Celeste Bradley - [Royal Four 01]

by To Wed a Scandalous Spy

The Three laughed at that. Out of the corner of his eye, Nathaniel saw Liverpool grow stiffer and more rigid. Well, too bloody bad. With old Lord Barrowby out of the Chamber and Liverpool out of the Four, this was a younger man’s game now. He, the Lion, and the Falcon were in their prime. The Royal Four could only be expected to become livelier by nature.

  Still, best not antagonize the Prime Minister over nothing. Nathaniel cleared his throat. “Tabling the Chimera for now, since we don’t know goose scat about the man, I read here in this report that Denny, Simon Raines’s former valet, is still missing?” The fellow had disappeared when it had been discovered he had been leaking information.

  The Falcon nodded. “The Liars haven’t been able to find him.”

  The Lion looked skeptical. “Have they really tried, do you think? After all, he was practically one of the club for years.”

  Nathaniel shook his head. “You don’t know the Liars. When one of their own jumps the Channel, they double their hunting frenzy.”

  The Lion nodded thoughtfully. “So it is safe to say that this Denny has indeed joined the other side?”

  The Falcon grunted in agreement. “That or he’s hiding out in some far corner of Wales.”

  The Lion turned a page in the Liars’ report before them. “But they don’t believe this Ren Porter is a danger?”

  Nathaniel leaned closer to peer at the page. “What is this about Ren Porter?”

  The Falcon blinked. “Didn’t you hear of this? Oh, that’s right. You’ve been off on your estate since before he woke up.”

  “He woke up?” Nathaniel remembered Ren from their youth. He’d been a cheerful, curly-haired lad then. Later, he’d been one of the Liars betrayed by the club manager, Jackham. He was left for dead a few months earlier and no one thought he’d ever regain consciousness, but the Liars had arranged for some excellent nursing and it had apparently paid off.

  “What happened to him?” Nathaniel asked.

  The Falcon tapped his finger on the paper. “Shortly after he awoke, he disappeared. Apparently after a visit from Mr. Jackham.”

  “Co-conspirators, then?”

  The Lion shook his head. “Not according to the Liars. They think Jackham may have taken advantage of Ren’s muddled state to turn him away from the Liars, but they’re hoping he’ll find his way home.”

  Nathaniel rubbed his chin. “The Liars aren’t beginning to leak a bit around the edges, are they?”

  The Falcon shook his head quickly, frowning at Nathaniel. “The Liars are as strong as they were in your father’s time as spymaster, if not stronger. The new training program is showing excellent results as well.”

  Nathaniel waved a hand, conceding the point. His personal feelings about the Liars had no place in the Chamber; he knew that.

  “The next point of order is the Voice of Society,” the Lion interjected smoothly. “The Voice still knows more than it should.”

  The Falcon nodded. “While the Voice is an irritant, it has never divulged enough to do real damage. Somehow, it is acquiring mangled rumor and hearsay, not facts. There is little we can do about the Voice as yet. It continues to disappear from one news sheet as soon as we begin to investigate, only to pop up somewhere else.”

  The Prime Minister shifted in his chair. “I say we penalize any paper that prints that tripe! Fine them if they run the Voice, and fine them if they run that liberal propagandist Underkind as well.”

  The Falcon studied the arched ceiling, and the Lion made no attempt to hide his grin. Nathaniel turned to Liverpool. “Mr. Underkind’s cartoons are the least of our concerns at the moment, I would say. Besides, I believe Etheridge has Underkind covered.”

  A strangled sound came from the Falcon, surprising Nathaniel. Was that a laugh? Impossible. The Falcon never laughed.

  Nathaniel continued. “As for fining the news sheets, I don’t think they’ll concede to the pressure. They make so much money from any edition that carries the Voice that it would be difficult to make it worth their while to stop.”

  He turned back to the three. “No, it seems we must tackle this issue from the other end. Finding Foster—”

  “And Denny,” added the Falcon.

  “And Denny,” conceded Nathaniel, “will make finding the Chimera much simpler.”

  He looked at the other Two. The words went unspoken, but he knew they all thought them.

  We hope.

  12

  Across the street from Reardon House, hidden in the shadows of Grosvenor Park, a man watched. He didn’t belong there, so he was careful not to be seen, but other cares—hunger, chill, weariness—were of no moment to him.

  All he could feel was the darkness within. Betrayal. Vengeance. He turned the word over and over in his mind, polishing it until it shone like a fine piece of jet.

  He’d lost everything. There was nowhere left for him to go, no life left for him to live. There was only perfect vengeance.

  Of course, this vengeance could include several individuals, but none of them had escaped the hand of the law or of repentance. Only Reardon, the turncoat, only he had lost nothing. Reardon had kept his rank, his wealth, his life. And now he had the girl as well.

