The Earl of Morrey

by Lauren Smith

  “Yes, master.”

  “She certainly makes me think of much better things than anger,” one man dared to joke.

  Her master silenced him with a look. “Now, if you are ready to discuss what matters . . .”

  “We are, Mr. Garland,” the man called Thistlewood said. “Please, speak.”

  Her master smiled coldly. “Until now, you’ve all stayed just out of reach of the noose. That is commendable, but at this pace, you will never achieve any results. That is where I should like to assist you. Sending your little rebellious letters to Whitehall is foolish. I want that to cease immediately. The best revolutionaries do not need to feed their sense of self-importance. They leave that for the rhetoricians who rally allies to the public front of their movement. But where sedition and treason are necessary, it must be carried out in the dark.”

  “What are you suggesting we do, then? Don’t we need public support?” another man asked. “Rally the people and such? Otherwise, whatever we do won’t matter. It would be like killing the king. Another would simply take his place.”

  Her master held a hand to his lips to call for silence. “The French successfully removed their dynasty.”

  The man arguing with her master shook his head. “But a loyalist king took the throne after Bonaparte died.”

  “And that man no longer has the Sun God status the French once believed their royalty held. He is mortal—he can be deposed or killed, his family and heirs wiped out by Madame Guillotine. The French people know they have the power now, not some man upon a false throne.”

  Amidst all this,Camille was not focused on her master. She had a job to do, which was to listen to all that was said and remember the faces of every man present.

  “What you need to do is remove the king and the system that keeps him in place.”

  “How does one do that?” someone asked. “I am not against the idea, merely inquiring how one can achieve it effectively.”

  “By doing it all at once.”

  “All at once?” Thistlewood stroked his chin, his eyes thoughtful. “How could you ensure that?”

  Her master leaned back in his chair. “The House of Lords. Parliament itself.”

  The suggestion was met with silence, but judging by their faces, the rebels didn’t seem bothered by it. Rather they were contemplative, trying to see how this one stone could kill two birds.

  Camille’s master smiled again. “The king intends to make a speech to Parliament, you see, and when he does, we shall be ready.”

  “How do you propose to destroy Parliament? It’s not as though we could march up to it with pistols in our hands. If I recall, Guy Fawkes tried this and failed.”

  “He did, but he didn’t have the access to places and people that I do. When it is time, I shall tell you how we will make Whitehall fall.”

  Thistlewood glanced around at his fellow rebels. “Very well then. We shall wait for your signal. But we will not wait for long.”

  “You will not have to.”

  There were murmurs of assent, and Camille, still in the shadows, studied each face, searching for any hint of falsehood to betray a deceiver in their midst. One man seemed more pensive than the others. He sat close to Thistlewood, not speaking as the others, who were now resolved on their course of action and had dissolved into small talk. It could be nerves, of course, but it could be something else . . .

  “I will send a summons when we are ready to set the plan in motion,” her master said.

  One by one, the men slipped from the room until it was empty except for her master and herself.

  “Well, my pet, what did you see tonight?”

  She sipped a glass of wine and stole a bit of chicken from the plate her master had left out from his meal before she replied.

  “Thistlewood and his men are loyal . . . though one concerns me.”

  “Which one?” her master asked.

  “The one who never spoke. He sat next to Thistlewood, perhaps to establish an outward show of his commitment. But he said not a word, even when his eyes would sometimes flash at what you said.”

  “Well observed—even I missed that.” Her master handed her his glass of wine, and she drank before offering him a smile.

  “You are pleased with me?”

  “Very pleased,” he assured her. “Are you ready for your next assignment?”

  “Yes.”

  “You are to find Lord Pembroke’s sister.”

  At this, Camille suddenly brightened. “Oh, monsieur, I forgot to tell you.” She rushed into the adjoining chamber and returned with a newspaper that she’d come across that morning. She handed it to him, opened to the society column.

