A Spy Unmasked (Entangled Scandalous) (3 page)

Chapter Four

Robert entered Wendover’s study to find him seated behind his desk. Wendover removed his gold-rimmed reading glasses and looked up from the stack of papers he had been studying.

“I retrieved the package, but I ran into a complication,” Robert said.

“By a complication, are you referring to the young lady locked in my sitting room?”

“I am.”

“What else?”

“One of Delmont’s guards was killed.”

“Were you spotted?”

“No.”

“Is she working for the Inventors’ Society?”

“I don’t believe so.”

Wendover sighed and clasped his hands before him on the walnut surface of his desk.

Robert studied him. Everett Radley, the ninth Marquess of Wendover, had been Robert’s superior at the Home Office for eight years. In his late forties, perhaps early fifties, he had a head of thick, graying black hair and a dark complexion more akin to a Spaniard than an Englishman. He was a quiet man and highly respected in society.

The
ton
did not know the true nature of his work, only that he maintained government offices in Whitehall and was privy to the secretary of the Home Office as well as the prime minister. It was common knowledge that he assisted the ordinance department and had been pivotal in supplying English troops with the munitions necessary to defeat Napoleon at Waterloo. Most of society assumed that he had no interest in marrying and was a reserved, brooding gentleman of duty. Only a hand-selected few knew of his covert workings.

Robert was one of them.

“Have you discerned the woman’s identity?” Wendover asked.

“She refuses to speak. I thought to meet with you before I attempted any further interrogation.” Robert placed the locket on the desk. “I believe her name is Sophia.”

As soon as the marquess spotted the locket, he bounded out of his chair. “Sophia?”

“Does the locket or the name have significance?”

“I’ll need to see her.”

Wendover went to a painting on the far wall and lifted it down to reveal a small panel in the plaster. He slid the panel open to reveal a view of the adjoining sitting room. Robert knew the town house was not the earl’s residence, but one of several working safe houses. The secret opening was visible only from the study into the sitting room and came in useful when Wendover desired to observe suspects who were brought here for questioning.

Wendover peeked into the sitting room, took a deep breath, then stepped back. “I’ll be damned.”

Robert masked his surprise. In all the years he had worked for the marquess, he had never seen a crack in Wendover’s calm demeanor.

“I see you know the lady. Can you please enlighten me as to her identity and why she sneaked into Viscount Delmont’s private library and held a pistol to my head?” Robert said.

The marquess slid the panel closed and returned to his desk. Robert followed and took his seat.

“Her name is Lady Sophia Merrill. She wasn’t trying to kill you. It’s Viscount Delmont she’s after,” Wendover said.

“Why?”

“Her father was the Marquess of Haverton.”

“Haverton? The inventor?”

“One and the same.”

As he had recently petitioned for membership into the London Inventors’ Society, Robert knew all about Haverton. Others called the marquess eccentric; Robert called him a genius. The high-pressure steel pistons he had designed were being incorporated into the newly developed steam engines for trains. He was also a brilliant chemist and was rumored to have been working on a poisonous gas, completely indiscernible to human smell and taste.

“Haverton hasn’t been seen publicly in some time,” Robert said.

“That’s because he was found murdered.”

“Murdered? By whom?” Robert had known of two murders in the last six months; both were members of the Society.

“We suspect Lord Delmont’s involvement. Haverton’s body was found in a brothel in St. Giles. The constable ruled it an overdose of opium. Due to the embarrassing circumstances behind the death, it has been kept quiet. Only his close friends and a few members of the Inventors’ Society are aware of his passing, although not the gruesome details. But I do not believe the cause of death was an opium overdose,” Wendover said.

“You have evidence of this?” Robert asked.

Wendover studied the crackling coals in the hearth. “I’d known Haverton since childhood, and we both grew up as elder sons and heirs of marquesses. He did not drink; he did not smoke. He was a recluse whose only interest was in his current invention. He had no desire to seek out prostitutes, let alone opium. His addiction was his work.”

The marquess sighed and turned to Robert. “The evidence points to his being murdered and his body placed in the brothel afterward. Upon investigation by one of my agents, we discovered his home ransacked and his notes missing.”

