Men and women, regardless of station, are to be given consideration for work within the organization.
Article XIV: The Brethren of the Lords
Victoria had not crept about since she’d been a young woman. To be precise, since Nathaniel Archer had left London, off on that fateful mission.
As a young woman just on the Market—and always to her parents’ chagrin—she’d been one of the spirited sorts. With her then friends, Lady Adelaide and Lady Lillian, they’d been forever sneaking off… or helping one another to sneak off. To avoid an unwanted suitor. To meet with a beloved gentleman.
But just as her friendship with those two women had changed with time, so too had Victoria. She’d learned firsthand that no good could truly come from those thrilling clandestine meetings. Nothing could have drummed that particular point home more than the babe then growing in her belly.
And so, she’d shaped herself into a proper lady—a respectable woman, a devoted mother—and in a bid to spare her children the cruel lash of Society’s tongue that came from her late husband’s scandalous pursuits, Victoria had donned a fake smile, stifled her spirit, and made herself a pillar of a Society she had always hated.
Yet, all these years later, the thrill that came in throwing over societal conventions flared to life as fresh now as it had been when she’d made her Come Out.
Adjusting the cap that covered her plaited braid tucked up inside, she crept down the alley that led from her townhouse to the streets of Mayfair. With each step, she reveled in the freedom of her movements; unfettered by cumbersome skirts and yet… the occasional rumble of carriages in the distance lent a peril to her nighttime escapade.
Though Victoria didn’t care one bit about her reputation, she did worry for her children and grandchildren’s futures. If she were discovered, it would only add another layer of ignominy to their already scandalous family.
Her heart knocked several beats faster as she took care to hover in the shadows, avoiding the moonlit-covered path. It surely spoke to a deficit in her character for her excitement outweighed all worrying over respectability.
So this was the thrill Nathaniel had known over the years. In between pining for him and worrying about his well-being, as a young woman she’d secretly envied the work he’d undertaken on behalf of the Crown. She’d ached to know a taste of what his world had been.
And now I will.
Only, she’d seek out information that would exonerate her son, and free him and their family from the rumors abounding.
Victoria reached the end of the narrow path that led out to the streets and stopped; skimming her gaze about, until she located a hack four townhouses down. A sane woman would feel a modicum of fear at venturing out as she was as well as visiting a seedy hell in the dangerous streets of Seven Dials. She filled her lungs with a slow breath, relishing the cool night air. How very empowering this moment was.
And it was because of Nathaniel.
Her husband had believed her brainless. Her sons-in-law had both seen to dealing with her husband. Oh, they’d done so out of love, and she was eternally grateful to them for having prevented her from suffering further abuse at her husband’s hands. But not a single one of those gentlemen would have ever sought to include her in matters of business, such as this. Nay… not any business. To them, she’d always been and would always be, Phoebe, Justina, and Andrew’s mother, in need of looking after.
Nathaniel had placed an equal share of power into her hands. Her heart filled all over with love for him. She took a step and faltered. Love. Of course, I love him. I’ve always loved him. It had, just as he’d said, only and always been him.
She’d never stopped. Not even when he’d returned from more than twenty years absence, after letting her believe he’d died. She would always love him.
Victoria layered her back to the brick wall, borrowing support from that solid structure, and closed her eyes. It was Nathaniel who had always loved another… the Brethren. Oh, she didn’t doubt he’d loved her. Believed he even cared about her still. But the drag in his speech and the flash of fear when she’d spoken of him giving up the Brethren had told her all she’d needed to know about any possible future between them.
There were men and women who relied upon him. People who served, who he felt a sense of responsibility for; to see that they didn’t suffer the same fate that he had. And she understood that devotion… respected him and loved him for it.
Victoria sank her teeth into her lower lip and bit down hard enough to draw blood. But blast and hell, how she also hated that deep-seated devotion, too. How she wished that she was enough for him. Stop. She opened her eyes and opened her mouth to scream.
Instantly anticipating her response, the cloaked figure covered her mouth, drowning out the sound. Panic blanketing her senses, she brought her knee sharply up, catching the stranger right between the legs.
With a sharp gasp, he released her.
Once you’ve unsettled your opponent, press your suit… too many make one strike and flee… they’ll catch you every time as you retreat…
She brought her fist back.
“Victoria,” Nathaniel said, his voice gruff, catching her wrist.
She blinked slowly in the dark. And while her heart resumed its normal cadence, in the proper place in her chest, she squinted. “Nathaniel?” she whispered loudly. Doing an up and down sweep, she took in the black frockcoat and wool trousers. His garments were better suited to a shopkeeper or hackney driver than an earl and leader of the Brethren. “You startled me. Did I hurt you?” she asked before he could speak. “I hurt you.” She looked down to where she’d kneed him and then her cheeks exploded with heat. “I…”
“Had a good instructor, madam,” he whispered, close to her lips.
Victoria swatted. “Hush.” He’d always sought to keep her from worrying. “I don’t distract as easily as I once did.”
“I’ve lost a good deal of my charm, then,” he said with a dryness that brought her mouth up in another grin.
“You’ve never been more charming, Nathaniel Archer.”
His eyes glimmered. “Even with my graying hair?”
