A Lady's Secret Weapon (23 page)

Ethan sat in Somerton’s drawing room, listening with half an ear to the conversation around him. Anger, humiliation, frustration, and a heightened sense of expectation spiraled inside his mind like a child’s top spinning out of control. He’d said little since Somerton had retrieved him and Helsford from Brooks’s a half hour ago.

For the first time in his life, he hadn’t the faintest idea of what to say or how to act around his former mentor. Part of him wanted to apologize for being a damned fool and throwing away his chance at the chief’s position. Another part of him wanted to beat the manipulating bastard to a bloody, unrecognizable stump. Both notions turned his stomach sour and his heart cold.

Besides all that, the waiting scored his nerves raw. Cora and Catherine would be here any moment and then the group would discuss the latest regarding the Clarke-Latymer situation. Hours would pass before he could go to Sydney. He had so many questions. Was she Specter? Why did she become the elusive underworld spy? Who else knew? Why had she saved him and then disappeared?

Most of all, he simply wanted to be with her. Wanted to discuss Somerton’s test and how he’d failed it. Wanted to touch her, kiss her, hold her in his arms.

Sweet Jesus, forgive him. He wanted to bury every ounce of regret and disappointment in her warm body and have her soothe it all away.

“They’re here,” Somerton said from his position by the window.

Ethan rubbed his hands over his face and sat up a little straighter. Perhaps, if he could hurry their meeting along, he might still be able to see Sydney before going to White Horse Street and plucking Giles Clarke from Abbingale Home. Which reminded him that he still didn’t know why Sydney had been traipsing around the other night. So many questions.

A minute later, Catherine Ashcroft burst into the drawing room and went straight to Somerton at the window. “Good afternoon, Lord Helsford. Lord Danforth.” She peered up at her soon-to-be-betrothed. “Lord Somerton.”

The ever-serious spymaster’s lips stretched into a smile, and he dutifully bussed her proffered cheek. “Mrs. Ashcroft.”

“Ethan!” Sophie Ashcroft exclaimed, running into the room. She climbed onto his lap and wrapped her boney arms around his neck. “Wait until you hear what happened at the park. Oh! And I have a guillotine for Dragonthorpe.”

“Such a bloodthirsty banshee.”

She pressed closer, and Ethan felt his eyes go out of focus. “We have a surprise for you.”

“Do you, indeed.”

Her red-gold curls bounced excitedly. “Yes, but Mama said I must hold my tongue.”

“And how will you do that? With a pair of forceps?” He smacked his thumb and forefinger in front of her face, making her squeal. “Or with your fingers?” He moved his pinching fingers toward her mouth and then dove toward her rib cage.

Sophie let out a shrill laugh. “No, Ethan.” More giggles. “No. S-sstop.”

When she doubled over, trying to fight off his attack, he saw Sydney standing in the doorway of the drawing room, smiling faintly at their antics. He froze, his own tongue refusing to work.

The little she-devil in his lap yelled, “Surprise!” Sophie clapped her hands together. “We found them in the park.”

Sophie’s use of the word
them
snapped him out of his trance. He noted Cora joining Helsford near the sideboard and Amelia Cartwright moving to stand by a red-and-orange-striped chair against the wall.

“Miss Hunt and Mrs. Cartwright consented to join us for luncheon,” Catherine Ashcroft said.

Ethan rose, tucking the scrap of a girl in the corner of one arm. When he reached Sydney’s side, he glanced down at her cane. “Should you be up and about?”

“I could not have borne another hour of idleness.” She flipped a ruffle on Sophie’s dress back in place, garnering her a grateful smile. “The wound is not as bad as someone led me to believe.”

He had seen the bloody mess that was her leg before the apothecary had cleaned her up. No matter how superficial the cut had turned out, Ethan would always remember how she looked when Mac had first set her down on the bed. He recalled the suffocating constriction in his chest and the bleakness blanketing his mind. Never did he want to experience those feelings again.

Sophie cupped a hand around her mouth and whispered loudly in his ear. “Ask her to sit.”

The blood drained from his face at his thoughtlessness. He’d suffered knife wounds before and knew how they could pulse with fiery pain when upright too long. “Yes, of course.” Ethan offered Sydney his arm. “Miss Banshee has reminded me of my manners. We have a seat for you over here.”

Smiling at his helper, Sydney slid her hand into the crook of his free arm and allowed him to lead her to the chair he’d vacated.

