Blackstone and Broken Things

Chapter 5

 Nathan woke and immediately wished for death, his or the bastard that had drugged him. He did not particularly care which, but someone needed to die. Though, at the moment, the bird chirping gayly outside the window would have worked just as fine. The constant twittering and chittering were grating on his already jagged nerves, setting his temple to pulsing angrily against his skull.

"Shut it!" Nathan snarled, flinging an arm over his eyes as he rolled to his back. The whisper of fabric and the softness of the mattress beneath him caused him to pause in his pain-filled grousing long enough to frown at the abnormality of what he was feeling. Slowly, he lifted his arm, taking in his surroundings. His brow creased further in astonishment as he realized he was still in Larc's Cottage. The last time the Buggar had drugged him in such a manner, he had woken up in the muck of a pigsty with one of the ruddy beasts trying to make a meal of his hair.

While this was a definite improvement from his last experience, Nathan could not help but wonder what the blighter had been up to while Nathan was unconscious. And what he had deemed so important that he had used one of his best tactics so early on in their reunion.

No, he did not wonder.

He knew.

Larc was meeting with the Countess, no doubt, to discuss him and what course of action to take concerning him.

Drawing a steadying breath, Nathan flung himself up, sitting on the edge of the mattress. His fingers gripped the material as the inevitable nausea set in, and he fought to keep what little he had eaten the previous day from coming up. Releasing a few slow, deep breaths, Nathan opened his eyes and rose. Heading for the door.

He had a mission, and the first step to accomplishing that involved finding Larc and beating the scheming blighter to within an inch of his life. Hopefully, if Larc was too incapacitated to move or talk, he could not cause Nathan any more problems while he tried to sort the issue of the Countess.

As Nathan marched toward the estate in search of his victim, the giggling of a child drew his attention, and he turned to see a blur of white and dark curls dart into the estate's small hedge maze—the only decorative piece of lawn the Countess had allowed to remain, it seemed. For a brief moment, he could hear his mother's laughter as she chased him through that same maze—his heartbreaking at the loss of such a sound and its source.

"Miss Lillian," a woman called sternly, undoubtedly searching for the child he had just seen and not at all pleased with the child's behavior if the frustration in her voice was any indication.

"Lillian," Nathan repeated, coming up short as realization fit him like a blow to the head. "Lily." He breathed, cursing himself in every possible way he could think of for being the biggest of fools. Larc had told him last night there was a child and had all but told him the name when he had spoken with Lady Wrathhon in the study. They had been speaking in code and using flowers to do it.

The bloody list she had given the housekeeper.

With a growl, he set off after the child, all the while trying to recall the flowers they had mentioned and their meanings. Of course, those meanings would only matter if they had not changed them to suit their needs. Still, it was a start. The last came first. Marigold. Which Lady Wrathhon had said she would handle. Marigold was sorrow, if he recalled correctly. But whose sorrow? Then there was Lavender, distrust, which he could only assume was meant for him.

Finally, Rhododendron.

Danger.

Before he could think further about their meanings, the giggling sounded again, and he turned, following the crunching sound of gravel under the child's tiny feet as he rushed through the maze. Stopping short, he pulled back and waited for the child to come around the corner. Knowing she would have no choice in this part of the maze if his childhood memories served him right.