Son of a Duke (11 page)

"What do we do now?" Nathan asked the room in general, changing the subject.

"The Office is attempting to create a cover.
 
Nothing too flashy.
 
A debt unpaid.
 
Revenge exacted.
 
So on and so on.
 
Same line just a different tilt to it to cover Frederick and not Franklin."
 
Alec raised his glass to take a drink, realized it was empty and just scowled at it.
 

Nathan nodded.
 
"What about Archer?"
 

Richard shifted.
 
"The Office does not want to do anything for the time being.
 
Both brothers being shot so close together will look more than fishy.
 
We will keep intercepting the correspondence.
 
See where it leads us.
 
In time, we will form another strike."

"And meanwhile, what do I do about Miss Quinton?"

Richard raised an eyebrow, looking uncannily like the face Nathan saw in the mirror every time he went to shave.
 
"Does Miss Quinton need to be...done?"

Jane elbowed him in the ribs.

"Someone shot at us from the gardens shortly after Alec left."

Finally, Alec sat up and looked halfway human.
 
"Someone?"

"Whoever it was was gone by the time I made it to the gardens to check."
 
Nathan sipped his glass hoping they would let that pass.

Alec, of course, would certainly not let something like that pass.
 
"In the time it takes for a bullet to leave a firearm and almost strike you, the assailant was able to escape because you were..."

He let the sentence hang, but Nathan could imagine all of the things he was finding to finish the sentence with.
 
And Nathan probably would not approve of any of them.

"I was sticking Miss Quinton behind a tree.
 
Or maybe a fern.
 
It was something to protect her from any more fire."
 
Nathan waited, staring into his whisky.

His feelings surrounding Miss Quinton were still quite a logjam in his chest, and he did not have the energy to sort them out just then.

Richard finally made a noise in his throat and said, "Protect the lady first.
 
Good job, son."
 

Nathan looked at Alec.
 
But Alec was only staring wide eyed at the fire.
 
Probably thinking of more possible things that Nathan had been doing in between the moment the bullet zipped past him and the moment he had made it out to the gardens.
 
Nathan scowled at him, even though his brother was not looking in his direction.
 
The scowl at least made Nathan feel better.

"The ground was too firm to leave footprints, and otherwise, there was nothing left behind."
 

"And Nora?
 
Is she all right?" Jane asked in a concerned tone.

Nathan thought a moment, the image of Nora on the edge of curiosity, begging to be kissed as he left springing up in his mind.
 
"She will live," he decided to say.
 

Jane pursed her lips but let it go.

"Her son is more than fine though."
 
He took a drink and realized that everyone was staring at him as if he had suddenly grown horns.

"Her son?"
 
Jane's voice was no longer filled with concern.

"Yes, Samuel."

"Miss Quinton has a son?"
 
Alec's eyes were squinting now.
 
Nathan wondered how his brother ever managed to win at cards.
 
His emotions ran wild across his face.

"Yes, Miss Quinton has a nine year old son."

Jane's mouth was opening and closing, but no sound was emerging.
 
That was not good.
 
Jane knew everything about Miss Quinton.
 
It had been her assignment.
 
If she did not know about Samuel, then it was because Nora did not want Jane to know.
 
Nora probably did not want anyone to know, and now he had gone and told three different people at one time.
 

He felt like a cad.

But if Nora loved her son, why did she not tell anyone about him?
 

"That explains some things," Jane said.

Richard only nodded, and Alec kept squinting like the sun was in his eyes.

Nathan felt like an idiot.

His father, thank the good Lord, changed the subject.
 
"So we have someone shooting at you and Miss Quinton and the wrong man dead.
 
Overall, I think it has been a rather horrible night."
 
He turned his head.
 
"Jane, what do you think?"

"Horrible, indeed."

"Well, I think I would disagree."
 
Alec leaned back, a wise expression splattered on his face.
 
"I think this night has seen immense progress.
 
We-"

"Alec."
 
Richard frowned at his youngest boy as if he knew he was going to say something he probably should not.
 
And Alec shut his mouth, just as Richard had probably expected at the tone of his voice.
 
It was amazing how children never really stopped being absolutely petrified at the sound of the parental voice.
 
God knows Nathan was still scared of it.
 
Richard looked back at Nathan.
 

"How do you plan to proceed with the Gregendens?
 
They did have someone murdered at their ball."

Nathan settled deeper in his chair.
 
"I spoke with Miss Quinton and imparted the gravity of the situation.
 
I advised her to think of a line to tell the lord and lady and that I would return once I knew more."

Richard frowned harder.
 
"Jane told me that she knew."

Nathan nodded, staring absently into the fire.
 
Nora knew quite a lot.
 

"I also advised her that I would find out what will happen to her now that she is privy to state secrets."

Richard nodded, his expression glum.

"I guess that is all we can do for this evening then."
 
Richard rose, bringing Jane up with him.
 
He took her glass and his over to the table in the corner and set them down next to the decanter.
 
Alec began to pull himself out of the chair as well, searching around for wherever he had thrown his jacket.
 
And his cravat.
 
And his collar.

Nathan got up as well, pacing over to his father and setting down his glass next to the others.
 
Richard put a hand on Nathan's shoulder, drawing his attention.
 