  So much for a liar and a traitor.

  Yet nothing for him. Except vengeance.

  There were noises. Rustling, bustling noises. Doors opening and closing. Willa snuggled more deeply into the profound comfort of her bed.

  No.

  I am not waking up. I refuse.

  Finally, the sound of water being poured. It had a galvanizing effect on her bladder. Now she had to wake up.

  With a grumpy flounce, Willa flung back the covers and scowled at the bright daylight peeking through the slits in her bed draperies. Then came the fragrance of fine tea, such as she had not had for years, and forgiveness bloomed in her heart for the intruder.

  “Miss? Will you be wantin’ to rise now?” The soft voice came from outside the drapery to Willa’s right.

  Willa opened her mouth to agree, but nothing came out. Oh, she had forgotten. Her voice was gone. She rolled over to thrust her head out between the draperies.

  It was very bright in the room. She blinked at the daylight streaming through the windows at a high slant. It must be near noon.

  How astounding. The last time she had slept so late, she had been too ill from fever to do anything else.

  “Good morning, miss. I’ve hot tea for you if you’d like.”

  Willa swiveled her head to see the pretty maid from her bath the night before standing pertly beside a lovely silver tea service on a table.

  The girl was close to her own age, and her cheerful smile made the last of Willa’s morning grouch slip away. She gave the girl a grin and a nod and popped back under her covers and settled against the pillows. She’d never had the luxury of being waited on like this, so why not savor every moment?

  After pulling aside the draperies with brisk efficiency, the maid turned to prepare a cup of steaming tea for Willa.

  “Would you like sweetening, miss? Milk?” She appeared puzzled when Willa only shook her head.

  Raising her hand to her throat, Willa reminded her of its soreness, and the girl’s face brightened.

  “Oh, then the tea should help considerable, miss. Let’s get some in you straightaway.”

  The tea was poured with more elegant economy of motion, and soon Willa was rolling the lovely hot stuff over her tongue and letting it slide soothingly down her sore throat.

  “Is it helping, miss? Would you like some more?”

  Oh, heaven. Willa decided she could definitely become used to this. What indulgence, never even having to pour one’s own tea.

  After two fabulous cups, Willa couldn’t deny her bladder any longer. With a careful clearing of her throat, she ventured to speak.

  “May I be alone for a moment, please?” Her voice was faint, not more than a whisper really.

  The maid smiled. “If you need the chamber pot, there’s one beneath the bed.”

/>   The necessities taken care of, Willa contemplated the inspiring possibility of staying in bed for a while. Then her stomach growled, reminding her how long it had been since she’d had a proper hot meal. In a place this fine, surely breakfast would be a memorable experience. Time to get dressed.

  In the meantime, there was no choice but to redon her muslin, which Lily had brushed and pressed as well as possible. Oh well. There was nothing to be done for it.

  This was Nathaniel’s family, soon to be her own. They would no doubt understand. She was quickly cheered by that thought, not a difficult thing, since nothing was likely to keep her down for long, now that she had finally come to see London.

  Following the directions given by Lily, she tripped lightly down the stairs that had almost vanquished her yesterday. Passing the odious butler in the hall, she sent him a sunny smile, just because he looked so very sour.

  Stopping before a set of double doors, carved from a lovely golden wood, Willa hesitated. She wished Nathaniel were with her.

  But she had never feared strangers, and she’d best not start being timid now, not when she had the entire city to meet.

  She thrust open the door and entered with a determined smile on her face.

  There wasn’t a soul in the room. There was, however, a sideboard of steaming breakfast offerings. Eggs and sausage and light white rolls. The smell drew her like it had her on a hook.

  Suddenly glad that no one was there to see her gluttony, she grabbed a plate and filled it to overflowing. After days of traveling food, this was heaven. There were even some things she had never seen before, fishy things and something else swimming in a custard sauce, but Willa decided to save trying them for later.

  Right now, she was more interested in making speedy inroads into her heaped plate. Plunking herself down at the table, she began busily forking it in.

  Clumsy with hunger, she knocked a roll from her plate and sent it to the floor. Hurriedly she scooted her chair back and leaned for the roll, only to find that she had kicked it farther under the table.

  Getting out of her chair altogether, Willa knelt to crawl after the bun. She had just reached it when she heard the opening of the door and the rustling of skirts.

  “My gracious! How … how uncouth!”

  Of course, someone would come in now. Not a moment ago while she had been seated quite decorously at the table. Not two seconds from now, when she would have been there once more.

  No, they had to come in now, while Willa’s rear end wriggling under the tablecloth was the first sight that would greet their eyes.

  Willa sighed and clambered out from under the table, putting as cheerful a front on as possible. When she rose to her feet, she saw two very elegant ladies. One was about Moira’s age, although that was about all they had in common, and one was considerably older. Older than old Pratt, even.

