Anne Barbour (24 page)

“But, he said he caught a ball in his shoulder!” exclaimed Tally.

“He did, indeed. In the back.”

“But how could he have the effrontery to proclaim himself a hero?” asked Jonathan in a hard voice.

That’s just it, he never did. He would somehow manage to work the subject of his wound into conversation, always in modest but completely false terms. He is considered to be of good
ton
, of course, and who would doubt his word? It was his beautiful cousin, however, who seems to have actually spread the word of his supposed heroism.”

Jonathan stiffened, and Tally could not forbear a small gasp.

“Clea!” she cried. “She will be devastated when she discovers that Miles is a traitor. She is—quite fond of him, I believe.”

Jonathan snorted. Richard smiled faintly and glanced sharply at Jonathan.

“Cat pointed out to me an article in the Morning Post declaring your betrothal to Lady Bellewood at an end. I hope you will forgive me, old man, if I tell you that we are not particularly sorry to hear it, nor do you seem particularly brokenhearted over the split.”

“No,” replied Jonathan shortly. The breakup was not precisely amicable, and, since, over the past several weeks, I have come to count you my friend, I will tell you that my — infatuation for Lady Belle died an unmourned death some time before the actual termination of the engagement,”

“I see.” Richard gave an odd little sigh. “I, too, have had some dealings with the lady and can understand your, er, disillusionment.” He shot a minatory glare at Tally and hastily turned the subject.

“Getting back to Crawshay. While we were quite sure that he was acting as an agent for the French, we were unable to discover the identity of his contact, until, that is, a certain talented, but uncautious artist delivered him to us on a silver platter, or, rather, on a grimy sheet of drawing paper.”

Tally leaped to her feet.

“My sketch of Miles and the man he was with at Limmer’s!”

“Yes. The stranger was recognized as one Carlos Mendoza, supposedly the son of a Spanish nobleman. He runs a small import business based near Dover. We keep a routine surveillance on all such foreign merchants, but up till now, had never found reason to suspect him of anything beyond some very small-time smuggling. Your little sketch created quite a stir in our department, Tally.”

“But why did you ask me to include it in my illustration?”

“Because I knew it would cause Crawshay and his contact some consternation, to say the least. We now believe that Crawshay works for Mendoza, who must have been highly upset to see his connection with Crawshay, whom he no doubt realizes is already under suspicion, made so public.”

“Well,” sighed Tally, “I’m pleased that your little problem seems to be solved, and I’m certainly more than willing to take every bit of credit for it, even though I was completely unaware of Miles’s activities at the time. I wish I could say that it makes my having to leave London worthwhile, but…” Her eyes brightened with unshed tears. “I’m afraid I just can’t.”

“Oh, but the problem is by no means solved,” said Richard, startled. “What is all this about leaving town?”

“I told you, Richard. Once Miles discovers that I am not going to procure the information he wants, he will lose no time in broadcasting my dark secret all over town. I suppose I should have the fortitude to face down the snickers and the cuts direct, but I’m afraid I’m not made of such stern stuff.”

“But your part in this is not over, Tally. Now that we know the target of Mendoza’s current operation, we’ll need your help to scoop the two of them up. We cannot arrest him until he accepts the papers from you, so you will have to meet him at the masquerade ball as ordered.”

Chapter Twenty

Tally’s startled gasp was covered by the sound of Jonathan’s explosive “No!”

Richard turned a surprised gaze toward him, and Jonathan continued in a more reasonable tone.

“You cannot possibly be serious in proposing that Tally place herself in the hands of that bas—snake. I won’t permit it.”

Tally, who had been about to enter a strong caveat against Richard’s proposal, suddenly found herself reversing her position. She lifted her brows and favored Jonathan with a frigid stare.

“I wish, my lord, that you would rid yourself of the notion that you have anything to do with the ordering of my life. Whether or not I choose to meet Miles Crawshay at Lady Crewell’s ball is my decision.”

Richard interrupted hastily as Jonathan frowned ominously and opened his mouth to speak.

