How to Plan a Wedding for a Royal Spy (25 page)

“I understand.” Will couldn't blame Beaumont for his frustration, since the plight of Irish Catholics had been grim for years. Under any other circumstances, he would have been entirely in sympathy.

“And whatever is left over from that money,” Evie interjected earnestly, “goes to helping the immigrants once they arrive in London. The donations support our classes and workshops and help buy food and medicine. That's what we do here, Will. We do not encourage sedition.”

Her gaze so clearly begged him to believe her that he had to steel himself against it.

“And will your financial ledgers support that?” he asked, switching his attention back to the man behind the desk.

Beaumont nodded. “Yes. I will be happy to turn them over to you and anyone else who wishes to see them.”

That was a good sign but obviously not decisive, because Beaumont could be keeping a false set of books. “That will be helpful,” Will replied.

“Those ledgers are at my rooms,” Beaumont said. “But you or Captain Gilbride can escort me back to Albany House after this meeting, if you deem it necessary.”

Will didn't miss the sarcastic tone in Beaumont's voice but refused to feel guilty. It
was
necessary, if for no other reason than he needed to convince his father that they'd done everything properly in investigating Beaumont. But there were still several remaining issues.

“One of O'Connell's letters used an odd turn of phrase,” Will said. “He spoke about ‘hardships that might befall you' in the course of seeking justice. What did he mean by that?”

Beaumont looked slightly incredulous. “I should think it rather obvious.”

Alec stirred from his position by the door. “Not to me.”

“Color me surprised by that,” Eden quipped.

Alec narrowed his eyes on her but refused to rise to the bait. Will had seen that look before, and it boded ill—for Eden. If she kept baiting the bear, she might not like the response she would eventually provoke. He could almost wish he were around to see it when it finally occurred.

“I would like to hear your explanation of that phrase, Mr. Beaumont,” Will said.

Beaumont let out an aggrieved sigh. “For me, the hardships are more social than anything else. I'm sure you can imagine the displeasure of my parents, and I frequently find myself on the receiving end of slights from my acquaintances.” He lifted an ironic eyebrow at Will. “You have seen the results of that yourself. Lady Reese, for instance, was resistant to my attempts to overcome her prejudice against me. Everyone in this room is fully aware of the outcome of that.”

Will was surprised that Beaumont would speak so freely about such an awkward subject. He cut a swift glance to Evie, now flushed a high shade of pink and gazing at Michael with a look of regretful embarrassment. Will had to clamp down on the jealousy spiking deep in his gut. Had Evie begged Beaumont's forgiveness already? Was she even now trying to repair her relationship with her former suitor?

“As for Daniel O'Connell,” Beaumont continued, “his beliefs and his steadfast pursuit of them—by nonviolent means, I hasten to add—have an impact on his livelihood as a lawyer and bring him under the scrutiny of the authorities at Dublin Castle. As this very situation amply demonstrates.” Beaumont leaned forward and jabbed a finger in Will's direction. “But I swear to you that neither Daniel nor I would participate in any sort of violence or seditious plot against the government. To even suggest such a thing indicates how little you know of me, or him. Daniel has always been vocal in his refusal to countenance violent means of change.”

“Except for dueling,” Alec commented sardonically.

Beaumont scowled. “An aberration, I assure you.”

His words held a ring of truth, but Will didn't fail to note that Beaumont said he wouldn't
participate
in acts of violence. But what if he'd heard rumors about such planned acts or knew those willing to engage in violent conspiracies? Would he agree to turn that information over to the Crown?

“Thank you for speaking so frankly, Mr. Beaumont,” Will said. “I just have one other question before we accompany you to your apartments to retrieve your ledgers.”

Beaumont nodded slowly, suddenly looking less confident. He glanced nervously at Evie. She peered back at him with a perplexed frown.

“There were four letters in your desk,” Will noted, “including one from Ulster. That one contained a short list of names, one of which was Terence O'Shay. There was also a brief commentary regarding the ‘difficult history' of the men on that list and their suitability for the work detailed in previous letters. Would you care to explain what that means?”

Beaumont's features remained calm. But the hand he had placed on the desk had clenched into a fist. Will suspected it was an instinctive—and revealing—reaction.

“That list contains the names of some men from the Londonderry area,” Beaumont responded. Will had the sense he had to struggle to keep tension from his voice. “They've had some difficulty in adapting to life in England, so I have been discussing with some of our patrons in Ulster a way to address their situations.”

