Read Magnificent Devices 07 - A Lady of Integrity for Free Online Page A

corridor.
    The pigeon. Thank God. Oh, let it be good news.
    Claire intercepted Mr. Stringfellow at the door and he handed her a thick, creamy envelope bearing the royal seal in a dollop of red wax. Her stomach dipped and righted itself, as though Athena had hit a wind shear.
    “Alice, Count, Baroness—it is the Queen, at last.”
     
To our right loyal subject Lady Claire Trevelyan, greetings.
We are in receipt of a message from our dear friend and counselor, Lady Dunsmuir, on the subject of one Jake Fletcher McTavish, navigator of the Charlottetown-registered vessel Stalwart Lass, recently under contract to Lord John Dunsmuir as a cargo ship. We understand that he and said vessel have been seized and imprisoned as collateral against payment of transit taxes.
At least, so we are informed by the Venetian ambassador, who is presently in London to invite us to next year’s art exhibition. He assures us that once the transit taxes are paid by the captain of the vessel, navigator, cargo, and ship will be released and sent upon their way. We view this as the reasonable cost of commerce and fail to see the necessity of our intervention. Indeed, the Dunsmuirs will send what is needed immediately.
Lady Claire, please accept our felicitations and those of our dearly beloved Husband upon the recent news of your engagement to Mr. Andrew Malvern. The Prince Consort wishes me to convey his particular delight at the news. He looks forward to securing a dance with the bride, with fond memories of a past occasion.
By our own hand and seal,
Victoria Regina
     

“Oh dear,” Claire said in tones of despair, her spirits falling into her shoes. “There go all our hopes of a simple wedding … to say nothing of our hopes of assistance for Jake. How can she possibly call kidnapping the ‘reasonable cost of commerce’? It’s absurd. She has been completely misinformed about the case.”
    Now Alice was on her feet, the Queen’s letter in both hands as if a reading by a different pair of eyes would produce a different message. “I don’t understand,” she said blankly. “I already asked the Dunsmuirs for the money for the transit tax, and it wasn’t forthcoming.”
    “At a guess, might it be because they refuse to be the victims of extortion?” Andrew mused aloud. Alice passed the letter to him, and when he’d read it, he gave it to the count and his wife, who perused it together.
    “Then why ‘send what is needed’ now?” Claire said. “The Dunsmuirs are not so small that they would withhold money in a circumstance like this—not if it means Jake’s freedom—his very life. It does not seem like them at all.”
    “Maybe they mean to cut me loose.” Alice had gone pale. “Maybe I did something wrong—made the wrong person angry—and they’re disavowing me and breaking the contract.”
    “Not at all.” Claire gave her a squeeze that somehow made her feel a little better, herself. “They are sending what is needed. No matter what political maneuverings are going on in London at the moment, we must hold to that.”
    Voices sounded below in the landing bay, and for the second time in ten minutes, footsteps pounded down the corridor. “Lady!” Mr. Stringfellow shouted, heedless of the impropriety of raising his voice in front of their august company. “Lady, it’s—”
    “Don’t spoil it, Benny—we told you, it’s a surprise,” came a laughing voice from the deck below.
    Lizzie gasped and pushed back her chair with such suddenness it fell over behind her. “That’s—”
    Claire, standing nearest to the door, bolted out, Lizzie hot on her heels. And there, emerging at the top of the stairs between decks, was a familiar, beloved coffee-brown face and lively dark eyes.
    “Tigg!” she exclaimed.
    “Tigg!” Lizzie shrieked, and threw herself with most unladylike abandon into his arms. He hugged her so hard it was a wonder she could breathe—and then kissed her with a calm possessiveness that told Claire that