England's Perfect Hero (28 page)

"Right. Not much stealth required in the Navy, you know. Just a strong stomach."

Hiding his grin in the darkness, Robert made his way through the shadows and around the back of the house toward the stables. With Shaw present, at least he had a distraction from his own black thoughts. That, however, was more than likely Bradshaw's intention.

"What about the grooms?" Shaw breathed as they stopped in the dark gloom of the stable's shadow.

"They'll all be to bed by now, except for Wiest, and he's three-quarters deaf. We'll saddle the horses in the yard."

"And how do you know all this? Wait, don't tell me. I don't want to know."

Moving quickly, they led out Tolley and Shaw's mount, Zeus. Tolley was used to midnight rides and barely batted an ear when Robert saddled him, but the big black Arabian snorted and refused to take the bit when Shaw shoved it at him.

"Damn it, Zeus, hold still," Shaw growled.

"Here." Robert pulled a lump of sugar from his pocket and handed it over. "Try bribery."

It worked. "Hm," Bradshaw muttered as he fastened the bridle over the black's head, "the next time I have a midnight rendezvous with Lady Daltrey, I'm taking you along."

"Her husband knows about you, anyway. He doesn't mind, because then she doesn't complain about his affair with Lady Walton."

Shaw lifted an eyebrow. "Beg pardon?"

"I go out at night a lot," Robert said, swinging up into the saddle.

They went down the drive at a walk, only moving into a canter when they were well away from the house. The Hesterfield soiree and any number of other parties would still be going strong, but most of the vendors and cart drivers had abandoned the streets in preparation for tomorrow morning. With several miles to go, they settled into a trot heading south and east along Grosvenor Place and then past St. James's Park and north along Whitehall. Outside the Treasury Building, they stopped.

"So do we ride straight through the parade grounds?" Bradshaw asked, his gaze on the street.

"There'll be sentries posted at either end of the building," Robert said, wishing he'd spent more time at the headquarters. "And the offices are on the second and third floors."

"How many offices?"

Robert shrugged. "I don't know. Thirty? Forty?"

"That'll take all night."

Slowly Robert dismounted, walking Tolley toward the massive white building. It was surrounded by open space to accommodate the parade and old jousting grounds, and even at night anyone trying to approach would be easy to spot. Four sentries stood in clear view at the gate and along the parapets, and he would wager that at least that many more waited in less visible areas.

"I didn't bring a rope," Shaw murmured, walking beside him. "Any ideas?"

"I want to circle the building. It's been a while since I've seen it up close."

They walked for a few minutes in silence. Robert knew they'd been seen, but hopefully, in the dark they—he—hadn't been recognized. With stables on the bottom floor and a literal maze of offices above, navigating wouldn't be easy under the most ideal circumstances. Sneaking about in the dark would make finding anything significant almost impossible.

"Do you remember, Bit, when we used to play chess, and you'd sit down and after four moves you would announce that I'd lost and then proceed to annihilate me?"

"Mm-hm."

"You have that look on your face again. What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that breaking into the Horse Guards would be a waste of time, and would probably get both of us arrested." Trying not to envision that scenario, he finished the circle and stopped at the corner where they'd begun.

"And?"

"And so whoever took those papers has spent time inside that building, Shaw. I mean, even if I knew what I was looking for, it would have taken me hours to locate the file room and then the correct maps and papers."

His brother nodded. "That makes sense. May we go, then? I'm beginning to feel a little conspicuous."

"Yes. We can't do anything else here."

Luckily no one else had gone into his bedchamber while he and Bradshaw were absent, and after Shaw left,

Robert sank into his reading chair beneath the window. Since the imprisonment of Bonaparte the need for recruiting and promoting had lessened considerably, and the staff at the Horse Guards had been substantially reduced or reassigned to the larger War Office. Consequently, a large portion of the offices were now used for storage or simply stood empty.

