A Spring Deception (Seasons Book 2) (29 page)

Clairemont let out a long sigh. There was no arguing the logic of the suggestion. He just didn’t want to hurt Celia or Rosalinde any more than he already had. If Gray were injured—or worse—neither one could ever forgive him. He wouldn’t deserve to be forgiven.

“I think Danford is right,” Stalwood said. “But it’s your case.”

The case. Clairemont had to think of what was best for the case. And this was it. “Very well. Your plan is the best one. But I want you to do exactly what I say.”

Gray looked annoyed, but he leaned back and glared. “I’m listening.”

The house was dark and quiet as Celia trailed through the halls, her busy, troubled mind keeping her from sleep. As she turned a corner, she was surprised to find Gray’s office door was open and a narrow column of light from a lantern or candle fell into the hallway.

She’d thought Gray and her sister had retired hours before. She’d heard them talking, then soft sounds she now understood through her own brief but wonderful experience.

“Gray?” she said, stopping outside the door.

“Come in,” came her brother-in-law’s voice after a pause.

She entered to find him sitting at his desk. He stood at her presence, and she blushed. His shirt was half unbuttoned and untucked, his hair mussed by fingers.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said, not meeting his gaze.

“No,” he said, coming around the desk. “You aren’t. What are you doing up?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted, moving to the fire and fiddling with a few trinkets on Gray’s mantel. A tiny portrait of Rosalinde, a figurine of a raven with its wing slightly outstretched, a small clock.

“An affliction I seem to share,” Gray said, motioning to the two chairs before his fire. “You must have a great deal on your mind.”

She took the seat he silently offered and was surprised when he sat at the one opposite her. He leaned forward, draping his forearms over his knees as he examined her closely. She was put to mind of the way he’d once looked at her when he thought she was a grasping title-hunter, after his brother. He’d searched her face the same way then, only now his eyes were much kinder.

“Aiden left this afternoon without saying goodbye,” she said softly. “Without saying anything at all.”

Gray leaned back, his lips pinching in what she could tell was frustration. It didn’t seem to be aimed at her, though, but at Aiden.

“I see,” he said at last. “What can I do, Celia?”

She sighed. “You and Rosalinde want to protect me, I know. I appreciate it. But I want to know what is happening. That is all that will put me at ease now.”

Gray seemed to consider that statement. “You’ve earned the truth, I think. But I doubt it will put you at ease any more than it put Rosalinde at ease when I told her a few hours ago.” He took a long breath. “Tomorrow I’ll meet with a man who might be involved in the real Clairemont’s treason, in his murder. And
your
Clairemont and Stalwood will be here, in hiding, ready to spring if anything of import is revealed.”

Celia thought of the ugly red line slashed across Aiden’s arm from the bullet meant for Gray. She shuddered. “That sounds very dangerous, Gray.”

He nodded, solemn. “It is. You and Rosalinde will go out during the meeting.”

She shook her head. “Oh no, please, let me stay.”

Gray arched a brow. “I think not. Rosalinde demanded the same and I shall give you the same answer. I will not have you here with a potential killer in the house.”

“But—” she began.

Gray lifted his hands. “God’s teeth, you two are stubborn—there is no doubt you are sisters. No, Celia. That is final.”

She flopped back against the chair. Truly, he wasn’t being unreasonable. He wasn’t even being unkind. She knew that her being here would likely only be a distraction to both Gray and to Aiden. Distraction could equal danger and she didn’t want that.

“Do you think you might catch this potential murderer tomorrow?” she asked.

Gray nodded. “If the man coming here is truly the real Clairemont’s partner, I think it is very likely we could catch him.”

She caught her breath. “Then this will be…it will be over,” she whispered, each word like a stab wound deep in her chest.

There must have been a tone to her voice, for Gray’s expression softened greatly. “Yes,” he said. “I suppose it will be.”

She pushed to her feet and walked the length of the room. “He’s already pulling away from me.”

Gray stood and watched her. “But he must, Celia. You know that. It’s what he feels is best for you. I can see the struggle in him, though. It’s hurting him, too.”

She spun to face him, finding hope in his words. “Do you think so?”

“I know it,” Gray said. “It’s killing him.”

“And yet he still does it,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Gray said, and nothing more.

“So am I,” Celia said with a humorless laugh.

To her surprise, Gray moved across the space between them and wordlessly drew her in for a brief hug. This man who had been her enemy little more than five months before was now offering her comfort.

She looked at him. Really looked. There was hardness to Gray, but also kindness.

“You know, I understand a great deal more today than I did when we first met,” she said. “And I thank you for loving my sister. For giving her such a wonderful life.”

“It is my greatest pleasure,” Gray said with a small smile. “I assure you.”

Celia motioned for the door. “Well, go to her, then. I’m sure she’s still awake, and if you’re going to be in danger tomorrow, you should spend these hours comforting her, not brooding in here or fussing over me.”

“What will you do?” Gray asked.

She shrugged. “Wait,” she said. “Hope.”

He nodded and squeezed her hand before he followed her direction and left the room. But alone, she knew one thing more than all others.

There was no real hope left for her. Except that Aiden would come out of tomorrow alive. Outside of that, her future and her fate were both sealed.

“Can you hear me?”

Standing in the hidden hallway behind Gray’s desk, Clairemont exchanged a brief look with Stalwood in the dim light. “Yes,” he replied, a bit louder than normal, since he wasn’t sure Gray would hear him. “And see you.”

