Shadow of the War Machine (The Secret Order) by Bailey Kristin

Author:Bailey, Kristin [Bailey, Kristin]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Simon Pulse
Published: 2015-02-02T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

WE FOLLOWED THE MAN OUTSIDE, where he walked a little way down the street to a less busy corner. A carriage waited nearby. I had never met this particular Amusementist before, and while he had the correct passwords to prove he was part of the Order, I was still wary.

“This is for you.” He reached into his jacket and produced a crisply folded letter. I took it and inspected the wax seal.

It was Oliver’s mark pressed into the wax.

I broke the seal with haste and read.

Dear Meg,

I would ask what you were thinking, traveling to Paris with no one but Will, but I know what you were thinking, and I can’t find it in myself to blame you. I am, however, running out of pigeons to send to Gabrielle, so I’ll be brief. I am in no mood to lose my best student in my first year as headmaster, not to scandal, not to murder, and not to formality. You must return for the oath.

I know you feel we don’t have time, but should our trail grow cold, I am certain we’ll find it again. Your grandfather would not want you to destroy your life for this.

I expect to see you on the thirty-first. As for your reputation, I have explained the situation to Gustave. He’s a trusted friend, and his new wife can act as your chaperone while you’re in Paris. Take care.

I’ll see you in London,

Oliver

P.S. Will, keep her safe.

P.P.S. Try not to drive poor Gustave into the madhouse.

P.P.P.S. The next time you ask John Frank for a favor, do tell him to leave the Amusements alone.

“I trust all is in order?” Gustave asked as he opened the door to the carriage.

“Indeed. Thank you for meeting us here.” My misgivings faded as we climbed inside. This had worked out better than I had hoped, and I was very glad to have friends who cared. Will sat next to me. I handed the letter to him so he could read it as well.

Once Gustave was seated, the carriage began to move through the wide avenues and boulevards of Paris. He straightened his jacket, and we had to look a fright compared to him. Will didn’t look as disheveled as I did, but Gustave was clearly a very neat man. His dark clothing was meticulous, as was his short beard, which suited his wide face.

“I must apologize. English is not my best language,” he began with a very heavy accent. “We have a way to drive yet.”

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“To the home I have rented for the holiday for my wife and myself. Oliver suggested you may not have arranged for accommodations before you left London. He gave me the impression your departure was quite hasty.” He crossed his arms over his barrel chest. “From the state of your attire, I see he was correct.” He dropped his gaze to the pale dust on my hem, and I tucked the shawl more securely around my injured arm.

I did need to find something more suitable for Paris while we were here.

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