Page 51 of The Swan Syndicate #1

Stella stretched and rolled over. That moment between sleep and wakefulness nagged that something was different.

There wasn’t the gentle swaying she normally woke up to.

Her head popped up, one eye stuck close, and she wiped it until the lashes separated and her vision cleared.

Beckworth was gone, his side of the bed cold.

She glanced around the room and then laughed, falling back to the pillow to stare at the ceiling.

She wasn’t on the Daphne anymore. They were home at Waverly. She’d been so exhausted, no doubt from the stress of the mission finally behind her, the entire homecoming and dinner had been a blur.

Except for Dame Elizabeth, who’d watched her like a hawk all evening. She’d worry about that later.

She sat up, her head stuffy from sleep but not enough to miss the scent of coffee wafting over from the pot hanging by the fire. She registered it had to be morning, but with the drapes closed, she had no sense of the time.

Maybe Beckworth had gone downstairs to bring back breakfast. She crawled out of bed, fumbled for her robe that Libby must have left on the bed, and pushed the curtains away from the window that overlooked the gardens.

The sun was hazy, and dew glistened off the evergreens. Chances were good the clouds would lift and give them a sunny day. She carried the coffee pot to the table and placed it next to two mugs. One of the mugs had the remains of what was now cold coffee, and she poured coffee into the other one.

She must have slept like the dead to not have heard Beckworth come to bed or leave. So where had he gone? She took a sip of coffee, gave it a minute, then considered her question again.

Duh.

Hunting, of course. Parts of the night before were returning, and she took two more gulps of coffee. Mary had arranged for an early-morning hunt and a late breakfast upon their return. Well, at least she hadn’t slept through that, and her stomach, timely as ever, grumbled in agreement.

No sooner had she wondered where Libby might be when a knock on the door preceded her lady’s maid. Though she considered Libby more a friend than a maid.

“Good morning.” Libby flew into the room, setting a pitcher on the washstand, tossing a log on the fire, and opening the rest of the drapes on her way to the dressing room.

“Beckworth wasn’t sure when you’d wake, but I thought you’d want to be dressed for breakfast,” she yelled from the closet.

She came out holding a deep sea-green day dress.

“They should be back from their hunt any moment. Most of the women took an early breakfast in their rooms, but they’ll be down to nibble when the men arrive. ”

She stopped and stared at Stella, her head tilting to the side.

“You look like you spent a night at the pub, but I know that isn’t true.

” She glanced around the room. “I don’t see any dirty glasses, so unless you drank straight from the bottle, you must have been dog-tired.

” She held up the dress. “Will this do?”

Stella nodded as she took a longer swallow of coffee. She needed to catch up. Maybe a splash of water on her face would clear the rest of the cobwebs. She’d barely poured water in the basin when Libby rushed over.

“Here’s some hot water. Let me add a bit.”

Once Libby stirred the water in the basin with her finger, she nodded. “That’s better. Nice and warm.”

“Thank you. I guess the trip tired me out more than I thought.”

Libby moved to the trunk that had been brought up the night before. “Is that all it is?” She held up the crossbow. “I don’t remember packing this for your trip.”

Stella’s hands flexed with some weird instinct to grab it from her.

She drained the mug and poured more. She was losing it.

Was it some guilt over Cheval? She hadn’t experienced these rollercoaster emotions after Gaines.

So, why now? Sure, it had bothered her until she remembered Beckworth would have been dead rather than him.

Maybe it wasn’t how it ended. Maybe it was the terror when Cheval had tortured his spy with the crossbow before so ruthlessly killing him.

If that was the case, why had she become so attached to the damn thing?

Libby patted the chair. “Come over and let’s get your hair done.” When Stella sat, Libby selected a few strands and began to brush. “I had to kill a man once.”

Stella had been staring at her reflection, but at her words, her gaze flashed to Libby, whose focus remained on her task. Had the whole manor heard about Cheval’s demise? She wasn’t sure if she should respond, but it didn’t matter because Libby kept talking.

“It was two or three years ago. He dragged me into an alley, wanting to do nasty things to me. He didn’t think much of a young girl living on the streets.

A year before that, I’d been given a job by the crew to follow some shady guy.

Don’t know why. Never thought to ask back then.

What I hadn’t expected was that someone else was following the man.

He caught me and dragged me into a warehouse. Gave me this scar, he did.”