  “Lady Society,” he grumbled. “I never did learn who the damned chit was.” He scanned the article. “Lady Leticia was married the day before yesterday?” His eyes narrowed. “To Lord Morrey.” The name was uttered with an intimacy that piqued Camille’s interest.

  “You know him, monsieur?”

  “I killed his best friend.” The ferocity of his expression shocked her. She’d never seen her master look angered like that before. He fingered one of his cufflinks, a habit he always had when he was upset about something. Someday he’d rub off the cufflink’s surface from doing that too often.

  Camille placed a hand on her master’s arm. “Is he like you?”

  “Like me? No, he is just another English dandy who sticks his nose in places it doesn’t belong,” her master said calmly, yet Camille saw a strange fire in his eyes—anger that hid a deeper emotion.

  “I will go, monsieur—”

  “No.” He caught her arm, holding her forcefully. “You’ll stay and ease my temper.” He shoved her toward the bed. She desperately tried to calm him, hoping that he would be gentle if she did not upset him. When he was in a good mood, he was the best of lovers, but when he was not . . .

  “Please, monsieur, give me a moment to make you happy.” She offered him her prettiest smile, and the hellish flames behind his brown eyes began to fade.

  “Oh, my sweet French flower,” he murmured. “You always know how to soothe my black heart.”

  She allowed herself a moment of relief. By God’s grace, she’d escaped bedding the devil tonight.

  Caroline tossed fitfully in her bed, kicking her blankets off until the chill air woke her. She sat up in the darkness, listening to the wind howl against the windowpanes. Remnants of a dream trickled back to her. She had dreamed of John and the first time she’d met him.

  She had been riding in the park with Adam. He had spotted a man astride a lovely brown gelding and had hailed him. She had been struck at once by the man’s fair features, as any woman would, but he had none of the condescension in his tone that many men used when speaking with ladies. He engaged her as equally as he did her brother.

  That had only been the beginning. Over the next year, he had paid calls upon her, brought her flowers, and walked in the garden with her. He had recited poetry that made her laugh or blush. He was a flirt, but only with her. His gaze never strayed to any other woman. She knew with certainty that she held his heart, just as he did hers. When the day came whenhe proposed, she accepted, knowing that her life would change forever.

  She had simply never guessed that it would be with his murder, rather than their marriage.

  She slipped out of bed and went to the vanity table. In one of the drawers, tucked beneath layers of ribbons, silver-handled hairbrushes, and diamond-studded hair combs, she found a gold locket that hung upon a fine chain. She smoothed her thumb over the locket before opening it.

  Inside was a portrait of John. He gazed out from the tiny miniature, his solemn features so unlike the happy, smiling man she remembered. She held the portrait up in the moonlight to better view it.

  “Why did you have to go out that night?” she asked the man painted in oil. “Why didn’t you stay home?”

  She placed a palm over her abdomen and drew in a deep breath. She had shared a bed with John only twice, but those
nights had been sweet and wonderful. When she had discovered she was pregnant, she’d been overjoyed, but she’d kept it a secret from him, using clever gowns to hide her growing belly. She’d wanted the news to be a surprise on their wedding night. Perhaps if she had told him, he wouldn’t have been so cavalier with his life. He might have thought more of his own safety, for the sake of his future child.

  Caroline closed the locket and set it back in the vanity drawer. She went back to her bed and burrowed beneath the covers. This time she dreamt of nothing except hearing that single feeble cry of her newborn babe before it too faded into the dark.

  A figure loomed in the darkness toward Adam’s bed. His face pale, his clothes dripping with icy water, as though he’d dragged himself from the depths of the Thames.

  “Adam,” the figure gasped. “Adam, wake up . . .”

  Adam stirred, fighting the lethargy of sleep. The figure reached cold, wet hands toward him.

  “You must wake. He is coming for you.”

  At last Adam surged up, gasping. “John?” But all signs of the ghostly presence were gone.

