The Greatest Challenge of Them All

by Stephanie Laurens

  Albert’s expression eased. “Thank you.” He inclined his head. “I will leave dealing with Nagle in your ever-capable hands.”

  “I am”—Drake glanced at Louisa and amended—“we are honored by your trust.”

  Albert smiled at that. He reached past them and opened the door.

  With a final inclination of her head, Louisa gracefully led the way out.

  She waited until Drake joined her. Once the door had shut behind him, and they’d started strolling along the corridor, heading for the side door where they’d left the carriage, she asked, “Nagle?”

  After several moments of ambling by her side, his gaze on the carpet ahead of them, Drake replied, “As it appears he’s ensconced in deepest Berkshire, and I believe he would have had no other agents in town, then he won’t receive any report of what has or has not occurred. He’ll be waiting, expecting to hear of the calamity he engineered, almost certainly expecting Griswade to arrive with the news. When Griswade doesn’t turn up…I think Nagle won’t know how to react. He won’t know whether the explosion occurred, won’t know if Griswade was caught, or if he succeeded but has subsequently been delayed.” His voice firming, he stated, “Nagle will remain where he is for the moment, waiting to hear what’s happened.”

  Drake turned his head and met Louisa’s gaze. “I rather fancy taking him the news myself first thing tomorrow.”

  Louisa smiled her sharp-edged smile. “An excellent idea. We can leave early—I believe we have no major engagement tonight.”

  Drake wondered if he should try to dissuade her from accompanying him and decided that would be wasting breath.

  He was learning.

  CHAPTER 59

  C ontrary to Louisa’s expectations and unbeknown to them, they did, indeed, have an unavoidable engagement awaiting them at Wolverstone House, where their families—all the members now in residence who hadn’t been directly involved—had gathered to hear their news.

  But they called first at St. Ives House; it was after six o’clock when they climbed the front steps. Milling in the front hall, they found Sebastian and Antonia, Michael and Cleo, and the entire footmen army. They’d all recently returned to check with Tom, only to be informed by Crewe of Louisa’s discoveries and Drake and Louisa’s subsequent race to intercept the Queen on her way to the Tower; the company was waiting on tenterhooks to learn the outcome.

  The instant Drake and Louisa came through the door, the entire gathering swung to face them, and her brothers started bombarding them with questions.

  Drake held up his hand and waited until silence descended. Then, with a slight, irrepressible smile curving his lips, he stated, “This is what happened.”

  Having so recently gone over the same ground with Victoria and Albert, Drake and Louisa made short work of describing the day’s events—what had proved to be the final stages of a long-running and extremely well-orchestrated plot to assassinate the royal couple.

  Despite not being, as Sebastian put it, “in on the kill,” everyone looked thoroughly pleased, the tension that had spiked when they’d heard of the true nature of the threat and the ticking clock that had so nearly run its course releasing in an equally intense relief.

  Drake ended by conveying their sovereign’s approbation and thanks, then added his own. “We would never have succeeded in checkmating this plot if we hadn’t had the support of every last one of you.”

  The footmen and grooms looked thoroughly chuffed.

  Drake glanced at Louisa, and his expression turned wry. “And while I hesitate to invite the inevitable preening, we couldn’t have prevailed without the Dowager Duchess’s and Lady Osbaldestone’s excellent memories. We’ll have to give them due recognition.”

  “Speaking of which,” Sebastian said, “a footman from Wolverstone House brought a summons for the six of us. My mama and your mama learned the latest from Crewe, and we’re expected there to report on the final act, and describe, explain, and elucidate the entire plot, first to last with no detail omitted, for the edification of our assembled families.”

  Louisa looked her disbelief. “The footman did not say that.”

  Sebastian inclined his head. “The poor footman didn’t have to.” He drew a note from his pocket and held it out to her. “Mama wrote it.”

  “Oh.” Louisa took the note and scanned it.

  “And”—Michael leaned over to point—“Drake’s mama—your future mama-in-law—countersigned it.”

