Fields of Gold: A steampunk adventure novel (Magnificent Devices Book 12) Page 5

  His eyes widened. “But—I was told—” His gaze found that of Evan, who flushed and looked at his feet.

  “He told you what he knew to be true. But I am telling you the truth as it is. I am fully Captain Fremont’s wife, as he is fully my husband. And I choose to remain so, with your leave and good wishes.”

  She could see the whites around his irises now, hear his labored breathing. Would he fly into an apoplexy? Would he strike her in a fit of temper? Should she flee?

  But no. The days of flight were over. Instead, she gripped his hand more tightly and had the distinct sensation that she alone was holding him upright.

  “You have—done this—last night? After my proposal? In defiance of my promise to annul your marriage?” He was gasping now.

  “I have, dearest Felipe.” Somehow, her voice remained as gentle as it was steady. “And some day you will know what it is like to be loved—and to love in return.”

  “But I wanted that with you!” He moaned—

  —his eyes rolled up in his head—

  —and he collapsed in a dead faint at her feet.

  Chapter 5

  “Felipe!” Gloria dropped to her knees beside the young man’s prostrate form and found the pulse in his neck that told her she was not—thank the heavens—responsible for the death of a prince. “Someone—we must help him.”

  Evan knelt beside her. “Allow me.” With skilled hands he examined the still form, opening the sightless eyes and touching the back of his head, clearly feeling for lumps. “We are fortunate the carpets are thick. He has sustained no injury of that kind. Fetch me a cloth and some water, if you will.”

  Ella leaped to the low table, where a damask napkin and the contents of the teapot were dragooned into use. But still the young prince did not regain consciousness.

  Nausea rolled in Gloria’s stomach at the thought of what could happen if even the least of the Viceroy’s retinue entered the room. They would be arrested on the spot—and if he died, executed with equal dispatch.

  “Let us lift him on to the sofa, and remove his jacket so that his breathing is not constricted,” Evan instructed.

  As Joe cradled the Viceroy’s upper body and Evan took his feet, Ella gazed at them curiously. “Joe, what an extraordinary thing—you could pass for his brother. I’ve seen the resemblance before, but side by side ... Gloria, do you see it?” She appealed over her shoulder as she moved cushions under his head. “So close together as they are?”

  Gloria had seen the resemblance, too, but even with the contrast—one healthy and tanned, one pale and sickly—their bone structure was visibly alike. And the set of the eyes, too. The length of their lashes, and the shape of their lips.

  A sudden question whisked across Gloria’s mind with the speed of a swallow swooping in to its nest. “Joe, what do you know of your parentage?” she asked slowly. “Ella has told me that Clara, Mother Mary’s right hand in the village, is your own mother.”

  He nodded, and held the Viceroy’s upper body so that Evan could remove the ornate jacket and the sash, and loosen the collar of his shirt.

  “What of your father?”

  “No offense, Senora, but we have bigger problems to deal with at the moment.”

  “I am quite aware of that. But the resemblance between you and the Viceroy is uncanny. It cannot be accidental. What if—” She hardly dared say it. Joe was not a large man, but he was definitely a private one, and she did not know how well he would accept her prying.

  Joe rose to his feet while Evan continued his examination. “If you must know, my mother was a cook in the royal residence in San Francisco de Asis. She was raped, and when she came up pregnant, she was fobbed off on a single man from San Gregorio. They remained in the Viceroy’s household until I was four, and when the old Viceroy went on a progress with his household and grandees, her husband beat her and left her for dead near the mountains. The witches found us and took us in.”

  Gloria’s heart squeezed with sympathy for Clara, who had endured horrible trials of which she had never once spoken. All Gloria had known of her was her good humor, her care for the witches and the rivermen, and her obvious affection for Mother Mary.

  “The man—your true father,” she said slowly, “could it have been the old Viceroy? For you and the prince are about the same age. If the Vicereine was … unreceptive … due to her own pregnancy, could he have abused the staff to fulfill his own selfish needs?”

