The Lady In Question (14 page)

Until, of course, the time came when he left the department and took up the responsibilities that went along with his title. That too was something he preferred not to think about. Still, the idea of meeting Delia in the future without a fabric of lies between them was surprisingly appealing. Not that anything could ever come of it. If he told her the truth, she would never forgive him — why should she?

He descended a flight of steps, joined the crowd already milling before the entry into the ballroom, then deftly sidestepped a servant announcing names of guests and slipped into the ballroom. He had no desire to have his name announced publicly. Oh, he was certain someone in the family knew of his presence; he would not be here otherwise. He simply didn’t want to make a grand entrance. It would not suit his purpose. Besides, he was not altogether comfortable with his new title. It seemed as much a masquerade as his role as Gordon.

He accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and casually circled the room, making note of the entrances and exits, sweeping the crowd for familiar or suspicious faces. His gaze connected with several of the department’s men positioned around the room. The chances were excellent that nothing would happen here tonight. Still, it was prudent to be prepared.

He spotted Delia almost at once. She stood beside a seated elderly woman, probably the dowager duchess, and wore a black lace gown in what even he could see was the height of fashion. Damnation, she was a vision in black. Her skin glowed and her hair drifted about her head in a pale, ethereal manner. She looked fragile and delicate and just a touch uneasy. She wanted a grand adventure, yet she was obviously ill at ease in this setting. Still, there was a slight smile on her face and her chin was held high in a gesture he recognized. His heart twisted. It took a great deal of courage to defy the rules of mourning and appear in public, even if this was her family’s home and the country. It took a great deal of courage as well to admit your mistakes and forge ahead regardless. No, she certainly deserved better than she had received thus far. From Wilmont or from him.

He watched her sister approach her and a moment later both women laughed. They made a striking picture. One in a pale greenish, frothy confection, the other dark and vaguely exotic.

“My lord?” A voice sounded behind him.

Tony turned. “Yes?”

An Effington footman nodded a bow. “His Grace has requested that you join him in the library.”

The Duke of Roxborough? His stomach clenched, but he did not allow his surprise to show on his face. “Very well.”

“If you would follow me, my lord.” The footman turned and expertly made his way through the crowd, not once looking back to see if Tony did indeed follow. And why should he? A summons from a duke was second only to the command of the king.

The footman circled the edge of the room and opened a door that at first appeared to be yet another of the ornate panels that decorated the walls. Neither hidden nor obvious, this entry could best be called circumspect and Tony cursed himself that he hadn’t already noticed it. He followed the servant down the corridor to a door Tony assumed led into the library. The footman opened the door, stepped aside to allow Tony to enter, then pulled the door closed behind him.

Tony paused. His gaze swept the huge, book-lined room. The Effington Hall library made the library at St. Stephens Court look like an afterthought. It was beautifully appointed. Tall windows filled the far end. Portraits of generations of Effingtons stared down at him disapprovingly.

“Surveying for assassins, St. Stephens?”

Tony’s gaze snapped to the tall gentleman standing before an imposing mahogany desk. He had never met him before, but he had no doubt this was the Duke of Roxborough. “One can never be too careful, Your Grace, particularly in a place in which nothing untoward is foreseen.”

“Indeed.” The duke chuckled. “I expected no less from you.”

“Did you?”

“I am well aware of your work and your record. It is exemplary. Quite impressive.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Tony’s mind raced. He knew without question this was not a social meeting.

“Do come in and take a seat.” The duke nodded at a pair of chairs arranged before the desk. “I assure you I will not bite.” He smiled pleasantly. “Yet.”

Tony stepped to the chairs and cautiously sat down. The duke picked up a decanter from the desk, poured two glasses and handed Tony one.

“You look like the kind of man who appreciates good brandy.”

“Yes, sir.” Tony accepted the glass and took a sip. “It is excellent, sir.”

“Of course it is.” The duke propped a hip on the desk, drew a swallow and studied Tony over the rim of his glass. His position required Tony to look up to meet his gaze in a most disconcerting manner. Tony realized that was precisely the duke’s intent. Still, he found it difficult to resist the urge to squirm in his seat. “Do you know the name of Lord Kimberly’s superior? Or the man above him?”

The question was abrupt and unexpected. What did the duke know of Kimberly’s work? Caution edged Tony’s response. “No, sir.”

“Nor should you.” The duke’s smile widened. “Although I am confident you understand the, shall we say, discreet nature of the Department of Domestic and International Affairs?”

“Of course, sir.”

“I support this country and king with my very life, but the stupidity of those in power ofttimes leaves me speechless.” The duke shook his head. “The idea that the gathering of intelligence is not necessary during times of peace is shortsighted at best and, to my way of thinking, quite imbecilic. You do know the Depot of Military Knowledge has become little more than a storage facility for maps manned by nothing more significant than a minor clerk?”

“Yes, sir.”

The duke blew a frustrated breath. “England has enemies both within and without, my boy, and the best way to guard against them is to know precisely what they are about. I thank God for the foresight of those few in public service intelligent enough to realize this. This department of ours is this country’s best defense against those who would undermine the very stability of the government itself.”

“This department of
ours
, Your Grace?”

“I would have been quite disappointed if you hadn’t caught that.” The duke sipped his brandy and considered Tony for a long moment. “Indeed, we are on the same side, St. Stephens. As for where I fall in the hierarchy of it all, suffice it to say I have been involved since long before the beginning.”

The Duke of Roxborough? Involved in the gathering of intelligence? Spying? Surely not. At least not now, but perhaps once?

“You have a remarkable mind for solving puzzles that do not on the surface appear to have a solution, but I warn you, do not try to work this one out. Accept, for the moment, that I know far more than you about the workings of this department. Its concerns, goals and investigations.”

