The Sandalwood Princess

“I should think they’d feel safer a great deal farther from York,” Amanda answered. “He must at least allow for the possibility you’re after him.”

“Nay, beloved. The Falcon will wish to be rid of the statue as quickly as possible.”

“In that case, maybe he’s already rid of it.”

Padji shook his head. “I know the roads and the inns, mistress. Many times have I travelled these ways by night. Were I the thief, this site would I choose. But you do not understand. You know only the part of his mind he has shown you. Padji has used these many long weeks to study the part which is hidden.”

She turned in the saddle to glare at him. “Many weeks? Do you mean to tell me you knew all along? You knew and never told me? A seducer, you called him. Why the devil couldn’t you tell me he was the Falcon?”

“I adore you, my golden-eyed one, and your wisdom fills me with rapturous admiration. But you are a very bad liar. The instant you knew his secret, he must see it in your countenance. Too dangerous,” Padji concluded.

“Too dangerous? More dangerous than this? You might have thrown him out on his ear the first day he arrived. Gad, you might have dispatched him while we were still on board ship. You knew then, didn’t you?” Amanda accused. “You’ve known from the start.”

“Mistress, this is not the time for lengthy converse. The villains are in our hands at last. Later we may talk.”

“I’m not moving another damned inch,” she snapped. “I knew there was more to it. I knew it. The whole curst lot of you have been using me. And here am I, like a fool, letting you use me again. What the devil is wrong with me?” She wheeled her mount round. “I’m going home, and if you don’t come with me, I’ll turn you over to the constables. I will. I swear it.”

“Nay, mistress,” Padji said quietly. He pulled his horse round to block her retreat. “The Falcon left you alone by the road to weep. Must that shape his last vision of you? How many scores of women do you think the fiend has abandoned to their tears? What reason has he to remember you among so many others? He’s left his mark on you, beloved. Will you not mark him as well? Shall I merely kill him? Or shall we two make him pay, painfully, for his treachery?”

***

The large, richly furnished chamber was a place of luxurious repose. A fire blazed in the grate. A decanter of wine stood on the small table before it, between two sumptuous armchairs that invited weary travellers to bask in comfort and warmth.

Two weary travellers occupied the room at present, but neither seemed inclined to succumb to the beckoning languor of their surroundings.

Jessup paced the room, muttering crossly to himself. His master stood at the window, his hands tightly clasped behind him.

“Damn fool way to go about it,” Jessup grumbled. “Half the day in York. The Indian could have caught up with you before she ever got to the bank, and then where’d we be?”

“He didn’t and we’re here, just as I promised. I had to give you time to get to Hedgrave, didn’t I?”

“Aye, I got to him all right. He was at the tavern, waitin, and not likin’ the waitin’—nor me much, when it come to that. And there I was, tellin’ him you’d got it, when there was no knowin’ for sure you had. He didn’t like my headin’ off ahead of him, neither, I’ll tell you.”

“From the moment they decided to go to the bank, the statue was as good as in my hands,” Philip said tightly.

“As good ain’t good enough. You was half an hour late.”

“Our farewells took a bit longer than I’d planned.” Philip closed his eyes.

Did you have to make me love you, too?

Don’t.

I want you, too.

Don’t.

He turned away from the window.

“You look like a bleedin’ popinjay,” said Jessup.

Philip glanced down at his costume: midnight-blue velvet coat and silver satin breeches. Relatively subdued attire for a pink of the ton. Still, the yellow satin waistcoat, upon which brilliant birds of paradise paraded, was all the most flamboyant fop could wish. Admiring oneself, unfortunately, proved hazardous. Even the slight bending of his head drove his shirt points into his jaw.

“Yes,” he calmly agreed. “A precious peacock, am I not? I wanted to go out in a blaze of glory. After tonight, the Falcon retires.”

“About bloomin’ time. Your relations is drivin’ me to drink. I swear that’s near been the worst of this whole stinkin’ business—runnin’ back and forth ‘twixt that addlepated ol’ carcass in London and them vipers in Derbyshire. Five blessed months tryin’ to keep ‘em all quiet. You better keep a sharp eye out for that lot, guv. Now they’ve found out what a nabob you are, they’re like to bleed you dry.”

“I’m aware of your labours, soldier. Believe me, I do not underestimate the enormity of your sacrifice.” Philip took up his eyeglass and inspected it. “That is why I’ve decided the entire reward will be yours.”

Jessup stopped pacing so abruptly that he nearly toppled over backwards. “What? You gone clean mad?”

“The witch poisoned you, Jessup. No money on earth can repay what you’ve endured on my account.”

“Now, guv, we been over this a hundred times. You tole me time and again to be careful what I ate and where I got it from. It weren’t—”

“This isn’t a debate, soldier. I made up my mind long ago.” Philip screwed the glass into his eye. “Now, only tell me what a pretty fellow I am, and we shall mince down to await his lordship.”

“Oh, you’re a pretty sight, all right,” Jessup said grimly. “‘Cept I wouldn’t look in the mirror if I was you. Might bust a gut, laughin’.”

Philip felt no desire to gaze at his reflection. He knew what he’d see: a fool and a fraud. He’d discard the costume soon enough. Himself he could not discard so easily.

He took up the figure he’d so neatly wrapped after the last, careful inspection. She remained intact, this prodigious costly lady, smooth and beautiful as ever. How radiantly she’d smiled at him. How serene lay the tiny, perfect hands upon her swollen belly. And how the sight of her sickened him.

He was sick of all of it—this curst piece of wood, Lord Hedgrave’s obsession... but most of all, the Falcon was sick to death of himself.

I want you, too.

What could he have said?

/ love you, Amanda.

Oh, aye. Then told her who he was, what he was?

He’d gone mad for a moment when, holding her, he’d thought he need not take the statue after all. He’d lie, tell Hedgrave it had been stolen again—better yet, claim it was all a mistake. The thing was still in India, he’d say. But Hedgrave would learn the truth, and set some other—even less scrupulous—after her. Or the marquess would hunt her down himself. In any case, it was too late. The time for honesty had come and gone a year ago on the ship, and the time since was all fraud and betrayal.

She’d have forgiven you, his conscience spoke.

Perhaps, the Falcon answered, but I’d have despised her for it.

Jessup stood by the door, his square, stolid face sunk in gloom as he gazed at his master. “You comin’?” he asked. “Or you goin’ to stand there glowerin’ all night?”

Philip flicked an imaginary speck of lint from his sleeve. “I’m coming,” he said.

A short time later, an elegant equipage clattered into the inn’s courtyard, and a host of obsequious minions hastened eagerly to tend to it.

No one noticed the two figures standing in the shadows.

“You see?” Padji whispered in Hindustani.

The carriage steps were let down, the door opened, and Amanda beheld a tall, lean, somberly attired figure emerge. As the man turned to speak to his coachman, the lamplight revealed a proud, handsome profile. The hair beneath the gleaming beaver was light.

“Are you sure it’s he?” she asked softly.

Padji grinned, and pulled her towards the stables.

Lord Hedgrave had arrived with half a dozen outriders, and a public conveyance followed minutes later. Thus, most of the stablemen had hurried out to the inn yard. The two remaining within the stable made the mistake of objecting to Padji’s entrance before they’d acquired reinforcements. He knocked one unconscious with a careless swipe of his hand. The other he threw against the wall. He quickly bound the unconscious men and dragged them into an empty stall.