The moon’s glow cast its ray upon his black hair and she caught one of the silver-tinged strands. “Especially with the handful of gray you’ve begun sporting.” Worry deepened the small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. He is anxious. It was why he stood here even now delaying their departure.
She nodded. “It is time.”
Nathaniel glanced down the path she’d just traveled and then out toward the street. When he returned his focus to her, he offered her a final opportunity to remain behind. “What you’ll see at this hell,” he spoke in hushed tones, “is the kind of evil you can’t truly fathom until you step through the doors.” It was the world her late husband had firmly been entrenched in. She was surely going to the Devil for, even in death, an equally potent wave of antipathy slapped at her.
“Nathaniel,” she said, stripping inflection from her tone. “I’ve seen enough of the Devil at work in my life where nothing can further jade me.”
His face contorted in a paroxysm of grief. “I hate that for you. I—” Victoria held silencing fingers to his lips, staying those words. She didn’t want his pity.
“I’m beginning again.” And I want you to be part of that new beginning. That profession hung on the edge of her lips, aching to be spoken. “I’m not waiting for life to unfold while others have control of my fate, or the fate of my family.”
He recoiled. “Is that what you believe?” The hurt in that query wrenched at her. “That you need to do this because I might somehow fail your son?”
Victoria opened her mouth to disabuse him of that notion but stopped, looking at him. Truly looking at him. The scar upon his cheek pulled tightly, revealing the tautness in his entire being. Oh, Nathaniel. “Shortly after I had married,” she began quietly. “After Phoebe was born, I immediately knew the folly of my decision.”
He froze. Agony wreathing his features, and she smoothed those lines away with her palms. “He berated me. He called me vile names before the servants. He…” Victoria released him and balled her hands into tight fists. “He berated Phoebe when he was near and she was crying.” Which, given the time he’d spent at his clubs, had been blessedly few times. “Each and every time, I blamed myself. For surely, the scandal and gossip would have been better to brave than the prison I’d confined myself to. I thought myself undeserving of happiness because of my decision to marry Chester.”
“Oh, Victoria,” Nathaniel said on a ragged whisper.
She shook her head, needing him to see. “It was one act. The ultimate sacrifice to give Phoebe a name. But do you know what, Nathaniel?”
He gave his head an uneven shake. “It would be so very easy to think of everything that went wrong because of my marriage and my decision to wed. But if I dwelled on that, I’d not focus on everything that came after, which is so much more important.”
“Andrew and Justina.”
“Love,” she said simply. “Not only my children, but I’ve two sons-in-law and beautiful grandbabes.” She held his gaze. “You have forced yourself to pay penance for your capture, Nathaniel, and yet you still do not realize.”
His entire body spasmed. She longed to take him in her arms and hold him close so she might drive back the demons that still haunted him. “Realize what?” That question came as though dragged from him.
“That even dedicating yourself to the Brethren will not undo that horrible, horrible time in your life. It will always be there.” And how she hated that for him. Wanted to make his nightmares only hers. “And you are deserving of happiness, too.” It had taken her years to learn to smile again and to find it was all right to smile. Victoria gathered his gloved hand in hers and squeezed. “Now, come.”
With that two-word utterance, he was restored to unflappable spy. He proceeded to speak, rapidly firing off instructions for the evening. “You will walk ten paces ahead of me. As soon as you enter the hack, I’ll continue in the opposite direction and connect with the carriage on Chesterfield Hill.” She hurried to categorize all the details in her mind. “When we arrive at the hell, I’ll allow five paces between us until we reach it. Then you’re at my side.” Nathaniel reached inside his jacket. He pressed something cold against her palm.
She glanced down.
The pistol glinted in the dark.
“Tuck this inside the front of your jacket. Keep a hand on it at all times through the garment. Everyone will know precisely what you have there.” He dropped a quick kiss on her lips. “Go.”
That was it. No verifying that she’d gathered all that and fully understood everything laid out. He hadn’t sought to protect her like a wilting flower but had, instead, let her be part of this. With her lightest step in more than two decades, she sprinted down the alley and for the hack. The driver sat in position, his beaver hat low and his hands poised on the reins. Opening the door, Victoria pulled herself up inside with a little grunt. An instant later, the conveyance sprung into movement. There was no servant waiting to admit her or gentlemen to hand her up. In this, and in his orders, Nathaniel had treated her with the same respect he would have any of the members of his staff.
She stifled a smile. And how wonderful it felt to not be coddled in this.
While the carriage continued along at a brisk clip, Victoria sat back amongst the comfortable squabs; the immaculate, gold velvet at odds with the outside of the ramshackle carriage.
She’d lived in a world of black and white for so long. Either a lady was to be cared for… or she struggled through life arduously, without the support or regard of anyone at her side. She had not believed it possible to have both, to have one who’d look after her to see she was safe and protected, but who also trusted and respected her enough to include her in matters directly affecting her and her family’s future. She closed her eyes as a wild fluttering unfurled low in her belly.
The conveyance rocked to a stop. Her eyes popped open, just as the carriage door opened.
Instinctively, Victoria reached for her gun just as Nathaniel’s powerful form filled the doorway. He moved his gaze from her hand to her face and smiled. “Brava, my love. Brava.”
Closing the door behind them, the driver started onward to the Ella Rosenberg. And hopefully, answers that would pardon her son.