Reinburg had no part of the actual blackmail. Like Leah, he was simply being used. The blackmailer in question had been feeding the lord information, and some of that information had leaked to his arrogant heir, Lord Henry St. George.
And it was the chatty Lord Henry who was spreading the rumor that the murder of Leah’s aunt, the Marchioness of Darvess, had not been committed by an unknown villain, but by a group of very well-known lords of Great Britain.
Lady Darvess had been Leah’s relative, and though she didn’t remember much about the woman, nothing she did remember was good.
The woman was not missed by any means, yet if certain ears got wind of how the woman had truly died, it would mean pain for Leah’s cousin, Julius Hext, and she wanted to protect him from that outcome.
She and her brother Lorenzo would do anything to protect him and set the past to rights.
A woman with an elaborate fruit hat passed by Lord Reinburg, and Leah ignored her… until she saw a note being passed between them.
Was her blackmailer a woman? Impossible.
Yet all she had to do was think of the Marchioness of Darvess to know just what a woman was capable of.
And there was only one way to find out if this woman was the one Leah had been looking for.
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CHAPTER TWO
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William Tift watched Lord Reinburg pocket the note and wondered if the woman who’d handed it to him had been the same female he’d seen follow Reinburg from the foundry. He spoke to the man at his side without turning that way. “You follow the lord; I’ll take the woman.”
“And what do you expect me to do once I approach the man?” Franklin Lockwood removed his spectacles and gave them a sweep with his handkerchief before placing them back on his face. “I’ve never been good at picking pockets. You should have brought Raymond along if that’s what you wanted. I’m sure he’d have known how to retrieve the note.” Raymond was one of their friends, the younger brother of their best mate, Hugh. But Ray knew nothing about the situation at hand, and Hugh wanted to keep it that way.
William glared at his companion. “Frank, had I known your study of psychology would render you incapable of something as easy as picking a pocket, I’d have never encouraged it.” For the last two years, Frank had been spending most his time with books, surrounded by the greatest minds that England had to offer. Which meant he’d been doing nothing more than sitting around and debating on theories about the inner workings of the mind and how people came to the decisions they did.
Frank placed his hands in his pockets. “When was the last time you picked a pocket?”
William took a moment to think. It had been awhile.
Frank cut in. “Exactly. I’m not stealing from the Earl of Reinburg. If I’m caught, I’ll go to prison, and I’ve no title to protect me.”
William had a title, but not one he’d been born with. He was a knight, but that hardly put him above Frank. The Lockwood holdings were legendary, and both had enough wealth to bribe a magistrate or two for an offense such as picking a pocket. “Frank, depending on what that note says, we’ll not be in court for pickpocketing. We’d be hanged for far worse.”
Frank’s features shifted in the darkness of the observation room. “Damn, you’re right.” He looked at Reinburg. “But I can’t do it. I’ll never get it done. You take the lord. I’ll follow the woman.”
“Are you sure you can do that?” William taunted. “I don’t believe there is anything in your books to aid you.”
Frank chuckled, and even in the darkness, William could see his features change once again, hardening into sharp lines. “I’ve never needed books for this.”
William cut him off from taking his leave with an outstretched hand. “What do you do if she doesn’t cooperate?”
There was silence and then… “I can handle myself.” Then he was gone, moving like the predator William knew he could be. The woman, whoever she was, didn’t stand a chance of getting away from Frank. The heir of the coveted Greenmoor Estates may have been unable to pick a pocket, but Frank held other talents.
The crowd parted for the eldest Lockwood son, and William moved in the other direction.
He caught Lord Reinburg passing underneath one of the lamps that lined the far walls. Reaching up, William brightened the flame. In the darkness, the flash of light was blinding and made more than one person jump or guard their eyes. A few people stumbled. William was one of them.
He gently bumped into Reinburg, retrieved the note, and kept moving. “Pardon me.”
He smiled. That had been easy enough. Now, he could follow the woman as well.
He moved out of the observatory and allowed his eyes a moment to adjust to the brightened room before he spotted Frank moving down the stairs. On the second level and not far ahead, he saw her. Standing just behind a stand of books was the blonde woman with the stylish fruit hat he’d seen with Lord Reinburg… and beside her was the one he’d seen following the lord from the foundry.
Were there two blackmailers? A team of women?
Or perhaps not.
The women were speaking, but their conversation did not seem to please either of them. The one with brown hair grabbed hold of the other’s arm, but then jumped as Frank caught them.
William moved, failing to excuse himself as he brushed through a couple on the landing. He took the steps two or three at a time.
Frank caught the blonde, but the one with the dark hair vanished. Then he saw her moving down the staircase and went after her. She was a woman of moderate height, easily blending into the crowd around her but moving with the grace of a dancer. Her dress of red striped muslin made her appear of average means. The garment was not new, but neither was it shabby enough to make her stand out. If she’d been at a proper Society event, she’d have been distinctly beneath everyone there.
