GypsyDukeEpub (24 page)

The butler poured two glasses of brandy and retired from the room. Neither Robert or John needed the drink, which they left sitting on the side table.

They were barely settled when the earl followed them inside, making no reference whatsoever to the chaos therein.

"What have you to say, Somerset? My wife thinks I should hear you out instead of throw you out."

John bowed. "My lord. I thank you for your forbearance, though your accusations against Westley are unwarranted. He is here merely to assure you that what I say is true. He does not always approve of what I do, but his is a voice you know and respect. Thus…"

Robert sputtered and would have interrupted, but John didn't allow it.

"I would like to tell you everything because it is a much more convincing tale, but I fear for Kitty's safety. In the interests of time, I will apprise you of the shortened version of my activities. I am a spy for his majesty's government." He held up a dictatorial hand when it seemed both Robert and the earl would interrupt. "Not an honorable profession, I admit, but a necessary one in these times. I was fortunate to be in the right place and time to meet certain gentlemen of the Home Office. They assured me that the gypsies that help harvest our crops each year had turned their skills to spying for the enemy. As I was living with them, I knew this to be untrue; however, there were extenuating circumstances that led to their involvement."

The earl cleared his throat, and John gave him the ducal stare. A look his father had bestowed on a young John many times. It had made him want to squirm in his seat, but it always kept his mouth shut. It worked on the earl. He closed his mouth.

"As I was saying…the gypsies have uncovered a ring of traitors high in the Home Office, and Robert is about to bring about their downfall, so I needed a little forbearance from Kitty concerning the date of our wedding. She gave me this extra time provided I acquaint you with the pertinent facts and soothe your mind as to the subject of my continued suitability as a husband. I was to present myself to you today. I have no doubts that she was abducted as a means to halt Robert's prosecution of certain guilty parties."

John leaned back in his chair, the ideal picture of a duke at ease with the world around him and confident that the world will give him his just due. Inwardly, he was tearing through London, searching for his darling Kitty, and to blazes with the earl.

The earl had steepled his fingers as he listened to John. He nervously tapped his middle fingers together then abruptly faced Robert. "Is this true, Westley?"

"Most of it, sir."

John sucked in air, his mouth gaping, as the earl shot him an outraged glare.

Robert leaned forward. "What I mean to say is, Somerset alone is responsible for the downfall of the traitors to our country. He gives me too much credit, when he singlehandedly uncovered the truth. I was under the mistaken impression that we were working for the right side.
It is Somerset who deserves all the praise."

John closed his mouth. It was decent of Robert to praise him, but inordinately embarrassing. The earl stared at him. "Well then. What are your plans to get back my daughter, Somerset?"

"The gypsies are combing the city for her as we speak. We could involve the Runners, but the gypsies know places and things no one else knows. And they have their own network. For myself, I thought it high time I made a visit to Robert's commanding officer. He is aware of our endeavors, but might be able to shed some light."

"And who might that be?" asked a more subdued earl.

"Sir Lincoln James of the Home Office, " said Robert.

The earl nodded. "Knew his brother, the one who inherited, a small baronetcy, I believe."

"That is so."

John stood. There was no reason to dally any longer. Either the earl would support the marriage or he would not. Either way, John was leaving to begin his search for Kitty.

"I must leave you now, Lord Raeburn. I can best serve Kitty away from here." John bowed.

The earl hadn't moved from his desk. Robert stood to follow John, bowed before the earl, and walked out of the room.

John turned to the door and took but a single step before the earl's voice halted him. "Do you love her? Will you care for her, forsaking all others?"

John whirled around. He recognized the words for what they were, part of the wedding vows, but to hear the earl speak of them…he must love his daughter very much.

"I love her, and I will cherish only her for the rest of my days."

The earl grew stronger before John's very eyes, taking life from John's vow. "God go with you, son. You have my blessing."

"Thank you."

A simple answer, but it seemed to suit the earl. He nodded John to the door. John bowed once more and left the room.

Outside, Robert tapped his heels nervously against the bottom step of the carriage. He jerked up as John strode out the door of the townhouse. "Well?"

"We have an accord."

He bounded into the carriage. Robert jumped up after him, and the carriage was once more on its way.

John stared out the window, wondering if anything he was doing would make any difference in finding Kitty. He should be out there among the people of London, knocking down every door to find her.

"You can stop now."

Robert's voice jolted him out of his dreary thought.

"I beg your pardon?"

Robert sighed. "That. You can stop now. Put the duke to rest. There's no one here but Robert Westley."

"I still have to see Sir James."

"Hmm, use the high brow with him. It will put him off to see you think more of yourself than you do of him."

"What if he's not the traitor?"

"Make it up to him later. What time are you to meet Reginald Newport?"

"Twoish, though it hardly seems to matter now."

Robert cocked his head to the side. "You're not giving up? We've only just begun."

"Absolutely not. What I mean is...the spying can wait. Kitty comes first."

The scenery changed as they left the fashionable residences of the ton for the slightly less exalted of those less fortunate. Wealthy tradesmen lived here, along with kept mistresses, and anyone else who could not afford, whether through circumstance or position, the right street.

Here they encountered more ruts in the road, more pedestrians crossing the lane. What a difference a change of perhaps three or four streets could make.

They heard their coachman yell out and saw a chimney sweep scamper to the side, clutching his tools to his chest before giving a cheeky grin to John.

Without thinking, John grinned back. Give it to the big man, before the big man gives it to you.

