The Falcon and the Sparrow (23 page)

A tap on his chamber door jarred Chase from his half sleep and sent him fumbling to answer it. He admitted the tall midshipman and quickly shut the door behind him. Though a waning candle still flickered on his desk, Chase could barely make out the young man’s features. “What news, Franklin?”

The man shifted his boots across the floor. “He went to the Chaucer down by the river.” Chase knew the tavern, one of the nicer taprooms where untitled men congregated to have a drink or perhaps solicit female companionship. “Ah, yes, to meet someone, perhaps?”

“I cannot say, Admiral.”

“You cannot?” Chase’s ire rose like a flame. “You are being paid to say, Franklin. Did he or did he not meet someone?”

“He spoke with several people.”

“Did he hand off the documents?”

Franklin shook his head. “I never saw him hand anything to anyone save for a shilling to the barmaid for a drink.”

Chase rubbed his chin.

“Permission to speak, Admiral.”

“Yes, of course.” Chase waved a hand through the air.

“Are you sure you are correct in your assumptions? I watched your butler for more than two hours, and truth be told, he appears to be naught but a lonely old man in need of a drink and some companionship.”

Chase huffed and massaged the back of his neck. “That will be all, Franklin. Keep a weather eye out every night as instructed.”

“Aye, aye, Admiral.” Franklin saluted and marched from the room.

Chase began to pace. As much as he hated to place suspicion upon sebastian, as much as he had denied the Admiralty’s insinuations that someone in his own home was a spy for France, Chase could come to no other conclusion. The old butler fit the description given the Admiralty by their sources abroad: British born but with French ties; someone close to Chase—a servant, a relation; someone with access to his study; and someone with a need to improve his station in life.

Chase hung his head. He had hoped with everything in him that he had been wrong. But then the documents had gone missing. Who else could it be? He allowed his mind to scan the list of household servants once again. None with the brains, none with the motive and access, and none with the ties to France like sebastian. Save Miss Dawson—Chase chuckled at the thought of an admiral’s daughter spying on britain. Hogwash. Pure rubbish.

Katharine pushed her way past sebastian as soon as he opened the
door. Lifting her skirts, she gave Lady Irene, who sped in behind her, a smug grin and headed up the stairs.

Sebastian grunted. “Mrs. Barton, allow me—”

“Never mind, sebastian, I will find him,” she shot back over her shoulder.

Laughter drew her to the drawing room, and without so much as a knock or an announcement, she thrust open the doors and burst inside in a swish of lace. What she had to tell her brother could not wait another minute, nor could it wait for propriety. But the vision displayed before her halted her in her tracks and sent icicles through her veins.

Candlelight flickered across the room, setting it aglow with a golden warmth that kept out the descending gloom of evening. Miss Dawson presided on the flowered divan, William snug by her side, their smiling faces pressed within a book. Across from them sat Chase, one leg perched upon the other, reading the
Spectator
. A sensation of rapport, of affection, swept over her—a sensation of family. Something she hadn’t felt in quite some time.

It only incensed her further.

After she had exposed the tawdry woman’s promiscuity to Chase, he dared to sit in the same room with her? She had heard he had not released her yet, but this was beyond reprehensible.

Grabbing Lady Irene’s hand, she brought her alongside. “Chase, I must speak to you immediately.”

The enchanting scene was shattered, and they raised their heads, seeming just now to notice her. William’s beaming blue eyes widened. The young boy stood, bowed, but made no move to greet her as he usually did. No doubt the French vixen had poisoned the young lad’s mind against his own aunt. He quickly reassumed his seat beside her.

Chase set down his paper and gave her a look of annoyance as he stood. “Good evening to you, dear sister, Lady Irene.” He bowed. “A pleasure to see you both.” The smile that lifted his lips did not reach his eyes. “Now pray tell, what has you so overwrought?”

Katharine ground her teeth together. Why did he always have to patronize her? “I must speak to you alone, if you please.” She
shot a fiery glance at Miss Dawson, who merely looked back at her with those fawn-colored eyes of innocence.
Innocent, indeed.

“You may speak freely here.” Chase folded his arms across his chest.

Lady Irene tensed beside her. “If I may, Admiral. I believe you should hear what your sister has to say. ’Tis a matter of grave importance.”

“Ah, no doubt.” Chase nodded and cocked a brow. “Some new scandal is afoot? Or perhaps some poor beau failed to swoon at your feet, Lady Irene, as expected when you graced him with one of your sultry glances?” He snorted, and Katharine heard Lady Irene groan beside her. “Or perchance you wish to invite me to another ball? The last one was quite entertaining, to be sure.” He sauntered toward the windows, where a setting sun splattered blood red over the panes.

“ ’Tis none of those things, Chase, I beg you.” Katharine’s news pranced upon her tongue like a herd of wild horses longing to be released from their corral. Raising her chin, she glanced at Miss Dawson, and a smug triumph cushioned her rapidly beating heart. Surely now her brother would release the French miscreant and find a wife among the
haut ton
, a loyal british noblewoman who would treat him as he deserved—someone like Lady Irene. She gave her friend a victorious smile. Chase would no doubt thank Katharine later, when he realized she had saved him from certain devastation.

The admiral spun around. “Very well, I shall listen to you, sister, but mark my words, if this is another of your conniving plots to sully Miss Dawson’s reputation, I will not stand for it.”