She glanced over her shoulder, and their eyes clashed with the might of battle swords, causing both to stagger back a little. William didn’t understand his reaction to her but held on. Her gold gaze widened, and she turned away. Now she was moving with the speed of a spirit, and William was shoving people out of the way to get to her.
A few people shouted in his wake. Someone recognized him.
“Is that Major General William Tift? You’d think he was still in the heat of battle with the way he’s moving.”
If only they knew their assumption was correct. This was a battle but not for king and country. This was a battle for life and to continue that life with the ease that William had come to know, come to appreciate.
Unlike the wealthy sons and daughters who surrounded him, he’d fought and shed blood for his title, and he would not easily give it up
William’s family, though gentry, hadn’t always been wealthy. Wealth had been a disguise he’d worn as a lad that others had fallen for. If only they’d known the truth. Very knew people did.
The Men of Nashwood knew. They were a brotherhood that William had tied his loyalty to nearly two decades ago. But no one else had ever known what he hid about his existence.
Some had suspected, but none had come close to the truth… except for a girl from his past. He thought it strange to be thinking of Julius’ cousin at that very moment. The little queen. She was always a queen in her own mind and didn’t allow anyone to forget it. She’d stared at him as though she knew exactly who he was. He put thoughts of her aside and hoped they’d never return.
When he reached the middle of the room, he glanced around and knew the woman was lost to him.
He searched the room again, keeping his eyes low in the hopes of spotting her. When that failed, he ran outside.
Nothing.
He could see no one and couldn’t find her even after circling the building.
But he’d seen her face, and William would not forget it.
He went back inside to find Frank. They ran into one another on the first floor. Frank’s hand was wrapped in a cloth, and his expression was grim. “The little shite cut me.” He was obviously livid if he’d resorted to cursing the girl. His green eyes blazed with fury and deadly thoughts. “I can only hope the liquor removed any infection that could spread through me.”
“She got away?” William asked.
Frank nodded. “But I took this.” He held up the woman’s fruit hat. “There are initials inside.”
William took it and flipped it inside out. S.D. Then he grinned. “Good work. SD? What do you think that stands for?”
“Satan’s Daughter,” Frank said without missing a beat.
William barked a laugh.
Frank didn’t join in. Instead, he bit his lip. He was fighting the pain. “You were right. I’ve grown weak. We begin training once I return to London.”
The words lifted William’s spirit. All the men trained with their weapon of choice, except for Aaron. The Earl of Jeanshire preferred his fists more than anything. William preferred knives and might have thrown one at the little traitor had there not been a crowd.
However, more recently, the Brothers who’d married and had children trained less often. They enjoyed spending time with their families, yet even still, no one had been more distant than Frank. Lockwood had no woman to claim as his own. He’d instead married science, given birth to new theories, and never looked back. It was good to hear that at least one of his friends would be returning to their usual habits.
William missed his friends. Things simply weren’t the same with marriage and death clouding the air.
“What about the other woman?” Frank asked. “Where is she?”
William shook his head. “She got away, but we got the note before Lord Reinburg could read it. Now that the blackmailer knows we’re on her trail, she’ll probably think twice before approaching anyone again.” This was the closest any of the men had gotten to finding her. Morris and Hugh had come last year in search of the blackmailer when the rumors first started and not even they’d known to look for a woman.
“Sir William,” a man called from behind him. “Whatever is it you’re looking for? The rest of us would like to know what has you running to and fro.”
William straightened and turned around. Lord Allen Blackfall was flanked by two beautiful women who were both vying for the handsome solicitor’s attention. A few others stood close to him as well, and William recognized Blackfall’s friend, Lord Anthony Ellis, the Earl of Lawton. He, too, had a woman with him, but she was clearly a courtesan. Her breasts nearly broke from her crimson dress and though she was on Anthony’s arm, it didn’t stop her from looking William over.
Both men were handsome in their own right; Blackfall’s darker features made him seem dangerous, while Ellis’ lighter features, which some had called angelic, made it easy to hide just how depraved his mind truly was.
Knowing there was nothing he could do about the spirit of a woman who had gotten away, he walked over to the men. “Allen. Ellis. What are you two doing here?”
“We’re helping to organize Eights Week. You will come, won’t you?” Ellis asked. They’d all three gone to Oxford. Eights Week was a yearly rowing competition that had officially come to the school only last year.
“What about yourself?” Allen asked, looking between William and Frank. “What brings you back?”
“We’re looking for a criminal.”
The women gasped, and one looked ready to faint.
Ellis’ smile slipped away. “Well, do let us know if you need any help in capturing the fiend. We have friends everywhere.” That was the truth. Ellis had friends in the highest and lowest places in England, and Allen’s career made it so he’d dealt with quite a few people who’d spent time in Newgate Prison.
