Opaque Lies Read online

  His mask faltered and surprise registered for an instant before he regained his composure. One eyebrow shot up. “Taking an interest in politics?”

  She kept her expression blank. She was a quick study, and who better to learn from than the overlord. “Yes, a very close interest. I want to know who they are and the extent of their plot against the princess. Then I intend to stop them.”

  She had learned of a larger plot while in the Reaper stronghold. The Consortium were a direct threat to the young Princess Victoria. She loathed the way women were dismissed as weaker and less capable than men. Allie had decided to make it her mission to ensure nothing stopped the princess from succeeding King William when he shuffled off the mortal coil. Without knowing anything about the other young woman, she would do it simply to annoy arrogant aristocratic men.

  Le Foy measured his words carefully. “These are dangerous men, Alessandra. Even I tread softly around them. Why does the fate of the princess concern you?”

  “Because she is the rightful heir to King William. In this morning’s newspaper is an account of how some lords in the House of Commons wish to see her passed over on account of her age, sex, and incapacity.” Her hands curled into fists at the unfairness of it. She couldn’t sit back and do nothing while a young woman’s life was snuffed out. Who knew what the princess could achieve if she was given the chance? “You opened my eyes to this path. Don’t be so surprised I am taking it.”

  A rare smile broke over her father’s face and Allie dropped her fists, unsure how to respond to such a reaction from him. Then the unthinkable happened. He laughed. “I wonder what it is about the nobles’ attempt to wrest the throne from the princess that sparks such a response in you? But regardless of your motives, in this I happen to agree with you. Not because I think the princess will make a mighty queen, but because I know her uncle would be a cruel despot of a king.”

  “Which would be bad for business?” If her father’s concerns aligned with hers, that would make her task easier.

  His mouth twitched at the humour in the situation. “It would appear you have inherited the worst traits of your mother and myself. Headstrong and principled.”

  She wondered which trait had come from whom, a question to pursue another day. “Can you help me?”

  He tapped a finger against the head of the cane. “Yes. But it will take time. These men are highly suspicious, and with good reason. I need to find an appropriate opportunity in which to introduce my daughter to them.”

  He reached into his jacket pocket and extracted two small glass vials. They contained the bodies of his dragonfly messengers, their iridescent wings folded flush against their bodies in the tiny transparent cocoons. He handed them to Allie. “In case you need to contact me. I will send word when I have arranged a suitable introduction for you.”

  They turned back toward the house, where Jared and Duncan lounged on the terrace. Both wore kilts in their family tartan and had swords dangling at their sides. Their choice of the traditional Scottish clothing made them appear more savage than if they wore trousers. A man with the wind blowing around his bare thighs seemed more likely to do something unexpected and brutish.

  “You have loyal friends,” Le Foy observed.

  “Friendship can be thicker than blood, if you have the right friends,” she murmured.

  The cousins watched over her to ensure she was safe. Not that she ever went unarmed. She was no defenceless noble girl, and anyone who tried to attack her was in for a nasty surprise. She had previously defeated two of Le Foy’s hired thugs with the tiny throwing stars she concealed in her corset and an obsidian blade tucked in her boot.

  “I shall leave you to the care of your friends, Alessandra.” Le Foy took his leave with a nod, and headed back through the house.

  Jared watched the older man leave before going to Allie’s side. “Are you all right?” His eyes were full of unvoiced questions.

  She held his pale grey gaze and relief rippled through her body at knowing the immediate danger over her had lifted. “I believe so. We have reached a détente, and he can offer me the assistance I require. But trust is a long way off.”

  Duncan was grinning like a loon. “Alessandra.” He laughed and pointed at her. “Your real name is Alessandra.”

  Allie smacked him in the arm. “You’re giving me a hard time when you’re wearing a skirt?”

  Duncan held out a fold of fabric in a black, grey, and silver tweed. “It’s a kilt. It’s what real men wear in Scotland.”

  “Skirt.” Allie sniggered under her breath.

  “I figured your father was guild, but you never said he was the overlord of the Whisperers.” Jared took hold of her hand.

  Allie stared at their joined hands and wondered what events she had set in motion. “It’s not a connection I wanted to be reminded about. But in this case, he is the only one who can throw me in the path of the Consortium.”

  Jared ground his jaw. “Can we talk about that later? I’ve been summoned to Holyrood by my mother.”

  “Of course. I want to see if Duncan can spar while wearing a skirt.” She grinned.

  “It’s called a kilt!” Duncan snorted like an offended horse.

  2

  Jared headed upstairs to transform himself into Viscount Kerr, heir to the Duke of Lothian, for his meeting with his mother. A kilt, a casually slung broadsword, and his hair unkempt would throw the duchess into a fit. She had tried for years, unsuccessfully, to erase traces of the uncivilised Scot from him.

  His court clothing was expensive but restrained. A long frock coat made of an inky black wool, the darkness relieved only by the deep blue brocade waistcoat and cream silk cravat. He loathed court shoes and wore his riding boots instead. Even though they were highly polished and showed a reflection as true as a mirror, they were still bound to irritate his mother. Boots signalled that he rode to the palace, instead of taking a carriage as she would prefer.