All he needed to do was discover who had had access to the Horse Guards last week, and who knew the building well enough to find what they wanted and get out without being stopped. Simple. Or it would have been, if
he
had any access to personnel information or even anyone at all who worked at the Horse Guards.

Well, in a sense he did have that access—through Lucinda. He would have to explain it to her, though. For some reason she wanted to see him again, and she seemed to want to help. Whatever the grounds for her generosity, he wasn't going to ask her to do anything she felt uncomfortable with.

As he turned up the lamplight and opened the book he'd left waiting, he wondered whether she was still at the ball with Lord Geoffrey, and whether she was enjoying herself. By his best guess she still had two lessons she hadn't gone through, but as she'd said, that probably didn't matter any longer. She and Geoffrey had their amiable understanding, and when the
ton
had seen them together enough and had tacitly approved the match, he would ask for her hand, and they would have their amiable marriage. Robert stared at the open page, not seeing the words. Would things have happened differently if she'd chosen
him
for her lessons?

He'd beaten Geoffrey to her bed, but given who he was and who her father was, anything more was highly unlikely. If he'd returned from the war cocky and carefree and full of heroic tales, perhaps General Barrett would have thought better of him, though as it was,
he
didn't think much of Augustus Barrett.

Lucinda made him feel… hopeful, and after four years of pain, hope was as hard to ignore as sunshine. And he wondered what he would have been doing right now in the face of all the rumors if she hadn't pulled him a little out of the shadows. Robert sighed. He would probably be in Scotland, barring the manor doors and waiting for the British army to come after him.

The idea of being killed wouldn't have bothered him much, except that he'd found a reason to live. What he would do when his reason married someone else, he had no idea.

Lucinda stopped just outside the doorway of her father's office. Geoffrey must have arrived before breakfast to tell her father the news about the Carroways. She leaned against the wall, waiting to see what he had to say about her.

"It has to be an uncomfortable position for them. After all, no one's been accused of anything yet," her father was saying.

"
Yet
," Geoffrey repeated. "And I don't want to carry tales, but I think perhaps a sterner talk with Lucinda might be in order. She insisted on greeting them, and even danced with Robert. I understand her sentiments, but she's not helping anyone. I tried to warn her, but I got the distinct impression that she was displeased with me."

From the other side of the door Lucinda could almost see her father's frown, hear him tapping his fingers on the stack of his latest chapter. "She's as stubborn as her mother. But she's very logical. I'm sure she understands your concerns. I've found that apologizing usually works."

Humph
. What worked was the liberal use of common sense.

"So perhaps you should tell me a little about your own sentiments, my boy," the general continued.

Geoffrey chuckled. "I think you know what they are. Lucinda's wonderful, and I would like to think that she's becoming fond of me."

"I think we can safely assume that your suit is being well received."

"Then I would like your permission to ask for her hand in marriage."

Lucinda's stomach lurched. He made it sound so matter-of-fact. That's what it was, of course, practically a business arrangement, but to hear it like that was so… cold. So simple and amiable.

"Under the circumstances, I think making an announcement now would be in poor taste. She can't be allowed to stand by the Carroways, but she is their friend."

"Of course. Once this little mess is concluded, though, may I assume that I have your permission?"

"You may."

"And the position in India?"

"Don't worry, lad. I have enough influence to see you with a command in Delhi. So long as you comply with Lucinda's wishes regarding whether she stays here or goes with you."

"Of course," Geoffrey repeated.

Signed, sealed, and delivered. It was just too bad that the "mess" they were discussing was the possible imprisonment of Robert Carroway. True, Geoffrey didn't seem to have much love for Robert, but referring to this catastrophe as a "little mess" was a bit callous.

"Very good, then, sir. Do you think she'll be down soon?"

"Any minute now, I would think. Have you had an opportunity to read chapter two?"

"I'm nearly finished with it. It's quite good. You capture the excitement and chaos of the march to Ciudad Rodrigo with amazing clarity."