  He steadied his racing heart and covered his face with his hands. Then he looked down at Letty, who lay beside him. She had halfburied her face in the pillow, her dark hair billowing out around her. She was still fast asleep, undisturbed by him and the ghost from his past.

  He stared at the dark corner of the room where he had imagined the figure of John Wilhelm.

  “He is coming for you,” John had said.

  Adam wondered who his friend had been trying to warn him about. Who was dangerous enough to bring his friend from beyond the graveto deliver a warning?

  10

  Letty was finishing up her breakfast with Adam and Caroline when Mr. Sturges entered the dining room, a silver tray in one hand. He came over to Adam and held it out. There was a letter on top.

  “What’s this?” Adam asked.

  “It just arrived by royal messenger.” Mr. Sturges’s reply held a hint of concern.

  “Royal messenger?” Letty echoed.

  “Yes, your ladyship.”

  “Thank you, Sturges.” Adam took the letter from the tray, and Letty noted the royal seal upon it.

  Adam used his knife to cut the wax from the paper and unfolded the letter and read it silently. Letty exchanged a glance with Caroline, asking her without words if she knew what it was about. Caroline shook her head.

  “It’s from His Majesty. He is summoning me back to London. Well, both of us.” He looked toward Letty.

  “The king? Why?” Letty couldn’t even begin to imagine why the king would wish to see her.

  “It seems that he desires to meet you and is curious about the woman I chose for a bride on such short notice.”

  “You are on favorable terms with the king?” Letty knew that most of the influential aristocrats met the royal family from time to time, but a personal invitation was still quite extraordinary. She’d had her debut a few years ago, but he wouldn’t have remembered her from that night, not when it had been filled with dozens of other young women.

  “Well, there is a story behind that—one I should tell you once we’re on our way to London. We must leave immediately. He wishes to see us this evening for dinner.” Adam cast her a smile, but she saw his thoughts were already distracted, possibly wondering if there was a significant urgency to the king’s invitation.

  “Tonight?” Caroline gasped. “Letty, we must pack your things at once and see if you have a decent court gown.”

  “I don’t believe I have anything suitable,” Letty fretted. A court gown was far more splendid than one’s normal evening gowns.

  “What about the one you wore the night of Lady Allerton’s ball?” Adam asked. “Is that suitable?”

  Caroline sighed. “Adam, that gown wouldn’t do as a court gown. Letty, you and I are close in size—you shall take one of mine.” Caroline rose from the table and the two ladies went to Caroline’s bedchamber. “This one should do well.” Caroline opened the tall armoire. She removed a gown and laid it out upon the bed for Letty to see. The crème satin creation was a vision, dusted with pearls like drops of moonlight.

  “What do you think? I have not yet worn it, so it will not have been seen by anyone you meet.”

  “It’s stunning! Oh, Caroline, do you mind? I don’t want to take such a gown from you.”

  Caroline waved a hand. “It’s yours. I do not believe I will be attending court anytime soon. Now, let’s have Mina come and pack it up.”

  Within the hour, Letty and Adam were bundled up in their traveling coach and heading for London.

  “Now, will you tell me why the king summoned you?” Letty was seated across from him—not because she didn’t wish to sit beside him, but because it was easier to converse with him this way. Adam removed his gloves and toyed with them in his lap.

  “I was stationed in Brighton a year ago. The king was at the Royal Pavilion. There were rumors of Napoleon escaping from Elba, and we were all on edge. None of us knew then that he would be dead in just a few weeks. There was an attempt made on the king’s life. I did my duty.” He touched his ribs on the left side. “I took a blade here. Not deep, mind you, but in the king’s mind, I was the only one who stood between him and death.”

  “I hadn’t heard he’d been threatened last year.” Letty kept herself abreast of the news by reading the Times, the Post, and even Ackermann’s Repository of Arts.

  “It was an incident that was kept quiet. There were few witnesses, and those who saw it were convinced to remain quiet. I believe that was the first time the king had ever faced death, at least in such a frightening manner, and it made an impression on him.”