  A formidable woman, she had no doubt summoned him to Holyrood Palace to remind him of his familial duty. The duchess was determined to escape Scotland, and Jared was instrumental to her plan. Once she had him married to a highly placed London socialite, she would impose herself upon her new daughter-in-law. Nothing would stand between her and a return to English society. Not even the protestations of her only son.

  At the palace, Jared paused before the doors carved with cavorting woodland critters that led to the family apartments and cast a quick look in the mirror. He ran one hand through his black hair and swept it off his face. He tugged on the front points of his waistcoat, ensuring they were straight. He flexed his right arm and the stitches in his skin pulled. He hoped the bandage was not obvious under his jacket.

  He had earned his first scar saving Allie’s life, when he took a sword across the bicep. The last thing he wanted was his mother finding out. It might be the excuse she needed to remove him from St Matthew’s. Taking one last deep breath he nodded to the aide, who pushed open the doors and announced him. Jared crossed the threshold and entered his mother’s dominion.

  The Duke and Duchess of Lothian’s apartments at Holyrood Palace were designed to impress and intimidate everyone the duchess thought beneath her. With the duke being the highest ranked peer in Scotland, that meant everyone except the royal family. The duchess had even them firmly in her sights, and there were rumours she regularly made the queen cry.

  No expense had been spared as the duchess ensured her rooms met, or exceeded, anything that could be found in England. If she couldn’t make it to the civilities of London, she would drag a small piece to the hell hole where she was incarcerated by chains of matrimony.

  The walls were draped in the latest waterfall silks of muted blue and silver. A multi-layered chandelier of expensive delicacy spread its glow over the entire room. The tiny luminescent globes each cast a soft yellow light, in stark contrast to the harsh sunlight pouring into the room. It was sheer frivolity to have it activated during the day.

  She sat at an elegant writing desk of honey-toned wood, placed under the window, her blonde hair pulled back in a loose chignon. A dress made of deep blue taffeta with heavy gold embroidery pooled around her feet. Her hazel gaze regarded Jared coolly as he strode across the room, and flicked to his riding boots leaving impressions in the green and blue oriental carpets.

  “I thought you had forgotten all about me. You have been in Edinburgh for over a week without a visit to your mother,” was her cold introductory remark.

  “Mother,” Jared murmured as he kissed the air beside her proffered cheek, ignoring the sting in her comment. The kiss a mere protocol, there would be no hugging or pretence of affection from his mother, who saw such things as unnecessary and weak.

  She glanced up from the letter she was writing, making him painfully aware he intruded on her social duties. “I have secured you a position in the English court as an undersecretary to a high-ranked courtier. It will put you in front of the right people, and you’ll make the connections you will need to advance. You start after Christmas.”

  Jared rocked back on his heels. “I had planned to complete some years of service with KRAC before I embarked on a diplomatic career, as father did before me.” If Allie had the courage to risk death to defy her father, he could stand up to his mother about his future.

  His mother fixed him with her frosty glare. “Certainly not. Running around with commoners playing soldier will not advance your career at court.” She dismissed his objections summarily, just like she had a thousand times previously.

  What Jared wanted for his future was of no matter, particularly when it differed to what his mother had in mind. “Yes, it will. As you are aware, the Scottish court requires military training of the nobles. I cannot advance under King Rab unless I prove m
yself by serving Scotland.”

  She waved her hand as though he were a buzzing gnat. “Only the Scottish are so barbaric as to require nobles to lift a weapon. The English court is far more civilised; they value breeding and conversation.”

  Relief flowed through Jared that there was nothing of his mother in him. She thought nothing of using people to her own ends. His mother measured a person’s worth by what she could extract from them.

  “I am Scottish and don’t intend to seek a career at the British court. I would rather discuss this matter with father.” Jared hoped his father would allow him some liberty before locking him into a path not of his choosing.

  “Really, Jared, you cannot expect a refined young woman like Margaret to languish in Scotland as I have been forced to. Of course you must be at the English court. In this matter, your father and I are of one mind. You will take up your placement under King William in the New Year. We have also discussed your marriage to Margaret, and we envisage a spring wedding once you are settled into your new position in London. Your bride is quite agreeable and eager to begin married life.”

  Jared didn’t care what Margaret wanted. If he pursued the path he wanted, she wouldn’t be any of his concern. He dug his fingers into his palm behind his back to control his temper. Yelling at his mother would only confirm her belief that he was a spoiled child, unable to make his own decisions. “Do I have any say in my future?”

  “None whatsoever.” There was no flicker of emotion in those hazel eyes, her son merely a pawn to be sacrificed to further her own ambitions.

  The Earl of Winton had happily agreed to the forthcoming match with his daughter, a marriage which would one day promote his daughter to the rank of duchess—albeit a Scottish one. At the time, Jared had thought the pale Margaret the most beautiful girl he had ever met. Until the ink dried on the marriage contracts and he discovered her beauty was a thin veneer over the ugliness that dwelt beneath.

