Chapter 40

The supper dance was over. It was too late for Rolland to change his mind. He'd made his decision, and his future was sealed. The noise of the ballroom made his head spin, and he couldn't stay a moment longer. He needed fresh air. Pushing past the other guests, he made it onto the veranda. It wasn't enough to just stand there though. He had to move, to find a shred of himself again. Leaving the strains of the orchestra behind him, he walked down the side of the house and turned the corner. Finally, the sounds of the party faded. He shoved his fingers into his waistcoat pocket and kicked at a stick in the grass.

The moonlight caught on something. The toe of a shoe. What was that? He bent over and examined the dance slipper. Was that a glass flower? Some new style? He ran his finger over the smooth edges, and his Lady Glass came to mind. His hand froze and his eyes went upward.

The shoe was directly below his window. A window that was wide open.

Theresia!

He tucked the shoe under his jacket into the waist of his breeches and began to climb. The trellis wasn't the most stable beneath his weight, but he pushed forward anyway. She was there, waiting for him. He knew it.

When he reached the top, he barely got a foot grip before having to throw himself inside the window. He somersaulted onto the floor and groaned. How had she done that not once but twice?

"Theresia?" He gazed through the dark, but the room was as still as a crypt. "Where are you?" He dusted himself off and climbed to his feet, not waiting to think before strolling to the door. If she'd come back to search for her blasted vase over coming to see him, she was going to hear exactly how he felt about it.

The corridor was as empty as his room.

"Theresia?" he hissed. Where was she?

He glanced toward the guest chambers. She'd searched all of them before. Would she search his parents' room next? He glanced the other direction, toward Marcus's room and Lewis's. She wouldn't dare breach their privacy. He turned back toward the guest chambers when he heard a small noise.

Had that come from Lewis's room? Lewis wouldn't leave the ball, but that didn't mean Theresia wasn't in there. "I've found you again," he whispered, his traitorous lips tugging into a small smile. She'd left him for more than a week and made him face the most miserable ball of his life alone. There was so much he wanted to say.

Even if it was only a proper goodbye.

He reached for the handle, but Lewis's voice made him stop before opening it more than a few inches.

"What do you mean you can't find the code?"

Rolland frowned. What code did Lewis mean?

Theresia scoffed. "Is it a code or a map? Make up your mind."

"You should know, so you tell me."

Theresia. She was so close. But why was she working with Lewis to crack a code?

"This is ridiculous." The anger in Theresia's voice was filled with strain and... fear. "There is nothing here, Mr. Lewis. There's no literal treasure."

"You're lying."

"No, Mr. Lewis. You're being delusional. If there were such a treasure, why would the glassblowers protect it when many of them can barely eke out a living? You must see the truth in what I'm saying. Just let me leave with the vase, and I will pay you whatever I have."

The vase? Lewis had the vase? With a sickening whirl, all the pieces of the puzzle slid into place. Lewis had been in London at the time of the first murder. Lewis was the one who'd planned for Rolland's father to be in the same house as the murderer. Lewis was fluent in French. Lewis was the one who'd killed Michael and had been ready to do the same to Rolland's father.

It was like someone had punched Rolland in the gut. But why? Why had Lewis done it?

There was no time to demand an explanation.

He slipped into the room, hoping not to be seen. Lewis's back blocked his view of Theresia sitting at his desk. The only glimpse of her from this angle was her dress pooling under the desk. Lewis bent forward and waved a gun in Theresia's face, making Rolland's blood boil.

Lewis pointed to the vase, his voice more agitated than normal. "There's a row of suns, a row of stars, and then another row of suns cut into the glass, and an equal number of gems. Tell me what it means!"

"I've already told you I know nothing about any significance behind the symbols. I can appraise its value for you and no more." She dinged the vase with her nail, producing a reverberating ring. "Do you hear that? It is the sound of its rich quality. The more cuts and the more intricate the pattern, the more expensive the crystal is. It's absent of scratches or nicks or irregularity. It's perfect. The gems, the gold—they only enhance what was already so beautifully handmade."

Rolland stepped closer while she spoke, fearing his breathing or footfalls would give him away if the pounding of his heart did not.