“Someone stole his latest inventions,” Robert said.

“That’s what we believe. His wife died twenty years ago, and he never remarried. His only living child is Lady Sophia.”

Things were beginning to make sense to Robert. “She wants justice for her father’s murder.”

Wendover nodded. “She came to me a week ago, begging for my aid. She knows of my involvement with the ordinance department, but she doesn’t know of my activities with the Home Office. She understood I was good friends with her father, and I told her the constables were doing everything in their power to find the responsible criminal.”

“I take it she was impatient,” Robert said.

“She had unearthed entries in one of her father’s journals showing he suspected corruption in the Inventors’ Society. Haverton had specifically mentioned Viscount Delmont.”

“Did Haverton name others or give details on what type of corruption he suspected?”

“Unfortunately, he did not. But Haverton was certain Viscount Delmont was involved, and mentioned a bad falling-out between them, which resulted in Haverton’s expulsion from the group. Sophia thinks her father was investigating the members—Viscount Delmont in particular—and that’s why he was thrown out. She understands it takes a considerable amount of evidence to arrest a peer of the realm, and she asked me for help in pursuing Delmont.”

“I assume you turned her down,” Robert said.

“Of course. She doesn’t know the Home Office is looking into both Delmont and the Inventors’ Society. As her father’s friend, I want to ensure her safety. I never thought she would plot and carry out such a disastrous scheme as to sneak into Lord Delmont’s private library with a loaded pistol.”

Robert thought of the wig and the mask. “She took care to hide her identity.”

“Sophia was stubborn as a child and headstrong as a young lady, but I never believed she would take matters into her own hands.”

“You cannot control other people’s actions, my lord,” Robert said.

“I can’t help but feel responsible for her well-being.” Wendover braced his arms against his chair. “Did you retrieve the documents from Delmont’s safe?”

“Yes.” Robert withdrew the ledger and packet from his jacket pocket and handed them over. “I haven’t looked at them. I hope they hold the information we need.”

“Delmont is working for someone,” Wendover said. “A mastermind of the group. My theory is they are stealing specific types of inventions for profit. All of the works can be utilized by a militia. One of the victims invented an improvement to the double-barreled pistol, the other to the firing mechanism for cannons, and Haverton was a chemist working on a poisonous gas. We don’t know exactly what they are planning or when they will make their move. There’s even a possibility that government officials may be involved.”

“They could sell the inventions to the highest bidder. England could suffer horrendous consequences,” Robert said.

Wendover’s brow furrowed. “It is not an investigation I take lightly. The mastermind will have to make contact with Delmont soon.” He glanced at the stolen documents on his desk. “The ledger belonged to Haverton. The notes in the packet are in Viscount Delmont’s handwriting. I hope they reveal names. Unfortunately, there is not much to go on except this.” Opening his desk drawer, Wendover removed an object and rested it on the mahogany surface.

Robert reached for the gold gear and examined the tiny teeth and identifying stamp in its center. No bigger than an inch in circumference, the gear bore the mark of what appeared to be the capital letter
I.

“What mechanical device is it from?”

Wendover shook his head. “None that I’m aware. It was found as a watch fob on two of the bodies.”

“Engineers use gears, but this one is very small. The
I
could stand for inventor. Could it be a commemorative token upon admission into the Society?”

Wendover shook his head. “I’ve spoken with a dozen members. None have received commemorative objects upon entry into the group.”

“Where do you want me to start?” Robert asked.

“Delmont’s hosting a house party at his country residence in Hatfield in two weeks. Numerous inventors are invited with their wives. Your petition for membership was a strategic decision to gain access to the group and assure you an invitation. I had planned on your attending along with Lady Marilyn. She was to distract the gentlemen and keep watch while you searched the place and discovered the truth behind the murders.”

Robert was familiar with Lady Marilyn. The widow of a late baron, she occasionally aided Wendover with his investigations.

“I work alone, my lord.”