  Joe only shrugged.

  “Gloria, is there a reason you are questioning this young man about his antecedents instead of focusing on the immediate disaster?” Stanford’s tone held humor, but it was forced. “At any moment we will be interrupted, and I am sure no one here is unaware of the consequences.”

  “He is going to die of whatever poison they have given him if we do not do something,” Evan said tersely. “He needs a doctor, and I do not trust his own. I believe they have been steadily poisoning him for months.”

  “And I can imagine whose gold they are taking to do it,” Stanford said. “It is very convenient, is it not, that the Ambassador should be far away from San Luis Obispo de Tolosa, looking after the needs of the kingdom? What a tragedy for the de la Carrera family, to be responsible for the death of the Viceroy in their own home. When de Aragon bullies the Council into appointing him Regent, they will be disgraced and will likely have to forfeit their lands and stock. To him.”

  Evan stood now, too, his fists clenched. “Yes. How very convenient. But how inconvenient that he did not take Gloria into account.”

  “He does not even know I am here,” she pointed out.

  “He may not—but I suspect by now he does,” Evan said. “He may capitalize on your presence.”

  “You’re speculating,” Joe reminded them. “We need to do something. How are we going to help him? We can’t just leave him here to die and run. I don’t much fancy the Ambassador getting his hands on this kingdom.”

  Another idea was already forming in Gloria’s brain, this time with the majesty and force of an eagle beating its way into the sky. She drew in a breath at the prospect—at the sheer foolhardiness of it—at the amazing success of it should she and the friends around her have the courage to act.

  “Gloria?” her husband said, holding out a hand as though he thought she might faint, too. “What is it, dear?”

  “I know what to do,” she breathed. “But you will think me utterly mad.”

  “It will not be the first time,” Evan said, pressing the damp cloth to the Viceroy’s forehead. The eyelids of the latter flicked and twitched, as though he were dreaming.

  “That is true. And we did succeed in stopping that train,” she reminded him. “This time, however, we will have the advantage of no air pirates to deal with.”

  She was gratified to see him grin in appreciation.

  “What are you thinking, Senora?” Joe said. “Do you mean to spirit him out of the window to a doctor who isn’t in the Ambassador’s pay?”

  “No. I mean to bring him back to health and announce my engagement to him, while Evan takes his friend Joe to the doctor—or better yet, to the witches, where he will not only be safe, but will have a fairer chance of recovery.”

  “What in the world …?” Ella looked completely staggered. “You are not suggesting that they switch places? My—my Joe and the Viceroy?”

  Gloria beamed at her quick apprehension of the kernel of the plan. “I am indeed. Joe, you and I shall secure that annulment, announce our engagement, and then stop this war once and for all. You may not be able to halt the work on the dam, but you can certainly recall the rancho troops that have mustered in the water meadows and send them back peacefully to their fields and fiestas. Then, Evan and his friends can ensure an accident occurs to level the dam, with far less loss of life. Why, we could have this kingdom set to rights and on its way into the nineteenth century inside of a month.”

  Three men gaped at her. Four, if you counted the unconscious form on the sofa.


  “You are insane,” Joe finally croaked. “Mad as a spring rattler.”

  “Now, now,” the captain protested. Then he added, “May I register a protest? Must the annulment be part of the plan?”

  Gloria took his arm and folded both hands about it as she gazed up at him with her heart in her eyes. “I am afraid so. And if Joe and I must go through with a wedding—plans for which I suspect are already afoot—then it must be perfectly legal. I cannot be a bigamist.”

  “Why not?” Joe asked no one in particular. “I cannot be a prince.”

  “Then unless you can think of a better plan, we are doomed,” she told him bluntly.

  A brief silence fell as the captain, Evan, and Joe exchanged agonized glances.

  “It is utterly mad,” Evan said at last. “But when have we encountered rationality and order in this country?”

