A Lady's Secret Weapon (18 page)

From that day to this one, Mac had never seen his brother succumb to the pain again. Not once. Knowing now he did so in silence, and all alone, was almost more than Mac could bear.

“If LaRouche is capable of such brutality,” Amelia said, cutting into his bout of self-recrimination, “I can’t imagine the damage he has inflicted on those boys.”

“I can.” Restless, Mac shot to his feet again and began pacing. “The sooner we end this, the better.”

Even though his back was to her, Mac could feel Amelia’s assessing—and, God forbid, sympathetic—gaze traveling over him.

Before long, she said, “Let us finish assembling all the information we’ve gathered from our informants. The key to our next step lies within all these bits of intelligence.”

As if to second her motion, a chirp sounded from beneath the red coverlet.

When Ethan returned home from his tour of Abbingale, he was greeted by a gaggle of spies.

Tanner took his hat and gloves. “Lord Somerton, Lord Helsford, and Miss deBeau are waiting for you in the drawing room, sir.”

Dread gripped his gut. How could he face Somerton again so soon, knowing his mentor thought so little of his abilities? Could he keep the hurt and anger at bay? What of Helsford? Could Ethan set aside his pride and congratulate his friend? He didn’t know, and the realization twisted his insides more.

He eyed the drawing room door. Why would three Nexus members be visiting him at the same time? The answer could not be good. Had something happened? Had they finally tracked down Latymer? Or was this a formal announcement of Helsford’s appointment to the chief’s position?

He finger-combed his hair. “How long have they been waiting?”

“About an hour, my lord.”

His unease multiplied as he made his way to his guests. Of the three agents, Helsford was perhaps the only one with enough patience to wait so long. Somerton, of course, would appear calm, but one could always feel the coiled energy vibrating just below the surface. Cora, on the other hand, was likely tunneling her way through the nearest wall just to stay occupied.

Once the drawing room was in sight, Ethan slowed his steps and cocked his head, straining to hear the conversation within. But there was none. A solemn silence draped the chamber, and Ethan suddenly wanted nothing to do with the inhabitants inside. His pace slowed to a stop and his hands balled into fists. Indecision kept him immobile for several long seconds.

His sister’s head poked through the open doorway; a frown cut deep grooves into her forehead, and the scar on her cheek glowed white. “Ethan, why are you dawdling in the corridor?”

Grief did not weigh down her words, nor were her eyes marred with sadness, concern, or fear. No, quite the contrary. His sister merely looked annoyed. “Waiting to see how long it would take you to investigate the disturbance below. You’re getting slow, runt.”

Her eyes narrowed into evil, retribution-filled slits. “If that is true, perhaps you will now be able to keep apace with me, brother.”

As much as his pride would like to be a braggart otherwise, Ethan didn’t believe he—or any man—could keep up with his sister. Though Helsford, her betrothed, would do his damnedest to try to stick to her side. “Keeping up with you is no longer my problem.” He waved a hand behind her. “I pray for the day when you’ll become heavy with babe.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you will either be too tired or too sick to torment me.”

“What a horrible thing to say.”

He sent her his most winning smile. “True, nonetheless.”

“I am going to enjoy the next hour,” she said in a deadly voice. “Immensely.” With that promise, she swept back into the drawing room, leaving him standing in an empty corridor, his smile fading.

Pulling in a bracing breath, Ethan followed, shifting his features into his normal devil-may-care mien. “Somerton. Helsford.” He made his way to the crystal decanters stationed on a small sideboard. “Care for a drink?”

Both murmured a negative response. Theirs was not a social call, then. Not that he thought otherwise, but it’s always good to know where one stood.

He pivoted toward his uninvited guests. Cora sat at the end of the sofa, glaring at him, while her betrothed, also his best friend, the Earl of Helsford, stood sentinel near one of the windows. Somerton, on the other hand, was turning away from his study of the cold fire grate. “Did I forget an appointment?”

“No,” Somerton said. “I was on my way to see you when I came across Helsford and Cora.”

So this was not to be a formal announcement regarding Helsford’s appointment. “And the reason behind your visit?”

“I have two,” Somerton said. “First, I’m interested in learning why it’s taking you so long to retrieve Giles Clarke.”