The general snorted. "I already agreed to give you my daughter. No need for flattery."

"I'm completely serious. In fact, might I drop off the chapter to you this afternoon and see the next one?"

"You'll have to bring it by the Horse Guards. Chapter three is there with General Bronlin, but he should be finished with it today—unless something new has happened with the investigation."

"Have you heard anything?"

"Nothing." He sighed. "In addition to the searches of all ships leaving for the Continent, we have a detail beginning a watch on Robert Carroway this morning in case he tries to hand off the papers or leave the country himself."

Lucinda blanched. She hadn't even considered that someone might be watching Robert. Heavens, what if they'd been following him two nights ago? She needed to let him know, but that had just become trickier.

However straightforward she preferred things, though, she'd certainly learned the art of subterfuge—and under the circumstances, she was perfectly willing to use it. She didn't abandon her friends, and neither—she was beginning to discover—did she care to be managed. Squaring her shoulders, she backed up and then strolled into the office.

"Good morning, Pa—Lord Geoffrey. I didn't expect to see you this morning."

Geoffrey rose, a bouquet of daisies in his hand. "These are for you, my dear. I thought you had enough roses."

She accepted them with a small curtsy. "Thank you."

"I also wondered if you'd care to go riding."

"I hope you understand, Geoffrey, but I'm a bit distracted this morning. If I'm permitted, I would like to write a letter to Georgiana."

"Lucinda." Her father stood. "There's no need to be rude."

"Am I being rude? Heavens, forgive me. I only meant to say that I miss seeing my friends, and I wish to let them know they have my support."

"How could you miss them," her father countered, "when you spoke with them just last night?"

And the men stepped right into her trap
. She looked at Geoffrey. "My goodness, do you carry everyone's tales, or just mine?"

"Lucinda!"

Geoffrey, though, looked contrite. "I have your best interests in mind, Lucinda. I hope you understand that."

"I think it's
your
best interests you have in mind." She drew a breath, trying to remember that this was the man she'd decided to marry. If not for the theft, or for Robert, Geoffrey might already have asked for her hand. "If you'll excuse me, I feel very out of sorts this morning."

"No, it's I who should go. I only wanted to apologize. Obviously I have poor timing." He reached out and took her hand. "Please tell me that we're still friends."

All the men wanted to be friends with her, apparently. Lucinda shook herself.
What was wrong with her}
"Of course we are. I just… I need a morning to myself."

The general stood to walk Geoffrey out, but reading the look on his face, Lucinda stayed where she was. Yes, she'd behaved abominably, when all Geoffrey had done was echo the sentiments of half of London Society. He might have considered her feelings, though, rather than how he might look to his fellows.

"You danced with Robert last night," her father said, resuming his seat at the office desk.

"He asked me to."

"And I asked you not to."

"Papa, I'm sorry, but I do not choose my friends lightly, and I will not abandon them because of a rumor."

He glared at her, but she met his gaze and refused to look away. How long they might have sat staring at each other she didn't know, because Ballow scratched at the half-open door. "You have received a note, sir," he said.

"Let's see it."

The butler handed it over and vanished again. Lucinda watched her father's face as he opened and read the short missive, and something in his expression froze her heart. "What's happened?" she asked.

The general slammed the note onto his desk with such force it made her jump. "Your 'friend' was seen last night, outside the Horse Guards."

She blanched. "No! It's a mistake."

"The sentries were given his description and told to keep watch for him. He and another man rode up at half past eleven, walked their horses around the perimeter of the grounds, and then rode off again."

Her mind flying madly, Lucinda searched for an excuse that wouldn't sound completely ridiculous. "He's been accused of breaking in," she managed. "Perhaps he wanted to see the building firsthand."

"And perhaps he wanted to see whether our security remains as lax as it was last week. It isn't, I assure you." He stood, leaning over the desk. "I don't want to have to tell you again, Lucinda. Stay away from him."