Once again, Nathan was struck by how much they looked alike.
 
Nearing nine and fifty, Richard had only a splash of gray throughout his dark hair, deep lines around his eyes and mouth from years of smiles, and soft brown eyes that still speared him.
 

"Get some rest," was all that Richard said, before turning to take Jane's hand to leave the room.
 
Jane smiled at him and disappeared through the door behind Richard.
 

Alec had finally unearthed his collar and cravat but had yet to find his jacket.
 
He probably had flung it over the staircase railing as he had come in.
 
Nathan stuck his head out into the hall and sure enough, saw it hanging crookedly over the banister.

"It is out there, brother" Nathan pointed out the door.
 

"Oh."
 
Alec smiled goofily.
 
"Are you coming home with me or are you staying here?"
 

On a War Office salary, Nathan could not afford to keep a place in town and mostly just stayed at either his father's or his brother's home.
 
It was better than renting a room the size of a cupboard in some dive in Whitechapel.
 

Nathan heard his father and Jane moving around upstairs.
 
"I am coming with you."
 

"Great."
 
Alec smiled brilliantly.
 

"Why do you always find it so much fun when I come to stay with you?"
 

"Because you are my brother."
 
Alec walked past him into the hall to find his jacket.

Nathan remembered Nora's answer to his question about family and guiltily followed his brother from the house.

~

Nora's head hit the pillow just as the clock chimed three.
 
She had two hours to sleep before getting up to start the fires in the kitchen.
 
And as exhausted as her body was, she cherished that two hours like nothing else.
 

But after five minutes with her eyes shut, Nora knew she was not going to fall asleep any time soon.
 
She kept thinking about Nathan.
 
About the way he had talked with Samuel, about the way he had stared at her so completely dumbfounded after she had pointed out that he had shot the wrong man, about the way his face looked when he was concentrating on the fire in the study, about the shifting color of his eyes.
 

About how his callused fingers had felt rasping across the soft skin of her face.

She rolled over, scanning the darkness opposite her until the outline of Samuel, sleeping soundly on the cot in the corner, came into focus.
 
His chest rose and fell with the deep steady breaths of contented sleep.
 
She watched him, wishing she were sleeping a contented sleep as well that did not involve images of Mr. Nathan Black.
 

She rolled over again to stare at the boring white wall of their small room.
 
The fire was banked for the night and barely flickered against the wall.
 
Nora concentrated on what tasks she needed to complete the next day, trying to bore herself to sleep.
 
It was not working.
 
The one task she kept thinking of was how she was to tell Lord and Lady Gregenden what had happened.
 
It was all Hawkins could do to get them to retire for the evening without speaking with the presumed Bow Street runner who had come to the house to fetch the dead body.
 
It was then Nora suddenly realized she was no longer sure if Nathan truly was a Bow Street runner.
 
What had he said about the War Office and state secrets?
 
Was he not a Bow Street runner at all but really a...spy?

This line of thinking was not going to get her to sleep any sooner than thinking of a story to tell her master and mistress.

She rolled again, this time to stare at the ceiling.
 
The ceiling was just the bottom of the floor above her, the wooden beams and criss-crossing of floorboards.
 
When she realized she had started counting the floorboards, she sat up and rubbed her hands across her face.
 
This was never going to do.
 

Pulling the covers back, she swung her feet to the icy floor and stood, letting her nightdress fall down to the floor.
 
The whole thing sat like a tent on her, letting air seep up the bottom and cool her skin.
 
Her braid of hair hung across her shoulder, and she pushed it back before scooping up the top blanket on her bed and moving over to the small fireplace.
 
It was more of a stove than a fireplace, but it suited her needs for having something to stare at while she brooded.
 

She stopped by Samuel's cot, just to look at him as he slept before settling into the worn armchair in front of the coals, pulling the blanket about her like a cocoon.

Every night she discovered new places on her body that could in fact be worn out to the point of painful aching.
 
Tonight it was the spaces between her toes.
 
She tucked her bare feet under her and spread the blanket over her and the chair, creating a bastion of comfort.
 
She watched the coals fade and brighten, changing as air shifted across them.
 
But even as soothing as that was, sleep was avoiding her.
 
Or maybe she was avoiding it.
 
She could never really tell anymore.
 

Samuel made a noise in his sleep, a soft mewl as he dreamed.
 
Nora looked over to him and smiled softly.
 
At least someone was sleeping well these days.

And as if to remind her, an image of Nathan rose up in her mind.
 

What was she to do with him?
 

Perhaps nothing, the sensible part of her mind scolded her.
 
After all, Nathan had said he was not sure when he would return or what he would have to say on the matter then.
 
His words had often been cryptic, but she was sure she had grasped at least the notion of what he was attempting to communicate to her.
 
She now knew something that she should not, and her life was going to change as the War Office saw fit.
 

She looked over at Samuel again.
 

Perhaps they could leave.
 
Leave at dawn.
 
Just run away from it all.
 
But then where would she go and without a reference?
 
How would she secure employment?
 
How would she care for Samuel?
 
It was not as if she had family to help her, and she was not returning to Aunt Martha.
 
She was honestly not even certain if Aunt Martha was still alive to help anyway.