.
Nora only spoke when she needed instructions on how to draw the man that Mena had seen in Creed’s painting, asking if she had the head, nose, eyes, lips, and chin correct before she did any shading to the image. Then they spoke about his eyes color, the hue, and his hair and skin before silence fell over them.
A small table had been brought out and set beside Nora with paints and brushes covering most of the surface. She was a true artist, and she was very good.
Mena watched Nora’s hand work over the drawing, her dark head bent and her blue eyes squinting slightly every now and again as though she wished to get every detail accurate. Mena was amazed when the drawing came out to be nearly identical to the one that Creed had shown her.
Nora finally spoke as she reached for a new brush. “I hope they catch this man soon.” It was a comment that didn’t need a reply and came out as though she was talking to herself, but Mena dared to think the woman was inviting her for conversation.
“I’m sure with Morgan after him, he’ll be found very quickly.”
Nora glanced at her before lowering her eyes to her canvas again. “You have that much faith in him?”
“Oh, yes,” Mena said quickly. “This man, whoever he is, doesn’t stand a chance at escape.” All she had to do was recall the quickness Morgan had displayed when he’d went after Silas. The carriage had been at full speed when he’d leaped from it.
And then, like always, the memory went on to the moment Morgan had been stabbed.
Mena wrung her hands together.
“Does that bother you?” Nora’s eyes moved to Mena’s hands as an indication of her nerves.
Mena pressed her hands into her skirts and confessed, “So long as he’s still alive in the end, I’ve no worries.”
“You care for his safety then,” Nora stated, her hand still busy.
Mena narrowed her eyes and wondered where the woman was taking this conversation. “Of course, I care for him. I…” She’d not tell this woman that she loved Morgan. Morgan didn’t even know himself.
And he would never know how.
She closed her eyes and took a breath before standing. “If you’ve no further need of me, I believe I’ll go lay down for a bit.” Her thoughts were everywhere. Her uncle was a criminal. Stealing from the Crown was treason enough, but worse, he’d gotten her involved, but could she completely turn her back on him? She wanted to see him again but had no way to reach him. She suspected she’d see him after tea with the princess, but she didn’t know how she’d manage to not give herself away next week.
What should she do?
“Why not simply talk to him?” Nora asked.
Mena lifted her head and her eyes widened. “What?”
Nora put the brush down. “I’m telling you what you should do. If things are not their best between you and Morgan, simply talk to him and put things to rights.”
Mena could only be grateful that she’d not said Creed’s name.
However, she did take a moment to think about Nora’s idea before shaking her head. “It’s no use.” She didn’t know why she was sharing this with this woman. Perhaps it was because Nora obviously wished to help, but nonetheless, Mena went on, “We’re not meant to be.”
“Because you care for Creed?” Nora had turned away from her canvas to face her.
Mena fell back into the chair and her shoulders fell. “He’s all I have… well… he was all I had before Morgan came. He even encouraged me to marry Morgan.”
“Have you ever thought why that would be?” Nora asked. “Why Creed would encourage you to marry someone who despises him?”
Mena lifted a brow. “Because he’s a marquess, and Creed wants what’s best for me.” There could be no other reason. “And I’m not even sure that Creed knows Morgan hates him.”
Nora seemed to hesitate before she said in a calm voice, “He does.”
Mena frowned. “That can’t be. That makes no sense. Why would he encourage me to marry someone who he knew detested his very being?”
Nora turned to return to her paintings and said nothing.
Mena stared at her, waiting for a reply. “Do you know why?” she asked impatiently after none came.
Nora finally said, “He knows Morgan is a spy, Philomena.”
Mena’s eyes widened. “No.”
The other woman looked at her again. “Morgan, Warren, Simon, and Lucas have all been after him for years. Creed knows this.”
“He does?” Did the entire world know? Was she the last to find out the truth? Then another truth hit her. “The men are all spies?”
“The best. They’re the O.S.S. The Order of the Second Sons.” Nora stared at her with confusion. “Morgan didn’t tell you? The king himself called them to England to bring your uncle to an end.”
The words knocked the wind out of her. “The king?” Mena shook her head. “That’s impossible. Creed would have told me if the king thought him a wrongdoer. Even more, Creed would have surely told me that Morgan was a spy.”
“No, he wouldn’t have.”
“Yes, he would have,” Mena replied. “You don’t know—”
Nora slammed the brush down and stood. “You cannot be that blind.” Her blue eyes blazed with anger. She blinked it away and laughed. “But of course, you are. I was just like you two years ago. Lucas tried to tell me otherwise, but I remained loyal to a man who was only concerned for himself. I believed the man had my best interests at heart, only to find out that he was not only plotting the death of Princess Victoria, but he also killed his own brother.”