“A moment.” Ethan lifted his arm away and then lowered Sophie until her feet touched the floor. Feeling charitable, he kissed the crown of her red-gold head. When she started to scamper off, he dug his fingers into her sides. She shrieked before bursting into giggles and breaking free.

He turned back to Sydney. “Now, where were we?”

“You are not to be trusted, I see.”

Ethan’s smile faded. “No.” He offered a hand of support while she eased into the chair.

“Miss Hunt might need this.” Somerton held out a small poppy-colored stool.

Nodding his thanks, Ethan placed the stool at Sydney’s feet. “May I?” He pointed toward her leg.

In answer, she jerked her head once. Her hand curled around the handle of her walking stick until her knucklebones were outlined in vivid detail beneath her taut skin. With as much gentleness as he could manage, he grasped the lower edge of her calf and settled the stool beneath her foot. By the time he finished, the back of his neck was damp.

With great reluctance, he lifted his attention to Sydney’s face to see what kind of damage he had reaped with his clumsy efforts.

Her eyes twinkled back. “Thank you, my lord. Perhaps you might encourage Mrs. Cartwright to join us over here.”

Thankful to have another task, Ethan located the assistant still standing against the wall. He marched over and lifted the red-and-orange-striped chair. “Follow me, if you will.” He set the chair next to Sydney’s and waved his hand toward it. “Mrs. Cartwright?”

Shoulders back, the small blond assistant strode forward and perched on the edge. “Thank you, my lord.”

Watching Sydney’s face carefully, Ethan asked, “Have you met the Earl of Somerton or Earl of Helsford?”

Features even, she shook her head. “I don’t believe we’ve ever been formally introduced.”

Ethan nearly smiled his admiration. She tiptoed along neutral ground by not being completely dishonest, nor completely truthful. “Lord Somerton, Lord Helsford. May I present Miss Hunt and her assistant, Mrs. Cartwright?” The gentlemen bowed and the ladies nodded.

“If you’ll excuse us,” Catherine Ashcroft said, towing Sophie from the room. “We’re going to freshen up a bit before we sit down at the table. You have much to discuss while I’m gone.”

Ethan glanced between Sydney and Mrs. Cartwright, who were staring at Cora. “What happened at the park?”

“We interrupted a kidnapping,” Cora said.

Both Ethan and Helsford moaned. Even Somerton released a long, hissing breath.

“Do not glare at me, Ethan,” Sydney said. “Mac chased the man down. I merely spoke to the child’s nurse.”

“And what did you do, my dear?” Helsford asked Cora.

“I picked up the child after the kidnapper flung him to the ground.” Her eyes narrowed on the silent man across the room. “Do not even try to use this against me. I’m perfectly fine.”

Somerton raised an eyebrow at her rebuke. “Can I assume Catherine behaved herself?”

“Yes. She had Sophie to corral.”

When the three women exchanged glances again, Ethan demanded, “What are you not telling us?”

Cora nodded to Sydney. “The child is the grandson of Henry Dundas, Viscount Melville.”

This time, it was Ethan’s turn to silently communicate with the three other Nexus agents.

“First Lord of the Admiralty,” Somerton said.

“After the intruder ransacked your study, didn’t he leave Melville’s file lying out?” Ethan asked.

“Yes,” Somerton said. “A fact that seemed rather careless at the time. Did you identify the kidnapper?”

“Lord Latymer, sir,” Cora said.

Ethan realized no one knew how to react to the news. Because of him, his family—especially Cora and Catherine—was drawing Sydney into the fold. Their acceptance, however, did not extend to Nexus business. What they didn’t understand—and Ethan was reluctant to share her secret until he learned more—was that Sydney probably knew as much as they did about Latymer’s betrayal.

On top of that maze of logic, Sydney would never reveal her role as Specter, assuming she was Helsford’s informant. That secret would force her to remain cautious about her level of questioning.

Quite the muck.

“A warning?” Helsford asked.

“From whom?” Cora asked, incredulous. “Latymer?”

Helsford shrugged. “Perhaps he suffered a bout of conscience.”

“He has none.”

“The child is unharmed, I hope,” Somerton said, covering the awkward silence that followed Cora’s vehement remark.

Sydney nodded. “We gave the nurse and child a ride partway home. She insisted on strolling him the rest of the distance for fear of drawing unwanted attention. From the sound of it, she met William—or Lord Latymer—yesterday and he coaxed her to return this morning.”

