Chapter 6 - THE BOY WHO WOULD NOT CRY
Nicholas did not cry when Lord Ashkam’s men took him.
I learned that later.
At the time, I knew nothing.
That was worse.
Adrien and I spent the afternoon building a plan around one fact:
Ashkam wanted the ring.
Not me.
Not Adrien.
The ring.
That meant Nicholas remained valuable while the cipher remained unrecovered.
I repeated this like prayer.
Adrien did not say it was safe.
Only useful.
“Where is Ashkam House?” I asked.
Victoria answered.
“Belgrave Square.”
“Too obvious.”
“It is meant to be.”
“Why?”
“Because Father wants witnesses to see Adrien enter.”
Adrien understood.
“He wants leverage beyond the ring.”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
Victoria looked at him.
“If the Duke of Blackthornne is seen entering the home of a supposedly dead traitor at midnight, Wycliffe can frame the entire investigation as conspiracy.”
James said:
“Then Adrien does not go.”
“No,” I said.
Everyone looked at me.
“I go.”
Adrien’s face hardened.
“Elizabeth.”
“He expects you.”
“He expects both.”
“He needs me for nothing.”
“The ring belongs to you.”
“Exactly.”
I looked at Victoria.
“Would your father believe I came alone because I do not trust Adrien?”
She considered.
“Yes.”
Adrien said:
“No.”
I ignored.
Victoria continued.
“He believes your marriage is broken.”
“It is.”
Adrien flinched.
I hated that.
Truth still.
“Or was.”
Silence.
Not now.
I forced focus.
“If I appear alone, he may relax.”
“He may kill you,” James said.
“No.”
Victoria shook her head.
“Not before he has plate.”
“Then I carry decoy.”
Adrien laughed bitterly.
“Everyone has become a spy.”
“I learned from excellent liars.”
That shut him up.
Good.
Sebastian arrived from France by evening through channels I did not ask about.
Martha came too.
I nearly shouted when she entered.
“You are not going.”
She looked amused.
“I spent thirty years being ordered by men with titles.”
“I am a woman with title.”
“Worse.”
Adrien almost smiled.
Martha placed a small leather case on table.
Inside, metal blanks.
Jeweler tools.
Magnifying lens.
“You can duplicate plate shape.”
“Not cipher.”
“Does not need to survive inspection long.”
Adrien looked at her.
“Ashkam may test immediately.”
“Then Elizabeth needs delay.”
I hated hearing myself described like operational piece.
Martha saw.
“Only if you choose.”
Good.
“Yes.”
We created decoy.
Real plate went to Sebastian.
Not Adrien.
Important.
If Ashkam captured him, he could not surrender it.
Sebastian would deliver copy to Marchand and trusted Crown investigator if we did not return by dawn.
No single point of failure.
I was learning too much.
At eleven thirty, I dressed in black.
No jewels.
No title.
The ring on chain around my neck.
Decoy inside.
Adrien stood in doorway.
He looked at me.
Seven years ago, I had left Blackthornne Hall carrying one small bag.
Tonight I prepared to walk toward danger carrying the object I left behind.
History had poor imagination.
“Do not tell me to stay.”
“I wasn’t.”
“What were you going to say?”
His face softened.
“That I am afraid.”
I stopped.
Adrien had never admitted fear easily.
Not even when his father died.
“What if we lose him?” I whispered.
“We don’t.”
“That is not an answer.”
“No.”
He stepped closer.
Stopped one foot away.
“I am terrified too.”
My eyes burned.
“For seven years, I imagined you alive somewhere.”
He looked down.
“I did not imagine a child because that would have been too much hope.”
My breath caught.
“Now I know he exists.”
He looked at me.
“I do not know how to survive losing him.”
I reached for his hand.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
Shared fear.
Enough.
“Then don’t.”
He squeezed.
At eleven fifty, my carriage stopped two streets from Ashkam House.
I went alone from there.
At least visibly.
Adrien followed through mews with James and two trusted men.
No army.
No uniforms.
No public violence.
I rang bell.
An old servant opened.
“Duchess.”
No surprise.
“Lord Ashkam.”
“Waiting.”
The house smelled closed.
Heavy curtains.
Dust beneath polish.
A portrait of Victoria as a girl.
I hated that.
Villains have family photographs.
It complicates anger.
Ashkam waited in drawing room.
Older than I remembered.
He had been declared dead five years.
He wore life badly.
Thin.
White-haired.
One hand trembling.
But his eyes remained sharp.
“Elizabeth.”
“Lord Ashkam.”
“You look well for a ghost.”
“So do you.”
He smiled.
“Adrien taught you insolence.”
“No. Losing patience did.”
He pointed to chair.
I remained standing.
“Nicholas.”
“Safe.”
“Proof.”
He gestured.
Door opened.
Nicholas entered.
My heart stopped.
Alive.
No visible injury.
Furious.
“Mama.”
I almost ran.
Stopped.
A man stood behind him with hand on shoulder.
Not weapon.
Enough.
Nicholas glared at him.
“Take your hand off me.”
Ashkam laughed.
“Blackthornne.”
My son looked at me.
“Mama, I’m all right.”
My throat closed.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Then:
“They gave me terrible sandwiches.”
I nearly cried.
Ashkam smiled.
“He has opinions.”
“Yes.”
“Like his father.”
Nicholas frowned.
“Do you know Adrien?”
Ashkam looked at me.
“He does not call him Father.”
“Not your concern.”
“Everything concerning succession is my concern.”
There.
Still.
Leverage.
“Ring.”
I removed chain.
Held it.
“Boy first.”
