“The only time I saw you as Michael Deveraux you were wearing a costume,” she reminded him.
“Effective, wasn’t it?”
“Very. You must have been relieved that the Clouds’ affair was a masque. I would have had no difficulty recognizing Mason Deverell.”
“No difficulty at all,” he agreed. “If you recall I did not press my good fortune that night. I made it a point to avoid you. Frankly, I did not know you even knew my surname.”
“Rhys discovered it when he was tearing apart London to find me.”
Mason appeared uninterested. “I would rather you save the whole boring story of how he managed to find you for another time. We must be going.” He withdrew a length of rope from his pocket. “Turn around and place your hands behind your back.”
Kenna hesitated, then did as he asked, remembering the vial he carried with him. He would drug her if she refused him and Kenna believed it was better to have her wits about her. Mason tied her hands with practiced efficiency then took her by the elbow and led her topside. Kenna looked around curiously when she reached the upper deck. There were only a few men in sight.
Mason caught her puzzled expression and explained. “It only takes a small crew for a ship this size. The others are sleeping now, waiting only for my orders that we leave for France.”
“You’re confident.”
Mason shrugged. He helped Kenna into the boat that would take them ashore. After he stepped in, bringing an unlighted lantern with him, two men lowered it over the side. Mason took up the oars and rowed competently toward shore.
Kenna recognized the stretch of beach they were heading for. It was a little under a mile from the cave and with the additional cover of darkness Mason’s ship could not be detected even from the vantage point of the summerhouse. Mason took the boat as close as he could to the beach, got out himself, and dragged it a few more yards so Kenna would not have to walk in the water when she stepped out. His gallantry unnerved her. He extended his hand to her with the same cool indifference he had exhibited when he had dropped Alice into the Charles River. Kenna shuddered and shook off his touch. “I can walk myself.”
“As you wish.” He took the lantern from the boat and fell in step beside Kenna, forcing her to keep close to the base of the cliff so they could not be seen from above.
It took them a little more than fifteen minutes to reach the entrance to the cave. Mason told Kenna to step inside before he lighted the lantern. She started to walk toward the rear of the chamber but Mason caught her elbow and held her back. He lifted the lantern, pointing to the footprints he saw. “I believe we have a large problem,” he said lowly, “judging by the size of those prints. You will walk ahead from now on.” He drew a pistol from his waistband and pointed it at her. “Remember this will be at your back.”
“I don’t think I could forget.” Kenna could barely hear herself over the pounding of her heart. When Mason nudged her with the barrel of the pistol she began slowly walking forward.
She had never returned to the caves after her father’s death and with every step she took her mind was filled with returning visions of that night. Her nightmares were never as clear as the things she saw in her mind’s eyes now. She stumbled a little, balking at going deeper into the cave.
“Go on,” Mason whispered harshly.
“I can’t. Please don’t make me.”
“Move!”
Kenna forced herself to take one step, then another. She saw herself as she was ten years ago, clutching the damp cave walls, trembling as she listened to the argument in the chamber. She knew now what she did not know then. Ithadbeen Nick she saw in the gallery. She could remember with startling clarity that Victorine had cried out his name. But just as she knew it had been Nick in the gallery, she knew with equal certainty that it hadnotbeen Nicholas with Victorine in the cave. At thirteen, her young eyes still filled with betrayal of Nick’s affair with his own stepmother, she had confused Nick with Mason Deverell, an easy enough mistake given their costumes. Robert Dunne’s words to Mason that night echoed in her head. She could hear her father’s bitter pronouncement: “I had not thought you could be capable of this—not betraying your country to some notion of world peace designed by Napoleon.” At the time Kenna thought the country he was referring to was England. She realized now her father was accusing Mason of betraying France by choosing to follow the Bonapartists. “At the very least,” her father had said, “I should bring you before the courts, but I find my pride too great to allow you to shame my house.” Kenna could well imagine the humiliation her father must have felt, knowing that he had helped bring Mason to England.
Kenna could understand now what she could not imagine then. It only remained for her to discover why Victorine had been with Mason and why Robert had merely chastised his wife for not trusting him, absolving her of all guilt and protecting her until the end.
* * *
Rhys cursed softly as he searched the top of the passageway for the lantern. Damn, Powell had assured him it was here. He pulled back his hand sharply as he touched a jagged piece of glass. After a few seconds of cautious groping Rhys found the bent lantern frame. Useless! The damn thing was useless. Fearful of wasting more time acquiring a lantern, certain he could roll away the stone in the dark if he had to, Rhys started down the steps. He proceeded in exactly the same way he had when he had followed Robert, holding one hand in front of him and passing the other along the wall. He despised the slowness with which he was forced to move but resigned himself to it. He would be of no help to anyone if he broke his neck on the stairs.
* * *
“Nick!” Kenna cried his name as she entered the antechamber. He was standing near the far wall. A valise rested near his feet and the lantern he’d brought sat with chilling familiarity on the natural stone shelf. Without thinking, Kenna started to go forward and Nick even took a step toward her, but then she was pulled back sharply as Mason dropped his lantern and grabbed her bound wrists.
“Stay where you are, Dunne,” Mason ordered. “Tell him, Kenna.”
“He has a pistol, Nick. At my back.”
Nick clenched his teeth, nodding shortly. He remained where he was. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Oh, Nick, I’m so sorry for—”
Mason poked Kenna with the pistol. “Enough. Why are you here, Dunne? I specifically requested Vic—”
The wall behind Nick opened up suddenly, startling everyone in the chamber. Nick, closest to the gaping hole that appeared, leaped forward in alarm. Mason did not realize that Nicholas was acting on his instincts, therefore Mason acted on his own. Pushing Kenna to one side he leveled his pistol at Nick and fired. The lead ball caught Nick in the shoulder and he fell backward, hitting his head against the chamber wall. He was unconscious before he fell to the ground.
