The Emperor's Conspiracy by Michelle Diener Page A

mayhem on her mind.
    Leaves and papers, and all three of the boys’ caps went airborne, and Charlotte saw a flick of movement in the narrow alley between two houses on the other side of the square again.
    Whoever crouched there, watching, was closer to the boys than either her or Em, and a sudden fear clutched her, that Frethers may still be determined to have them, or their father may still be determined to hand them over.
    Why else watch them, otherwise?
    She began to run, not the fleet-footed dash she’d been capable of in her childhood. Hampered by skirts tugged and twisted by the gusts, and shoes that were the height of fashion but ridiculous for anything but a slow walk, she called to the boys, and saw their attention was still on Ned’s hoop, which had halted its mad dash for freedom, and had finally fallen over, to lie in the middle of the road.
    A carriage came round the corner, and Charlotte sensed the moment Ned decided to retrieve the hoop before it was crushed.
    “Stop!” Her shout was ripped away by the wind, lost in the tossing branches of the trees as they began to whistle and shake. Ned reached the paved edge of the square. She put two fingers to her lips and gave a piercing whistle that cut through the noise.
    The boys turned to her, eyes wide, and in the street, the carriage rolled to a stop, and Edward jumped out of it.
    He walked to where the hoop lay and picked it up, his eyes never leaving her.
    She hadn’t seen him since yesterday, and Charlotte did not understand the sensation that gripped her at the sight of him. As if she were a lightning rod, waiting for the storm above to strike. As if she had lost all control over her life and was thrown into chaos.
    She ripped her gaze away from him, to where the watcher had been, but there was no telltale shadow anymore. Whoever had been there had slipped away.
    When she turned her attention back to Edward, he had given Ned his hoop and was walking toward her.
    The first heavy drop of rain hit her cheek, and she flinched.
    Emma came up to her side, gesturing for the boys to come to them, and then stopped. “What is it?”
    She was talking to Edward, and Charlotte raised her eyes at last to meet Edward’s bleak gaze. The world dropped away from her and she swallowed.
    The rain started to fall with a sudden sizzle of sound, drumming off the roofs and paved street. The boys whooped, running wild.
    Edward flicked a look over his shoulder, to determine if the boys were occupied enough not to hear. “I’m sorry, Em.”
    Charlotte could hardly hear him over the hammering rain.
    Emma frowned. “What is it? What?”
    Edward took her hand. “Geoffrey’s dead.”

14

    E mma sat on the couch in Catherine’s sitting room, a blanket around her, pale and shaking as a victim of influenza. Her rain-plastered hair only added to the impression.
    A drop of water ran down the side of Edward’s forehead, over his cheek, and clung to the edge of his jaw. He shook it loose and rubbed the towel Catherine had given him through his hair.
    Catherine poured Emma a cup of tea, loading it with sugar, and he nodded in approval as his sister took a sip.
    Charlotte was with the boys, settling them into the nursery with some afternoon tea and cakes, and he missed her strong, unshakable calm. He did not know what to say to Emma. He was not only not sorry about his brother-in-law’s death, he was glad.
    Catherine knelt at Emma’s feet, holding her hand. Edward knew they had only met since Charlotte offered Emma a place in this house, but looking at them, he wouldn’t know it. They seemed old friends.
    “How did he die?” Emma asked suddenly, her eyes searching his face, and Edward shifted uncomfortably.
    “Shot. His body was found in the woods behind the house. It may have been a hunting accident.” That is what the magistrate was calling it. Edward wondered whether it was suicide.
    Emma went still. “He was deep in debt. He planned to clear it by selling the boys to