Checkmate, My Lord (18 page)

“Or a combination of both.”

“There is that.” Danforth angled his neck one way then the other. “Who else at the Foreign Office knew of Reeves’s request?”

“No one, as far as I know. Reeves gave me his word that he would be the only other official to see the list of operatives.”

“Damn me.” Danforth bolted back a drink.

“Indeed,” Sebastian said, rubbing his temple. “Find Latymer and expand your investigation to include Reeves. Be careful, Danforth. Reeves is a spy among spies, dangerous and cunning.”

“Yes, sir.” The viscount flicked something off his coat sleeve. “Does it not disturb you?”

“A great many things disturb me,” Sebastian said. “What exactly are you referring to?”

“Knowing powerful people are plotting your death.”

“Of course it does.” Sebastian started to lift his own spirits to his lips and then recalled his inability to subdue his enemy last night, with Catherine in the house. He set the drink aside. “But it’s a circumstance I’ve operated under since becoming chief more than a decade ago.”

“Allow me to send for a few guards. As a precaution.”

The viscount, along with Cora and Helsford, had argued long and hard against Sebastian’s refusal to bring guards to Bellamere, but Sebastian wanted to spend his time in the country in relative peace and isolation.

He hadn’t counted on Bellamere being in disarray, and he certainly hadn’t counted on Catherine.

“No,” Sebastian said. “The addition of guards would alert anyone who might be watching that I suspect something’s amiss. Get me something to work with—find Latymer, identify his companion, and increase your efforts where Reeves is concerned. Rule nothing out.”

Sebastian thought back to the afternoon when he saw a blond-haired man leaving Winter’s Hollow. A friend of Ashcroft’s—John Chambers—or so Catherine had said. But something in her tone, possibly the slight hesitation before she answered, made him question the veracity of her answer. What possible reason would she have for lying to him?

“Do me a favor,” Sebastian said. “See if you can track down any information on a John Chambers.”

“Where does he fit into all this?”

“Unknown, at the moment. He might be somehow acquainted with Ashcroft.”

“Anything else?”

Sebastian rubbed his forehead and squeezed the bridge of his nose, not liking what he was about to do but knowing he would do it anyway. “Yes.” He clasped his hands together on his desk. “Find out if Mrs. Ashcroft met with anyone while in London and see if you can identify the gentleman who paid her a visit three days ago.”

“John Chambers, I take it?” Danforth asked.

“Yes.” Sebastian sagged back in his chair, feeling more tired than he could ever remember being. If he could just close his eyes for a few minutes, perhaps the pain in his head would ease. “Notify me once you’ve learned more.”

“Somerton, about you and Mrs. Ashcroft—”

“Don’t.”

Danforth’s lips thinned.

Leaning forward, Sebastian said, “Your concern is appreciated. Let us continue to act, rather than react.” He considered Danforth’s tendency for rash action. “Keep a level head about this.”

The viscount nodded, recalling an instant when he hadn’t followed orders and had placed his loved ones in danger. “What if the trail leads back to Ashcroft’s widow?”

“Tell me, but leave her to me.” Sparks of white light flashed across his vision, and Sebastian fought to clear them away.

Danforth stood. “I’ll report back once I have more information.” He strode toward the door, but his steps slowed until he finally stopped.

Sebastian knew what the viscount was about before he ever turned around. Danforth never backed down from a fight, especially when the skirmish involved someone he cared for.

“Listen, about the widow—”

“Save it, Danforth. I will keep my wits about me. Now, be gone.” Sebastian fought to keep his eyelids open. “And do be careful. I have no wish to feel your sister’s wrath.”

Danforth stood his ground, revealing a hint of his legendary stubbornness. “Grayson mentioned a dead girl at your doorstep.”

“A domestic issue, nothing more,” Sebastian lied. “Besides, she was hardly found at my doorstep.”

The viscount snorted. “I have never known you to be so blind to your surroundings.”

Sebastian pressed a hand against his roiling stomach and shook his head in a vain attempt to focus his blurred vision. “Mind who you are speaking to, Danforth…” His eyes rolled back in his head and he pitched forward.