  “I imagine it would.” Letty fell into silence for a long while, her mind now filled with worries and concerns. They were headed back to London, a place they shouldn’t go, where her life was more in danger, as was Adam’s. But a king’s command could not be ignored.

  Adam was troubled too; she saw it in his distant gaze. After a while, she moved to join him on the seat. He clasped her hand in his, though she sensed his thoughts were miles away.

  It was shortly after midday when they reached Adam’s townhouse on HalfMoon Street. There they met Mr. Shelton, the underbutler who handled the townhouse while Mr. Sturges was at Chilgrave.

  “My lord! We did not expect you back so soon,” Mr. Shelton said. He was close to Sturges in age, in his midforties, and he seemed quite as capable. Letty had not met him officially, but Caroline had told her about him before they’d left.

  “I’m sorry, Shelton. It’s quite unexpected. We require a quick luncheon, and Lady Morrey and her maid will need to be settled into their rooms.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Shelton bowed and turned to her. “This way, my lady.” He led her up the stairs to Adam’s bedchamber. The servants quickly put away the clothes from Letty and Adam’s valises.

  Letty took a minute to familiarize herself with yet another new room. The past few days had been far too much for her in many ways. She had only just started to settle down at Chilgrave, and now she had a new house and new servants as well.

  “You look quite exhausted, lady wife,” Adam said as he joined her in the room. Mina and Helms quickly left to give them some privacy.

  She sat back on the bed. “I am. It is silly, though.”

  Adam closed the door and came over to her at the foot of the bed. He was unbearably handsome just then. She was quite besotted simply looking at him.

  “Are you all right? I understand it must be difficult to jump about like this.”

  “It is unsettling,” she admitted. “But I am more nervous about meeting the king this evening.”

  “You need not be. The man is not perfect, but he is decent as a monarch.” Adam placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned in to whisper, “This evening after dinner, you and I shall finally have time to become better acquainted in our bed.”

  “That would be nice,” she murmured.

  He
leaned in, kissing her in a way that made her head tilt back and her toes curl.

  “Now, come down for lunch, and we shall rest a bit before dressing for dinner.”

  Adam knew he was being a little distant. He could sense Letty’s concern growing during their lunch, and so he’d sent her to rest for a few hours before they had to leave. It had given him time to think, to plan, and to worry. The king’s invitation couldn’t have come at a worse time. There were a hundred things that could go wrong.

  When she was ready, his wife appeared at the top of the stairs, and the sight of her stole his breath. She wore a gown of creamy pale satin with a gold underskirt and a glittering gold frill collar about her neck. Her capped sleeves were dotted with soft, shimmering pearls, and her bodice matched the gold underskirt. The design was not overly complex, yet the soft cream and bright gold, enhanced with the pearls on her fuller court skirts, had the most stunning effect. Her dark hair was piled atop her head, with a few loose curls escaping to rest against her cheeks and down the back of her neck. And there in the coils of her gleaming hair was the Morrey coronet.

  His wife looked like a queen.

  Letty paused at the bottom of the stairs. “Do you think His Majesty will approve?” she asked.

  Adam swallowed and nodded. “He will. And I shall be glad Princess Charlotte is no longer with us to be envious of you.”

  “You think perhaps we ought to leave, so we might not miss dinner?”

  Adam realized that he had been staring at her for quite some time now. “What? Oh yes.” He escorted her to their coach.

  As Carlton House came into view, their coach joined a line of other conveyances that waited to drop their passengers off in front of the large palace doors. Carlton House was quite the sight when the king chose to entertain. The dozens of windows that faced the south side of Pall Mall were lit, illuminating the area like daylight. The vast structure was indeed a palace in all but name.

  Having been here once before, Adam was accustomed to its extravagant opulence, starting with the hexastyle portico of Corinthian columns that led to a foyer. Some of the world’s finest works of art hung upon the walls, already drawing admiring looks from other guests who had never been here before.