  “Ah.” Drake stared at the note in Louisa’s hands. When she looked up, he met her eyes, then sighed. “In that case, we’d better get around there.”

  The footmen army had already started disbanding, with Crewe and Tom shaking hands with their peers and sending those from the other Cynster houses on their way.

  Flanked by Sebastian and Antonia and Michael and Cleo, Drake and Louisa, again hand in hand, went out of the front door.

  They walked slowly along the pavement.

  Halfway to Wolverstone House, Louisa sighed gustily. “After days of rushing hither and yon, always one step behind the gunpowder and the plotters, it’s…difficult to take in that it’s finally over.”

  Close behind her, Sebastian humphed. “For my money, it won’t be over until Nagle is taken up.” He glanced at Drake. “When’s that going to happen?”

  Drake exchanged a glance with Louisa, then told the others of their plans.

  Naturally, all four invited themselves along.

  Drake looked ahead and didn’t argue.

  Yes, he was learning.

  They entered Wolverstone House to find an unexpectedly large gathering filling the drawing room and waiting impatiently for them to appear.

  “At last!” Minerva, Drake’s mother, exclaimed. “We were about to send a second summons to St. Ives House.”

  “Obviously,” Royce, Drake’s father, said, having scrutinized their faces, “all has ended well.”

  “Almost.” Drake halted not far inside the door and felt the others flank him, all six of them facing the assembled company. Somewhat to his surprise, all his five siblings were present, grinning at them, along with Cleo’s parents as well as her three brothers, who must have recently returned from the Americas. The Earl of Chillingworth and his countess—Antonia’s parents—were there, along with her three siblings. And, of course, in pride of place on the sofa opposite the one occupied by the two duchesses sat Helena, Dowager Duchess of St. Ives, and Therese, Lady Osbaldestone.

  Drake drew in a breath.

  “First to last,” Honoria, Duchess of St. Ives, instructed, “with not one single detail omitted.” Her stern expression softened, and she added, “If you please.”

  Honoria might be a duchess, but no matter how insistently she demanded, she was not going to get every single detail; there were several to which Drake had no intention of admitting, and he suspected that went for the five surrounding him as well.

  “It all began,” he said, “with an invitation from Lord Ennis to a house party.”

  After describing in a few words the situation that had led to him enlisting Sebastian’s aid, he passed the baton to Sebastian, who took up the tale of explanation and elucidation, ably assisted by Antonia. Drake looked around, then touched Michael’s sleeve, and they fetched straight-backed chairs for their ladies. When Sebastian and Antonia reached the point of them returning to London after Connell Boyne’s murder, Drake took over briefly to explain the connection, or lack thereof, to the Young Irelanders, after which Michael and Cleo took center stage.

  Sebastian fetched a chair for Antonia and placed it in line with those occupied by Louisa and Cleo. Once Antonia sat, Sebastian took up a stance similar to that of Michael and Drake, standing beside and leaning on the backs of their respective lady’s chair.

  The truth of the death of Lawton Chilburn made those who had yet to learn of it blink, but by then the twists and turns of the plot had captured everyone’s attention. The gathering was hanging on their words when Michael and Cleo handed the
telling of the tale back to Drake.

  After their visit to the palace, he and Louisa made short work of their report, although Michael and Cleo and Sebastian and Antonia had their own contributions to make.

  But when their story reached the point where Louisa had realized who the mastermind was and therefore who he was targeting, and her experience in the Queen’s household had allowed her to make the deductive leap that had sent her and Drake chasing the royal carriage and turning the Queen away from the Tower, the entire company was on the edge of their seats.

  As Drake described the situation as he’d found it in the cellar below the Jewel House, Mrs. Proudfoot’s presence, and his resulting exchange with Griswade, one could have heard the proverbial pin drop.

  When he explained how Louisa, pretending to be Victoria, had appeared in the cellar, both her father and his paled.

  In contrast, Drake noted that their mothers—indeed, all the ladies present—continued to look intrigued and absorbed.