“I’m afraid you must have a female partner for this affair. Delmont’s wife is inviting only married or engaged couples. She plans on entertaining the women while Delmont meets with the men. I leaked word that as the new Earl of Kirkland you are soon to be betrothed.”

“I see.”

“But to my dismay, Lady Marilyn’s mother is gravely ill and she refuses to leave her side.”

“Then I’ll go alone. Her absence will not hinder me from determining the contents of Delmont’s numerous safes.”

“Yes, but—”

Thwack.

A loud
thump
from the adjoining sitting room drew their attention. Wendover stood. “What the devil was that?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say our guest is destroying your artifacts,” Robert said.

“It’s time to deal with Lady Sophia.” Wendover retrieved his jacket from behind his desk chair and went to the door.

Robert moved to the hidden panel, slid it open, and glimpsed movement in the adjoining room. Lady Sophia clutched a small brass sphinx and paced the red carpet. Stopping by the door, she slammed the sphinx against the handle. When it refused to turn, she stomped her foot.

She has guts!
It was admirable, if not wholeheartedly impetuous.

When he first saw her, he had suspected she was one of Delmont’s spies, a consummate actress portraying an innocent miss. He’d been wrong; he could see it now. She was a lady driven to an incredibly reckless act. She could have been killed tonight, or worse, captured by Delmont’s private guards.

The thought of what Delmont would have done to her beauty and spirit left a strange sinking in Robert’s gut.

Sophia turned and looked toward the wall, directly where the panel lay hidden. Her green eyes widened as if she knew someone was watching her.

Green eyes just like Gwendolyn’s.

Robert frowned at the thought. Countless women had green eyes, yet he’d never before compared another woman with Gwendolyn. As for what Gwendolyn and Sophia had in common: absolutely nothing. Gwendolyn was pure and innocent, without guile or daring. Completely unlike the impulsive, reckless woman before him.

So why was he thinking about his dead wife?

Robert shut the panel and stepped back.

…

Sophia jumped as the sitting room door swung open. Two men entered. Her gaze flew from the tall, tawny-haired man to the second shorter figure, and she gasped.

“My lord!” She ran to the marquess’s side and grasped his hand. “Thank God you’re here! This man”—her gaze moved to Robert—“this man abducted me and locked me in this room.”

Wendover plucked the brass sphinx from her grasp and led her to a leather chair before the stone fireplace. “Sit, Sophia,” he said, returning the artifact to its shelf and taking a seat across from her. “Lord Kirkland works for me, and he has advised me of tonight’s events.”

She took a quick breath of utter astonishment. She knew the name. It had been in the newspapers about six months ago. The old earl and his only son had died in a tragic carriage accident, leaving the nephew to inherit the title. She hesitated, blinking with bafflement. “Lord Kirkland…but this man’s a thief—”

“Sophia, your behavior tonight was beyond careless,” Wendover admonished.

She forced her gaze away from Lord Kirkland. Why would an earl work for the Marquess of Wendover? “I’m sorry for any inconvenience my actions may have caused, but—”

“Inconvenience! You could have been killed.”

Her spine stiffened. “I asked you to help me.”

“What makes you think I’m not doing all in my power to see justice done as concerns those that harmed your father?” Wendover asked. “I’m in constant contact with the constables. Lord Haverton was my close friend, and I feel obligated to look after your welfare. I promise we’ll find the culprit.”

“We know who the culprit is.”

“What I mean to say is we lack the evidence to arrest a man of Lord Delmont’s rank, but the constables are investigating every lead.”

“Meanwhile my father’s murderer roams free, hosting lavish masquerade balls. I can find the evidence needed better than any constable,” she retorted.

Wendover’s voice hardened. “Listen to me, Sophia. I want you to go home and stay there and let the authorities handle the investigation.”

“I’m afraid I cannot.”

The marquess leaned back in his chair, and she feared she had pushed him too far. He would throw her out of his house and into the street. Which made her wonder, why was he here in the first place? From what she recalled, the marquess lived in a mansion in Portman Square. Nothing about tonight made sense to her, certainly not the mysterious Lord Kirkland standing in the corner of the room glaring at her.