  “De Sola,” Joe said. “And Isabela seems more sensible than she looks. Can we find aid in those quarters?”

  The captain shook his head. “I doubt it. Both have far too much to lose.”

  “And we don’t?” Joe asked. “If we’re found out, it’s death for all of us. I’ll just be first in line.”

  “But Joe, think,” Gloria said urgently, unwilling to release her husband’s arm. She settled against his side, wondering wildly if this would be her last opportunity to do so. “If there is even a remote possibility that you are the Viceroy’s half brother—though illegitimate, you are a threat to the Ambassador’s plans every moment you live and breathe.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “He knows you exist, that is certain,” Ella said slowly. “Who else could have persuaded a San Gregorio man to take Tia Clara to wife save for the grandee of San Gregorio? What if he wanted to keep the old Viceroy’s bastard under his own eye in the palace household? He could not have predicted that the man he sold your mother to would turn out to be a brute, nor that she would go to the witches rather than return to the palace.”

  “I’m no threat to him.”

  “If the Viceroy dies and there is no heir of the blood royal except for you, you might be,” Gloria told him softly.

  “So what you’re saying is I’m damned if I do, and damned if I don’t.” Joe’s voice rose in pitch with his agitation. “What if all I want to do is board a ship and go to the Antipodes?”

  “Then I will go with you,” Ella said. “But if you agree to our sister’s plan, you could save thousands of lives—including those of your mother and mine.”

  Joe gazed at her, his mouth trembling with the force of his emotion. “I do not want to marry her.”

  “I do not want to marry you, either,” Gloria assured him. “I am perfectly happy with my marital arrangements as they are. But as it seems to be my fate to marry my way to peace, I would rather you than the real Viceroy. At least I may count on you not to wish to produce heirs.”

  Evan covered his mouth on a strangled sound. Beside her, the captain swayed as though in a high wind.

  “And how shall we resolve the situation when the real Viceroy has recovered?” her husband inquired after a moment, when he seemed to have collected himself. “It is one thing to change places, but what will happen to you when we must change back? For surely we must.”

  “I have not thought that far ahead, exactly,” she admitted. “I confess that the urgency of our present situation has rather blotted out pieces of the larger picture.”

  “Let us jump off that bridge when we come to it,” Evan suggested in his practical way. “It is a fact that he will die if he does not receive immediate care. It is also a fact that royal engagements can last up to a year, and there may be no need for Gloria to marry anyone.”

  “Except me, a second time,” the captain put in.

  “Except you, a second time.” With recklessness born of the knowledge that time had run out, she rose on tiptoe and kissed him to seal the bargain. Then she turned to Joe. The trembling in his mouth had progressed to hands and even knees now. “We are open to any and all alternatives,” she prompted him softly. “No one can force you to do this.”

  “Only my own conscience,” he said on a groan. “And our lack of a better plan.”

  “Cheer up,” Evan said. “If he recovers within the week, he can take his place again, and Gloria can find a reason to break their engagement.”

  “If we are not assassinated first,” Joe pointed out.

  “Take care not to eat or drink anything that others have not tasted first,” Evan said. “I have a feeling that death comes by stealth and by law in these parts, not by the hiring of assassins.”

  Gloria had had enough of assassins to satisfy her for eternity. But Evan was likely right.

  “How will we get him out of the house and down to the train?” Ella knelt by the sofa and patted the Viceroy’s hand, but he did not wake. “He cannot walk in this state, and it is a long way to carry him.”

  “First of all, Joe must put on the prince’s clothes, in exchange for his own,” Evan said. “I will find Isabela and ask her to arrange a cart for my translator, who had too much to drink last night and is now feeling ill.”

  “I will meet you at the train,” the captain said. “Tell Riley nothing. I trust him in a fight, but not with information he can sell. Ella, see to it that—”

  “Ella stays with me,” Joe said flatly, then a moment later amended it to, “and Gloria will need a maid.”