“No.”
“Then no ring.”
Ashkam’s eyes narrowed.
“You believe you are negotiating.”
“Yes.”
“You are alone.”
“No one is ever as alone as men like you hope.”
His expression changed.
Small.
Good.
“Ring.”
I opened setting.
Removed decoy plate.
Held between fingers.
His breath changed.
That was what he wanted.
“Send Nicholas across room.”
“After.”
I shook my head.
“Then we remain here until your men become nervous about dawn.”
He stared.
Then nodded to guard.
Nicholas walked toward me.
I did not move until he reached my side.
I pulled him behind me.
My whole body shook.
He whispered:
“I knew you’d come.”
I nearly broke.
Ashkam held out hand.
“Plate.”
I tossed it.
He caught.
Studied under magnifier.
Minutes.
Too long.
Then he smiled.
“False.”
My blood cooled.
Nicholas gripped my dress.
Ashkam looked up.
“You disappoint me.”
I shrugged.
“My marriage survived worse.”
His smile vanished.
Then doors behind him opened.
Lord Wycliffe entered.
I stopped breathing.
The Lord Chancellor.
He looked exactly as newspapers drew him.
Silver side-whiskers.
Heavy brow.
Authority worn like skin.
“Ashkam.”
He sounded irritated.
“You said she had it.”
“I believed so.”
Wycliffe looked at me.
“Duchess.”
“My lord.”
His eyes moved to Nicholas.
“Child.”
I hated him instantly.
“What now?” Ashkam asked.
Wycliffe said:
“We take them.”
Nicholas stiffened.
I said:
“No.”
Wycliffe smiled.
“Your husband is outside.”
I stopped.
“How?”
“He was followed.”
Of course.
“Then he joins you.”
Ashkam looked nervous.
“This was not agreement.”
Wycliffe ignored.
“You became sentimental, Ashkam. That is why your network failed.”
There.
Not partners.
Master and compromised subordinate.
Ashkam’s face tightened.
“You needed me.”
“Once.”
Wycliffe nodded toward man.
“Take the boy.”
Nicholas moved behind me.
I spread arms.
“No.”
Then window shattered.
Everyone ducked.
Not gunfire.
A stone.
Wrapped note.
Adrien.
Distraction.
From rear corridor came shouting.
James.
Victoria entered through side door.
“Father!”
Ashkam froze.
“Victoria.”
She stared at him.
Alive.
Five years dead.
Her face collapsed.
“You.”
He whispered her name.
For one second, network disappeared.
Father and daughter remained.
Wycliffe swore.
“Enough.”
He reached inside coat.
Adrien entered from rear.
Not gun drawn.
Sword cane.
Of course.
Dramatic man.
He stepped between Wycliffe and us.
“Elizabeth.”
“I have Nicholas.”
“I see.”
Nicholas whispered:
“Adrien.”
Adrien’s face changed.
“You all right?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Wycliffe smiled.
“The devoted duke.”
Adrien did not look at him.
“Stay behind me.”
Nicholas said:
“Mama already said no to being ordered.”
Silence.
Even Ashkam almost laughed.
Adrien closed eyes.
“Right.”
He corrected:
“Strong recommendation.”
Nicholas nodded.
“Better.”
Wycliffe’s hand remained in coat.
James appeared behind with two constables.
Not our men.
Constables.
Public law.
Good.
Wycliffe laughed.
“You think police matter?”
James said:
“Not only police.”
Marchand entered with a Crown special commissioner.
Sebastian followed.
Wycliffe’s face changed.
At last.
Sebastian smiled.
“Cedric.”
“Dead men everywhere.”
“Your paperwork is sloppy.”
The commissioner held warrant.
Conspiracy.
Treason-adjacent procurement offenses.
Kidnapping.
Obstruction.
No theatrical shootout.
No private execution.
Paper.
Witnesses.
Ashkam sat down.
Defeated before anyone touched him.
Victoria stared at father.
“You let me mourn you.”
He looked at her.
“I protected you.”
She slapped him.
Hard.
Then walked away.
I almost approved too much.
Wycliffe remained standing.
“Where is cipher?”
Adrien smiled.
“Not here.”
Wycliffe looked at me.
“You trust him again?”
I answered before thinking.
“Enough to know he finally learned not to carry the only copy.”
Adrien looked at me.
Something passed.
Wycliffe’s expression hardened.
“You think truth saves marriages?”
“No.”
My voice stayed calm.
“Truth only gives people the right to choose what happens after.”
Constables took him.
Ashkam too.
Nicholas held my hand.
Adrien stood near.
Not touching.
Waiting.
After room emptied, Victoria remained with her father’s abandoned chair.
She looked at me.
“I’m sorry.”
“For the library?”
“Yes.”
I took time.
“You were grieving.”
“I let him hold me.”
“Yes.”
“I knew you might misunderstand.”
“Did you?”
She closed eyes.
“Yes.”
That mattered.
“Why didn’t you move away?”
“I was breaking.”
Fair.
“I hated you for seven years.”
“I know.”
“I may hate you tomorrow.”
“I know.”
Victoria smiled sadly.
“Fair.”
She left.
Nicholas looked at Adrien.
“Can we go home?”
All three adults froze on word.
Home.
Which one?
Adrien looked at me.
Choice.
I answered:
“Yes.”
Nicholas smiled.
“Blackthornne?”
I looked at Adrien.
Then my son.
“For tonight.”
Adrien nodded.
“One night.”
He remembered.
The first day.
One night.
May you like
But this time when we entered carriage, Nicholas sat between us.
And he held both our hands.