  He glossed over how he’d killed Griswade, simply saying that he’d forced the man they had labeled the garrotter to shoot himself and he’d subsequently died. Louisa stepped in to assure the company that Mrs. Proudfoot had recovered quickly from her ordeal.

  Drake looked at his father. “Once the Tower commanders arrived and we could leave dealing with the situation to them, we went to Buckingham Palace as ordered and reported to the Queen and Prince Albert.”

  His father nodded. “And?”

  “And Albert made it clear he wanted Nagle to be made an example of.” Drake paused, then said, “I have to agree. If this is not dealt with appropriately, there will be more attempts like it, and one of them will succeed.”

  His father grimaced. “Despite the inevitable repercussions, I, too, agree. It must be done.”

  “So!” Lady Osbaldestone, who had remained uncharacteristically silent along with everyone else, thumped her cane on the floor. “When do you propose to visit Nagle?”

  Drake reluctantly admitted, “Tomorrow.” He said nothing about the other five accompanying him, and for their part, they kept their lips shut.

  “Excellent.” Lady Osbaldestone nodded decisively, with the full weight of authority of one who had ruled the ton for more years than any other there could count. She looked at the other ladies. “We must see what we can do about shielding the Faringdales and Hawesleys. Despite what the gossipmongers will surely say, one can hardly blame them for Nagle’s actions—he always considered himself a cut above everyone else in his family.”

  That effectively distracted the ladies. Drake noted their siblings were exclaiming and commenting to each other, the various families intermingling, while their fathers had risen and gathered in a group to discuss… He strained his ears and confirmed they were discussing the possible political ramifications of Nagle’s attempts to damage the Young Irelander and Chartist causes.

  While men like their fathers did not openly sympathize with such organizations, they were not, in general, antagonistic toward the changes both groups wished to see implemented.

  Drake turned to his five co-investigators. Whether it was because for him and Louisa, their recent performance had been the third time they’d described the penultimate and ultimate events, the reality that the mission was truly over finally hit him—that they had, despite all the hurdles so cunningly erected in their path, prevailed.

  Relief—deep and powerful—rolled through him, sweeping away tensions, dispelling the shadows of lingering fears, leaving behind not peace but the prospect of that blessed state.

  He looked at Louisa as she looked at him. She studied his eyes, then smiled the slow smile she seemed to reserve just for him.

  Then his mother clapped her hands. When the noise faded, she declared, “I said seven for dinner, and it’s past that now. So I suggest we adjourn to the dining room.” She made a shooing motion toward the door.

  Drake, with Louisa on his arm, led the way.

  Sebastian and Antonia and Michael and Cleo were close behind.

  They laughed and joked as they strolled into the dining room to find the long table extended and places set to accommodate the entire company.

  Once they’d all found seats, and Hamilton and the footmen had done the rounds, filling the waiting glasses with fine champagne, with a celebratory mood already taking hold, Drake’s father stood at the head of the table and raised his glass. “To our latest generation and all their works.” His eyes met Drake’s, and he inclined his head. “You’ve done us proud.”

  “Hear, hear!” and “To you all” came from all around.

  His glass in hand, Drake waited only until the echoes died to push to his feet. From his position halfway down the table, he held up his glass to his father, then to all of their parents around the board. “I believe,” he said, “that this is where I say: We’ve all been very well trained.”

  Laughter rolled around the room, then all their siblings shouted, “Hear! Hear!”

  Beaming, Hamilton opened the dining room door to admit a line of footmen bearing trays.

  Drake sat, and Louisa, sitting beside him, leaned close and, under cover of the tablecloth, patted his thigh. “Very well done.” She sipped from her glass, then sidelong, met his eyes. “Do you think they’ve realized the full implications of that?”

  He wasn’t sure he had, but Hamilton intervened to present a platter of roast boar.

  Drake realized he was famished. He served Louisa, then himself, as the company settled to a sumptuous feast.