“Well,” Somerton said, “all turned out well, thanks to—”

“Mac,” Sydney said, filling in the blank. “He works for me. As does his brother.”

After a contemplative silence, Cora ventured, “Miss Hunt, I understand you have an interest in Abbingale, as we do.”

“Oh?” Sydney sent Ethan a hard look. “How’s that?”

“I mentioned to them that I could not have identified Giles Clarke without your assistance yesterday.” Ethan had learned so much more about her since their temporary partnership at Abbingale and his subsequent discussion with Cora and the others yesterday.

“Ethan also told us that you were investigating allegations of abuse at the Home, in the guise of a rich benefactress,” Cora added.

This time it was Ethan’s turn to glare. Cora could have left out that particular detail. Why was his sister purposefully putting him and Sydney in conflict with each other?

Sydney appeared ill at ease with the conversation. “That’s correct.”

“I recall Ethan also mentioning a client of yours leaving Abbingale after she witnessed some disturbing sights,” Cora said. “Do I have the right of it?”

Mrs. Cartwright sent Sydney a curious look.

“Yes, Miss deBeau.”

“Did you take the servant’s story to the authorities?”

“No.”

“Might I ask why?”

“Cora,” Ethan interrupted. “I thought you invited Miss Hunt here to dine with us, not to suffer an interrogation.”

“My apologies, Miss Hunt,” Cora said. “I did not mean to make you feel uncomfortable. Your story is fascinating and more than a little heroic.”

The explanation Cora provided eased the tension sharpening Sydney’s shoulders into perfect squares.

“Hardly heroic, Miss deBeau,” Sydney said. “I found nothing that would support the maid’s allegations.”

“But your instincts warned otherwise,” Ethan said.

She leaned more fully back into her chair. “My instincts accounted for nothing in this situation.”

“Perhaps not the abuse itself,” Ethan conceded, “but you suspected that a few of the staff were not as they appeared.”

“Although our promise extended only to retrieving young Giles Clarke,” Somerton said, “I should like to know what caliber of people we’re leaving the rest of the boys with.”

The former chief’s comment gave her a start. Ethan couldn’t determine if it was the content of his question that had alarmed her or if it was the messenger himself that caused her body to jolt.

“Mrs. Drummond’s dour attitude and suspicious nature seemed disproportionate for the occasion, and Monsieur LaRouche, the schoolmaster.” She paused, searching for the right words. “With one long examination the schoolmaster managed to see through my pretense. And the children clearly fear them both.” She gave herself a shake as if shrugging off an unpleasant memory. “No matter how hard I try to convince myself otherwise, I cannot feel right about their presence at Abbingale.”

“Sometimes we have nothing more than our gut to guide us,” Helsford said.

She nodded. “Indeed, my lord.”

“I couldn’t help but notice your footman outside,” Somerton said to Sydney. “Catherine mentioned to me before she left that he has a twin.”

Sydney sank deeper into the cushion of her chair, and Mrs. Cartwright perched straighter in her seat. “Mrs. Ashcroft is correct, my lord. As I mentioned earlier, both brothers work for me. What do my footmen have to do with the nature of our current discussion?”

Ethan wondered the same thing. He moved closer to Sydney’s chair.

Catherine reentered the drawing room. “Mother is entertaining Sophie until we’re ready to eat.” She moved to Somerton’s side, twining her arm around his.

Resting his long fingers over Catherine’s, Somerton refocused on Sydney. “Not long ago, an attempt was made to take Sophie from us.”

Sydney’s eyes flared briefly, and Ethan’s insides contracted against the first pang of understanding.

“At a most crucial moment,” Somerton continued, “a stranger in a black-hooded cloak, accompanied by two identical-looking men, intervened and helped us avert the kidnapping.”

“H-how—” Sydney stopped to clear her throat. “How fortuitous, my lord. I am happy to hear the villains were thwarted.”

“We were quite fortunate to have garnered such a friend, though we have not been afforded an opportunity to express our appreciation.”

The moment Ethan had discerned Somerton’s intentions, a knot formed at the base of his stomach and had grown to such a degree that he now found it difficult to breathe. He peered at Helsford to see if his friend was following where Somerton led. The normally unflappable cryptographer was staring at Sydney with wide, disbelieving eyes. Ethan almost felt sorry for the man. After two years, he’d finally come face-to-face with his informant. Specter.