Heat flooded Ethan’s ears at his mentor’s soft rebuke. He hated disappointing anyone, but most especially Somerton. Despite his current grievance against the former chief, Ethan admired the man a great deal. However, in this instance, Somerton’s chastisement was unfounded. Ethan had been given this mission less than a sennight ago, though he was now only hours away from completion. If not for Sydney’s assistance, identifying Giles amongst all the other boys would likely have taken him far longer.

As was his wont, he sprawled out in the nearest chair. “So, this is to be a group inquisition.”

Somerton’s gaze slid across the room before returning to Ethan. “Not at all. I invited Helsford and Cora along to hear the other important news I have to share.”

“Ahh.” He bolted back a swallow of his brandy. “My heart is all aflutter with anticipation.”

Cora’s glare transformed into a frown. “Ethan, what is wrong with you? You are more bothersome than normal.”

He didn’t feel like himself either. No matter how hard he tried, he could not force his muscles to release their death grip around his bones. His mind searched, with a near frantic pace, for some great misdeed he had done to bring these three to his doorstep. But what tormented him the most was their betrayal.

Yes, he knew his mind was splintering between a world of fact-based logic and emotion-clogged illogic. He couldn’t stop the swift strikes of cold fury.

Cora, who was Somerton’s first choice for chief and, evidently, the best of the Nexus, wouldn’t get her chance at the position because her last mission left her scarred, physically and mentally. Ethan doubted she would have accepted the position, anyway. She had tracked down and destroyed the man who killed their parents. That was all she had ever really wanted from the Nexus, though he knew she believed in their cause.

Helsford, Somerton’s second choice, might be too distracted to lead the group, but Somerton was willing to give him a chance, because he had no other alternatives. Like Cora, Helsford had joined the Nexus for personal reasons—not for love of country or any other altruistic purpose.

Somerton. A father figure, a mentor, and, at times, a friend. Ethan had killed for him, had lied for him. Had risked his life over and over to cross enemy lines to save a diplomat or a gentleman’s innocent daughter for him. Somerton. One of the few people who could slash his heart in half with nothing more than a disappointed look.

No longer able to hold his indolent pose, Ethan shot out of his chair. “You’re right, Cora. I’m not myself. The past few weeks haven’t been what I’d call enjoyable.”

“Not for any of us,” she said. “What exactly is making you so peevish?”

He stared at her hard, trying to remember that she had not been privy to the complications of his mission, nor the heartbreak of Somerton’s decision. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Helsford moving closer to Cora. As if the bastard needed to protect his sister from him. The fury that had been skimming the surface of his control boiled over.

Tapping one index finger against the other, Ethan began ticking off the catalysts of his misery. “I was banished to London to rescue an orphaned boy—a mission more suitable for a greenhorn agent than one of my experience. Then a busybody proprietress begins nosing around my surveillance area and I’m forced to expand the focus of my mission, only to find out today that she’s investigating Abbingale Home, too. And if that wasn’t enough, dear sister, I learned that I’m not good enough to be—”

His brain finally caught up to his damned mouth before he said something unforgivable and utterly mortifying. No matter how much their actions felt like a betrayal, he would still throw himself in front of a bullet for every one of them.

“Not good enough for what?” Somerton asked, his voice low, intense.

Ethan’s gaze shot from one pair of interested eyes to the next. He rubbed his forehead. “Never mind. None of it matters.”

“It appears to matter a great deal,” Somerton said.

Slashing his hand through the air, he said, “It doesn’t.” He released a deep sigh and plopped back down in his seat. “Thanks to the nosy proprietress, I can now identify Giles Clarke and will fetch him tonight.”

Cora shared a look with Helsford. “She’s nosy and a busybody. Whom, may I ask, are you speaking of?”

“You might wish to detour your mind from its current path.” Ethan did not want his sister practicing her new matchmaking skills on him like she did on Somerton and Catherine. “Although I would not mind spending some time in her bed, I have no intention of doing so. She reeks of innocence.”

“Well,” Cora said. “That’s rather plain speaking, even for you.”

“Whatever it takes to throw you off the scent, runt.”

“Why is the proprietress investigating Abbingale?” Helsford asked, bringing order back to the conversation.

“Her name is Miss Sydney Hunt. She owns and operates the Hunt Agency.”

“I’ve heard of it,” Somerton said. “My housekeeper used the agency a few years ago and was pleased with their services.”

“Yes,” Ethan said. “From what I can tell, the agency has an unblemished reputation.”

“How did Abbingale Home come to her notice?” Somerton persisted.

“An ugly rumor had reached her ear.”

