The Regency Redgraves: What an Earl Wants / What a Lady Needs / What a Gentleman Desires / What a Hero Dares

“Go on,” Gideon urged, when the woman seemed to get lost inside her own mind.

“They’re filthy, dirty bastards, every one of them, and they like it. They feel powerful, and important, and show off in front of each other like little boys. Look at me, look at what I can do, listen to her beg for more. No, not that one. I had her last time, and it’s like falling cock first into a hole. By Beelzebub, pass me one who’s still tight. One by one, we were pushed to the side, barred from the ceremonies. We were only whisked to the ceremonies and then banished back to our homes, never to see anyone not wearing a mask. After that, one by one, we were gone. Oh, yes, I know. It’s Ringmer for me, and very soon.”

The brown bottle appeared once more.

Jessica realized she had laced her hands together, squeezing so hard her knuckles had gone white.

“Ha! Look at your bride, Saltwood. I’ve put her to the blush. Now that’s a talent I lost long ago. Should I tell you about their toys? The spanking horse, the stocks? Oh, and the whips, the paddles. Sometimes for us, sometimes for them, or else they couldn’t—”

Gideon repositioned himself slightly, blocking Jessica from the woman’s sight. “I believe we understand, Mrs. Urban, and you have our complete sympathy. But your husband, all of the members, also used these so-called ceremonies of devil worship as a way to lure guests who could be used to further their true purpose.”

The bottle was recorked once more. “Their true purpose, my lord? They had no true purpose beyond their filthy desires. Not since your father was killed, him and his supposed plan for England to rise in its own revolution the way the Froggies did. I heard it said he’d already ordered a guillotine built, but that may be only rumor. No, there was just the opiates, the costumes and chanting, the rutting. Not until he showed up. Oh, he’s sly, he is. Playing one against the other, bringing up all this nonsense about the rights of the most gifted and the freedom of man. How the French had it right as far as it went, but Napoleon has it better, and will reward those who help him gain the greatest prize, wretched England itself. He has promises from the French, he has a plan, and we’ll all share in the glory. The thirteen, the deserving. Who needs an invading army if England can be rotted from the inside?”

Jessica listened carefully as the woman explained in more detail.

The few surviving members since Barry Redgrave’s time and several of those who had been “invested” soon after had objected, saying treason was a dangerous game to play and would lead to exposure and disaster. But they’d been overruled by Orford and the others. The Society began to change. Proofs of loyalty were demanded.

“Like you,” Felicity Urban said, leaning to her side so that she could look past Gideon to Jessica. “That was certainly a debacle, wasn’t it? Your father barely escaped with his life over that one. But he’d made the gesture, hadn’t he? He’d agreed to turn you over to the new Leader the night the man was to be formally invested in his role. Of course, your father couldn’t have known the man’s true plan.”

“Him,” Gideon said, snapping his fingers twice to draw the woman’s attention back to himself and to the moment. “I’m assuming you mean the current leader of the devil’s thirteen?”

Felicity sighed. “Yes, yes, who else would I mean? And now you’re going to ask me his name, and I have no answer for you. The Society is the Society, and the Leader is the Leader. Orford introduced him, first brought him as a guest, and none of us women ever saw him in anything but a full-face mask and a hooded cloak. I can tell you his eyes are dark, like the depths of hell, but that’s all I can tell you, except to say he never did more than sit on his throne and watch. He never participated…except the once, when he sacrificed the vestal virgin. Nobody dared cross him after that. Nobody.”

Jessica got to her feet, trying not to notice that her knees had gone rather wobbly. “Are you saying…?”

The bottle appeared yet again, and this time Felicity took much more than a sip of the watered laudanum. “Now we were held together by murder, yes, even if we didn’t hold the knife. He knew us, but we didn’t know him. Only Orford knew him. We probably should have thought of that before we…” She frowned at the bottle. It was empty. She reached into her reticule and pulled out another, but Gideon snatched it from her hand.

“Before you what, Mrs. Urban? Before you all agreed to become traitors to our country?”

“We’re not traitors.” She eyed the bottle. “Give it back.”