“Excellent. Greene will show Turner-Camden in rather than inquire if I’m in residence, then he’ll leave the house for safety. It should only be a few moments more.”

Clairemont leaned in closer. “And Celia and Rosalinde are definitely out for the duration of the meeting?”

Behind him, he heard Stalwood clear his throat, but refused to turn. He knew his mentor didn’t approve of his preoccupation in the heat of the battle. Why would he? A distracted agent was easily a dead agent. But Clairemont couldn’t help it. Fearing for Celia’s safety was as much of a distraction as asking after her. Perhaps more.

Gray glared at the bookcase. “I have told you three times, they are out and have been for some time. Rosalinde was been given strict instructions not to return for several hours. The servants will put Turner-Camden’s horse in a specific place as well, able to be seen from the street. If my wife sees it there even after enough time has passed, they will not come back.”

Clairemont let out a sigh of relief, even though he knew better than to trust Rosalinde and Celia with following orders. The sisters were of one mind when it came to watching out for those they cared for. He could only hope their desire to protect each other would trump anything else.

There was a sound in the hall, and Gray turned away from the bookcase and took his seat at the desk, cutting off all other communication just as Green stepped into the room.

“The Marquess Turner-Camden, my lord,” he said, ushering a man into the room.

Clairemont leaned in closer to get a good look at the person. He was the only one who had never seen Turner-Camden before, and he couldn’t say he was impressed. The man was short, squat and nearly as wide as he was tall. His clothing was dandified and he wore what looked to be a fortune in jewels on his hands.

“My lord,” Gray said, and Clairemont was in awe of his calm demeanor. Gray knew this man could very well be dangerous beyond measure and yet he gave nothing away. “How nice to see you again. It’s been too long.”

“It has, Mr. Danford,” the marquess agreed as he flopped heavily into the chair across from Gray’s. “I’m so pleased we could meet so swiftly after my arrival.”

“Your note sounded most urgent,” Gray continued. “I trust whatever business kept you from Town earlier has been resolved to your satisfaction.”

Turner-Camden’s face pinched. “Not quite. But it will be soon enough.”

Clairemont shot Stalwood a glance. Was the man talking about his assassination of the real Clairemont or something else entirely? Who was to say?

“Did it have anything to do with our business together?” Gray pressed, steering the conversation to the topics Stalwood and Clairemont would be most interested in. “With our partnership with the Duke of Clairemont?”

“Something along those lines,” Turner-Camden drawled in a nasal tone that grated across Clairemont’s spine. He didn’t like this man. There was something that felt entirely wrong about him.

“His being back in London has created quite the stir,” Gray said, leaning back in his chair like he had not a care in the world.”

“So I’ve heard.” Turner-Camden leaned forward. “He is even courting your wife’s sister, I’ve been told.”

“Yes, he is quite serious about Celia, it seems.” Gray shook his head. “But I have my…my hesitations.”

Clairemont looked over his shoulder, and in the dim light he met Stalwood’s eyes. His mentor looked just as impressed as he was by Gray’s performance so far. The man could have easily been a spy, himself.

“Well, I had hoped to talk to you about Clairemont when I came here,” Turner-Camden said. “As my note mentioned.”

“Excellent. What would you like to discuss?” Gray asked.

Turner-Camden shifted in his chair and from Clairemont’s angle, he saw the man’s eyes narrow. He was sizing Gray up, analyzing him. What he saw or thought or would do next was anyone’s guess, but Clairemont didn’t like the change. He just hoped Gray saw it, too, and was prepared.

“I’d like your thoughts first. What are your
hesitations
?”

Gray waited a beat before he answered. “Well, to be honest, Clairemont has been…
odd
since his return to Society. He is not the man I recall he was when I knew him in our schoolboy days.”

Turner-Camden straightened at that statement and his hand clenched slightly on the armrest of his chair. “I see,” he ground out.

Clairemont leaned closer to the bookshelf, using everything in him not to burst out and interrupt the meeting. “Don’t push,” he said beneath his breath. “Don’t push.”

But of course Gray couldn’t hear him. And it was obvious Gray thought he was close to something big. “You know him better than I do. He was the one who suggested you come on board in the canal project. So I thought perhaps you could tell me more.”

Turner-Camden rose slowly and paced away, and Clairemont caught his breath. His view of the room was limited by the narrow opening in the bookcase. If Turner-Camden wasn’t sitting right in the chair across from Gray, he could no longer be seen. Which meant Clairemont could now only judge what was happening by what he heard and what Gray did in reaction.

“You want to know more about Clairemont,” Turner-Camden drawled from across the room. “Very interesting. You see, I came here today to get more information from you, Danford. I may not have been in London these past few weeks, but it doesn’t mean I haven’t been informed of what has been happening here.”

Gray remained in his place at his desk, but Clairemont noticed how his shoulders stiffened. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“You’ve been spending a good deal of time with Clairemont for a man who questions his motives,” Turner-Camden said. “And interestingly enough you’ve also spent some time with a very good friend of this Clairemont…the Earl of Stalwood.”

Behind Clairemont, Stalwood drew a sharp breath. He had been a spymaster for decades and never had his identity revealed except by the very unusual circumstances with the Danfords and Celia. But Turner-Camden said his name like he knew something about him. And if Turner-Camden was truly the Rooster, he had betrayed too many spies not to take that seriously.