As Luck Would Have It (2 page)

“Indeed. You’ll be reviewing his ledgers when you arrive, no doubt. Well, try not to put him off, if you can help it. Lord Loudor has a wide circle of friends and acquaintances. He’s rather popular amongst the
ton
. In particular, with a select group of gentlemen who garner no respect from me or my employer”—he motioned to the envelope—“and with whom we would like you to develop a better acquaintance.”

“You want me to spy on my family?”

If the gentleman had been hoping earlier for surprised outrage, he was no longer disappointed.

“Miss Everton,” he drawled with exaggerated courtesy. “The king, as you well know, is mad. Napoleon is ever at our gates, and two-thirds of our army is at his. England, at present, is in a most insecure state, threatened from inside our borders—”

“From my cousin?” she demanded.

“Actually, Loudor is not currently a suspect. He simply has the misfortune of naming several unsavory gentlemen among his friends.”

Sophie blew out a long breath and made a conscious effort to ease the grip she’d had on the folds of her skirt. “That’s not misfortune, that’s poor judgment,” she grumbled.

“Be that as it may, we would like for you to further your acquaintances with these gentlemen. Find a way into their studies, their libraries—”

“Find a way into their studies?” Was he mad? “Are you mad? Good Lord, I’d get myself caught or injured. I’ve no experience with that sort of thing.” Well, perhaps a
very
little. “There must be someone, anyone, who would better suit.”

Mr. Smith shook his head. “No one so much as you. You are, for all intents and purposes, new to London, without known sympathies or loyalties. That, combined with your rank as a viscount’s daughter, means no ballroom or parlor will be closed to you. There is also the matter of your possessing some unusual skills, courtesy of your Mr. Wang, I believe. Lock picking, knife throwing, some form of eastern combat—”

“I’m only a novice,” she interrupted. Mostly.

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “There is also the fact that we, Miss Everton, have something you need— money.”

She stared at him in bafflement, unsure of how to respond to that outrageous statement. Did he honestly believe she was greedy enough to quite literally jump through windows for a few coins? Perhaps he wasn’t mad quite so much as dull-witted. Maybe if she spoke slowly and very carefully…“I understand my family’s finances are less stable than they have been in the past, but I have every faith that will turn about. And we’re hardly impoverished—”

“Your father’s coffers are very nearly empty. He stands to lose Whitefield within six months, a year at best.”

Sophie was stunned into speechlessness, a rare and unpleasant occurrence for her. After much mental groping she managed, and then only poorly, “I…we…you must be mistaken.”

“There’s no point in my exaggerating the case, is there? You’d find out the truth as soon as you reached London. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but we are in a position to help you. We are offering a considerable sum.”

For a dull-witted madman, Mr. Smith was annoyingly sensible.

Dear God, why was she only now hearing of this? And from a stranger? In his last letter, her cousin had mentioned a few minor difficulties with the estate, but nothing she “need worry over.”

Taking him at his word, she’d made plans to travel halfway across the world to indulge in an expensive London season. How mortifyingly stupid.

And now they stood to lose Whitefield. Though it had long been the family home and the only consistently profitable estate, it wasn’t entailed. Whitefield could be sold, taken, lost. The means of their survival and the home of her lost mother and sister…gone.

Unacceptable.

Straightening her shoulders, Sophie turned to give Mr. Smith her best businesslike stare.

“You are not directly interested in any member of my family, is that correct?”

“It is.”

“How much?” she asked coolly.

“I’m sorry?”

“How much money are you willing to offer for my ser vices?”

“Ah, right. Well, upon arrival, you’ll be given access to a small sum available through a solicitor, pin money as it were. You’ll also have an open account at all the best shops in London. You’ll be able to purchase any necessary items associated with a young lady’s first season in London. Upon completion of the mission, you shall receive fifteen thousand. Well invested, it should be enough to restore your family’s financial security.”

Sophie glanced at the envelope. “And if they’re innocent? Will I still receive the money, or is payment contingent upon finding proof of guilt?”

“If you find no proof, you’ll receive five thousand pounds, a third of the original fee.”

