“Have you indeed? Then tell me—before I expire from curiosity—why such an engaging young woman would enjoy her—er—peculiar pastime.”
The duke glanced around and then nodded toward a vacant room. “In private, if you don’t mind, George.”
Brummell followed his friend into the room and waited until he closed the door behind them. “Well?”
“She doesn’t enjoy it, George. She’s searching for her father’s talisman ring.”
The Beau’s keen gray eyes narrowed slightly. “Oh? The ring is important?”
“Very. It will point the way to Thomas Courtenay’s killer.”
“I was under the impression,” the Beau remarked slowly, “that Courtenay committed suicide.”
“No. Jenny saw him murdered. She also saw the killer take Courtenay’s ring.”
“Does the killer know that there was a witness to his crime?”
“No. Jenny didn’t get a clear look at his face. But she saw him take the ring.
That
is why she became the Cat—to search for that ring.”
Brummell smiled faintly. “A courageous young woman. I assume she knows that there is a hangman’s noose dangling above her head?”
“She knows.” Spencer frowned slightly. “I may need your help, George. One way or another, I mean to clear her name.”
“Happy to oblige. But tell me—is Bow Street suspicious of her?”
“Yes. Someone gave them a damn good description of the Cat. Two Runners came to Lady Beddington’s and asked Jenny some awkward questions. I was able to frighten them off—but I have no doubt that they are watching every move she makes.”
“Who informed against her?”
“I don’t know. I think Jenny does, but it doesn’t seem to worry her. I suppose she has already taken care of the informer.”
“My dear friend, I do hope you don’t mean she killed someone!”
“Of course not, George—she isn’t a killer.”
The Beau looked relieved. “Then how did she rid herself of the informer?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea.”
Moved to expostulate, the Beau said, “Nick, we cannot have an informer lurking about in the woodwork—even if Miss Courtenay
isn’t
worried about him.”
The duke sighed. “Knowing Jenny, I’m sure she found some devious way to dispose of him. I’ll ask her; I’m going to Lady Beddington’s later today.”
“Do you mind if I tag along? I have a fancy to hear about the informer.”
“I don’t mind, of course. Just remember that she isn’t aware you know she’s the Cat.”
Brummell smiled gently. “I also have a fancy to see her face when I tell her that.”
Jenny looked up with a smile when Somers announced the duke and Mr. Brummell. She was alone in the drawing room, Lady Beddington and Meg having gone to rest for a soiree they were to attend that evening. Since Jenny had been expecting the duke, she had remained downstairs.
When greetings had been exchanged, and Mr. Brummell and the duke seated, the Beau immediately spoke. He could see that Jenny was anxious to know if the duke had discovered anything about a traitor, and wanted her to know that she could speak freely in his presence.
“Miss Courtenay, I feel perhaps I should tell you that I know all about the Cat.”
“You what . . . ?” Jenny asked faintly.
“I know you are the Cat.”
She cast a rather helpless look at Spencer. The duke smile ruefully. “He heard us arguing at Lady Jersey’s ball.”
“Oh.” Jenny stared at Brummell. “I—I know what you must think of me, sir—”
“I think, Miss Courtenay, that you are a remarkable young woman. I know of no other who would have had the strength of will to search so long and so hard for a dangerous killer and traitor.”
A soft flush rose to pinken her cheeks. Her eyes wide with surprise, she said, “I—I don’t know what to say, Mr. Brummell.”
“Say nothing, Miss Courtenay.” The Beau smiled gently. “I only ask that you allow me to participate in this adventure of yours. To a small degree, that is.”
Jenny smiled. “By all means, Mr. Brummell.” She looked rueful. “But I cannot help but wonder exactly how many others are in possession of my ‘secret.’”
“Mama knows.”
All eyes turned to the doorway, where Meg stood. A slight blush covered her cheeks. She closed the door and slowly advanced into the room. Nodding rather shyly to the two gentlemen, she said apologetically, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, Jenny.”
Jenny waved her to a chair and said, “That’s all right, Meg. But what did you mean about Mama?”
“She knows,” Meg replied simply. “She’s known all along.”
“How do you know that?”