Katharine blinked. So he knew about her part in the incident at the ball? no doubt that loose-lipped fop Atherton had failed to keep his mouth shut. Well, no matter, it wouldn’t make any difference—not after Chase heard what she’d come to tell him.

“Ah, yes.” He moved to the fireplace and leaned against the mantel. “Mr. Atherton explained the situation quite clearly to me. And I believe you both owe Miss Dawson yet another apology, do you not?” He nodded toward the governess, who had turned a
bright shade of scarlet to match her wanton heart. “You not only ruined her gown, but caused her a great deal of embarrassment, as well.”

Chase straightened his blue waistcoat and shifted his stern gaze betwixt her and Lady Irene. Why did he always have to wear that blasted navy uniform? Fear squeezed Katharine’s stomach at the thought of losing him. Aside from their aging parents, Chase was all she had left. How she longed to see him happily married and settled in London. But not with this Frenchwoman, who would surely break his heart and send him sailing out to sea.

William shifted in his seat and whispered something in Miss Dawson’s ear. Setting the book down, she took his hand in hers and held it in her lap. Katharine cringed at the affection between them and elbowed Lady Irene, motioning with her eyes toward the boy. In spite of Lady Irene’s protests, Katharine had instructed her friend to warm up to the lad, to converse with him, read to him, play with him, whatever it took to prove herself a worthwhile mother in Chase’s eyes.

Lady Irene slid onto the divan beside him and offered him one of her sweet smiles reserved for her favorite gentlemen.

It did not have the same effect on William. Cringing, he sank back into Miss Dawson as if a giant viper were after him. He wrinkled his nose against what Katharine assumed was Lady Irene’s overabundant perfume.

“William, what are you reading?” She asked.

The boy gave her a sour look and glanced up at Miss Dawson. She nodded at him with a smile.

“
Tom Thumb
,” William whispered, staring down at his book.

“Oh,
Tom Thumb
!” Lady Irene screeched and bounced up and down on the divan, shifting her gaze to Chase to see if he noticed her exuberance. Her outburst seemed to frighten William further, and he inched closer to Miss Dawson. Katharine sighed. Clearly she needed to spend more time on Lady Irene’s mothering skills.

Chase’s brow wrinkled; then he looked at Katharine. “Enough of this. I await your apology.”

Miss Dawson slowly rose. “Admiral, I beg of you. There was no
harm done. Let us simply forget the incident.”

Katharine narrowed her eyes upon the governess. Very clever.
See how she plays the charming saint, the forgiving victim.
Fury burned within her. And one glance at her brother told her ’twas obvious he’d fallen for the ruse. He gazed at Miss Dawson, and she at him, and in that brief second what Katharine saw in their exchange sent spikes of terror to her bones. She must act, and she must act quickly.

“Chase, I beg you.” She gave him her most pleading look—the one that always seemed to win him over. “May I have a word with you in private?”

No sooner had the admiral and his sister left the room than a chill struck Dominique. When she looked up, it was to Lady Irene’s icy blue eyes boring into her from the other side of the room.

“Mr. Atherton tells me you are very committed to Christian principles.” She tilted her head and allowed her gaze to wander over Dominique as if she were studying her through a microscope.

“That is true. Are you not?” Dominique clasped her hands in front of her, uneasy in the presence of this high society lady who obviously harbored only hostility toward her.

“Humph. I suppose.” She tossed her head, sending her golden curls quivering, and glided across the room. “You aren’t one of those Methodists, are you?” She scrunched her nose.

William tugged on Dominique’s gown from where he still sat on the divan. “What is a Methodist, Miss Dawson?”

Dominique smiled at him. “I will explain later, William.” The last thing she wanted was for the young boy to witness any more quarrels. He had already heard far more caustic words that evening than was prudent for one so young. Her thoughts sped to the admiral and Mrs. Barton, and fear swirled in her stomach. Whatever she had wished to discuss with him, it involved Dominique; of that she could be sure. The woman had never looked so supercilious before, as if she gloated over some assured victory.

“The Methodists,” Lady Irene began, “dare to say that people
of high rank and good breeding are no better than the common wretches that crawl on the earth.” She reached the window and gazed out, her peach gown aglow in the last rays of sunlight. “Absurd.”

As much as she wanted to, Dominique couldn’t leave without responding to this grossly inaccurate belief that ran rampant through the british society. “I believe we have all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God, milady.” She extended her hand to William, thinking it best if she left Lady Irene to her ill-humored musings. “Come, William, let us retire to your room.”

Mrs. Hensworth appeared in the doorway. “There you are, William.” The plump housekeeper’s gaze scanned over Lady Irene and ended in a smile when it reached Dominique. “I’ll take him upstairs, miss.”

William peered up at Dominique with eyes as big as blue saucers. “Can we go to the park tomorrow, Miss Dawson?”

“Of course we can.” Dominique brushed the hair from his forehead and felt a burning of affection fill her eyes.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hensworth.” Dominique kissed William on the cheek, eliciting a chuckle from the boy, and watched as he followed the housekeeper from the room. She must leave this house soon, for she feared if she did not, she would have to leave her entire heart behind.

“Now if you will excuse me.” Dominique nodded toward Lady Irene.

“Why are you not cross with me?” Lady Irene turned from the window and gave Dominique an inquisitive stare.

Dominique searched Lady Irene’s exquisite eyes but found only anguish behind the sparkling blue. Her thoughts sped to her own source of anguish, Marcel. “Because I know what it is like to want something so badly that you would do most anything to get it.”