Sophie shook her head. “Half,” she insisted, “of twenty-five thousand.”

“Half,” Mr. Smith countered, “of twenty thousand. That is as high an offer as I am authorized to give.”

Sophie thought hard.

But not too long.

“Explain then, please,
exactly
what I have to do.”

“You want me to seduce a virgin? Have you gone mad?”

Alexander Durmant, the Duke of Rockeforte, looked thoroughly disgusted. Slouched miserably in a chair by the fire and not so much sipping as gulping his brandy, His Grace looked ready to whimper.

Across from him, William Fletcher smiled pleasantly. It occurred to William that he might be smiling just a hair more pleasantly than was strictly necessary under the circumstances, but as head of England’s vast and currently very active War Department, William found it expedient to obtain his amusements when and where he could.

And, holy hell, but this was going to be amusing.

“I don’t recall having mentioned the word ‘seduce,’” he replied congenially. “Nor ‘virgin’ for that matter, although I’ve no reason to believe she isn’t. Your task is simply to keep close to the girl.”

To mask an outright laugh at Alex’s horrified expression, William drew out his handkerchief and blew his bulbous nose loudly and extensively. He knew full well there wasn’t a single matter involving a debutante that could be reasonably described as simple. They were a thoroughly complicated and enormously terrifying lot.

If Alex were any other man, William might have worried over gaining his cooperation, but for more than four hundred years, the Rockeforte line had served the nation’s interests in what ever capacity was required. Soldiers, spies, ambassadors, what ever the War Department or its earlier counterparts asked, the Rockeforte men answered without question, complaint, or demand. It was a quiet honor ingrained in every male of the family. Alex, honorable to the bone, would rather die than fail to live up to that legacy. He would even forsake his usual pursuit of actresses and courtesans and enter the dreaded world of ambitious debutantes and their title-hungry mamas.

For a time. And not without first ascertaining if it might be avoidable.

“There are limits, William.”

“I’m not asking you to wed the chit,” he argued reasonably. “Just make nice.”

“I have no experience making nice.”

“Nonsense, I’ve seen you perfectly amiable on at least two occasions.” William shoved his handkerchief back in his pocket and leaned back in his seat to savor the experience of watching his friend squirm. “I need a man on the inside, and a courtship of Loudor’s cousin will provide ample opportunities for you to be in his company, in his home.”

“We could just as easily arrange for the two of us to be introduced—”

“And have him wonder why the generally reclusive Duke of Rockeforte has taken a sudden interest?” William shook his head. “Woo the girl, Alex, and woo Loudor in the process. Find out what he and his cronies are about.”

Alex scowled, swore, squirmed.

Then, as William had expected, capitulated. “Bloody hell, very well. What do we know about this woman, this Miss…?”

“Everton. Miss Sophie Everton. Her father owns the estate of Whitefield. I believe Miss Everton holds the place in particular regard, as did the girl’s mother.”

“Deceased?”

“Yes, as well as her sister, both killed in a carriage accident. The viscount left England with his daughter shortly thereafter, and gave over the business of running the estate to his cousin.”

Alex nodded absently. “Loudor. How long ago was that?”

William reluctantly set down his drink, licked a bit of brandy off his fingers, and shuffled through the mountain of papers on his desk before finding what he needed. “Twelve years this past February.”

“And how old was Miss Everton at the time?” Alex asked suspiciously.

“Twelve.”

“Excellent,” Alex grumbled, “a spinster.”

It wasn’t a complaint, per se, more a statement of dread.

“Come now, man,” William chided. “Have a heart. She’s spent the last decade continent-hopping with her father. There hasn’t been an opportunity for the poor girl to make a suitable match.”

“She’ll be husband hunting.”

Setting the paper aside, William once again relaxed in his chair and smiled. “Is that fear I’m hearing, Your Grace?”

“Yes.” Alex took a gratifyingly large drink before continuing. “What else do we know?”

