Lord of Darkness (Maiden Lane #5)(68)
Author: Elizabeth Hoyt

Godric contemplated that fact while Moulder finished dressing him in his Ghost costume. When he sheathed his sword five minutes later, he nodded to Makepeace. “Come with me.”

Godric doused the candles in the study and crossed to the long doors that led out into Saint House’s garden. He spent a full minute waiting for his eyes to adjust as he carefully peered out, but saw no one. If Trevillion was good enough to hide from him in his own garden, he deserved to be caught.

Cautiously, he opened the doors and stole out into the moonlight, Makepeace a silent shadow behind him. The home’s manager might not have donned the mask of the Ghost for over two years, but it was obvious that he’d not lost any of his skill in that time. The old fruit tree made a macabre outline against the night sky, and as he passed it, Godric wondered how long before Megs gave up and conceded that the thing was dead.

Then he shoved any thoughts of his wife from his mind. He needed to concentrate if he was to survive this night. Past the garden was the old river wall, the sound of lapping water and the stink of the river rising from beyond. An ancient gate pierced the wall, a crumbling arch crowning it. Godric pushed open the gate, glad that he made Moulder oil it monthly.

He grinned in the dark as the other man followed him. “One of the few advantages to owning a very old London house.”

They stood at the top of a set of bare stone steps, set flat into the river wall. Below was a small dock with a rowboat tied to a post. Godric led the way down, stepping carefully into the rowboat. He picked up one oar while Makepeace settled into the boat; then with a practiced movement, he used it to shove away from the dock and began sculling quietly downriver, using only his right hand.

They hadn’t far to go. At the next set of river stairs, Godric maneuvered the rowboat in and tied it up.

“You’ll not be able to use that method again,” Makepeace said as they climbed the steps. “Trevillion is smart. He’ll figure out how you slipped past him when he hears about your activity tonight.”

“Then I’d best make sure I need not return again.” Godric shrugged and amended his statement, “At least not for a while.”

He felt the other man’s gaze upon him as they made their way into the warren of streets beyond the river. This area wasn’t rich, but it was certainly respectable enough. Lanterns shown by nearly every door and they were forced to keep close to what shadows they could find.

“This life isn’t best suited for a married man,” Makepeace observed neutrally.

“I’ve been married nearly two years,” Godric replied. He didn’t want to think about Megs’s reproachful face right now.

“But living apart.”

They paused at the corner of a cobbler’s shop as a night watchman went limping by.

Godric glanced at the other man and Makepeace raised his brows. “Your good wife only came to London recently, yes?”

“Yes.” Godric shook his head irritably. “What of it?”

Makepeace shrugged. “Most would take the change as opportunity to quit this life.”

“And leave those children to be worked to death? Is that what you’re proposing?”

“No, but perhaps the dragoons could be of more use, especially,” Makepeace said drily, “if we let Trevillion in on the information we sometimes get.”

Godric snorted. “You think Captain Trevillion would bother himself with mundanities such as little girl slaves?”

“I think he’s not so unreasonable as he appears.”

Godric stared at the other man. “What makes you say that?”

A corner of Makepeace’s mouth lifted. “A feeling?”

“A feeling.” They were nearly in St. Giles now, walking fast. Godric drew his sword, ignoring the slight discomfort in his left wrist. He used his short sword as a defense weapon, and the knowledge that he was without it made him uneasy. “Pardon me if I do not put much trust in your ‘feelings.’”

“As you wish,” Makepeace said, easily matching his stride. “But please remember that not even Sir Stanley Gilpin expected us to do this for the rest of our lives.”

Godric stopped short, whirling to face the other man. They never said that name to each other. In fact, until Winter had spoken to him about the lassie snatchers, they hadn’t even acknowledged each other for years—since before Sir Stanley had died, he realized now.

Makepeace had stopped at his abrupt movement and was watching him with eyes that might have held sympathy. “I’ve been thinking recently about Sir Stanley.”

Godric flinched at the name of the man who’d been more father to him than his own father. Something inside of him wanted to weep and he repressed it savagely. “What about him?”

Makepeace cocked his head, his eyes sliding contemplatively to the full moon, half hidden by the rooftops above. “I wonder what he would make of us now. Your near-suicidal drive, our compatriot’s obsession, my own solitude until my dear wife drew me from it … somehow I don’t think this is what he meant for us to be. Sir Stanley was so playful in everything he did—the theater, teaching us tumbling, even while practicing sword craft. It was all a great, amusing lark for him. Not something to be taken seriously. Not something to die for—or to forsake life for. I don’t think he would’ve been proud of us for doing so.”

“He created us,” Godric said softly, “but we’re thinking creations with our own motivations. He cannot have been surprised when we made our own use of his instructions.”

“Perhaps.” Makepeace looked at him. “But it’s something to consider nonetheless.”

Godric didn’t bother answering that, merely breaking into a jog as they neared the home.

Five minutes later, they saw the familiar steps and lit front door. Godric slowed, peering cautiously around. “Alf?”

“She was to meet us here, but she wouldn’t come inside the home,” Makepeace muttered. He sighed. “I’ll go see if she changed her mind.”

But the moment he stepped from the shadows, Alf glided over, so quickly that Godric wasn’t sure where she’d been hiding. “Is ’e ’ere?”

“Yes.” Godric stepped out of the darkness.

The girl whirled, obviously having not noticed him before. She cocked her head when she saw that he bore only one sword. “Can you fight like that?”

Godric inclined his head in a curt nod.

“Good luck,” Makepeace said grimly.