppet’ nonsense about?”

My hand paused on my horse’s hide. “Unless.” I gave him a sidelong look. “Wilkes won’t let you. That selfish man wants to

use me and he won’t let you ruin it for him so quickly.”

I could tell even with his mouth closed that wicked Miss Sass’s wicked son was licking the top row of his teeth. Miss Sass

used to do that too, right before she brought out her cane.

“You must know men like Wilkes. Pompous as they are ambitious. It won’t be enough. He’ll want to use me for other schemes

and plots. There’ll never be a point where he’s had his fill. He’ll never let you go to the Queen to tell on me. He’ll never

let you wield that secret, special letter in your possession, the one you used to frighten Ponsonby and sneak into Bertie’s

circle. If what’s in that letter can truly threaten the Queen in any way, he won’t let you use it, not while he still needs

her favor. I’m sure you didn’t think about that, now, did you?”

Tauntingly slow, I applauded him, the crisp clap of my hands echoing in the morning sky. “Oh well, we can’t all be the type

to think of everything. I’m sure eventually you’ll find a way to twist this all to your favor. You’ve done well so far.”

“Quiet,” he hissed, taking the barrel of the gun by hand. “Don’t you dare patronize me. When it comes to a battle of wits

against me, witch, you can never win.”

“Did your mother think that?”

Dalton went deathly still. I loved a direct hit. I rubbed my horse’s ear as if it were a lover, listening to its little pleased

snorts as Dalton glared daggers at me.

“I remember long ago when I was at the Institution. Miss Sass was in her office writing a letter to her cousin, Julia Emily Sass. The new school’s new superintendent. I was there as a punishment. I’d spoken out of turn and for that alone earned myself a beating, which was the norm for us students.”

Dalton didn’t seem to like hearing that. His gaze wavered to the ground, unfocused and quivering as if he didn’t know where

to direct his anger.

“In the corner of her office I had to stand holding stacks of books. Tomes that weighed more than I did. I stood there for

maybe an hour. Maybe more. And Miss Sass, you know, she loved to talk to herself. Or maybe she was talking to me. She was

certainly talking as she wrote her letter. She spoke about how much she hated children. How she’d never met a single one she

didn’t want to slap in the face. How vile and easily corruptible by the devil they were.”

Dalton’s hands were red. I could see them from here, twitching.

“And now I wonder—could she have also meant you?”

For the second time, Dalton’s hand flew to his left arm instinctively, and I knew. Without fear I waltzed up to him. Startled,

he lifted his gun.

“Stay back!” He pointed it at me. “I said, stay back, you witch!” he added again, because I wouldn’t. But he wouldn’t shoot

either.

“Did she also mean you, her own child, when she talked about how much she hated children, how vile they were, how she’d never

met a single one she didn’t want to slap in the face?” I stepped closer and closer. “It’s strange, Dalton, because she never

once mentioned to us that she had a son. But wouldn’t mothers be proud of their sons? Wouldn’t they at least make reference

to their existence once? It’s just so strange. And yet, by your own admission, she talked about me to you all the time. It’s

all just so strange....”

“S-Shut up!”

I stalked up to him until the tip of his gun pressed against my chest, and before he could react, I grabbed his left arm and pulled up his sleeve.

The gun dropped from his hands onto the ground. “Yes, I knew those marks. The marks of a cane, Sass’s favorite weapon.”

I shook my head. “You do all this for a woman who doesn’t deserve it. Worse still—” I looked him straight in the eyes. “You

do this for a woman who didn’t love you. And how does that feel, Dalton? To know that even as much as your mother hated me,

she seemed more concerned with me than she ever was with you?”

Dalton opened and closed his mouth but no words came out. He was shocked, stunned into silence.

“No matter what you do here to me, you will never earn her love. She wouldn’t give it to you in life. Why now would she bother

to give it to you in death?”

I turned, mounted my horse, and left Sass a quivering mess in the clearing. My aim was to catch up to Bertie’s party. I could

follow the sounds of hound and horse that grew louder as I rode through the woods. In the distance, men shouted and laughter

and shots rang out into the air. I used that to gain my bearing.

And yet, as I grew closer to the sounds, something felt wrong. My skin was crawling. My flesh, deep inside me, chilled. As

I stopped my horse by a large oak tree, an acute sense of danger told me to stay alert. To look behind me.

I did.

Dalton Sass was a few feet away from me, on his horse under a canopy of leaves, pointing his gun at my head.

He shot. My heart leaped up my throat as I jumped off my horse, just in time to see the bullet pierce the oak tree’s bark. My elbow and hip hit the ground hard, and as the shock of pain rocketed through me, I rolled onto the grass, a plume of dirt billowing up around me. But Sass wasn’t done. He aimed again, cocking his gun with lightning speed, his bloodshot eyes bulging. I dragged myself back, the branches on the ground tearing my dress and cutting my legs. My throat closed.

“Dalton!”

“Sass!”

With furious speed, Bertie, Harriet, and Captain Davies rode to the scene on their horses, the galloping of hooves rumbling

the ground. Davies and Harriet jumped off their horses to lift me off my feet.

“Sally, are you okay?” Harriet brushed her hair out of her eyes to give me a once-over. “Oh, you poor thing!”

I gave her a strange look. Poor thing? She’d never referred to me in such patronizing terms before, but now she made a big

show out of patting my head and checking for wounds while Davies held me around the waist.

Bertie dismounted, strode toward a suddenly terrified Dalton, and dragged my would-be murderer off his horse.

“What in the hell were you doing?” Bertie screamed, throwing off his riding hat. “You could have killed Sally! Are you mad?”

“I’m sorry, Your Grace.” Dalton stumbled for an excuse. “It discharged by accident!”

I politely pushed both Davies and Harriet away from me. “No,” I said as I dusted myself off. “I’m quite sure you tried to

kill me.”

Crows screeched above our heads in the chilly air. Dalton shot me a glare that made him look truly mad for one moment before

he calmed himself down with deep breaths.

“And why would I do something foolish like that?” He stared at me before breaking out that fake, affable smile. “Come now,

Sally, be serious. Kill you?” He laughed, rubbing the back of his head, just a silly old chap in front of his fast friend the prince. It sickened

me. “Is there any reason I would have, Sally, to try to end your life?”

A warning. Exposing Dalton meant exposing my past. I didn’t speak. Neither of us did.

Bertie let out a heavy sigh, looking around him. “The fog still is a bit... ,” he tried, but something about the situation

was a bit too strange to explain away. The look he gave Dalton held a hint of paranoia, but it was only a hint. He left Dalton

to tend to me.

“Are you okay, Sally?”

But Davies pulled me closer to him. “My fiancée seems to be fine, Your Highness. Thank you for asking.”

The awkward tension that resulted between them wasn’t something I needed to deal with at the moment. Even Harriet seized up,

her face somehow longer today, mirthless.

Dalton spoke out loud what I was already thinking. “I’m quite tired. I should probably make my leave. But I’ll be seeing you

all at the séance, I suspect.”

The séance. Where I was to help Wilkes ill-conceived bid for political office or have my schemes exposed to the Queen.

Bertie rolled his eyes and folded his arms. “You don’t have to go to that stupid thing.”

“Oh, I will. To support you, my prince. Wilkes as well, if you’d grant him the honor. We’ve become close as of late.”

Dalton stared at me as he spoke. I looked up at Davies, who was watching the two of us. With interest or suspicion, I wasn’t

quite sure.

“Do whatever you want.” Bertie waved his hand dismissively. “The more the merrier.”

He jumped on his steed and I began to plan my next move.