Fortunately, there were no other incidents of import before the invitation to the evening gala arrived. Printed boldly across the front, it announced the imminent arrival of the Queen and her royal entourage, something that would likely at least set the gossips chattering about something new. For at least a short while, I might have some hope of avoiding notice.

Of course, so could Devonshire, with far more chance of success. My thoughts were drawn to consider the possibilities that remained for the man to cause trouble, now that both of his targets were in place.

As I had said to Patricia, I did not expect that the failure of the bomb was Devonshire’s only attempt on the Queen’s life. He had set far too much in motion to fail now, and even in his previous efforts, the man had a curious tendency to plan for an early mishap and turn it to his advantage. How would he do so now?

The simplest answer was that he would now attempt to strike at both monarchs when they were together, yet something about that did not ring true for me. Devonshire was not a coward, and direct action was not as alien to him as I would have liked to believe, but confronting both the bodyguards and the monarchs themselves directly simply seemed too obvious—especially now, with both the Queen and the Emperor aware of a new threat, and likely taking extra precautions with their safety.

My mind caught on that idea, and I pondered it for a moment longer. It was a situation that Devonshire had to have anticipated, if his bomb had not succeeded. More than that, he would have needed to plan for it even if his initial plot had succeeded, for surely Napoleon’s first move after the death of the Queen would have been to surround himself with a force of loyal retainers and leave the country. Even with a force of mercenaries smuggled aboard, what kind of plan would have allowed him to counter that reaction?

He had to have suborned one of the guards, I realized, turned them through bribery or blackmail to support his cause. Perhaps more than one, enough to create a hole through which he could strike when needed. If he had managed to infiltrate the bodyguards of both monarchs, he might well be able to arrange for them to meet untimely ends more easily now than before. Of course, he would still have to wait for precisely the right moment. If both ended up dead in a way that implicated him, he would be no better off than before.

I paced back and forth, the outline of a plan gathering in my mind. He would need to cause another incident of chaos somehow, set off an explosion, or cause some other catastrophe. It was a trick he had used before, multiple times; the fire at Everston had been one example of just such a tactic. Then, during the chaos, his confederates within the bodyguards could strike, and then blame their actions on another party.

For such a deception to work, however, he would need a scapegoat, a patsy to lay the blame on when the smoke cleared. At Everston, he had relied on a group of petty criminals; at Barings, he had turned the authorities loose on me. He had not anticipated my arrival onboard, which meant he had already arranged for the blame to fall on another party, one that would be a believable culprit and a target for reprisal. It had to be more than just one person; in such matters of national import, a much greater villain needed to be present than a simple gang or outlaw. The scapegoat would need to be someone with a grudge against both targets, who would gather suspicion even without his urging.

The answer came to me a moment later, and I smiled. I swung my door open wide, managing to catch the eye of a passing member of the embassy functionary. The Frenchman tried to suppress a grimace as I stepped out in front of him. He paused, curiosity and impatience warring on his face. “Can I help you, sir?”

I nodded easily. “Can you direct me to the Russian envoys, please?”

It was a brisk walk through the corridors of the embassy to reach the Russians, a fact that did little to put me at ease. Without my sword, I was vulnerable to many different threats. Moses might decide to follow me and hold me hostage again. Devonshire might send his pets to stop me permanently. Even Chatelain might appear, anxious to settle our grudge in a somewhat less public, and less honorable, manner.

Yet none of these threats appeared before I reached the section of the ship that had been reserved for the use of the Russian Empire. It was not the best area onboard, which was hardly surprising. The grudge between Imperial Russia and the Emperor of France was a long and deep-seated one; many credited the fall of the first French Emperor to his invasion of the Russian heartland, and the Tzars in turn blamed the French Dragonet for the destruction wrought on their home during the New War, including the death in battle of their previous ruler.

Yet France was not alone in bearing the displeasure of the Romanovs; the British Empire had quarreled with their neighbor to the east over a wide variety of issues. The continued tyranny of the tzars over their serfs, the butchery that had taken place as the chaos of the Distillation was unleashed, and then finally the brutality that surrounded the events of the New War had long turned the British populace against their former allies on the Continent. With their preference for supporting the nascent German powers and ignoring the protests and concerns of Russia, the Queen and her Consort had likely set the two nations at odds for the next few generations. Conflicts over territories in the aftermath of the New War had only worsened that sour relationship, to the extent that the young Tzar now ruling over the lands of winter had formally censured the British royal house repeatedly.