"I don't have time for this," Lewis growled. "The vase alone cannot fetch the price I require."

"Then, sell it to me!" Theresia cried. "I will pay generously. Please."

Lewis laughed. "Do you think me a fool? I shall take it to another glassblower to read. It is you I am done with."

The board beneath Rolland's foot creaked, and Lewis spun around. Rolland had narrowed the gap between them, but not enough to reach for the gun, which was now aimed at his chest.

He lifted his hands up slowly into the air. "Lewis."

"Rolland?" Lewis lifted his brow. "I should've known you wouldn't be far behind this one." He motioned toward Theresia with his head.

Rolland could see her clearly for the first time, a Bohemian angel wrapped in a cloak of the sky, holding his heart in her trembling hands. She was terrified and so was he.

Would she die before he could confess? Would he die?

Heaven help them.

His gaze darted back to Lewis and his unwavering gun. Why was this happening? This was his friend, not some stranger. He swallowed. "You said yourself you have no more need of her. Send her out, and you can tell me why you're pointing that thing at your best friend."

Lewis's face fell, but only briefly, before hardening once more. "You weren't ever supposed to know. Now that you do, I cannot let Miss Dvorak go. I have to have a reason for you to do as I say."

"I'll do exactly as you say. Just let her go."

Theresia was slowly standing from her seat behind Lewis.

Lewis growled. "You're telling me what I want to hear, but I know your tricks. I know Marcus's and Cadogen's too. How else do you think I managed to keep such a big secret right under your noses?"

"You managed to trick us because we trusted you." Rolland took a small step sideways, trying to inch closer to Theresia and warn her not to try anything hasty. "Please, Lewis. In respect for our friendship, all I ask is for you to spare her."

"What friendship? You forgot all about me the moment you joined the navy. You could have shared in my spoils, but you were too wrapped up in yourself—your mourning, your noble cause, your selfless honor. You thought only of yourself. Did you even know that I've lost nearly everything? My idiotic father gambled away my fortune right before he lost his mind. Now he's locked up in a madhouse, and I'm the only one left to pick up the pieces."

Rolland gaped. "I had no idea."

"Of course you didn't. I've had to rely on my wits to make ends meet, all whilst hiding my own pathetic father from Society." Lewis shook his head, clearly humiliated by his tale but needing to confess too. "Then again," he finished, "you never wrote to ask either. The only missives you sent were in response to inquiries from me."

"I've never been one to wax long on words, Lewis. You know that." But he should have tried harder. He should've prevented this. "I can't apologize enough for not being a better friend. I should have seen your suffering."

Lewis dismissed his apology with a menacing chuckle, his easy smile sliding across his face. If only Rolland had seen it for the mask it was. "I wish I could accept your apology, but what is done is done."

Rolland inched closer, his hands still poised in the air. "It's never too late."

"I've killed two men," Lewis said, shaking his head. "I have chosen my path."

His eyes said otherwise. They were pleading for help, but he was too stubborn to allow it.

"If it's debts that hold you down, I have prize money from the war I can give you. You're not alone anymore."

Theresia was on her feet now, but what would she do? She hadn't the weight to tackle Lewis from behind, and running would only get her shot.

"The past no longer matters, Rolland. I've taken care of my future myself."

"What was the point of this house party, then, if not to band together?"

"The point? There wasn't a better way to distract you or to pass the blame. It was the ultimate puzzle. Think of it. All the most complex, morally ambiguous characters are all in London at the same time as the murder. It took quite a bit of planning."

A pit formed in Rolland's stomach. "Then, the party wasn't Marcus's idea after all."

For the first time, guilt crept into Lewis's features. "Your homecoming changed everything. Suddenly you were back in my life. I suppose I wasn't ready to end our friendship completely. When Marcus suggested a ball to get you back into Society, I figured there was a way to have one last hurrah and to further my own purposes at the same time."

Lewis had played intelligently, too intelligently. The only way to sway him now was with the same emotion Rolland still saw a hint of. "What sort of future is worth killing two people and threatening two more for? Put the gun down, Lewis, and let's figure this out together. No one cares for you as much as we do."

