Masquerading the Marquess (15 page)

It was well into the afternoon, and they were looking through Stephen’s suite, when Calliope realized they hadn’t sniped at one another since starting the search.

Calliope lifted a leather volume off the dresser and smiled appreciatively. “I had hoped to read this. It’s the sequel to the novel Stephen is so fond of. I swear he totes that book everywhere."

"
The Red Signet
?"

"Yes, that’s the one."

His gaze was intent. "Do you know where it is?"

"In my room.
Stephen thought I might enjoy reading it."

Angelford looked energized.

"Show me."

Calliope led the way to her room.

She entered the beautifully adorned room and lifted the book from the rosewood dresser. Angelford’s eyes were brimming with excitement.

"Here, let me see."

Angelford sat on the bed and took the book from her. He felt the spine, then the covers. He paused and then carefully slid his fingers between the two.

"In the past, Stephen has used this book before to stow important documents. It’s an innocuous-looking thing."

Slowly he withdrew two folded pieces of paper. Mindless of the impropriety, Calliope perched beside him and leaned over his shoulder. On one paper
was
the word
Salisbury
and a list of names:
 
Angelford, Chalmers, Seagrove, Pettigrew, Tornberry, Roth, Holt, Castlereagh, Hampton, Merriweather, Unknown
. The first three--Angelford, Chalmers and Seagrove--had been crossed out. Castlereagh and Merriweather had been crossed off twice.

Salisbury
? Calliope’s heart missed a beat. Her mind screamed to flee; her heart froze her in place. A little voice urged her to grab the list and run to
Bow Street
.

She folded her hands together. "Your name is on the list, my lord.
As is Stephen’s."

"This is Stephen’s handwriting.
Salisbury
. . ." Angelford’s voice trailed off.

Calliope gripped her hands tightly together. She wanted to scream,
Salisbury
, what?

"Do you know what the list represents?"

"Many years ago, a mission went sour. A traitor was suspected and a man was murdered. The investigation was dropped under pressure from the Foreign Office because of the turmoil in
France
and lack of evidence."

Calliope’s heart pounded as Angelford continued his explanation. Fortunately, he seemed not to notice the change in her demeanor. He looked lost in thought; his voice had taken on a distant tone. Absently, almost to himself, he said, "Each person listed here had something to do with that mission."

She kept herself from grabbing the list. "What’s on the other paper?"

Angelford held it up for her to view. It was an imprint of a large bird of prey. "It appears to be an image from a seal or ring."

Calliope took the safer, imprinted page, but she was more interested in the list. Years of smoothing her features came in handy. "So we need to determine who the traitor is from the list. Stephen obviously thought you and this Seagrove fellow were in the clear. Castlereagh committed suicide last year. I don’t know why this Merriweather fellow also has two marks. Maybe he is dead as well? We need to find the seal or ring that made this print."

He looked at her as if she had grown three eyes. "You have helped a great deal by showing me this book, but this is where we part ways. As soon as Finn gets back, I will leave him with you."

Outrage flowed through her.
And determination.
Anything to do with
Salisbury
was her concern.
"Absolutely not.
No one wrote you a threatening note, as I recall. You need me."

He shook his head. "I have enough information to proceed. You need not put yourself in further danger. You could have been seriously injured last night."

"I beg your pardon. If you plan to go off on your own, then I will be forced to conduct my own investigation. I was planning to do so from the beginning."

"And if you do so, I will have you removed from
London
." His voice was uncompromising.

She was appalled but resolute. "Since the note does not specify what I am to do with the item in question, another message must be forthcoming. Who do you propose will receive it, if I’m not around?"

That made him pause. Shrewd obsidian eyes studied her.

"In addition, my lord, you don’t know for certain that what they are looking for has anything to do with this list or the imprint. You still need me."

Ideas began to take shape in her fractured mind and she seized the moment. "We can say Stephen is on leave. I will circulate and make some discreet inquiries. At the very least it will appear like nothing is amiss. It may cause some confusion and perhaps someone will slip. Perhaps even send another note."

Angelford rose and walked to her dressing table. He picked up the ornate bottle that contained her favorite perfume and ran it beneath his nose. He gazed at it for an eternity. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if he said no. Somehow she would conjure a way to conduct her own investigation without Angelford knowing. She had to discover the truth.

He turned and strode stiffly to the door, his usually languid grace absent.

"We will go to
Covent Garden
this evening."

He disappeared around the frame and she collapsed on the bed, thoughts racing as she heard him murmur a few indiscernible words to Grimmond in the hall. They were to work together after all.