Londonderry. If Will's memory was correct, that particular county had been the scene of some fierce fighting only a few years ago between Catholics from rural areas and the Orange Order, a sometimes violent organization that supported the interests of England. Had O'Shay and the other men on the list been part of that fighting? Had they brought their grievances to England?

Will placed his hand on Beaumont's desk and leaned in a bit. “Ah, Londonderry. An interesting place, that. And what solution did you and your patrons arrive at for these men? Are they also working for your cause?” he asked softly.

Evie jumped to her feet and took a hasty step toward Will. “What are you suggesting?” she asked, alarm ringing in her voice.

Will saw fear in her eyes, and that told him she'd also picked up on Beaumont's nervous reaction.

Alec came away from the wall. “Miss Whitney, please take a seat,” he said, laying a gentle hand on Evie's shoulder. “We should be finished soon.”

Now Eden surged to her feet, elbowing her sister out of the way to confront Alec. “Unhand her, you brute,” she said, going toe-to-toe with Alec as she glared up at him. Eden was no slender, fragile miss, but next to Alec's brawny frame she looked like an outraged kitten confronting a mastiff.

Alec's eyebrows crawled up his forehead with polite incredulity. “Or what, Miss Eden? You'll beat me to a bloody pulp?”

Evie let out a muffled exclamation that sounded surprisingly salty. “Sit down, Edie, will you? Let's just get this over with.” She pulled her sister back to her chair as she directed a reassuring smile at Beaumont. “It's all right, Michael. Please just answer Will's question.”

By this time, Beaumont had partially recovered. “Of course, Evelyn. As I mentioned, Captain Endicott, these men have had difficulty adapting to life in London. It seemed sensible to consider providing them with passage to the Americas, most likely to Boston or Philadelphia, where there are already a number of Irish who have emigrated.”

Will slowly nodded. That made sense, but his instincts still told him Beaumont was holding something back. “That certainly sounds reasonable.”

When Beaumont let out a barely audible sigh of relief, Will went in for the kill. “That being the case, I'm sure you'd have no objection to telling me where I can find the men named on your list. We would like to speak to them—simply to clear them of any suspicion.”

Beaumont flinched—not much, but enough for Will to pick up. The man's lips also thinned into a tight line, and he took several seconds answering.

“Michael, surely that's not a problem,” Evie said. “I'm sure Terence and the other men would be happy to speak with Will if it would clear your name.”

“I don't need them to clear my name, Evelyn,” Beaumont responded sharply. “Nor, I imagine, would they wish to be subjected to an interrogation by a pair of English officers, or any other sort of authority that represents their oppressor.” He directed a suddenly cold look at Will. “I will not give you that information, Captain. I've seen enough English justice to know that it does not work for the Irish. Those men are guilty of nothing but love for their country and a deep dissatisfaction with their lot in life. No thinking person could blame them.”

Now Will was almost certain Beaumont was lying. He might not be actively participating in a conspiracy, but he certainly knew someone who was, or had his suspicions. Either way, he was protecting them, which also made him guilty.

Will crossed his arms over his chest. “I'm afraid I must insist, Mr. Beaumont.”

The man jerked up to his feet, shoving back his chair so hard it crashed into the wall. “Or you'll do what, Endicott? Arrest me? Hunt down those poor men like rats in the gutter? I'll take no part in that, I promise you.”

Beaumont took a step forward, his hands clenching into fists as he glared at Will. Will simply lifted an eyebrow, maintaining his composure. Beaumont was unlikely to take a swing at him, but he was ready for him if he did.

“Better that we talk to them now, Beaumont, if they're innocent,” Alec said in a warning voice. “Because one way or another, they'll be found.”

“And then what?” Beaumont challenged. “You'll inflict your rough justice on them? Drag them through a sham of a trial, and you'll have those poor men swinging from the gallows before the week is out? If I don't protect them, who will?”

“Are you saying you're a sympathizer with Irish radicals, Beaumont? Even ones who support revolution against your own countrymen?” Will asked.

When Evie sucked in a horrified gasp, he made himself ignore it. But never had he loathed his work more than he did at this moment.

“If by that you mean defending those who've been robbed of their natural rights and treated no better than starving dogs, then, yes. I'm a sympathizer, and proudly so,” Beaumont shot back.

“Michael,” Evie exclaimed, waving her arms in frustration, “don't give them any more fuel to throw on the fire.”

Will gave her a warning scowl, frustrated that she would still charge to Beaumont's defense. Obviously, she believed the man innocent of treason, but surely even she saw that he was holding something back—if not outright lying about what he knew.