“I’ll take you up on your offer if it comes to it,” William promised. Usually, he didn’t like getting assistance from anyone outside of the Brotherhood, but these were dangerous times.
He and Frank left the building moments later, but William didn’t open the note until they were inside the privacy of a carriage.
William took a deep breath.
“What does it say?” Frank asked.
William looked up. “It’s a list of names.”
A heartbeat passed before Frank asked, ”How many?”
“Ten.” The list was of the ten Men of Nashwood, and considering the circumstances, there was only one reason their blackmailer would write them. Lord Reinburg must know the story. He simply didn’t know who was involved.
Yet.
“We have to stop her,” Frank said with dark emotion. “By any means necessary.”
William leaned back and smiled, “Welcome back, Doctor.”
“Indeed, General.” Then Frank looked out the window and went silent.
William allowed his mind to conjure the image of the woman with the wide gold eyes.
He’d seen that look on many faces before. Pure fear. Even before the war, William had known what it was like to take a life and he’d not forget the faces of those who died under his hand.
And he’d not forget her either.
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CHAPTER THREE
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That had been too close.
Leah struggled to breathe in the confines of the carriage. She hated small places, but there was no leaving it. She was on her way back to London. The plan had been to remain in Oxford for another day at least, but she could not. Seeing William had been a shock to her very nerves, and how she’d managed to slip away from him, she didn’t know.
She’d never managed to slip away from him before.
“Vagabond,” she whispered, recalling the name she’d given him twenty years ago, after hearing her father use the term when he’d spotted one of the gypsy people on their lands. She’d thought the word fit Will well. He’d always been a shade darker than the others. His skin was like sweet honey and his hair so dark that many thought it black.
But Leah knew otherwise. The only part of him that seemed mildly civilized were his eyes. They were such a stunning green that even when he’d been but ten, they’d rendered her young mind speechless a time or two. But those eyes were only civil when Will wished them to be. Otherwise, he could become quite beastly.
All she had to do was remember the way he’d killed Starlight to know what he was capable of.
And then there was the night that the Marchioness of Darvess had died…
She shivered in the darkness as she recalled the intent gaze he’d speared her with in the observatory. She’d seen her death in that gaze. The very thought of his hands upon her made it hard for her to breathe. She had no choice but to leave and return to her post as a teacher in London immediately.
She was thankful that her friend, Mr. Levander Cross, had given her use of his carriage while he was away. The man who supplied most of England’s ice wouldn’t miss it while away in Canada.
Removing her wig, she settled in for the long journey and prayed that if Will saw her again, he’d not recognize her.
* * *
She arrived in London two days later and immediately called her brother to her room.
Lorenzo closed the door behind him. “What happened?”
The long journey had allowed her to settle her nerves, and she was once again ready to carry on the charade she’d adopted since returning to England. For the last two years, Natalia Hext has ceased to exist and in her place rose Mrs. Leah Wells, a woman who’d married an English scholar she’d met in France only to discover that her husband was violent and had threatened to kill her more than once. Leah also spoke with a soft French accent every so often, to add depth to the character.
“I know who has been blackmailing Julius.”
He straightened, but his hand
s remained on her arms. It was clear from the expression in his blue eyes that he’d been worried. They were an ancient royal color that at times could appear more violet. “Who?”
She moved to the mirror to check her wig. In Oxford, she’d been brunette, but here in London, she wore blond. After pinning away the slips of her natural golden-red hair that tried to come out, she turned back to her brother. “It’s Sarah.”
Her brother frowned, and before he spoke further, they switched to Spanish. No one in the Spinster House for Women knew the language well. “Sarah? You mean the maid who lived with us all those years ago?”
Leah nodded. “She doesn’t appear to be a maid anymore. She must have seen what took place all those years ago. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“But the servants were dismissed that night,” Lorenzo reminded her. “It’s impossible—”
She shook her head. “No, Lorenzo—”
“Not Lorenzo,” he reminded her in a low tone. “Not here. I’m Zedock Sudworth here. You have to remember that.”
Leah rolled her eyes. “That’s the most ridiculous name I’ve ever heard. I refuse to call you that. Our mother gave you a beautiful name.” She pushed her fingers through his dark hair and admitted she’d grown used to the color he’d dyed it using the same components in ink. Iron and tannins. When she’d first seen him, she’d been amazed by it. Lorenzo had always been golden, and when he stood by Julius, they’d always been mistaken for brothers, not cousins. The only difference had been the hint of red in Lorenzo’s locks.
That was probably the reason her brother was disguising his true color. No one could know either of them were here. No one could know their connection to Julius or their cousin would likely finish what he’d begun years ago and kill them.
Natalia’s Secret Spinster’s Society (The Spinster’s Society) (A Regency Romance Book) Page 2