Gideon pulled out the cork and tipped the bottle slightly, so that a few drops hit the floor. “Before you did what, Mrs. Urban?”

“Don’t spill that! For the love of God, be careful!” she shouted, making a wild grab for the bottle. “Stop! You already know! Before we killed them!”

And then she put her head in her hands and sobbed.

Jessica sat down again with a thump, the realization of what the woman had just admitted hitting her like a physical blow. They’d done it. Dear God, they’d actually done it! And she understood. She understood… .

Gideon was still pressing the woman. “Here, take it back. But don’t drink any more, not until we’re finished here. You said, before we killed them. I need you to be more clear. Who is we, Mrs. Urban, and whom did you kill?”

“The ones who were left, of course.” She grabbed the bottle, replacing the cork with shaking fingers. “I told you. One by one, they put us out to pasture. Barring some of us from participating in the ceremonies, that was the start. Keeping the rest of us from speaking to each other, whisking us away after the ceremonies. We knew what could come next, once we’d outlived our usefulness.”

“And perhaps because you knew the identities of the other members, those you’d seen without their masks,” Gideon suggested quietly.

“Yes, we knew that was also true. Lady Dunmore was the first, poor old thing. They said her horse threw her. But we knew better. She’d told us she didn’t ride anymore, so what was she doing on a horse, hmm? Baron Harden’s wife? He shipped her off to Ringmer, just as Archie is planning to do with me.”

“So you killed them. Their own wives killed them.” Gideon seemed to be trying to keep the incredulity out of his voice, but Jessica could hear his shock. But no man could fully understand the sort of helplessness and desperation those women must have endured for so long.

Felicity nodded her head. “Lady Orford wrote to us, since we were now barred from the parties. She suggested the answer for us had been there all along. We would take a page from your mother’s book, that’s what she said, and we agreed. We should have done it years earlier, but that only would have meant the eldest son replaced the father. Once that rule was put aside with the advent of the new Leader, we were free to act. Our letters to each other are carried by trusted servants, but we live daily with the threat of discovery. It took us some time to consider plans before we settled on accidents. Of course, then we had to find the money to engage individuals who would actually do the deeds.”

“So my brother is safe?” Jessica asked. “We thought so, but we couldn’t be sure.”

“He’s safe. So is my son, and several others. And several refused, to the point where the Leader’s suggestion made perfect sense. the best and the brightest only, with no longer a birthright to gain anyone entry.”

“The best and the brightest. And the most strategically placed and influential, I would imagine,” Gideon commented. “Please, go on.”

“I should think it would be obvious what happened after we’d decided what we had to do. We drew up a list. Noddy Selkirk was the first, and then Cecil Appleby—they seemed the safest to use as our tests before we could chance anything more bold. When no one suspected, we moved on. Orford, Sir George Dunmore, Baron Harden. Dead because they’d begun killing us, dead before they could rid themselves of the rest of us. We took revenge for those who had been destroyed, and vengeance on the rest.”

“And the Marquis of Mellis?” Gideon asked, and Jessica realized he was testing the woman with that question.

“No, not him. The marquis died before we could reach him. He would have been right after Archie and poor Caro’s Lord Charles, although she swears she still loves him and won’t yet agree. But he and Archie would have been the last for us. All the members now wear full masks, just like the Leader, added one by one over the last five years. It was like being spitted by a thing, and not a person at all. It’s horrible.”

She looked up at Gideon, her complexion gone deadly pale, her pupils suddenly two small dots in a sea of watery blue. “You…you didn’t know it was us who killed them? I thought—But you sent your wife to us. I was so sure—Oh, God, what have I done? Isn’t this what this is all about? You figured it out somehow? You wanted to know what I know about the Society or else you’d turn all of us over to the Crown to be hanged? But we have an agreement, my lord. Please. I beg you.”

Jessica heard herself springing to the women’s defense. “Gideon, they really had no other choice.” She was terrified he wouldn’t understand that the true victims were the wives. He had to see that. He had to!

“It’s all right, Jessica,” he said quickly. “And, yes, of course we knew, Mrs. Urban, we simply needed to hear you say the words. I’ll help you, just as I said I would. But there are a few more questions, if you can manage them.”