  “I was going to say, see to it that Gloria’s trunk is collected and brought here,” the captain said.

  “Why?” Ella wanted to know. “If she is to marry the Viceroy, she will have seamstresses at her beck and call to make her trousseau. She must not be seen in a secondhand fiesta dress or an out-of-date bonnet any longer.”

  But Gloria had already perceived what her husband meant. “But can they make me a ruffled skirt and a man’s waistcoat?” she asked with a smile that trembled at the corners. “I am the iron dragon, am I not? If Commander de Sola’s dream comes to pass, I should not like my things on the other side of the country.”

  Joe was already tearing off his jacket. “If you all will excuse me, I need to change.”

  Politely, Gloria encouraged the others to give him privacy while Ella assisted him out of his clothes and into those of the Viceroy.

  Gloria picked up the gold box on the table next to the nosegay of flowers. “I hardly dare look at this, but it seems we must costume ourselves for the play.”

  She opened it. Her husband peered over her shoulder and whistled.

  Evan’s breath left him in a long sigh as she drew out a gold ring set with a large sapphire flanked by four diamonds. Around the hollow where it had been in the box, lying on a bed of black velvet, was a necklace of sapphires and diamonds, and a tiara that would have given Queen Victoria herself a moment of envy.

  Gloria slid off her wedding ring and handed it to her husband. “Keep this safe.”

  “Until we are together again,” he promised in a tone husky in its intensity, and slid it onto the smallest finger of his left hand.

  Then she put on the Viceroy’s ring and removed the shabby bonnet with its silk roses from her head. When it was set in place, the tiara sat upon her golden hair like the rays of the sun, enclosed by an arc of diamonds. Sapphires and emeralds formed the band at its base, to symbolize the earth and sea, she supposed. The tiara was a clever recreation of the flag of the Royal Kingdom.

  The gift of a prince.

  The crown of a princess.

  The last thing in all the wide world that she wanted.

  A small sound escaped Ella’s lips, and the three of them turned from the vision in the mirror.

  Joe stood there, splendid in the Viceroy’s dress uniform, the scarlet sash pinned with the royal sun. Even the boots fit him, polished to a shine, with silver spurs at the heels.

  “Shoulders back,” the captain reminded him. “You are a prince. You own everything your eyes can see—you command the very lives of your people and have been brought up from
birth to believe it to be your divine right.”

  Joe mumbled something, but straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin.

  “That is downright eerie,” Evan said. “I have been sharing a cell with you for weeks, and I hardly recognize you.”

  “Let us hope it works the other way,” Joe told him, relaxing into familiarity once again. “I suggest that while Gloria and I are making our announcement to the family, that you spirit the—er, Felipe—er, Joe away while everyone is distracted by the happy news.”

  “Right,” Evan said briskly, coming to himself. “I shall find Isabela at once.” A bell rang in the courtyard, its sweet sound shivering into silence. “There is the bell for breakfast. The family eats together alone. It will be the perfect time for me to have a word with her while the rest are enjoying the nine days’ wonder.”

  Gloria turned to her husband and buried her face in his neck, breathing in the scent of clean cotton, sweat, and gear oil for the last time. “I love you,” she whispered.

  Before last night, she had never said those words to anyone. Their magnitude almost frightened her.

  “And I you,” he whispered into her hair, his arms tightening around her. “No matter what happens, we will be together again.”

  “Promise me.” A wild urgency in her heart made her add, “I cannot live unless I know this mad situation will not be forever.”

  “I promise. For I cannot live either, unless my ring is back on your finger and your heart back in my care.”

  “It will always be in your care.”

  And then, the tears trembling on her lashes, she pulled away from the man she loved and crossed the carpet to the man to whom she must engage herself. She could not look into Ella’s face, for if she did, both of them would break down.

  Instead, she took a deep, steadying breath and slipped her hand into the crook of Joe’s arm. “Shall we?”

  And at his nod, the cogs and gears of their outrageous plan ground into inexorable motion.