It was the sort of bad blood that rivaled even the longest of feuds, with consequences that could span the globe. I was almost sure that they were among the prime candidates for Devonshire’s plans; from what little idle chatter I had overheard, many of the attendees were surprised that they had even been included in the peace talks, especially considering the location. If something went wrong, it was very likely that at least some whispers would put the blame at their feet. With Devonshire’s determined assistance, they would be the perfect decoys.

Of course, in my guise as a German noble, I did not entirely expect to be welcomed by their envoys. They would hardly want a baron marching about their territory, even if it was on loan from the French. All the same, I hoped to see at least what their security was like, and who would be willing, despite their resentment, to meet with me.

It was only due to sheer happenstance, then, that the first person I saw leaving their section of the ship was Devonshire himself.

He and Lady Hermiter were both bidding farewell to a fat, balding Russian envoy with a dull brown sash. Two soldiers—Russian ones, not French—were standing guard on either side of the corridor, with sabres on their belts. Devonshire had just shaken the man’s hand when he caught sight of me, and I noted a sudden grimace of pain on the envoy’s face as Devonshire’s grip unexpectedly tightened.

Unable to step away and hide in time, I elected to smile and speak loudly. “Why, my good friend Lord Devonshire! I did not expect to find you here.”

Devonshire gave me a fulminating glare, but the envoy looked back and forth between us, concern now clouding his features. “A friend of yours, Lord Devonshire?”

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“A mere acquaintance only, Count Demidova.”

“Oh, don’t be so bashful, Lord Devonshire! You were so helpful to me only a short while ago.” I walked over and clapped him on the shoulder before he could withdraw, letting the hearty slap land with a bit more force than was appropriate. “I had come into some debts—some misfortune on my estate, and a shocking lack of foresight on my part—but he was kind enough to assist me with the matter. He is quite resourceful and has a surprising amount of funds. Why, you’d think he had stolen treasure from a bank!”

The envoy gave Devonshire a considering look. “Is that so? I had not heard of this.”

I shook Devonshire lightly as he continued to glare at me. “Oh, it is all true. He’s just very humble about that sort of thing.” Then I turned to Hermiter, bowing low. “I do not believe, however, that I have ever made your acquaintance. Who are you, my dear?”

Hermiter’s glare could have melted through the corridor wall, but before she could respond, Devonshire spoke up. It was clear from the iron in his voice that his own temper was just barely under control, a fact I found immensely rewarding. “Count Demidova, please ignore this man. He is obviously confused or is spreading lies. I have never seen him before in my life.”

I frowned and took my hand from his shoulder, recoiling from him as if hurt by the words. “Lord Devonshire, what do you mean? I thought we were the best of friends.” I pitched my voice carefully, hoping that any passing members of the embassy staff would catch fragments of the conversation. “Surely you haven’t managed to find a better friend than I, after all we have done for each other. I thought I was your closest confidant.”

“Nothing could be further from the truth.” There was a cold glint in Devonshire’s eyes now, and his hands were clenched at his sides. His attention was focused wholly on me, and so he rather missed the way the Russian nobleman was examining him with a wary eye. A man more in control might have reacted with confusion rather than anger at my accusations; by allowing his temper to be roused, he was beginning to present a rather different picture to his apparent associate.

There is nothing more fragile than a conspiracy, after all. Despite all the secrecy and betrayal they often involve, they depend, more than anything, on a measure of trust and honor. If a man is willing to set aside the conspirators he has pledged himself to, then he cannot be trusted very far. So rather than retreating from the enraged crimelord and dragon, I took a cautious, unsteady step forward and whispered loud enough the whole corridor could hear it. “Listen, Devonshire, if this is about the money, I have more! I can still be useful to you, if only you would—”

“Enough!” I could smell sulfur on Devonshire’s breath now, and he took an involuntary step forward. His Russian confederate appeared alarmed now, and had taken a step back. Before Devonshire could advance further, Hermiter grabbed his arm. It was a gesture I greatly appreciated; he might have actually attacked me otherwise.

Devonshire turned to regard Hermiter, and they exchanged a look that promised that there was a less-than-pleasant conversation in their future. Then Devonshire shook himself free and straightened his coat. “I have better things to do than to exchange words with a charlatan. Count Demidova, I hope we can see each other again soon.”

“Indeed.” The noncommittal nature of the response did not appear to be obvious to the enraged dragon, though Hermiter’s expression tightened with concern for a heartbeat. Then both criminals were off down the corridor, marching stiffly away from me as if they were fighting the urge to come back and assault me. I watched them go with the utmost pleasure, feeling unalloyed accomplishment in provoking the dragon and living to tell the tale.

