“More or less,” he acknowledged.
“I thought you might have given up, considering you almost died the last time,” I pointed out.
“Almost is not dead,” he returned. “I survived that ordeal because it was meant.”
I rolled my eyes heavenwards. “You cannot be serious. You survived through sheer bloody luck and the fact that the window offered a straight drop down into the river to quench the flames. Nothing more.”
“You see only coincidence and I see the hand of God,” he murmured.
“If you really believe that God preserved you in order to see this scheme to fruition, you are even more delusional than I first thought,” I said in considerable exasperation. “It is impossible to argue with a mind that does not admit scientific fact and relies instead upon dogma delivered by the hand of an invisible author.”
“It is a scientific fact that I survived,” he replied, his mouth twisting into a rictus of a smile. “Just as you have. I made a study of yourtravels, Niece. I know what you have survived. Shipwrecks, volcanoes, landslides. If you cannot see the will of God unfolding there, I pity you.”
“So, it is the will of God when you get what you want, but you refuse to accept when it crosses your purpose?” I challenged. “How do you know my mother’s suicide was not the intention of God? The succession of the heirs of the current queen? The subjugation of Ireland? To attribute anything to the whims of a capricious deity is the refuge of a limited mind, Uncle.”
He regarded me a long moment. “You will see it for yourself in time.”
I glanced to the bed where the prince still slept. “Were you responsible for Madame Aurore’s murder?”
“In fact,” he said slowly, “I was not.”
In spite of myself, I believed him. My immediate concern was escaping de Clare’s clutches with both of my companions. A rush of guilt had engulfed me when I spied Eddy’s slender form stretched out upon the narrow bed. My uncle had abducted him in the course of snatching me. The responsibility of that nearly knocked me to my knees, but before I could nurture the hope that de Clare had taken him without knowing his identity, it was dashed.
“I see the prince is sleeping like a babe, although he is not half so innocent, given his choice of pursuits,” my uncle mused.
“What do you mean?” I demanded. “Why is he here?”
“You will see that in due course as well,” he promised.
“I have no interest in a crown,” I said evenly. “I thought I made that clear when last we spoke, Uncle.”
“You might have no interest for yourself, and that is a good thing. A woman should not have ambition for herself.”
“I am so glad to have met with your approval.” I bared my teeth in a semblance of a smile.
He went on as if I had not spoken. “But you must have some consideration for your kin, for your faith, for your country.”
“By kin, you mean the de Clares, whom I have never met save yourself. By faith, you mean Roman Catholicism, a religion I have never practiced. And by country, you mean Ireland, an island where I have never set foot.”
He blinked at that. “Never set foot? All your gadabout ways, galloping about the world, and you have never seen Ireland, your motherland?”
I shrugged. “The butterfly population is poor.”
He swore under his breath. “You have no proper feeling for your heritage,” he thundered.
“My heritage is my choice,” I replied. “And I choose England.”
He thrust himself uneasily to his feet with the aid of his walking stick. “You will revisit that decision, Niece, before all is said and done.”
He cast a quick look at the prince, still lying peacefully asleep. “You might want to get to know your brother a little while there is still time.”
With those ominous words, he left us. Quiet Dan closed the door behind him, and I sagged a little against Stoker’s back.
“Well, it appears Uncle de Clare has not relinquished his dream to see you sitting on a throne,” he said dryly.
“He is mad,” I began, but just then I glanced to where Eddy was lying, eyes wide open as he stared at me in astonishment.
CHAPTER