She stopped brushing and pulled up the sleeve of her dress to show a long, ragged scar under her forearm. “Then he pushed me into a crate. I barely fit. My blood was gushing everywhere. Thought I was gonna die in that crate. But Beckworth found me.”

“How long were you in there?”

She shrugged as she pulled up another section of hair to brush.

“It seemed like forever, but Beckworth said it was about fifteen minutes.

He would have killed the man right then, but two others showed up, so he had to wait for them to leave.

They were just going to leave me there stuffed like a pigeon in a pastry shell.

“Beckworth carried me to Eleanor. She was a seamstress with an acting troop at the time. I think you know she used to do that.”

“Yes. She’s a marvelous seamstress.”

“She sewed my skin together. Even with the alcohol, I screamed. Two days later, Beckworth came to check on me and gave me a bone-handled dagger of my very own. Wasn’t very big but easy enough to fit in my pocket.

Said it was up to me whether I wanted to stay in the crew now that I knew how dangerous it was.

But either way, he wanted me to have protection, no matter what I decided. ”

“Why did you stay?”

She glanced at her through the mirror and grinned. “The money.”

Stella laughed.

“So, anyway, when this guy dragged me into the alley, I still carried that dagger. I don’t know what that man would have done with me or whether he’d leave me alive, but I wasn’t going to wait to find out. I stabbed him in the gut and then in the chest, then I ran.”

“How do you know he died?”

She laid the brush down and scattered the hairpins out before pushing three aside. “It’s the eyes.” She pointed to hers. “They get glassy, you know?”

Stella did know. No other words were spoken, but Libby hummed something soft and melodic as she finished her hair.

“Okay, let’s get you dressed. I know you’ve made somewhat of a friendship with Lady Abigail, but there’s no reason you can’t still outshine her.”

Stella stood, feeling better than she had since finding herself on Cheval’s ship. Once she was dressed, she pulled Libby in for a hug. The maid kept her arms limp by her side, but when Stella refused to let go, Libby’s arms came around her, and she felt the young woman hug back.

Once they pulled apart, Libby pointed a finger at her. “Don’t you ever tell Beckworth I did that.”

She held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

Libby narrowed her eyes for a moment, then seemed to accept the strange oath. “Scout’s honor. I like that.”

She scampered from the room, and Stella released a long breath as she did an internal survey. She believed Libby’s story. The young woman was tough, and it wasn’t hard to imagine what life was like for her in the East End, having seen it for herself.

Beckworth had been watching out for Libby, just like he did for others. For her.

Stella picked up the crossbow. It was heavier than her pistol and wouldn’t fit in her oversized pockets, but it was faster to load. There was no reason to think she’d ever use it again.

She opened the wardrobe closet where she kept her more personal items and searched for a hook, but there wasn’t one. Not sure what else to do with it, she moved clothes aside and leaned it against the back wall.

“I’ll have Barrington add a peg so you can hang it up if you prefer.”

She spun around to find Beckworth watching her. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

He smiled. “There’s nothing that gets a man’s heart thumping faster than an elegantly dressed woman with a crossbow.”

Her laugh was throaty. “From fear?”

He pulled her to him. “Not in my case.” His kiss was hot, passionate, and never seemed to end, but when he released her, she wouldn’t have minded a few more minutes of it.

“I spent too much time with the colt. Can you help me change?”

“It’s a shame Libby’s already dressed me.”

He touched the tip of her nose. “We’re home now, with obligations to our guests.”

She pouted. “I suppose.”

He pulled her close again. “But I have a surprise for later.” His eyes filled with mischief.

She shoved him away. “Let’s get you dressed before Barrington comes looking for you. Where’s your valet, anyway?”

“I gave Nigel the day off. His missus has been under the weather.”

Worry made her pause. Sickness in this century was nothing to laugh at. “Has a doctor seen her?”

“Yes, she just needs some rest. She’ll be fine soon enough.” He strolled to the dressing room with her following. “I should have an emerald jacket in here somewhere. I’m told the Osbornes are wearing blue.”

She grinned at Beckworth’s concern over fashion. Everything was going to work itself out.

S tella stopped in the kitchen before going up to the dining room. Mrs. Walker, the housekeeper, and Nellie, the cook, were busy inspecting the meal preparation while three footmen fussed with trays.