Then I turned to bid the Russian envoy my own goodbye, and found that the two guards had both stepped forward, their hands on their swords. The Count was studying me with a disconcerting level of intensity, and I realized suddenly that he could have been as much Devonshire’s minion as Vinceno had been. Perhaps Devonshire was more willing to forego violence to maintain his reputation, but his agents had no such apparent compunctions.

I worked some moisture back into my mouth. “Pardon me, good sir. I…I must have made some mistake.”

“Indeed.” The reply was in the same exact tone he had given to Devonshire, but he did not appear ready to dismiss me just yet. Instead, he looked me over for another moment or two, and then tilted his head slightly to one side. “I find it to be rather unlikely that a daring young man such as yourself would have come to know Lord Devonshire so casually. You said he paid for one of your debts?”

It was not the best place for an interrogation, but I was suddenly in much the same uncomfortable situation I had found myself in earlier, with the French. “As I said, I must have made a mistake. If you would excuse me.”

When I made as if to turn away, however, the Count made a subtle gesture. Both guards unsheathed an inch of their swords, stepping away from the walls and bringing me within arms’ reach. I glanced at them and then returned my gaze to the Count. He smiled, though there was very little humor in his expression. “I think I would prefer for you to stay, Baron Krongesetz. It would be unseemly for you to leave without sharing more of your history with us, at least.”

I glanced at both guards again, noting their complete lack of expression and the steadiness of their stances. “I am flattered that you wish to know more of me, good sir, but I am afraid that I have a prior engagement.”

“Would that be with the ravishing young Ms. Bingham?” His voice turned unpleasantly light on Patricia’s assumed name. He watched my expression a moment and then nodded to himself. “I have been interested in speaking with you ever since I saw your…challenge with Captaine Chatelain.”

“A friend of yours?”

He snorted. “Hardly. The man has enough pride for a brigade of men, but if some unwise duel does not claim his life, his own eagerness to thrust himself into other people’s affairs will.” The Count’s stare grew uncomfortably acute. “You, on the other hand, are far more interesting. After only a handful of days you have already discomfited a French officer, discovered some sort of plot, and become a close confidant of the woman who nearly slew the New Emperor. Some are even saying she is your lover, though I doubt you would be quite that indiscreet.”

I shifted slightly on my feet, uncomfortably reminded of the Coronel’s words. It was my sudden, desperate hope that Patricia never caught wind of any such rumors. “There is always gossip, but not all of it is true.”

“Yes, but what is the phrase the English use? Where there is smoke, there is fire?” He tilted his head in the other direction, as if to study me from a new angle. “I dislike mysteries, Baron Krongesetz, and your apparent familiarity with Lord Devonshire does little to put me at ease. Whatever your relationship with him, it is not a peaceful one, and I wonder what interest a man of your nature would have in him.”

I returned his gaze for a moment more until I could be sure of my response. “That is business of my own, I am afraid. Perhaps he would see fit to enlighten you further, if you believe my motives were not pure.” Then I looked at each of the guards again, my back straightening as they did not move. It was becoming clear to me I might actually have to fight my way out after all.

“Your motives are precisely what I question, Baron Krongesetz.” He gathered his hands behind him, as if to draw himself up higher. “If you were actually friends, I might believe it to be some sort of prank or game between you, but it was clear to me he bore you only hostility. If you are enemies, then why approach at all? What purpose could such an act serve, except to provoke him?”

Still warily eying the guards, I answered carefully. “I suppose you could see many reasons behind it, Count Demidova.” Then I met his eyes again and raised my chin slightly. “Unfortunately, it is not my duty to answer them for you. If your trust in Lord Devonshire is firm, then you can feel free to dismiss all of this as some petty annoyance from an idle lord. If you question his motives, as you have questioned mine, then perhaps that should worry you more than whatever I have done.”

Count Demidova’s eyebrows climbed, and he nodded despite himself. I gave him a thin smile, and then motioned to the guards. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must go—and I would prefer to leave you on good terms.”

The Count hesitated, and for a moment, I thought he would order the guards to detain me. Then he caught sight of a functionary walking further down the corridor and sighed. “Of course, Baron. Perhaps we will meet again soon.”

At a little wave from his hand, both guards sheathed their weapons and assumed their positions on either side of the corridor. I bowed respectfully and then strode away down the corridor. It had been a risky move, now that hindsight came into play, but I was fairly certain I had at least confirmed a portion of Devonshire’s plans. Whether the Russians knew it or not, they were about to be used for the next stage of his plot; all I would need to do would be to find out how he wished to frame them.

All in all, it had been quite the productive day, though I still wished that I had managed to retain my sword. Things were definitely looking up.