Lewis smirked, but it was laced with sadness. "I'm in too deep now. I have to cut ties with the past—including anything that has to do with my father's weak blood and heritage. I ride to the port tonight and then on to France. There I will be rich, happy, and a hero." He lifted his free hand in emphasis, then dropped it to his side "This is goodbye, old friend."

Rolland swallowed back the bile in his throat. This couldn't be the Lewis he knew. This couldn't be the end of their friendship—of Rolland's life. "Please, Lewis. Evan... will you punish all of England because of one man's unstable mind?"

Lewis's hand tightened visibly on the gun's handle. "Great Britain can manage its own empire, but my mother's people need their leader back. And before all of Europe strips them powerless."

Lewis's mother was French? How had Rolland not known this? He'd never asked about her because she'd died in Lewis's childhood. "Listen, France has Louis XVIII now to lead it. They are not without a monarch. The council in Vienna will see France is well represented; you'll see."

"It is weeks away, and France has been all but excluded from everything. But with the return of Napoleon, there won't be any reason to negotiate away his conquests."

"You can't free Napoleon, Lewis. It's impossible."

"Not alone, but the wheels are already turning. France will see victory again. And I will have a life of honor."

An eerie light crept into his eyes. There was no reasoning with him. Whether he was mad like his father or just a traitor to his kingdom made no difference. He planned to kill Rolland and Theresia. Rolland couldn't let that happen, least ways not to Theresia. He would die if it meant she could live.

But she acted before he could.

She yanked Lewis's gun arm to the side and brought up her knee.

Lewis was caught off guard, but it wasn't enough to bring him down. Rolland dove low, barreling into Lewis side. They barely missed knocking Theresia over as Lewis fell to the floor. Her back was up against the desk, but their forms blocked her exit to the door. Rolland wanted her to run, to save herself, but he couldn't help her until he subdued Lewis.

He pushed Lewis's gun hand to the floor and tried to wrestle the weapon from his hand, all while pinning Lewis's body to the ground with his own. Lewis, however, had managed to get his leg underneath Rolland and pushed against him with a sudden, hard thrust. Rolland lost his grip on the gun as his body shifted. The movement created enough space for Lewis to shove him to the side, throwing Rolland toward Theresia.

He tried to curl away from her, but he slammed into her legs. Lewis took advantage of the moment of distraction and threw himself onto Rolland, his knee landing on his chest. The air left him, and Lewis trained his gun on him once more.

"I wouldn't move if I were you," Lewis growled.

"You wouldn't kill me," Rolland said, his breathing difficult under Lewis's weight.

"I'm sorry, Rolland. I've never been sorrier in my entire life."

"Don't do it, Lewis," Rolland begged.

"For France." Lewis extended the gun until the barrel was against Rolland's forehead. "Goodbye, Rolland."

Rolland closed his eyes, seeing Theresia behind his lids while he took his last breath.

He hadn't expected to hear the thud of the gun go off, dull as it was, or the increased pressure on his skull and chest suddenly relieved. But it was the sound of shattering glass that made him realize death had not taken him yet.

He opened his eyes just in time to see Lewis finish falling to Rolland's side, blood trailing down his profile, his eyes closed.

Theresia had used her vase to save Rolland's life.

He rolled up and onto his knees, his hand catching a glass shard. "Theresia."

Her eyes were wide and her body rigid, as if paralyzed.

"Your vase."

Her chin started to waver, the first crack in her stunned facade.

He wanted to weep for her. For her loss.

He put out his arms, hoping, praying, she would come to him.

She dove into them.

He wrapped his arms around her, the velvet of her bodice soft beneath his circling hand in his desperate attempt to soothe her. Her shoulders shook silently, and he tightened his grip, breathing in her floral scent and praying to thank God that they were safe. "You saved my life, Theresia. Thank you."

She'd saved them both. He pulled back, holding her shoulders and lowering his head so she would be forced to make eye contact. "I need to see if he is knocked out or dead."

Her eyes widened.

"It's going to be all right either way. Do you understand?"

She didn't answer, so he repeated himself. "It's going to be all right. You're safe now."

He released her, waiting only a moment to assure himself that she would stay upright. Then, bending over Lewis's still form, he checked for a pulse.

Nothing.