Mena covered her mouth but had nothing to say at such a horrid tale.
Nora didn’t give her a chance to speak anyway, and she started to pace the room with her hands on her hips. “These men, they tell you what they wish for you to know, but there is an entire story about their lives that you don’t know. Did you know that Creed had a sister?”
Mena’s eyes widened. “He has a sister?”
“Yes. Her name is Matilda St. Clair… well, she’s Lady Abrams now. She married a man named Sir John Abrams”
“I’ve heard that name,” Mena said.
“Everyone has. Abrams was Blackheart. The thief who stole from the king? Though he actually didn’t, but nonetheless, Creed has a sister.”
“Why wouldn’t he tell me?” Mena asked. She’d have enjoyed knowing more of his family.
“His sister is working with the men to see to Creed’s ruin.”
Mena frowned. “His own sister believes—”
Nora shook her head. “No, you’re not listening to me. His sister knows who he really is. It is only you who does not.” Nora moved close and sat by Mena. “And I understand why you believe him. I was just like you when it came to the man I was working for. He was kind to me. He made promises, and I was blind to the truth. What I did for him was always innocent, meeting people, passing notes.”
“Creed doesn’t make me pass anyone a note.”
“Has he ever introduced you to anyone or even arranged for you to meet someone?”
Mena was ready to say no, yet she recalled meeting the Prince of Hanover… and now she was to meet the princess. She knew Creed liked Prince George very much but not the princess. “This doesn’t make any sense.”
“And it won’t until it’s too late.” Nora’s eyes were filling with tears, and she shook her head. “I fear, Mena, that one day you will do something terrible and you won’t even be aware that it was you who did it until it is too late. That is how these men work.” She took Mena’s hands as she went on. “You sit every day in the carriage that belongs to the future queen. If someone had recognized it, Mena, you would have hanged.”
Fear laced her blood like cool fingers, spreading over her body, and there was nothing she could do to stop Nora from speaking.
“And be aware that it is not him who rides in it. By giving you that carriage, Creed proves that he cares nothing for you. He’d let you die for a crime he committed.”
“No,” Mena whispered. “No one could be so cruel.”
“When you meet with him, does he allow that carriage anywhere near where he lives?”
Mena slowly shook her head. Whenever she visited Creed, she climbed into one of his carriages and then changed into yet another. Never did her own go to his house. And while she could explain that for safety reasons, she had never been allowed to ride her carriage to his house at all.
Nora gave her no time to think as she said her last words. “If the stolen carriage is not sign enough for you that there is something wrong with the man you trust, at least something you should question, then I fear there is nothing left to say… and it will be you who suffers in the end. Not Creed.”
Mena didn’t like those words or the suspicious feeling that sunk into her belly. “What happened to the man who betrayed you?”
Nora looked away but then pinned with Mena with a hard gaze before she said, “The last Warren, Lucas, and I saw of him, he was kneeling in front of Creed, begging for his life. He’s been missing ever since.”
Mena pulled away, and Nora let her go before returning to the canvas.
“You may lay down if you wish,” Nora said. “I’ll finish this at my house. It will take me awhile to get it perfect and even still, I’m certain Morgan will want at least a few.”
Mena nodded and escaped the room. When she reached the hallway, she saw that Ralph was there, sitting on a bench. He looked at her as she approached.
“I’m going to my room until the funeral,” she told him. “Truly.”
He no longer looked upset with her but said nothing as he gave her a nod.
Mena fled up the stairs, quickly changed herself, since Allie had been dismissed for the day, put her dagger away, and slipped into her bed.
As she lay there, she thought about all that Nora had said and didn’t know what to believe. If what she’d said about Creed was true, then what should Mena do? Should she apologize to Morgan? Did Morgan even want her anymore? Or should she have more faith in the person she’d known longer? A man who’d never shown her his anger.
Maybe there was something to that as well. She’d known him for years, yet even though many of those years had been spent away, in all her occasions in London, she’d never seen Creed’s anger. Frustration, yes, but never anger. Was that strange? Morgan had shown his anger plenty and had never hurt her. Nora and Marianne had even shown theirs. She’d even seen Ralph’s. Morgan had been confronted with her own. It was natural to get angry.
So, why hadn’t see seen Creed’s, especially considering his living arrangements?
She thought on this as she closed her eyes and when she tried to imagine just what an angry Creed would look like, she didn’t like the image that came to mind.