“Yes! Yes, anything I can tell you. Anything at all. Because we had no choice. You see that, my lady, don’t you? You said that. We had no choice.”

Jessica got up, went to sit beside Felicity Urban on the couch. She took the woman’s shaking hands in her own. She’d had Richard. These women had no one but themselves and with their children to consider. “No choice, and every reason. We understand, truly we do. But I must ask about my father and his wife. Why them?”

Felicity looked from Jessica to Gideon, and then back again. “We didn’t…No! We had nothing to do with that. It was a coaching accident. A true accident, a horrible accident. Wasn’t it? Clarissa was different from the rest of us. She…she liked it. We would never have approached her with our plans. Turner could never say no to his young wife and her…appetites. But he hadn’t been the same since the murder. The vestal virgin sacrifice, you understand. He hated the new Leader, the new members, all of them, even as he was terrified of them, the way all of us were terrified of them. But you don’t leave the Society, especially when your wife has been named the High Priestess of Hymen. Oh, how she gloried in that role! She would have learned, in time, when her body began to sag, when even her talents weren’t enough.”

The woman smiled weakly at Jessica. “We women, we always thought your father hired Jamie Linden to spirit you away that night. Clarissa was so angry with him, you understand, when word came you and Linden couldn’t be found. And here you are, landed on your feet.”

Could it have been possible? Could her father have paid James to take her away that night, hide her somewhere? Had everything James told her been a lie? Had he been paid to escort her somewhere safe and then realized he’d been foolish to cross the new Leader, and it would be best if he disappeared, as well? Had her frantic offer of her stepmother’s jewelry given him the idea? Had he always been looking over his shoulder for the pursuing Society or for Turner Collier, a man searching for his daughter? Oh, how Jessica wanted to believe that. But she would never know… .

“All right,” Gideon said reassuringly. “We believe you. You had no reason to kill Collier and his wife, just as you say. But who did?”

The brown bottle was uncorked yet again. “Nobody. It had to have been an accident. Turner was the Keeper. That’s a very high honor.”

Jessica closed her hand over the bottle. Felicity Urban’s words had begun to slur, and her breathing had become rapid and shallow, as if she might soon pass out. It was important to keep her talking. “No more laudanum, Mrs. Urban, and only a few more questions, please. You said my father was the Keeper. Did that mean he kept the journals? The bible?”

Felicity nodded. “Yes. That’s what the Keeper does. In the tabernacle.” She looked up at Gideon. “We don’t go there. We never go there. It’s the most unholy of unholies, you see. Unholy ground, as they call it in their twisted way. Only Turner knew its location, and he wouldn’t tell anyone. Since the days of his lordship’s father, Turner was the Entrusted One. Those are the rules.”

Gideon leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Are you saying even the leader of the Society doesn’t know where the journals and bible are kept?”

Again Felicity nodded her head. “Turner told him that was the rule. Wasn’t it?”

“Yes, of course. I simply supposed incorrectly. But what about the rites, the ceremonies? Weren’t they held in this tabernacle?”

“With the women, you mean? No, never. The tabernacle was where they conducted their meetings. Only the men were allowed, but not since your father died, when it was ceremonially unblessed and then sealed by the Keeper. Archie and I weren’t as yet married, so I was never at Redgrave Manor. Lady Orford told us, when we were still allowed to meet. Nobody ever went back there, not since your father died. Only the Keeper, and only then to store the journals and add to the bible. But even that stopped on orders from the Leader, although some of the members still kept to their journals because they liked to write down their exploits.” She shivered. “Pigs. Animals.”

“Meaning the journals are no longer mandatory?” Gideon asked.

“I mean they are no longer allowed. But the Keeper still secretly updated the bible. Lady Orford told me that, as well. She said he wasn’t supposed to do that, the Leader had commanded it stop, but he continued. Turner Collier, she said, had an orderly mind and believed in the old ways.” Mrs. Urban blinked a single time and then said, “Oh. Do…do you suppose that’s why he’s dead?”