Chuckling, William dug through his papers again. It was a pointless exercise (he’d long since memorized them) except in that it provided an opportunity to draw out the moment. “Ah, here we are. Hmm…Seems she’s a bit of an oddity, actually…. Speaks a number of languages, of which only English and Latin can be counted as civilized…. Raised by her father and a governess turned chaperone by the name of Mrs. Mary Summers, and an English-educated Chinese man—old friend of the family. The latter two are traveling with Miss Everton, although Mr. Wang will be journeying on to Wales. As for the young woman herself, she has a reputation for being somewhat outspoken, shares her father’s interest in antiquities with no material value, and has had a rather alarming series of mishaps.”

Alex digested that information for a moment before speaking.

“Any indication she’s traveling to London to aid Loudor?”

“None, but that doesn’t negate the possibility that she is, or will be, sympathetic to his cause. They’ve been in contact by post regarding her father’s estate, but it’s hardly uncommon for a young woman to keep up regular correspondence.”

“Hmm. Have any of these missives been intercepted?”

“A few, wouldn’t do to have them become suspicious.”

“And were they useful?”

“They were positively benign. He asked after her welfare, hoped her father’s spirits were improved.” William waved his hand around. “That sort of thing. Chatty letters.”

Alex frowned into his brandy and William imagined he was currently thinking of all the reasons, some of them possibly even legitimate, not to accept the assignment. All the excuses he could use to politely extricate himself from what he knew was his duty. But he was a Rockeforte, and in the end he asked only, “What does she look like?”

“Beg your pardon?”

“Miss Everton, what does she look like?”

“Oh, well…” William mumbled the rest of the sentence into his drink.

Alex leaned forward in his chair. “What’s that?”

“Ahem…well, I’m not entirely sure.” He grimaced, mentally congratulated himself for the affectation, and hurried his explanation. “My man in China, he didn’t give a description exactly. He mentioned something vague…something about ‘unusual.’”

“Unusual?”

“Likely the word was lost in translation.”

Alex swore, squirmed a little more, then took a deep breath and a deeper drink.

“For Crown and country then,” he finally grunted, clearly unimpressed with either institution. “I suppose I ought to find a way to have myself introduced to our unusual old maid.”

“No need. I’ve arranged to have Loudor’s carriage delayed en route to the docks. Miss Everton will be taking a delightful trick hack one of our engineers designed. Very clever young man. Just be at the corner of Firth and Whitelow at five o’clock this evening. Bring Whittaker if you like. He’s likely already met Loudor and can help smooth the way, so to speak.”

Alex shook his head. “I don’t want Whit to go. He should never have gotten involved with your department to begin with.”

“Too late on both accounts. We needed his connections on that last bit of business, and he already knows you’re meeting with me today. There’ll be no avoiding him. Best to give him something useful to do or he’ll take it into his head to do so on his own.”

Alex jerked a nod and handed his empty glass back to William. “You’re certain Prinny knows nothing of this?”

“Quite sure. Our illustrious Prince Regent is entirely in the dark on this matter.”

Two

T
hree hours after her interview with Mr. Smith, Sophie found herself standing on her homeland for the first time in twelve years.

It’s possible she would have been a bit more excited by the notion if she wasn’t still standing on the dock, in a drizzle, pressed tightly between the overprotective persons of Mrs. Summers and Mr. Wang. Their luggage had been piled neatly off to one side and Sophie fought the urge to sit down on one of the sturdy trunks. Where was Lord Loudor, or, if he had been unavoidably detained, then where was his carriage? The other passengers had long since made their way into the city.

She let out a long, exaggerated sigh. She’d been pressing her companions to hire a public hackney, but Mrs. Summers insisted on waiting.

“Lord Loudor will be along any minute now with a reasonable excuse and apologies for his tardiness,” Mrs. Summers had explained. “A public hack is
not
a suitable means of conveyance for a young lady.”

After forty-five minutes of listening to these and an assortment of other excuses, Sophie stopped asking, and took up making varied sounds of disgruntlement. She sighed, she grumbled, she even
hmphed
for good mea sure.

Finally, after listening to Sophie tap her foot loudly for several minutes, Mrs. Summers caved. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Sophie! Have it your way!”

Sophie beamed at her friend as Mr. Wang took off to enlist the help of a dock worker. In a surprisingly short time, the three were comfortably installed in the hack.