August 14

The pleasant breeze blowing across the lake did nothing to alleviate Catherine’s concern for Sebastian. This morning, after failing to rouse him from slumber, she went on to meet with each of the craftsmen, then returned to report her progress. That’s when she had received the unwelcome news from Lord Danforth that Sebastian was unwell.

Not considering the impropriety of the request, Catherine had asked to see him. The viscount refused admittance, and her angry reaction ignited a disagreeable argument that continued to ring in her ears, even hours later.

“Mama, you have that funny look again.”

Catherine glanced down at her daughter. They sat on a large flat rock at the lake’s edge, their bare feet dangling in the murky water below. “What look is that, dear?”

Sophie shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s the same one Papa used to get when he sat alone in the library.”

An image of Jeffrey’s faraway expression materialized. Catherine knew it well. In the beginning, she had wondered about it, had often asked him about its source. But after so many evasions and insulting quips, she had stopped wondering and asking.

“I’m sorry, Sophie,” she said. “I learned this morning that Lord Somerton was not feeling well, so my thoughts had turned toward his progress.”

“May we take him some of the biscuits Cook and I made last night?”

Catherine smiled. How she loved this little girl. “That’s very thoughtful, Sophie. When we return to the house, I’ll send Mrs. Fox a note to inquire about his lordship’s welfare.” She kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “I have a surprise for you.”

Sophie lit with delight. “A surprise for me?” She tore off a piece of bread and tossed it into the water.

“Smaller bits, pumpkin. You don’t want the fish to mistake our toes for your bread.”

“Yes, Mama.” She followed words to action. “Do I have to wait until Saturday?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Her little face fell. “Oh, I wish you hadn’t told me. I will go
mad
thinking about my surprise.”

“In that case,” Catherine said, “I probably shouldn’t tell you that it has to do with Bellamere’s stables.” She still found Sebastian’s change of heart amazing. One day he didn’t want her daughter underfoot, and the next he’s inviting Sophie into his inner sanctum.

“The
earl’s
stables?” Sophie dropped the whole slice of bread in the lake and clambered up on her knees to squeeze Catherine’s face between her grubby hands. “Tell me about the stables, Mama. Please, oh, please, oh, please.”

Catherine laughed, hugging her daughter to her, but the horse-crazed girl was having none of it.

“Mama, this is
serious
.” Her daughter’s breath caught and her eyes widened in excitement. “Am I going inside?”

Nodding, Catherine said, “At Lord Somerton’s personal invitation.”

“You mean I don’t have to sneak in?”

“Have you?”

Sophie shook her head. “No, but Teddy and I have been plotting ways to see the earl’s horses.”

Catherine bit her lip and forced her features into stern lines. “No, young lady.” She gave her daughter a little shake to emphasize her point. “There will be no sneaking in anywhere. Lord Somerton will personally introduce you to his horses.”

Sophie whooped as she threw her arms around Catherine’s neck and pressed a dozen smacking kisses on her face. “Must I wait until Saturday? I will
die
with antishipation.”

“Yes, you do.” Catherine tweaked her daughter’s nose. “And where is all this drama coming from?”

“What do you mean, ‘drama’?”

She settled her daughter more comfortably across her lap and pulled a cucumber sandwich from the nearby basket. “You are experiencing some extreme emotions, my dear.
Mad, serious, die
. Quite unlike you.” More than normal, Catherine amended.

“Oh, that,” she said around a mouthful. “Eloisa Walker’s older sister is very sophishticated. She knows all the important words.”

“Well, if you’re going to mimic your elders, you must listen carefully. You will die with
anticipation
and Eloisa’s older sister is very
sophisticated
.”

She nodded her head. “Yes, exactly.”

Catherine’s smile was bittersweet. Although the Walkers had a penchant for gossip, they treated Sophie as one of their own. With four girls and three boys, the Walkers provided her daughter something Catherine never could. Brothers and sisters.

She had always wanted a large family, not as large as the Walkers, but three or four children would have brought her immense joy and, when the time came, many grandchildren. Being an only child herself, she knew the challenges Sophie faced.

“Mama, who is that man?”