Tempted for a bare moment to announce that Robert had already spent a night in her bed, Lucinda gave a stiff nod and pushed to her feet. "As you wish, Papa."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going upstairs to read, and then I'll be going out to Lady St. Aubyn's for luncheon." She caught his frown as she turned away. "Don't worry. Georgiana won't be there."

"When this is finished, you'll see that it's all been for the best, daughter. All ships leaving Dover or Brighton for the Continent are being searched. If those papers are on their way to France, we'll find them."

"I'm sure you will."

"And you owe Lord Geoffrey an apology. He's done everything he can to please you. You have no reason to snap at him."

"Yes, Papa." She pulled open the office door the rest of the way.

"Lucinda?"

With a tight breath she stopped, her fingers clenched around the door handle. "Yes?"

"In all fairness, Geoffrey Newcombe is a better man than Robert Carroway, even without this disaster. Geoffrey is kind, handsome, popular, and has a brilliant career ahead of him. Robert… can barely put two words together and has no future that I can see."

Abruptly she wanted to cry. "Thank you for your opinion, Papa," she muttered. "I'm the one who suggested you bring in Lord Geoffrey in the first place, if you'll recall."

"So you were."

Lucinda hurried upstairs and closed herself in her bedchamber. She hated the tension between her and her father, when until now they'd always dealt so well together. And she hated that she couldn't stop thinking about Robert, when everything told her that Geoffrey was the better choice for a husband. And she hated that no one knew what Robert really was like—not even Robert, himself.

For the next hour she did more pacing than reading, finally summoning Helena to help her dress for luncheon when she could excuse the time as being only marginally early. Evie wouldn't mind, and there were things that Robert badly needed to know. The Horse Guards probably had men watching him already.

She scowled. That would be a problem, if they reported that the two of them were at Halboro House at the same time. Well, if that happened she would deal with it. Someone owed them a little luck, and today would be the day to pay up.

When she arrived at Halboro House, Evie was just coming down the stairs. "Luce! Lucky you caught me. I was just about to go down to Bond Street for a new hat. Care to join me?"

In retrospect, Lucinda decided it might have been a good idea to inform Lord and Lady St. Aubyn that she and Robert were going to call on them today. "Actually, I think we should stay in for luncheon," she suggested with a sheepish grin.

Evie stopped tying on her bonnet. "You do?"

"Yes. Definitely."

"Any particular reason?"

Lucinda glanced at Jansen, the Halboro butler, standing unobtrusively beside the coat rack. "The weather is frightful outside."

Evie looked out the front windows on either side of the door, squinting a little against the bright, reflected sunlight. "So it is," she agreed, pulling off her bonnet again. "Jansen, please have Mrs. Dooley prepare some cucumber sandwiches and lemonade."

"Yes, my lady," he said, and vanished into the bowels of the house.

Evie took Lucinda's arm and pulled her into the morning room. "All right, what's going on, Miss Barrett? You seemed terribly distracted at the ball last night, and now this?"

"Is Saint here?" Lucinda asked, wishing she could stop fidgeting. She'd make a terrible spy, she decided.

"He's in the stable, looking at a hunter he purchased from Lord Mayhew. Why?"

"I, um, he may have a caller, as well."

"Oh, he may." Evie sat on the couch, making a show of smoothing the skirt of her pink and yellow muslin while a footman brought in a pot of tea and vanished again. "Lucinda, it may surprise you to know that I can keep a secret better than just about anyone you—or I—know."

"Yes? What does that have to do with—"

"For instance," she continued, pouring tea and handing Lucinda a cup, "earlier this year, when I had just begun delivering my lessons to Saint, and he vanished for a week. Do you remember that?"

Slowly Lucinda sat opposite her friend, taking a long swallow of tea and wishing it were brandy or whiskey or something. "I remember."

"Yes, well, the reason he vanished was because I kidnaped him."

Lucinda choked, spitting tea across Evie's fine Persian carpet. "You
what
?"