“Do you, sir?” Damnation. The duke’s family was the subject of the very investigation that started all of this. Still, that did not necessarily prove innocence. He chose his words with care. “Then should I assume you are aware of the nature of my current assignment.”

“I am aware of what led to it as well. There were allegedly papers — correspondence, I believe —

that indicated someone in my family was giving support in some manner to the French in or about 1814. Lord Liverpool was prime minister then, as he is now.

“While I think he has handled current domestic affairs abominably, to the eventual detriment of the country, I also think he is, at the present time, the most suitable man for the job. Or, at least, the best we have right now. I had high hopes when Wellington joined the administration, but…” The duke shook his head. “Politics are exceedingly odd, St. Stephens. A man you consider to be of vision and intelligence more often than not proves to be narrow-minded, out of date and unwilling to accept that the world as we have always known it is changing rapidly.

“But the nature of the current government is not why we are here.”

“Why are we here, sir?” Tony kept his voice level.

“I became aware of this nasty effort to sell these so-called incriminating documents after Wilmont’s death. You see, St. Stephens” — the duke’s steely blue gaze met Tony’s — “even if my involvement in the department is not generally known, I consider myself responsible for the lives of every man in its service. From the beginning, when one was killed, I was to know of it. Lord Kimberly, and those positioned above him, have told me all that had transpired.”

“And were you angry, sir?” Tony asked without thinking.

“Yes. And no.” The duke paused to choose his words. “I am not pleased to know that I or anyone in my family could be suspected of consorting with enemies of England, and yet I am pleased that the integrity of this office is such that even I am not above suspicion.”

It was obvious the duke was not merely involved in the department but head of it. Tony chose his words with care. “Then are you ending this entire episode, sir?”

“Not at all. I am convinced these documents, if they existed at all, are forgeries. I do not doubt for a moment the loyalties of my brothers, or myself, to this country. However, forgeries or not, because of the close ties of my family to the current administration and the prime minister himself, the revelation of this correspondence would cause immeasurable harm, a nasty scandal that might possibly lead to the toppling of the current government. The opposition would have a powerful tool in its hands. While I am not overly fond of this administration at the moment, stability, more than anything else, is what is desperately needed right now.”

“Wilmont was charged with the purchase of them, sir.”

“And we don’t know if he accomplished that before his death.”

“No, sir.” Tony leaned forward. “In truth, we have no idea if the exchange was made, if the papers were in Wilmont’s possession or if the money was stolen. Neither the documents nor the money he was to have purchased them with have been recovered. We assumed they were lost with Wilmont. Now it appears Wilmont never boarded the packet, and we have no idea where the Effington Papers might be. Although, thus far, they have not been offered for sale.

“The
Effington Papers?
” Disbelief sounded in the duke’s voice. “Rather a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

Tony winced. “Yes, sir.”

“And you have no information yet as to the significance of this mysterious notebook Wilmont allegedly discovered?”

“No, sir.”

“I assume, given your masquerade as my niece’s
butler…”

Tony tried not to cringe at the duke’s tone.

“…you have thoroughly searched his house.”

“It was searched right after Wilmont’s death, sir, and someone as yet unknown to us had searched it before Lady Wilmont’s return. We are in hopes whoever is looking for the notebook will return under the belief that it is still in the house or even in Lady Wilmont’s possession.”

“Is it?”

“Not to our knowledge, sir, but she might well have it or have information about it and not know it.”

The duke studied him carefully. “What’s your assessment of the situation, St. Stephens?”

Tony pulled his thoughts together. “When we learned Wilmont was not on the packet we thought perhaps, for whatever reasons, he may have feigned his death. However, as it has been more than six months and he has not appeared, we discarded that idea.”

“He could simply be waiting for an opportune moment.”

“Possibly.” Tony nodded. “Certainly he was reckless and somewhat unpredictable in his personal life, but I never noted those qualities in his professional behavior. While patience was never one of his virtues, he was quite good and always above reproach.”

“I am well aware of that.”

“However, he did not execute this assignment as planned.” Tony braced himself. “His task was to court your niece with an eye toward becoming familiar with family members and thereby ascertaining whether or not these documents could indeed be legitimate.”

“Damnably stupid idea, St. Stephens,” the duke said bluntly.

“In hindsight, indeed it was, sir.” Tony drew a deep breath. “I admit, I had qualms about it myself, but we saw no other options for uncovering the truth at the time and it was important to determine precisely what we were dealing with. It was never anyone’s intention to cause harm to…Lady Wilmont.”

“Giving you and Kimberly and whoever else was in on this scheme the benefit of the doubt, I assume marriage was not part of the plan.”

“No, sir. Absolutely not.” Tony shook his head firmly. “I have no idea how it came to that. I did not have the opportunity to speak to Wilmont at any length after his marriage. But I did note his behavior was exceedingly odd. He was not at all his usual self and seemed withdrawn, as if he had a great number of things on his mind. In addition, he was reticent to talk to me about what he was doing. That in itself was suspicious.”

Tony paused to choose his words. “To be honest, sir, Wilmont was my friend, and if I believed he was alive, then I would have to believe as well his pretense at death was for a nefarious purpose. And that I cannot accept, therefore I am certain of his death.”

“But if he is alive and he has the papers, will he make them public?”

“I would never have considered such a thing. However” — Tony forced the words out — “if indeed he is alive, then he is not the man I thought I knew and I have no idea what he might do.”

“Let us pretend for a moment that your friend, a heretofore loyal agent, is indeed alive.” The duke narrowed his eyes. “What purpose would possession of these Effington Papers serve him?”

“Power,” Tony said without hesitation. “I know he has no need of money; his fortune is quite substantial. Therefore power is the only other answer. Perhaps in terms of a new administration?”