Things were getting more complicated.

Where was Stephen? What the hell had he been doing investigating
Salisbury
? A traitor killed
Salisbury
? Who was threatening her? How was she going to handle Angelford? And how long could she keep her secrets?

"Did she get the note?"

Curdle nodded.

His employer tapped his fingers together. They were as elegant as the rest of him. "Then why is she preparing to go out? One of the maids said she is attending the opera tonight."

Curdle felt his eyes narrow as he looked up at his employer. "It’s that swell in the black coach. He’s the one who left his man here the other night."

"Angelford?"
His employer showed no sur- prise. "I expected him to poke around after Chalmers’s disappearance. He is loyal to a fault, but I didn’t think he would get involved with the girl. Strange."

"Do you want me to get rid of him?" Curdle was eager.

"Not yet
. "
His employer continued tapping his fingers. "I know where they are going. I will keep an eye on them tonight."

He continued, "The men could find nothing in either house after countless times searching, so I am positive the girl has the ring. It is the only way Chalmers could possibly know after all these years. Right now she is our best bet. After she produces it . . ." He shrugged. "Then I will let you have her."

A feral expression stole across Curdle’s face.

* * *

Shortly after James’s departure, Calliope penned a note to Deirdre informing her that the troublesome issue from the night before had been resolved. She didn’t want to upset Deirdre or the family yet. She would tell them tomorrow when she had more information. Otherwise their close surveillance would be inhibiting.

Calliope was dressed as Esmerelda when the town coach arrived. She had taken special care with her coiffure and donned a sky-blue diaphanous gown designed to attract male attention. The décolletage was daring and the fabric clung provocatively to her figure. She turned in front of the mirror, satisfied with her appearance. There would be no doubt in the minds of those present that she was looking for new protection.

Calliope descended the staircase. Angelford regarded her closely and then offered his arm. She placed her hand on top.

Grimmond eyed them with interest but merely wished them a good night. Angelford escorted her to the magnificent carriage. The expert workmanship, from the gleaming heraldic arms to the squabs, was apparent.

It was a smart reminder of his position, the difference in their social status, and reason for their tentative relationship.

Calliope arranged her skirts and met his eyes across the carriage. Angelford was an impossibly handsome man, more so in his eveningwear. Dark, almost jet-black hair caressed his patrician face. It wasn’t quite fair some people were so blessed in looks and circumstances while others were so poor in everything. The bitter feelings resurfaced, and she struggled to regain control.

"The Opera Company is performing
Don Giovanni
tonight."

"How appropriate under the circumstances," she murmured.

His lips curved slightly. "Are you implying I’m Don Juan and
you’re
Donna Anna?"

She gave him a dark look and changed the subject. "What should I say if people question me about Stephen?"

"Sidestep the questions and let them imagine what they wish. I have every faith in your talent for manipulation."

She ignored the barb for once, too intent on planning. It would be stretching her acting abilities to pretend nothing was amiss when her head was screaming everything was. She could hear Deirdre’s voice scoffing at her to quit whining and assume character.

He continued speaking before she could respond, "Don’t allow anyone to know our real plan. It needs to remain a secret."

She frowned. She hadn’t said anything yet, but she certainly was planning on it when she learned more. "My family and friends will eventually need to be told, especially if more threats are made. If I don’t explain the circumstances soon, they will detect I’m being disingenuous."

"I told you they would be protected. If you tip our hand, I will have to remove you, and be damned with the consequences." He inclined his head faintly. "I have a driver ready to take you from the city immediately."

Anger and something close to relief stirred in her. "You’re bluffing. You wouldn’t.
" .

His brows lifted in the semidarkness. "Go ahead, my dear, and test me. You’ll find yourself in
Yorkshire
in a heartbeat."

His voice was hard and unyielding again.

She sank back into the velvet seat.
"Very well.
I shall endeavor to keep all those who care about me in the dark."

"You demonstrate very good sense, Miss Minton."

She bristled. "Do remember not to call me that. My blasted name is Esmerelda."

"It’s a dreadful name, you know
. "

"Blame Stephen if you must. He insisted on using it."

His dark eyes flashed and his face sobered. He looked out the window for the remainder of the trip. They reached the opera house in tense silence.

Calliope emerged from the carriage with his hand wrapped protectively about her arm. She could feel the speculative glances thrown their way.

"Damn vultures," she muttered.

She caught a half smile on his face. "You’re not the only focus of this endeavor
. "
He gave her a little squeeze, surprising her. "You will be wonderful."