“But you don’t understand—either of you. Tally, you must know that I would never place you in any kind of jeopardy. When—that is, if, you appear on schedule at the ball, you will have lots of company. You will be surrounded by squads of government agents, and we will have more concealed in the area where you are to meet Miles. The moment you hand over the documents to him, he will be apprehended.”

“But what if something goes wrong?” asked Jonathan, his dark brows still drawn together.

“We’ll make sure that it doesn’t. Not only will we have Tally surrounded, but we’ll be watching Crawshay, as well. I think we can safely say that in a few days, Mr. Miles Crawshay will have been rendered a spent force.”

“He will still be in a position to smear Tally’s name all over London. By the by, what information do these precious papers contain—if you can tell us?”

Richard sighed. “Only the names and locations of all the British agents in Austria, and the key to the codes currently being used by them in their dispatches.”

“Whew!” whistled Jonathan softly. “What the French wouldn’t give for that treasure trove!”

Richard grimaced. “Yes, Crawshay and Mendoza would be rich men if they could deliver it into the right hands. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t keep such critical material at home, but recently I have been obliged to receive agents here at odd hours of the night, and I must have the list handy to verify their identities, and to decipher immediately the dispatches they bring.”

After a moment of appalled silence, Jonathan continued briskly.

“At any rate, as I was saying, even after Crawshay is arrested, he will still be in a position to do Tally a great deal of damage. I should imagine that when he is brought down, he will lash out like the reptile he is.”

“And don’t you think,” interposed Tally, “that Mendoza is also privy by now to my—artistic activities?”

“I wonder,” mused Jonathan, “if it would not be possible to persuade those two gentlemen to forget what they know?”

“Are you suggesting violence to persons living on the King’s mercy?” asked Richard in mock disapproval.

“Yes,” Jonathan replied tersely.

“Oh, Jonathan,” exclaimed Tally. “You must not, not for me. If you were to do such a thing, I don’t think it would take Miles long to put two and two together and realize that you must be the author of
Town Bronze
.”

Richard cleared his throat noisily.

“I hope you don’t think I’m prying, but it seems to me there has been a pronounced scent of April and May in here since you two arrived into the room.”

“Nothing gets by you Foreign Office chappies, does it?” Jonathan grinned. “You are right, of course, and you may wish us happy.”

“No!” exclaimed Tally. “You may not! Jonathan, I cannot marry you while I have this—this cloud hanging over my head.”

Jonathan’s response to this was interrupted by the entrance of Cat, who swept into the room gowned in a walking dress. Observing the little group huddled in one corner of the study, her delicate brows rose in surprise.

“But what is this? Richard, I had thought you on your way out. Tally, why did you not tell me you had a visitor?” Her gaze dropped to where Tally’s hand lay clasped in Jonathan’s and her expression changed to one of gleeful surmise.

“Yes.” Jonathan’s grin widened. “You may wish us happy, Mrs. Thurston.”

“Tally!” Cat squealed. “And you did not say anything?”

Tally snatched her hand away, and tears shone in her eyes.

“No, Cat—you are not to wish us happy.” She twisted to face Jonathan, who reclaimed her slender fingers.

“Jonathan, I will not marry you. I cannot. I have explained this to you over and over.”

Jonathan merely smiled and bent his smoky gaze to hers. His hand reached for hers, and he stroked the back of it with one finger, an activity that nearly destroyed the control Tally had been maintaining so rigidly.

“And I have explained to you over and over,” Jonathan was saying, “that you are speaking nonsense. In a few short days, the man will no longer be a threat to you.”

“Threat?” exclaimed Cat. “What in the world are you talking about?”

The three glanced at one another, and by unspoken consent, drew Cat into the room and apprised her of the circumstances at hand. It took her several moments of confused questions and infuriated animadversions on the character of Miles Crawshay before she settled in a chair to contribute her mite to the planning session.

“It seems to me,” she commented, “that once Crawshay and his contact—Mendoza is it?—are arrested, you need only imprison them somewhere and keep them incommunicado. Unless they are possessed of magical powers, they will be effectively silenced.”

Richard chuckled and said to Tally and Jonathan, “Did I not say she is a born conspirator?”

He drew his wife into the circle of his arm and planted a kiss on her cheek.