Catherine jerked her head up, her thoughts going to Sebastian. Even though they had been apart for less than a day, she looked forward to seeing him again and feeling his strong arms wrapped around her. She examined one side of the lake to the other, but saw no familiar—or otherwise—masculine figure. “I don’t see anyone, dear.”

Sophie pointed her half-eaten sandwich at a cluster of trees and tall bushes to Catherine’s right. Pushing her daughter’s hand down, she tried to piece together greens and browns and pale yellows into a recognizable form. When she was on the verge of giving up, something stirred, and Catherine realized she was looking too high.

Adjusting her gaze, she concentrated harder until finally a face emerged. Bulbous, watery eyes, wide forehead, thin, greasy hair, and yellow, neglected teeth. Catherine’s blood froze in her veins.

The disgusting little man from the butcher’s shop had visited her thoughts often since their first encounter. Each time, her uneasiness grew. And now, he was in their private sanctuary, observing them with an unholy gleam in his eyes. But who was he and why was he following her?

With a surreptitious sweep of the area, Catherine considered their options. He had picked his location well. In order to return to the house, she would have to pass his hiding spot. She could take the southern footpath, but that would lead them through a dense woodland before turning back east. The isolated nature of the route troubled her more than walking by the man.

She could head west, to Sebastian’s estate, even though that way lay an uncertain welcome. But, like the southern route, the west footpath would still take them past the stranger.

“Do you see him, Mama?”

“Yes, pumpkin.” She set her daughter away. “Put on your stockings and shoes, please.”

“Must we go? I want to hear more about my surprise.”

“Do as I say, and we will discuss it all you want. Up at the house.”

Catching the note of authority in Catherine’s voice, her daughter ended her protest and did as told. Catherine picked up her own discarded footwear. When they were ready to go, Catherine knelt down in front of Sophie. “Listen closely, sweetheart, but do not be alarmed.” She waited for her daughter’s nod. “We’re going to walk past that man, but I do not want you to speak with him or acknowledge him in anyway. Is that understood?”

“Uh-huh,” Sophie said, looking toward the man’s location.

“That includes staring.”

Sophie’s eyes flashed to Catherine’s. In a stage whisper, she said, “Is he a bad man? Papa warned me about them.”

“I don’t know.” Why were the men in her life never around when she needed them? “And I don’t intend to find out today.” She glanced around the area to make sure they had retrieved all of their belongings. “Ready?”

Her daughter tunneled her hand into Catherine’s. “Ready.”

Catherine kept their pace steady and sure, chatting along the way to help keep Sophie’s attention on other things, rather than the man who followed their every move. It didn’t help. Curious by nature, her daughter could not stop glancing toward the clump of shrubbery protecting the man from her inquisitive eyes.

“What did I tell you, young lady?” Catherine followed the query with a gentle pull-squeeze of her daughter’s hand.

Sophie whipped her head around so fast that Catherine was surprised she didn’t hear it snap. “Don’t talk to him or gape at him.” She angled around to look behind them. “But, Mama, he’s following us now.”

Catherine halted mid-stride. Her heart plummeted all the way down to her toes. When it started the slow, sluggish ride back up to her chest, a wave of murderous rage licked through her veins. She stashed Sophie behind her and met the man’s eerie gaze.

He stood thirty feet away, watchful and patient. He neither spoke, nor indicated chagrin for having been caught. Nor did he move.

“What do you want, sir?” she asked.

His head tilted to the side like a dog’s did when considering the best way to pounce on a cat. He didn’t respond, only pointed toward her house.

She glanced between Winter’s Hollow and the ugly man, trying to understand his unspoken message. The attempt only confused her more.

Grabbing her daughter’s hand, Catherine pushed them into a faster pace. She nudged her daughter in front of her, aiming to keep herself between Sophie and the awful man.

He cut them off.

“Stand aside, sir,” Catherine said. “We’re on our way to meet with Lord Somerton.”

Shaking his head, he once again indicated the path leading them to Winter’s Hollow.

As Catherine’s grip tightened around Sophie’s small hand, a keen sense of vulnerability shook her to the core. She had no options. Though he was a small man, Catherine detected a wiry strength about him. If they tried to run, he would catch them.

