Page 89 of A Game of Scandal

“All right.” I nodded, trying to ignore the wild wave of panic that was cresting through my body. I was no agent; I was a mathematician. I found attending parties stressful, for goodness’ sake. Now I was disarming an explosive device that threatened to kill me and people I loved. How had it come to this?

I took a deep breath, reeled in my mind, fought for control, and called all the information Winnie had shared to mind. There was no choice, I had to do this, and I had to do it now.

“It’s simple really,” I said aloud, my voice surprisingly steady. “I only need to disrupt the electrical circuit that will be completed when the watch reaches a certain time.” I followed the wires from the watch and made my first cut. When the world didn’t shatter around me, I exhaled. But I hadn’t done enough to stop the countdown.

“There’s a failsafe,” I murmured. “The first time – Winnie said she activated the failsafe.” I thought of Laing, remembered playing poker against that inscrutable face. I knew him better now. “He doesn’t like to lose. He plays three steps ahead. He always has a backup plan.”

I hesitated, my scissors poised to snip the next wire, shook my head. “No. that’s not right.” It took precious time, but I went back, followed the wires again.

I worked with dogged determination, my forehead beading with sweat. The seconds passed relentlessly, the ticking of the watch echoed loudly in my ears. One minute passed, then another. The countdown was almost complete.

I cut another wire.

“Finish it now,” Sylla said urgently.

Ash’s hand closed over my shoulder.

I cut the final wire.

And we didn’t explode.

The percussion caps, the watch and the detonator were removed and laid neatly on the floor.

“It’s disarmed,” I managed finally, slumping bonelessly so that I was sitting sprawled on the floor.

Ash’s hand came to the back of my neck, and I found myself being pulled roughly into the sort of delirious kiss that broke curses or signalled the end of the fairy tale.

“Felicity, you are so clever,” Ash said roughly against my lips after a brief, wonderful moment. His hands were fisted round the lapels of his jacket that I wore, and I rested my forehead against his.

“You can’t see me because your face is mashed against Ash, but I am rolling my eyes very hard,” Sylla said, and I gave a breathless gasp of laughter.

“I know you want a life of adventure,” Ash murmured, “but just to be clear – it doesn’t have to be this much adventure, does it?”

In response I rolled on top of him, laughing and kissing every part of him that I could reach. “I. Love. You,” I managed in between planting kisses on his jaw, his nose, his eyelid.

Wrapping his arms tightly around my waist, Ash squeezed me hard enough to hurt.

“When you children have quite finished,” Sylla said, and I looked up to find her glaring down at us, arms folded, “we have a villain to confront.” Her face transformed from a scowl to a smile. “I do enjoy this part.”

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Finding Laing was easy. The Aviary had been watching him from the moment he left the ball. He had positioned himself in a nearby building that looked upon the palace – presumably so he could watch the devastation that his schemes would have created from a comfortable spot.

When Sylla, Ash and I burst into the room, he didn’t seem surprised. Running his gaze over my bizarre outfit, he smiled.

“I see you found my gift.” He was sitting in a chair next to the open French doors, a drink in his hand, a full tea set laid out on a tray on the table beside him. A summer breeze drifted through, and from the iron balcony you had a clear view of Buckingham Palace. It was a cosy scene.

“And I thought you wanted to marry me,” I said, forcing myself to match his conversational tone. Ash and Sylla were ranged behind me, and I knew that both of them were coiled, ready to leap into action at the first sign of violence. For now, Laing seemed happy simply to talk.

“That was my plan,” Laing agreed. “The second device was only a reserve measure. Had you not found the explosives in the card room, I would have disarmed the one you wore and made sure you were nowhere near the palace when it detonated.” He shrugged. “Alas, contingencies had to be put into place. There must always be a backup plan.”

“The bomb stitched into my dress would have been a much smaller explosion.”

Laing only sipped his tea. “It still would have removed at least one inconvenience.” His eyes flicked to Ash.

“But not your father,” I murmured.

Those fever-bright eyes turned back to me. “I see that I’ve underestimated you, Lady Felicity. Truly, you would have been a worthy wife.” His expression cooled. “My mother killed herself when I was a baby because of what that monster had done to her. I was left to be raised in an orphanage. Me! The son of a viscount. And my father” – he spat the word – “didn’t even have the decency to provide for my life, for my future. I was left in poverty while he and his family lived as I deserved.”