“Before we left Kent, Mama asked me to try to convince you to be careful. She said she had known from the start that you were the Cat, and that she was afraid for you.”
“She never said a word,” Jenny murmured.
Meg smiled. “She told me you were exactly like your father. That you possessed a sort of—fearless courage.”
“Meg, why didn’t you tell me that Mama knew?”
“You’ve been so worried, Jenny. I knew it would upset you, and you had enough on your mind.”
Wryly, Jenny responded, “Then why tell me now?”
Meg looked surprised. “Well, because of the duke, of course.”
Jenny shot a look at Spencer. “What do you mean by that?”
Meg blushed again. “Now that the two of you are reconciled, you won’t be alone anymore, Jenny. The duke will take care of you—and you won’t worry as much.”
With an amused glance at the duke, Jenny said, “Well, I suppose that’s
one
way to look at it.”
“I thought of that myself,” Spencer said gravely. “However, Miss Ross, your stepsister seems determined not to share her problems with me.”
“Well, you know all about the Cat, and if
that
isn’t a problem, I don’t know what is,” Jenny exclaimed.
“What about the informer?” asked the duke.
“Oh—that.”
“Yes,
that
. Who informed against you, Jenny? And don’t tell me you don’t know, because I won’t believe it. If you didn’t know who it was, you would be moving heaven and earth to find out.”
Jenny look uncomfortable. “I believe I told you once, Nick, that you think too much.”
“Who is the informer, Jenny?”
Abruptly, Meg rose to her feet and headed for the door. “Go ahead and tell them, Jenny—I’ve already guessed.” The door closed behind her.
Spencer looked rather grimly at Jenny. “Does that mean what I think it means?”
Jenny sighed wearily. “Sir George informed against me. He told me so himself.”
Mr. Brummell, who had been silent until now, frowned and asked, “Your stepfather?”
“Yes. He wants to be free of me. He seemed quite delighted at the thought that I would hang.”
Spencer looked furious. “When I get my hands on that man, he’ll wish he’d never been born.”
Jenny laughed softly. “Never mind. I’ve been handling Sir George for years—I managed to squash his threats.”
“How?” It was Brummell, his gray eyes curious.
She grinned, her eyes alight with amusement. With a sidelong glance at the duke, she said demurely, “I played on his sense of greed. I told him that I was trying to catch a duke, and that he should go back to Kent and leave me alone. He was quite happy to do so—envisioning a substantial marriage settlement, I’ve no doubt.”
“I’ll be damned if he gets one cent,” the duke declared roundly. “I’ll see to it that your mother receives the settlement.”
“Can you do that?” Jenny asked curiously.
“Yes,” Spencer said flatly. “I can and will.”
“Oh.” Jenny looked at him thoughtfully. “If you can do that—perhaps you can help me with another of my problems.”
“Which one?” asked the duke wryly.
“Do you think that you could persuade Sir George to consent to Meg’s marriage to Robert?”
Spencer smiled. “It will be my pleasure. As soon as we’ve caught the killer, I’ll post down to Kent and have a little—talk with him.”
“Famous! Then that takes care of everything but the killer. Nick, did you find out anything at the War Office?”
“Not a thing. They are being very careful at the War Office these days with so many documents having been stolen and shifted around in the past months. I talked to Richard Standen, but he couldn’t help me. He couldn’t remember anyone who might have heard your father talk about a traitor.”
Ruefully, Jenny said, “I suppose the Cat is their primary suspect.”
“On the contrary,” Spencer smiled at her, “the general feeling is that the Cat is searching for traitors. Half the War Office believes that the Cat should be given a medal for her services.”
“And the other half?” Jenny asked.
He laughed. “The other half believes she should be made queen.”
Jenny and the Beau joined Spencer in laughter. With a gasp, Jenny said, “I hope they don’t offer me the job—I have enough problems as it is!” She looked faintly puzzled. “But how did they know I was searching for traitors?”
Calmly, the duke said, “I told them you were when I returned those dispatches.”
She nodded. “I had forgotten all about those.”
“Dispatches?” Brummell looked curious.