“Mama,” Sophie whispered.

The strange man’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward.

Making up her mind, she gave her daughter’s hand a reassuring squeeze and marched toward Winter’s Hollow, praying she hadn’t sentenced them to a terrible fate. An image of Meghan McCarthy’s broken body surfaced, and Catherine’s terror knew no bounds. Had this man killed her? Was he the elusive father? She shoved aside the repulsive thought.

When they reached the garden, Catherine glanced back and found their tormentor gone. She hurried them through the gate and into the house. Once she clicked the lock in place, she felt a measure of relief until her maid Mary entered and announced that she had a visitor. “A Mr. Cochran to see you, ma’am.”

Catherine kissed Sophie’s forehead. “All is well now, sweetheart. Run along upstairs and change your clothes while I speak to our guest. I’ll be up in a little while to check on you.” She turned her daughter around and nudged her toward the servants’ staircase.

Her daughter pinched the sides of her frock, looking for splats of dirt and bits of grime. “Mama, there’s nothing wrong with this dress.”

“No, there’s not,” she agreed. “But it’s your play dress, not your house dress. Up you go.”

Sophie groaned, but did as told. Her progress up the narrow stairs had all the signs of a convict headed to the gallows.

“Mary, please see Miss Sophie to the nursery,” Catherine said.

“Oh, Mama.”

Catherine allowed herself a small smile as she watched the two make their way up to the third floor. Once they turned the corner, Catherine rushed to the window to peer outside. Her gaze slashed from tree to tree, building to building, shadow to shadow. But nothing moved or appeared out of place. Everything seemed oddly untouched, yet frightfully violated.

She checked the lock on the kitchen door again and made her way to the drawing room. When she entered, she found the Foreign Office official lounging on her sofa, an easy expression on his handsome face. “Mr. Cochran, this is an unexpected surprise.”
Again
. After their last meeting, she had not looked forward to their next.

He did not rise to greet her. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Ashcroft. I’m afraid our former timeline has been compromised. Have you the list?”

Catherine strode farther into the room. “There is no list, sir.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had occasion last evening to search his lordship’s library, study, and even his bedchamber, and none contained a list of secret agents.” The only names she found were the two tucked under the earl’s ink blotter—Sebastian Danvers and Jeffrey Ashcroft. Hardly a list.

“Yes,” he said with a slight curl to his lip. “I heard you spent the night with Somerton.”

Catherine clenched her teeth. “Perhaps the intelligence you received regarding Lord Somerton’s involvement with the Nexus was wrong.”

“I can assure you,” Cochran said, “the information I shared with you is quite accurate.”

“Then maybe his lordship has not compiled the list yet.”

“Could it be that you have not looked well enough?”

His humoring smile made her jaw clench. “Where else would I search, sir? Based on what I have witnessed, Lord Somerton is not a threat to anyone. Quite the contrary, actually. He’s been nothing but helpful to those in need. What you are accusing him of simply makes no sense.”

“All men, even those with evil intent, have a weakness. It is how governments do business, madam. They find the other’s weakness and exploit it.” He tapped his two forefingers against his lips, considering her for a moment. “The better question here is which one of the Ashcroft women is Lord Somerton’s greatest weakness?”

Cochran’s piglet gaze sent a rush of wary tingles down her spine. Why had she never noticed his close-set eyes before? “What can you mean, sir?”

A pregnant pause, then the official’s face split into an affable smile. “I mean nothing at all. My mind tends to venture off course at the most inconvenient times.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Catherine said, “Sir, I have made a gross miscalculation in my eagerness to bring my husband’s killer to justice. I can no longer assist you in this endeavor.”

Cochran released a sigh. “That is not good news, my dear. Is there nothing I can do to change your mind?”

Catherine shook her head. “No, nothing, sir. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

Cochran rose from his chair, pulling at the sleeves of his forest green coat to smooth out the wrinkles. “This exercise wasn’t a waste of time, madam,” he said, strolling toward the door. “It’s always best to attempt the path of least resistance, don’t you agree?”