On further examination, he discovered Lewis's head had hit the corner of the bedpost at just the right angle.

"He's gone."

Rolland dropped his hand to his side and bit down hard on his cheek. He would move the earth backward in its rotation if he could. Anything to undo the last hour. How was there no recourse or way to call back the years? And yet a merciful God had taken Lewis's last breath before Lewis could add another life to further stain his conscience. Rolland would mourn his friend but could not regret his passing.

"I . . . I killed him?"

"He hit the bedpost when he fell. Listen, Theresia, you saved my life and many others. Do you understand?"

Her nod was shaky, tentative at best. Her dull eyes swung away from Lewis's form to her vase, and her mouth dropped open. "Rolland, look!"

He followed her hand to where she pointed to the ground. The gold base of the vase lay intact.

She moved to fetch it, but he grabbed her wrist. "Careful of the glass. It's sharp." He reached for her slipper but discovered it was no longer under his jacket. He glanced around and found it discarded on the floor beside him. He picked it up and held it out low near the floor.

Holding up her skirt, she extended her stocking foot, and he slid her foot into the slipper. The crystal flower caught the flicker of candlelight and gleamed. It wasn't a diamond or a pearl, but nothing suited the unique woman in front of him more. Theresia Dvorak was one of a kind and absolutely radiant. When he looked up at her, Rolland didn't want to let go of her. The gesture was simple but intimate to him. She was his hero. Would that he could serve her every day for the rest of his life.

But now was not the time to explain how precious she was to him. Not with how his heart grieved for Lewis. He pulled back, allowing her to retrieve what she wanted to show him. The base had had a false bottom, it appeared, and it had slid open to reveal a hidden slot. Theresia reached inside and pulled out a square of paper.

Rolland frowned. Had there been a secret map after all? Had Lewis been right?

Tears poured down Theresia's face.

"What is it?"

She sniffed and let out a short laugh. "A note from my father: To my zlatí?ko, my greatest treasure . I love you. " She lifted her eyes to meet his, smiling through her streaming tears.

There was a treasure, and she was it.

He moved to her side, wrapping an arm around her and tucking her close. "What a gift this is for you."

She laid her head against him, putting the square of paper to her heart. "The vase represented so much to me, but these last words mean infinitely more."

"I'm glad you found it. Lewis must have searched the vase thoroughly. I wonder if you would have discovered your father's note had you not sacrificed your vase."

She wiped her tears off her cheeks with her hand. "What is that scripture? ‘Beauty for ashes'? It's hard to believe something so precious came from all of this."

He was amazed that she was not as broken as her crystal, having lost so much. He ran his hand down her jaw and tipped up her chin, bringing her face temptingly close to his own. "I've seen you with ashes on your cheeks, and there is nothing more beautiful. Perhaps the struggle makes the good in life that much more divine." He was thinking of himself now, thinking of losing Lewis, his uncle, and all the soldiers in the war. Theresia meant so much more to him now than any person ever could. This exquisite person in his arms had softened his heartaches with her presence and enlivened his soul with her smile.

He bent down and rested his forehead on hers, wanting to comfort her and needing to be comforted himself. "I have to tell the others about Lewis," he whispered. "Will you stay with me?"

"I can't."

Her breath teased his lips, but her words hurt. "Please?"

"Your parents were supposed to announce your engagement tonight, weren't they?"

Rolland pulled back a few inches. "How did you know?"

"Because Lady Caspar would insist on an audience."

He could feel the tension tightening her muscles underneath his arms. "Theresia, it's not what you think. I tried to find you."

She shook her head. "There's another reason. Lewis wasn't working alone. We still have to find—"

A knock sounded at the door, jerking their attention to the door.

Rolland straightened and whispered frantically, "The person he was speaking to that day when we were in the secret passage..."

Theresia nodded, clinging to his waistcoat.

They weren't safe yet. Lewis's accomplice had found them.

Ignoring his racing heart, Rolland bent over and blew out the candles on the desk, pitching them into darkness. Whoever was on the other side of the door wasn't going to be happy when they discovered Lewis dead and the vase shattered. Rolland's only thoughts were for Theresia and her safety, but he had no perfect plan on how to save them both.