  Jared paced to the window and gazed down at the expansive courtyard below. The family resided at the front of the palace so his mother could observe the bustle of court life. The comings and goings of courtiers, diplomats, and supplicants were all minutiae to be examined under her microscope. He clenched and unclenched his fists to dissipate his building anger. He longed for a different future—a military career and a dark-haired girl fighting by his side.

  He leaned on the window frame and crossed his arms. “Anything else I need to know?”

  “The betrothal will be announced at the ball for your eighteenth birthday. The king has graciously agreed to hold it here at the palace, and he will be the guest of honour. It will be the social event to mark the start of the winter festivities, and many of our friends from England will journey up for it.” She rested one hand on a stack of square cards on the corner of her desk.

  The cards were probably the invitations for his birthday ball, not that he would ever see them. “I do hope you remember to invite the Lithgows. They are my friends after all, and they host Duncan and me most holidays so that we don’t disturb you and father.”

  A line etched itself into her forehead and a pained look flashed behind her eyes. If he had to guess, Zeb hadn’t made the guest list.

  “It would be churlish to ignore their generosity, I suppose.” She reached into a drawer and extracted a blank card. “You will need fittings for new clothes before you return to school. The English court is rather more exacting than the Scottish one and you must follow the latest fashion.”

  Jared set his jaw and contemplated starting an argument anyway. There was no way in hell he would spend the last few days of the holiday standing on a tailor’s stool while he was measured and draped. Then he let out a breath. Let his mother believe he complied; there were other ways to disrupt her plans.

  “As you wish,” he murmured.

  Jared inclined his head in a curt nod before marching across the expensive carpets. He had to escape before the walls of the lavish apartments tumbled down and crushed the life from him.

  He rode hard back to the Lithgows’ house, where he jumped off his horse and threw the reins to the waiting groom. He didn’t even pause to see if they were caught as he rushed for the house. His fingers clawed at his starched cravat, pulling the piece of silk loose. It was a noose around his neck—a symbol of the restrictions placed around him and of how his parents tried to squeeze the fight from him. The knot came undone, and he tugged the strip free of his shirt and balled it up in his hands, heedless of the damage he inflicted on the expensive fabric.

  His long legs took the steps two at a time and he burst through the side entrance, where he flung the cravat on a convenient side table. His jacket was about to meet a similarly callous fate as he shrugged it from his shoulders.

  The ever-present Matisse rescued the fine jacket before it hit the floor.

  Jared spun and regarded the butler. “Where’s Allie?” he demanded. She exuded a serenity he desperately needed. His skin crawled as his mother’s demands burrowed into him like maggots, and only Allie could settle him.

  “Miss Donovan is in the garden,” Matisse replied as Jared’s fingers started on his waistcoat buttons.

  A quick nod of thanks and Jared disappeared back out the door, heading across the cobbles and under the small red brick arch into the walled garden. Allie walked around the knot parterre. Lost in her own thoughts after events of the morning, she followed the route dictated by the clipped green buxus. The crushed shell underfoot gave away Jared’s approach and she turned.

  He stopped as the sight of her took his breath away. Tall and slender, she moved with a feline grace that made her a deadly fighter. Unbound, her dark hair fell straight around her face and down her back like a waterfall of chocolate. Her eyes were so dark they were almost black, and they currently regarded him with a hint of worry, coupled with an arched eyebrow at his obvious agitation.

  Allie looked on the world with calm intelligence, despite what it had done to her. It was another trait that made her so valuable in a fight, and why the King’s Royal Aeronautical Corp keenly sought to acquire her as an intelligence agent.

  “Shall we go down by the river? I find the gurgle of the water relaxing.” Allie held out her hand to him.

  He took her offered hand and let her lead him out of the walled garden and over the verdant lawn to the water’s edge. A large piece of granite, six feet high and eight feet wide, stood at the water’s edge. In summer, the stone was a popular spot where he and Duncan sunned themselves before jumping into the water.

  Jared put his arms around Allie and drew her back against his chest as he leaned against the sun-warmed stone. He inhaled her rich, spiced vanilla scent. The heat of the granite behind him, the sound of the river babbling over the rocks, and her tranquil presence drew the tension from his body. She waited in silence, nestled in his arms, until he had shaken off the last vestiges of his interview with his mother.

  “Why do some parents insist on torturing their children?” he muttered against her hair.

  “I think because there are things about their own lives they would change, and so they seek to alter their children’s futures, to make them walk the path they should have chosen.” She hugged his arms tight around her middle.

  That was certainly what his mother sought to do. She regretted her marriage to the duke and tried to use Jared to change her own situation.

  “What happened with your mother?” Allie asked.

  His heart was tight in his chest. All his dreams were dismissed with a wave of the duchess’s arm. His desires meant nothing in the face of her ambitions. “She informs me that I am to take up a position as an undersecretary in the English court after Christmas.”

  “No!” Allie spun in his arms to look up at him. “But you are going to take the officer exams and join KRAC.”

  He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Not anymore, apparently. Not unless I find another way.”

  She lifted a hand to stroke the side of his face. “We will both find a way to change our futures.”