Jenny nodded again. “A highwayman friend of mine took the dispatches from a coach that he held up. He gave them to me, and I gave them to Nick.”
“A highwayman? What very strange friends you have, to be sure.”
“Jason has been a very good friend to me,” she responded firmly, “and I mean to see that he receives part of the credit for catching the killer—when we catch him, that is.”
Spencer sighed. “You see what I’m letting myself in for, George? Highwayman!”
“At least she isn’t dull,” the Beau said in a consoling tone.
Jenny looked from one to the other. “Well, really!” she exclaimed.
Spencer’s eyes laughed in a solemn face. “Why do I have the feeling that my life from this point on will become filled with missing dispatches, highwaymen, spies, troubled young lovers, infamous stepfathers, and Bow Street Runners?”
“I can’t imagine,” Jenny stared carefully into space, “how you could possibly think such a thing.”
“The idea suggested itself when I saw two Runners hiding in the shrubbery when we came in.”
Jenny fought to keep from laughing. “You mean Simmons and his talkative friend.”
“The very same. Jenny, how have you been able to slip past them? The Cat has held up at least three coaches since they started watching the house.”
Correcting him, Jenny said, “Five. And it hasn’t been easy, believe me.”
Brummell started to smile. “You mean to say that you have been coming and going beneath the noses of two Bow Street Runners?”
Jenny grinned. “Luckily for me, Simmons has caught a dreadful cold from—er—hiding in the shrubbery.”
Brummell laughed. “Why is that lucky for you?”
“He sneezes occasionally, you know.”
Brummell had to struggle to maintain his air of casual nonchalance. “I didn’t realize how accurate my statement was,” he finally managed to say. “You certainly are not dull.”
Spencer had dropped his head into his hands. “She was born to be hanged,” he said in a voice of despair.
He then raised his head and gave Jenny a thundering scold on the subject of foolish young women who behave in a manner quite unsuited to their stations in life.
Jenny listened to these strictures with an air of great interest, before saying reproachfully, “But, Nick, I’ve been very careful.”
The duke sighed and rose to his feet. “Come along, George—if I remain here a moment longer, I shall be tempted to strangle her.”
The two gentlemen took their leave, and Jenny enjoyed a quiet laugh.
Outside, the duke and Mr. Brummell passed the concealed Runners just in time to hear a muffled sneeze. With a wink at the Beau, Spencer said loudly, “You should take care of that cold, Simmons.”
The bushes parted, and a startled face peered after the departing gentlemen.
Chapter Twenty
Several days later, as Spencer drove his curricle toward Lady Beddington’s house, he noticed a large man just stepping outside. There was a nagging familiarity about the man. He was dressed neatly, but more like a merchant or an innkeeper than a gentleman.
Spencer frowned and tried to peer round a coach that blocked his view. When the coach moved away, the man had disappeared. Spencer halted his curricle in front of the house and motioned for his tiger to go to the horses’ heads. A moment later, he knocked on the door, still frowning.
The butler answered the knock, his forbidding face softening into something resembling a smile when he saw the duke. “Good afternoon, Your Grace.”
“ ’Afternoon, Somers.” His frown disappeared. “Is Miss Courtenay in?”
Somers stepped back to allow the duke to enter. “Yes, Your Grace; Miss Courtenay is in the Red Room.” He made as if to lead the way, but the duke stopped him with a gesture.
“I know the way.” He gave the butler a conspiratorial smile. “You don’t need to announce me.”
Somers returned the smile, an understanding gleam in his eyes. “Of course, Your Grace.”
Spencer made his way to the Red Room and knocked softly on the door before entering. Jenny was standing at the window, her head bowed.
The duke looked searchingly at her still, silent figure. “Jenny?”
She started in surprise and turned to face him. “Nick. I—I didn’t hear you come in.” Her voice was strained, her eyes burning in an unnaturally pale face.
He quickly crossed the room to stand before her. “Jenny, what is it? What’s wrong?”
She glazed down at her clasped hands. “John came to see me. He just left.”
Spencer remembered the stranger he had seen, and suddenly realized why he had seemed familiar. “Yes, I saw him leave. What did he say, Jenny?”
“He brought me a message from Jason.”