He blinked several times. He'd come a long way from the Duke of Somerset that was his father. Was it progress? He didn't know. It certainly wasn't to the ton's way of thinking, but he had found valuable people in every walk of life. Just where he fit in, he didn't know.

Robert called a halt to the coachman, and the carriage rolled to a stop. A squat, blunt-nosed fellow came running up to them. John wasn't
the least bit surprised when the coachman opened the door.

He turned to grin at Robert. "You had the house watched, didn't you?"

"I thought it might be prudent."

As the squatty fellow settled his rump on the seat, John recognized him as one of Robert's grooms.

"Well?" asked Robert.

"You was right. Been comings and goings at the front door and the back door all morning."

"Anyone we know?" asked John.

He shrugged. "Prob'ly not the first bloke. He weren't quality. Looked more like the sort to have took the lady though." He squinted his eyes to make a point and nodded vigorously. "Now the second one. 'E made a pretty picture. Sort of a burgundy waistcoat over a red vest…" He giggled. "And breeches so tight it's a wonder 'e can breathe."

"My uncle," said John, looking to Robert.

"Probably so. Anyone else?"

"No one what's gone inside. But there's a bloke 'angin' 'round the park across the street that seems a mite interested in the goings on. Well, what do ya know? He's a goin' in."

John and Robert jerked to the window at the same time. Reginald Newport was knocking at the front door.

John flashed Robert a quizzical lift of one brow.

Robert sighed. "The same conundrum. Will we ever be sure which of them is the traitor?"

"Whichever now owns my estates is the guilty party. We have but to visit my solicitor." He looked over the groom's head at the house of Sir James. "You see, everything is coming together."

Seconds after Newport stepped inside the residence, a disreputable fellow stepped out the back.

John looked at Robert's groom. "And that would be?"

"The bloke what first arrived. Should I take him down?"

"No, I'm going to follow the gentleman."

The groom looked askance, as did Robert. "Beggin' your pardon, your grace, but you's dressed up awful fancy to go tearin' after the likes o' him."

"Indeed," echoed Robert. "Let Jones here follow him, and we'll follow Jones."

"As much as my attire would stand out, I'm afraid Robert's ornate family crest on the sides of the carriage would garner even more interest. Besides, I need you to stay and see if my uncle really is inside. Newport may have walked into a trap, then again, he might have brought all his cronies so they could wipe out Sir James."

"Beggin' your pardon, sirs, but the bloke be gettin' away," said Jones, stepping out the door and blowing a frightfully noisy whistle between two fingers.

A hackney pulled beside them, and Jones gestured to John. "Fer you's ta follow me."

"Right you are," said John with a comical salute to Robert as he jumped out of one carriage into another. "I'll meet you later."

Robert nodded, but after he was left alone, he sighed. Why was he always left with the boring jobs?

Chapter 11

Kitty had been following this gypsy lad, whose name she still didn't know, for over an hour now. Not once had he taken her down a street that was populated with anyone respectable, nor had he taken her any closer to an area she recognized.

Her feet were covered with blisters. Satin evening slippers, now shredded and torn, had not been the wisest choice of footwear when one anticipated a late night rendezvous. She would remember that the next time she tried to follow someone in the dark.

Her legs ached with weariness. The pelisse which she'd draped over her arm had so protected her from the damp fog of London last night but now felt a lead weight. A hot, lead weight, on this most unusually, stifling sunny day.

Where was an overcast sky when one needed it? Although clomping about in the rain and mud didn't appeal to her either.

The gypsy turned down yet another side street, and Kitty suspected she might recognize one or two locations. Wasn't that the shop her father sent to for his tobacco? And that, surely that was a store where Kitty herself had found the most divine shade of green ribbon for her new bonnet.

But the gypsy avoided the avenue of these establishments and took her behind them where the tradesmen and riffraff gathered.

She wanted to moan with fatigue. She was almost close enough to walk home, except she was still on the outskirts of respectability and hadn't a clue where home was.

If she'd thought to bring her reticule, she'd have begged some carriage to give her passage. But she didn't have even a ha'penny, and
no respectable coachman would pick her up in this condition, not without some coin to flash in his face.

Besides, her house did not seem all that safe. Someone had been watching it. That was obvious. And Robert's house would not be any safer, not that she would ever visit a bachelor's abode.

If she was forced to approach on foot, better to let someone like Michel take her. He looked like a groom. He'd protect her. He would perhaps have money to pay for a carriage until she could get home and pay him back.

Kitty hadn't been paying attention the last few moments, but she did when the gypsy showed signs of slowing.

She glanced around the neighborhood. This wasn't where the ton lived. Neither was it anywhere the gypsies would be safe. It was a nice neighborhood, to be sure, but only for wealthy merchants or members of the ton who'd lost their fortunes but still needed a respectable place to live.

The gypsy had given her several furtive glances now. That made her nervous. Why was he edgy? If he was taking her to Michel's caravan, he wouldn't be tense. Right?

"I'm sorry," began Kitty, "what did you say your name was?"

He gave her toothy grin, making him look about sixteen years of age. "Bratu."

He took a step closer. Kitty felt her heart pound. He was only an inch or two taller, but he looked much stronger.

Oh Lord, show me what to do.

At that moment, a carriage without any crest whatsoever pulled behind them.

Bratu looked over his shoulder expectantly then turned around. Kitty could tell he was pleased, so she strained her eyes to get a view of the occupant.