Beaumont drew in a harsh breath and made a visible effort to calm himself. He finally managed to give Evie a wavering smile. “You're right, Evelyn, I forget myself.” Then he met Will's stare. “Captain Endicott, I must ask you and Captain Gilbride to leave my office now. You have distressed the ladies quite enough for one day.”

“Distressed? Ha!” Eden retorted. “I'd like to beat them with my parasol.”

Alec shook his head in disbelief.

“I sincerely regret if we have distressed them,” Will said, “but I must insist you allow us to escort you to your apartments in order to retrieve your ledgers.”

“I'm afraid I'm no longer willing to do that. I will, however, see that they are delivered to your rooms later today,” Beaumont replied. “If you object to my manner of handling this situation, I suggest that you take it up with my father, Lord Leger.”

Beaumont had obviously decided to dig in his heels, which would only make things worse for him—and for all of them, starting with Evie. He and Alec could certainly drag Beaumont out by the collar but that would serve no good purpose right now.

“As you wish,” Will said.

He glanced at Alec, who was still shaking his head, probably over the whole lot of them. Never in all Will's years in military intelligence had a mission gone as badly as this one seemed to. Of course, it was predictable, given that the Reese twins were involved.

And given that Will's objectivity was completely shot to hell by his feelings for Evie.

After a curt nod to her, he followed Alec from the office. A moment later, the quick patter of footsteps sounded behind him in the hall.

“Will, please wait.”

He turned to meet Evie rushing toward him, a look of anguish on her pretty face. He'd hoped to spare her all of this, but he'd been thwarted at every turn—by himself and by her.

She grabbed his arm. “What are you going to do?” Her voice was high with nerves.

“He's left me no choice, Evie. I have to turn all this information over to my superiors.”

Her nails dug into the fabric of his sleeve. “Surely you don't believe he's guilty of treason!”

“Perhaps not, but he's guilty of something.” When she flinched, he nodded grimly. “You know it, too, don't you?”

When she refused to answer, he gently pried her fingers from his arm. “Beaumont has until three o'clock this afternoon to turn over the ledgers and give us the information we need about the men on that list. Otherwise, I'll be forced to act.”

All the color leached from Evie's face, and Will thought she might actually faint. “Please don't do this,” she whispered. “If you feel anything for me, don't do this.”

Will had already steeled himself to resist her pleadings. To resist
her.
But he heard Alec curse under his breath.

“It's not about you, Evie,” Will replied in a gentle voice. “I wish you could understand that.”

But from the look of pain and betrayal in her eyes, it was clear she didn't. He had no choice but to turn on his heel and leaving her standing there, forlorn and alone.

“If you'd like to wait, miss, I'd be happy to run up and fetch the captain,” said the day porter as he disapprovingly eyed Evie over his shoulder. He paused halfway up the back stairs of the building that housed Will's set of rooms. “Don't know if he'd be too keen on you traipsing up like this, in case someone was to see you.”

Evie resisted the urge to shriek with frustration. “Captain Endicott will be very happy to see me, I assure you. I'm his betrothed.”

The porter looked singularly unconvinced, and Evie couldn't blame him. What respectable woman would visit her fiancé in so have-cavey a manner? This block of buildings on the edge of Mayfair held only bachelor apartments and rooms, and Will would no doubt pitch a fit at the possibility of even more scandal ensuing if her visit came to light. Fortunately, it was early enough in the day that most of the inhabitants were likely still asleep. The tulips and rakes of the
ton
had probably staggered home only a few hours ago and wouldn't leave their beds before noon.

Except for Will, of course, who would no doubt return to the stews in search of villains after snatching but a few hours' sleep. She'd already sent him three urgent missives over the last two days, asking to see him. He'd finally replied with a curt note an hour ago that he was too busy to call but would do so as soon as he had news to report to her. In the meantime, he'd all but commanded her to proceed with the plans for their wedding, including ordering any necessary trousseau.

After reading that spectacular bit of idiocy, she'd slipped out of the house and had quickly hailed a hackney. She'd fumed the entire way over, wondering how he could even
think
of getting married with Michael's fate hanging in the balance. Everyone else might assume their future together was all but an accomplished fact, but not Evie. Not that she didn't love Will—she did, with all her heart. But when he turned on his heel and walked away from her at St. Margaret's, she'd known there was no chance for them until they could get clear of this situation.

Clear in a way that did not end with Michael hanging for a crime he didn't commit.

Her head swam at that hideous thought, forcing her to stop for a moment and lean against the wall of the narrow staircase. She'd spent most of the last two nights pacing the floor of her room or trying to talk things through with her sister. At this point, she supposed she was functioning on only nerves and coffee.

