The Chemickal Marriage

turned to Colonel Bronque and raised an eyebrow.
    ‘Lord Axewith was called away.’ Bronque indicated the satchel at his feet. ‘I am entrusted with his errand.’
    ‘Called away?’
    ‘The city is on fire.’
    The Contessa wound an errant strand of hair around a finger. ‘How
much
of the city?’
    The old lady cleared her throat with a peevish determination. ‘Not one to make your enemy, is Lady Hopton.’
    The Contessa’s reply was interrupted by a door opening behind them and the Duchess of Cogstead, wrapped in a robe, stepping through.
    ‘
You!
’ she called.
    Miss Temple did not move.
    ‘Colonel Bronque!’ shouted the Duchess, with impatience. ‘You have Lord Axewith’s papers?’
    Bronque clicked his heels together. ‘I do, Your Grace –’
    ‘Then you are required, sir!
At
once!
’
    Bronque rattled down the stairs and disappeared after the Duchess. The Contessa turned to the old lady.
    ‘I am obliged for your kindness.’
    The old lady glared. ‘Kindness played no part in the matter.’
    The Contessa grinned. ‘It so very seldom does.’
    Miss Temple’s hands shook. Half the time it seemed as if her senses would overwhelm her – but when she
had
been in her mind and thinking clearly, what had she done but assist with outright murder?
    ‘Why am I here?’ she demanded recklessly. ‘You are a terrible woman!’
    They were hardly alone, and the well-dressed men and women passing in either direction turned at Miss Temple’s angry tone. With a tight smile, the Contessa pressed her mouth to Miss Temple’s ear. ‘Once we are
alone
–’
    ‘
Signora?
’ An older man in a topcoat had approached the Contessa. She showed him a graceful smile, keeping hold of Miss Temple’s arm.
    ‘Minister. How do you do? May I present Miss Celestial Temple – Celeste, Lord Shear is Her Majesty’s Minister for Finance.’
    Lord Shear had no interest in Miss Temple. ‘
Signora
, you know Matthew Harcourt.’
    ‘By acquaintance only, my lord.’
    ‘Still, perhaps you can explain –’
    ‘You know Robert Vandaariff,’ Miss Temple blurted out, stinging at the memory of Lord Shear through the mirror at Harschmort, kneeling like the rest. ‘If he asked it, you would lick his shoes. And then I daresay you would lick his –’
    The Contessa spun Miss Temple to the nearest door and shoved her through. ‘I beg your pardon – the girl’s not well – father ruined, drink and gambling –’
    She slammed the door in the face of the sputtering peer. The Contessa snatched a paper-knife off a writing table. Miss Temple backed away, arms outstretched. She opened her mouth, wanting to shout her defiance, but no words came. Her chest shuddered. She could not breathe. Miss Temple sank down to her knees, her words a half-voiced wail.
    ‘What has
become
of me?’
    She choked with sobs, cheeks wet and hot, half blind. The Contessa advanced. Miss Temple swatted at her, fingers splayed. But instead of an attack the Contessa knelt and extended the hand without the knife to Miss Temple’s face.
    ‘You are not so very pretty, you know, that you can withstand such fits. Round faces when they redden extinguish sympathy in a person. You are better served by disdain. Which I suppose is usually your own luck.’
    Miss Temple sniffed thickly. Though soft, the Contessa’s voice was not kind.
    ‘There are two things I can think of to address your problem – you may well imagine what they are – but both will make you scream’– here the Contessa smiled and Miss Temple whimpered – ‘and too many people are too near.’
    ‘That woman – Lady Hopton –’
    ‘Had to die, and at once. But half the court has seen you with me, and, while I may brazen out an ignorance of Lady Hopton, I can hardly do so foryou – and so …’ She tapped Miss Temple’s nose with the paper-knife. ‘I cannot take your life here. Unless, Celeste, you give me no other option.’
    Miss Temple swallowed. ‘But why did you bring me?’
    ‘The Comte’s memory, of course. You had seen those rooms. You spied on
me
.’
    ‘But – but it was the Comte with the Duke, watching Vandaariff – I had to change everything –’
    ‘Which you did.’
    ‘But if the story had to be made up and changed, what did it matter that I knew it at all? Why didn’t you tell it yourself?’
    ‘O I could have, but never so feelingly. The Queen is highly suspicious of anyone seeking favour – by claiming no favour for myself, and by producing a witness