“What sort of ugly rumor?” Cora asked.

“A former servant made allegations of abuse. We saw no physical evidence of it, but none of the boys appeared enamored of the place either.”

“Few orphans take to the restraints of such a place,” Somerton said.

“What would she have done had she witnessed said abuse?” Cora asked.

“I asked her a similar question, once I realized what she was about.”

“And her answer?”

“She said something about destroying those responsible.”

Cora glanced at the other two men before returning her gaze to him, or rather to his mouth. Her focus was more than a little unnerving until he realized he was smiling like a fool. He wiped his face of expression. “Something unusual did surface during my surveillance,” Ethan said, redirecting them.

This time Cora smiled, not fooled by his tactic at all.

“I noticed some of the boys leaving the establishment.”

“Why is that unusual?” Helsford asked.

“It’s my understanding that orphans rarely leave the home once they’ve become a resident and, if they do, they’re in groups and always escorted.”

They were all silent for a while, then Cora asked, “How did Miss Hunt help you identify Giles Clarke?”

To his astonishment, Ethan balked at sharing Sydney’s secret. There were no three other people on this earth that he trusted more, but he could not get the words past the protective barrier.

“I take it her investigative methods were somewhat different than yours,” Helsford said.

Seeing his struggle, Somerton offered, “Every agent here understands the compelling need to safeguard the privacy of someone important to us. Through her exploration, Miss Hunt might have come across information we need. All I ask you to consider is if the privacy of one individual outweighs the protection of a nation.”

Torn in a way he had never been before, Ethan reviewed what he knew of Sydney and her mission of justice. What would it hurt for them to know the lengths Sydney would go to in order to save a child? The likelihood that she would cross paths with any one of them was minimal. Even if she did, Ethan knew the agents would say nothing. Not to her, or anyone else.

“You’re right, of course,” Ethan said. “Miss Hunt, also known as Mrs. Henshaw, is posing as a wealthy merchant’s wife in search of her next charitable endeavor.”

“Quite brilliant,” Cora said. “As a potential benefactress, she would gain access to the entire facility, under the guise of assessing its level of need. I can’t wait to meet your Miss Hunt.”

“She’s not mine, and you’re not meeting her.”

“Whyever not?”

“Cora.”

She opened her mouth to say something more, but Helsford laid a hand on her shoulder, and she clamped her lips together. Ethan shook his head at her easy acquiescence.

“Did she see anything out of the ordinary on the inside?” Somerton asked.

“Yes and no. Abbingale is well maintained and the staff ensures that the boys are schooled on various subjects. Though we saw no signs of abuse, the boys have a healthy fear of their caretakers.”

“We?” Helsford asked.

“I accompanied her today.”

His friend’s eyebrows rose.

“Come back to that later,” Somerton said. “What else?”

“Something about Miss Hunt’s initial visits to Abbingale made her wary of one of the nurses and the schoolmaster.” Ethan glanced around the room and noticed their closed expressions. “I know what you’re thinking. That her imagination might be conjuring villains where none exist. She’s not prone to overreaction, and from what I’ve seen, she’s a good judge of character.”

“Have you met them?” Somerton asked.

“I met the nurse today and would agree with Miss Hunt’s assessment. She’s suspicious to the point of ridiculous. The schoolmaster left before I could manage an introduction.”

“What are their names?” Somerton asked.

“Mrs. Drummond and Monsieur LaRouche.”

“LaRouche,” Helsford repeated.

Ethan smiled, but it was not one of amusement. “Rather too coincidental, wouldn’t you say?”

“Did the staff know you were coming, or did you invite yourself along?” Helsford asked, with uncanny accuracy.

“I invited myself. However, there would have been plenty of time for someone to notify him of my arrival.”

“I don’t like it,” Somerton said. “A Frenchman’s presence at the same boys’ home that is holding the son of a woman forced to watch over Catherine while she’s made to search my home for a nonexistent list of agents?”

“Latymer is connected to all this,” Cora said. “He must be.”

“I agree.” Helsford kneaded her shoulder. “But how?”

“You mentioned that the boys were coming and going at odd times,” Somerton said. “Did you notice if they were carrying anything as they left?”

“You’re thinking of some type of courier system,” Ethan said. “I had considered that, but the few boys I saw carried nothing.”

“Maybe they’re hiding something beneath their clothes,” Cora said. “Or perhaps Abbingale is only their starting location. What if the boys pick up the package at their next stop?”