“Miss, you ain't going to be fainting, are you?” The porter's pleasant, round face wrinkled up with concern. “Do you want me to fetch Captain Endicott?”

Evie took a deep breath and flapped her hand. “No, I'm fine. Please lead on.”

She wasn't fine, and in fact was dreading this confrontation with Will. Though he would be furious with her, it was imperative that he hear the information Michael had finally—and reluctantly—imparted to her.

The thought of seeing Will again made every muscle in Evie's body go weak with both longing and dread. Those moments in the parlor at St. Margaret's had been both the best and the worst of her life. She'd given her heart and body so willingly to him and had even believed that he truly loved her. Despite the challenges their life together might present—and despite the hurt she had inflicted on Michael—being with Will had been a dream finally realized. Never had anything felt as right or as true.

And nothing would ever match the betrayal she'd felt when she caught him going through Michael's desk. To learn that he was a spy, one who apparently had little compunction in using their relationship to his own ends . . . well, she wondered if they could ever get past that, regardless of how much she loved him.

Of course, it seemed evident that Will was feeling betrayed as well, since he was clearly angry with her for choosing to support Michael instead of him. As much as she didn't want to, she could even understand his point of view. Will might have been a bounder for keeping the truth from her, but she knew his intentions were honorable. He was doing his sworn duty to king and country, after all. She only wished he could have trusted her enough to confide in her. That was the part she wondered if she could ever forgive.

When they reached the third floor the porter scurried ahead of her down the hall. The building where Will resided was not of the first stare, but it was neat and well maintained with at least three or four sets of rooms per floor. She followed the porter to the end of the hall, where a narrow window fronted onto the street.

The man rapped sharply on the door. When several seconds passed with no answer, he rapped again and spoke out. “You've got a visitor, Captain. It's urgent.”

Evie heard a quick tread from inside the room, and then the door swung open. Will appeared, rubbing his wet head with a towel. He was naked from the waist up. Every nerve in her body started to flutter at the sight of his imposing chest and shoulders. Only a few days ago, she'd gripped those brawny shoulders as she'd come apart in his arms.

“Is that you, Alec?” he growled, shaking the damp hair out of his eyes. “Why the hell—” He stopped, gaping at her as if he didn't believe the evidence of his eyes.

Evie gave him a weak smile and a wave, her mouth so suddenly parched she couldn't utter a word. Her idiotic response seemed to jolt Will back to life.

“All right, Hansen,” he snapped. “I'll take it from here.”

“I told her it weren't the done thing, sir,” the porter said with an exaggerated roll of the eye, “but the young lady weren't inclined to listen.”

Will barked out a harsh laugh. “Yes, I've noticed that about her. Not a word about this to anyone, Hansen, do you understand?”

The porter started to back down the hall, babbling nervously that he wouldn't whisper a word. Evie couldn't blame the poor man, because Will looked fierce and predatory—more like a lion than a wolf with his hair ruffled up in a golden mane around his head.

“Get in here, you.” He pulled her into the room and slammed the door behind them. He braced his feet wide and planted his hands on his hips, scowling at her. “Have you gone mad, Evie? What the hell were you thinking?”

Like a witless girl, she stood there, her gaze helplessly trailing from his irate features, down over his broad chest to the trim waist and hips only partially hidden by his half-buttoned breeches, and then further down to his big, bare feet. He was, quite simply, the most magnificent thing she'd ever seen, and she wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms.

Which only illustrated the demented state of her intellect, given how furious she was with him.

Will let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head. “Oh, for God's sake.” He grabbed her by the elbows and hauled her against him, taking her mouth in a ravishing kiss that was over almost before it had begun.

“Now that we've got that out of the way,” he said, steering her over to a comfortable-looking armchair by the hearth, “sit down and wait quietly while I put on some clothes.”

He practically shoved her down into the seat. She was so breathless—from rushing about, she told herself—that it took her a few moments to respond.

“Don't bother on my account,” she said in a sarcastic voice as he retreated into what she assumed was his bedroom. “I've seen it before, as you no doubt recall.”

He whipped around to stare at her, his blue eyes heating with what she thought was irritation, but she couldn't be entirely certain. The look on his face set her heart to thumping all over again.

“You haven't seen anything yet, I assure you,” he said, growling like the lion he resembled.

“Don't brag, Will,” she retorted. “It's immodest.”

He braced his hands high on the doorframe, giving her an excellent view of the spectacular muscles in his chest and arms. “You are going to drive me completely insane, do you know that?”