“There is just one problem with your otherwise eminently practical solution, my love,” he continued. “We are not living in Spain or Russia. We civilized English do not keep our prisoners in isolated dungeons.”

“More’s the pity,” muttered Jonathan.

Richard ignored the interruption.

“Crawshay will be allowed visits from counsel and assorted near and dear ones, allowing him ample opportunity to trumpet Tally’s dark secret throughout the land, if he so chooses.”

Tally had sat with her head bowed during this exchange, but at this, she lifted her eyes and spoke in a clear voice.

“We’re talking treason here, and the first consideration must be the destruction of Miles’s plans. Once he and his partner are brought to justice, we can return to the problem of my dark secret.”

Three pairs of eyes swung to her with expressions varying from puzzlement to appreciation to glowering disapproval.

Cat opened her mouth to speak, but was forestalled by a heated outburst from Jonathan.

Tally,” he began angrily, “I can’t let you…”

He stopped short as Tally raised her hand with calm authority.

“I appreciate your concern— all of you. But it is my decision, and you cannot gainsay the logic of my position. Crawshay must be stopped—no matter what the personal consequences to me.”

The four sat for a long moment, gazing at each other in silence.

“Well, then,” said Richard at last. “Let me get to Lord Whittaker about this and put our plan before him. Then we shall see.”

Jonathan said nothing more, but a thoughtful expression crossed his lean features as he gazed at Tally.

* * * *

Tally had often reflected that the behavior of the beau monde generally revealed its members to be a pack of bored, spoiled children, and nothing proved this theory more than a masquerade ball. She gazed around Lady Crewell’s ballroom and watched as a portly Henry the Eighth preened himself before a sinuous Cleopatra. A Chinese princess peered speculatively over her lacquered fan at a Roman centurion brandishing a pasteboard sword. Secure in their anonymity, and released from the rigid rules of propriety, a hundred pair of eyes conducted velvet flirtations through the slits of their masks.

Nowhere, however, amidst the fantastic assortment of plumed and glittering beings could Tally find the one figure she had been seeking since she had arrived over an hour ago.

She glanced at Jonathan, who stood close beside her. He had come to the ball dressed as a medieval knight, and in his close-fitting tunic and hose, his powerful frame showed to devastating advantage. He looked the very personification of heroic power, and chivalry.

“I don’t see Miles anywhere, do you?” she asked.

Jonathan turned an appreciative gaze to the diminutive figure before him. Tally was a tempting confection in layers of multicolored spangled gauze, which floated about her slim body in a dream representation of Titania. A silver filet had been threaded through her chestnut curls and fastened with a diamond crescent, borrowed from Cat. Her mask was a work of art, comprised of satin and brilliants curved in an upward sweep. Silver slippers, sprinkled with diamond dust completed the ensemble, and she shimmered with every movement, as though she had borrowed some of the fairy queen’s magic as well as her name in order to flutter, suspended, among lesser mortals. She should not, thought Jonathan with savage tenderness, have to bear the burden of a nation of those slender shoulders.

“I would not be sorry if he didn’t show up at all,” he rasped. “Do you remember what you are to do?”

“I could scarcely have forgotten in the three minutes since the last time you asked me,” Tally replied tartly. “I am not to allow myself to be alone with him until the time of the meeting. I am to notify you before I leave the ballroom to go to the meeting. I am not to enter the room until--oh!” Her face paled, and she dug her fingers into Jonathan’s arm. “There he is! See? By the door? He must have just arrived.”

Jonathan’s eyes followed Tally’s stricken gaze and came to rest on a tall, black-robed form at the other side of the ballroom. It was impossible to discern his features, for not only was he masked, but his face was almost entirely concealed in the shadow of his voluminous hood. He, too, glittered in the blaze from hundreds of candles, glancing in shafts from the silver symbols emblazoned on his cloak. But for all his magnificence, thought Tally, he was a creature of the dark.

Jonathan took her cold fingers in his own. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

Tally closed her eyes for a moment. “Of course, I don’t want to go through with it! But, I must.”

She shook herself and managed a shaky laugh.

“Just listen to me! You’d think I was going to fight a duel with him, when I simply have to hand him a few papers. Richard and his men will do the rest,”