  Inevitably, with the dark menace of the mission eradicated and no other obstacle looming in the way, the older ladies steered the conversation to Sebastian and Antonia’s upcoming wedding and the two engagements that had yet to be announced.

  With that topic uppermost in their minds, said ladies led the company back to the drawing room. Drake, Sebastian, and Michael had all hoped for a quiet interval while passing the port and brandy, but their fathers showed no inclination to linger in the dining room. Instead, the company’s gentlemen brought up the rear and filed back into the drawing room in the ladies’ wake.

  Consequently, there was no escaping the older ladies’ planning.

  Venues were weighed and dates discussed and eventually decided.

  Drake let it all pass over his head. To him, the when and where didn’t matter; making Louisa his marchioness was the only thing that did. As long as that happened relatively soon, he didn’t care, and as she’d taken her place in the ladies’ circle and he was fairly certain her views on that subject matched his, he felt confident he could leave the matter in her manipulative hands.

  Yes, indeed, he truly was learning to share the responsibilities associated with his life.

  He, Sebastian, and Michael stood by the windows with Jack Hendon, Drake’s father, Sebastian and Michael’s father, and the Earl of Chillingworth, and explored the various subjects thrown up by the recent mission, from the Young Irelanders and the Chartists, to the mode of transport of ale throughout the capital, the existence of the Worshipful Company of Carmen, the possibilities for more certain transport of gunpowder using oilskin bags, and the exotic beverages Sebastian and Michael and their helpers had unearthed in the cellars of various army messes.

  Finally, the ladies decided to call an end to the evening. Buoyed on a wave of confident satisfaction, the company split into their constituent families, and the Cynsters, Rawlingses, and Hendons prepared to depart. Carriages were called. The Hendons left first, followed by the Rawlingses.

  Drake had halted in the middle of the hall. He nodded to Sebastian and Michael as they turned to the door. Then to his surprise, Louisa materialized by his side; he’d thought she’d already left with her mother.

  She smiled into his eyes, and for a moment, he wondered if she—Lady Wild—was about to shock everyone, even his unshockable parents, and insist on going up the main stairs with him…

  Instead, she gripped his arm, leaned close, and murmured, “There’s an extremely old ivy vine
that grows up the wall all the way to my bedroom window.”

  She drew back as if she’d simply said goodbye, then with a distinctly provocative smile curving her lips, she patted his arm and, with a final general wave, rushed to follow her brothers out of the door.

  Drake stood staring after her, then he blinked and turned to his father as the latter approached.

  CHAPTER 60

  It was significantly more than an hour later when Drake lifted the covers on Louisa’s bed and slid between the sheets.

  “Hmm.” She rolled toward him, hot little hands reaching and claiming.

  “Sorry I took so long.” Drake lifted her over him and brushed her hair back from her face. “M’father wanted to talk.”

  “Did he?” She swooped in and captured his lips, then he captured hers, and passion, brought closer to the surface than either had realized by the pressures and fears of the day, ignited.

  Erupted.

  Finally, on a gasp, she broke the seal of their lips. Rising over him on her hands and knees, from beneath desire-weighted lids, she studied his face and smiled with sultry delight. “But you did brave the ivy”—she leaned low and swayed sinuously from side to side, brushing her already swollen breasts across his chest—“and you’re here now.” She caught her lush lower lip between her teeth and let her lids lower, then she released her lip and breathily declared, “So I believe I’ll forgive you.” She slid lower in the bed.

  Those were the last words she or he managed for many long minutes.

  Long-drawn minutes during which desire surged and passion raged, and the hunger and even more the blinding need scored and exacerbated by the day’s events—by their inherent and instinctive fears, by the horror of so nearly losing the other, of losing their own lives and the promise of the future they’d so recently glimpsed—surged, overwhelmed them, and eclipsed all control.

  They rolled among the sheets, panting, gasping, moaning, he muffling her shrieks when they became too loud, and burying his face in the tumbled mane of her hair as he reached his own completion.