She tried to think of an appropriate response to that insult but finally settled with sticking her tongue out. A childish response, given the horrid predicament they faced, but it made her feel marginally better.

Will snorted out a disbelieving laugh before disappearing into the other room.

Sighing, Evie propped her elbows on her knees and rested her aching head in her palms. Fighting exhaustion, she tried to order her thoughts. Words swam through her brain in choppy, incomplete sentences as she struggled to frame Michael's information in its most positive light. It seemed an impossible task, given that he had lied to her, too. She'd been sadly gullible when it came to the men in her life.

“Evie, can I get you something?” Will's voice seemed only a few inches away.

She jerked upright, her eyes popping open. She blinked to see him crouched down in front of her, dressed in a shirt and waistcoat, and with his boots on. She must have dozed off because she hadn't even heard him enter the room.

“N-no, I'm fine,” she stammered. “I'm just tired.”

He frowned with concern as he covered her hands with one of his. “Which is why you should be at home resting instead of dashing about town risking even more scandal. I don't mean to lecture, sweetheart, but what are you doing here? Could anyone besides the porter have seen you enter the building?”

“No, I was very careful.” She was impatient with what seemed like pointless social considerations, given the gravity of the situation. But she told herself that Will was genuinely concerned for her well-being, and that chased some of the chill from her heart. “I paid your porter very generously to keep what he saw to himself.”

“I'll make certain of that.” Will stood and pulled her to her feet. “But we've got to get you home as soon as possible, before anyone is up in this building. If we're seen on the way back to Reese House, we can just tell your mother we went for a morning stroll.”

Evie resisted his efforts to pull her toward the door. “I'm not leaving until we've had a chance to talk.”

He started to look thunderous again. “Evie, I told you the other day—”

“I've spoken with Michael,” she interrupted. “He's told me something you need to know.”

His face went blank for a moment, then his brows gathered in a disapproving frown. “What do you mean you spoke to him? He's under guard at his father's house with no visitors allowed until this mess is sorted out. The Duke of York made that condition very clear to Lord Leger when he agreed to allow Beaumont to be confined at home, not hauled off to prison under suspicion of treason.”

“Yes, I know,” she said tartly. “Lord Leger made that clear to
me
last night when I called on him. Besides, you needn't act as if you and the duke were granting Michael any favors. I know very well that you decided not to bring charges at this point because you feared Michael's arrest would warn his fellow conspirators. Not that he has any conspirators,” she hastily added.

He stared at her, incredulous. “Lord Leger told you all this?”

She nodded.

“Unbelievable. And then he let you see Beaumont, against the duke's express orders.”

Evie waved that detail away. “You make it sound worse than it was. I simply told him that Michael was withholding information you needed to know, and that I was the only one who would be able to get it out of him.”

Will took a step back, putting distance between them. “So, you knew Beaumont was lying, didn't you?”

She nodded reluctantly, hating the austere look that came into his eyes.

“And when did you realize that?” he asked, sounding every inch the spy, not the man who professed to care for her.

“About the same time you did, I imagine. When he lied about the names on that list you found.”

“And yet you said nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “In fact, you defended Beaumont, even knowing he's up to his neck in this. How could you choose him over your country, Evie? Over
me?
”

She forced herself not to overreact. After all, she'd anticipated this response from him. “It's not what you think. He
might
know something about this alleged plot. Might,” she emphasized, holding up a hand to stop his objection. “He certainly isn't part of it, and he doesn't condone it in any way. That's why he finally agreed to tell me what he knew. He's innocent, I swear.”

Will reached up and started rubbing the back of his neck, which did lovely things to his brawny shoulders under the thin fabric of his trim-fitting waistcoat. Good Lord, the man was a study in masculine power and grace. Yet again, Evie wondered what he could possibly see in her.

“We'll let others decide whether he's innocent or not,” Will said, although he did sound a bit less annoyed than a minute ago. “For now, just tell me everything you know.”

“Of course, but I would be grateful if you didn't loom over me in such a threatening manner, as if you're ready to gobble me up if I say the slightest thing to annoy you.”

His stern face cracked with a rueful smile. “I'm more likely to gobble you up if you say something nice to me. But I take your point.”

That remark made her blush, but by the time he dragged her back to the armchair, she'd recovered her composure. He pulled over a chair from a small writing desk by the window and crossed his arms over his chest. Looking stern as a judge, he lifted a brow as if to say,
proceed
.

“You would make a splendid magistrate, in case you're wondering about a future career,” she said. “Very well. It was clear to me during that horrible meeting at St. Margaret's that Michael knew nothing about any treasonous conspiracies.”