  The lady was quite possibly the oldest person Willa had ever seen. Her face was a maze of wrinkles, as were the hands that crossed each other over the gilded top of her cane. Her costly dress of lavender silk was beaded so copiously that Willa wondered if some of her stoop were not from the weight of her gown.

  But her snow-white hair was beautifully twisted atop her head, and her faded blue eyes twinkled with humor. She winked at Willa, as saucy as a jay.

  Willa stared at the lady in surprise for a moment. Then, blushing, she curtsied to both ladies and waited for them to introduce themselves. The younger of the ladies drew herself up to stare haughtily down her nose at Willa. “Who are you and what are you doing in my house?”

  Willa opened her mouth to answer, but her voice failed her again. She could only shake her head and raise one hand to her throat.

  “What are you, some gypsy pauper? Hammil! Hammil, come dispose of this beggar trash at once. How dare you let something like this into my house!”

  “Oh, put a sock in it, Victoria.” The elder lady hobbled forward to beam at Willa. “Hammil wouldn’t let a mouse into your house without an introduction. She must be someone.” She gave a chuckle. “I hope she’s as much fun as she looks. You lot are such dullards.”

  She came closer and peered up at Willa. “Well, how about it? Are you any fun?”

  Willa had to smile. The woman looked so eager, like a little wrinkled girl about to open a Michaelmas sweet. Willa nodded at the lady and grinned back at her.

  The woman nodded brightly. “Oho! How excellent! Now I have someone to play with. You may go now, Victoria, and leave me with my new toy.”

  “I will not! My dear Aunt Myrtle, I couldn’t possibly leave you alone with such a strange creature! Hammil!”

  “Get out, Victoria,” Aunt Myrtle said, her voice mild, “or I’ll write you out of my will.”

  The lady gave a sniff, and a not very nice look came into her eyes. Willa felt a bit of a chill at the gaze the lady fastened on Aunt Myrtle.

  “Very well, Aunt. If you insist. I shall have Hammil set someone at the door, in case the creature attacks.” She left, shutting the breakfast room door with an unladylike slam.

  “Poisonous female. Despised her from the moment my nephew Randolph brought her home.”

  Willa wasn’t about to voice an opinion at that moment. What sort of madhouse was she in?

  “So, pretty girl, who are you and why can’t you speak?”

  Hmm. How to answer? Charades? There was no paper or ink in the breakfast room.

  Willa jumped up to pour both of them a cup of tea. She drank hers down hot and unsweetened, hoping to get a shred of her voice back.

  Aunt Myrtle waited, sipping her tea, although from the jiggling of her lavender skirts Willa suspected she was hiding a toe-tapping impatience.

  Willa experimented with a throat clearing. Not so bad. She actually made a sound. Aunt Myrtle sat up expectantly.

  “Well, speak then, girl!”

  “I am Willa Trent. I am here with my husband.” Her voice was husky but seemed fine, as long as she didn’t strain too hard.

  “Mr. Trent? Never heard of him. Besides, this family doesn’t have any friends. Excepting that tiresome Sir Danville.”

  “I’m sorry. I meant to say my fiancé. Nathaniel.”

  Aunt Myrtle’s cup rattled dangerously on its saucer, and Willa jumped to rescue it from the lady’s shaking hands.

  “Thaniel? Thaniel is marrying?” The blue eyes filled with tears, and the shaking hands fumbled for the cane.

  “Are you unwell, madam? Should I call for someone?”

  “Horse apples. I’m fine. But get Hammil!”

  Willa jumped up, but Hammil entered before she could even reach the door. After passing her with a scathing look, he bowed to Myrtle.

  “Yes, madam?”

  “Where is Lord Reardon? Never mind. Just fetch him here immediately!” Aunt Myrtle turned back to Willa. “You say you are Thaniel’s affianced wife?”

  Willa nodded. Aunt Myrtle stared at her with round blue eyes for a long moment. “Since when?”

  “Since four days ago.”

  Aunt Myrtle blinked at her. “How long have you known Thaniel?”

  Willa squirmed. “A little more than four days.”

  Aunt Myrtle’s eyes grew narrow, and Willa got the feeling that this little bird of a woman could face down a raptor if necessary. She herself had seen jays fiercely drive falcons from the vicinity of their nests.

  “Would you mind explaining how that came to be?” The woman’s voice was suddenly cool.

  “Ah, well, I shot his horse with a slingshot, or rather a hornets’ nest, quite by accident of course, and there was this rock in the road, worse luck, since I doubt there was another rock within miles, and it was growing darker, and he was so terribly heavy, and I fell asleep waiting for the hornets to settle.” Willa ended this recitation quite breathless and inhaled deeply. She tried not to show her nervousness but feared that her clenched hands gave her away.

  “So he proposed to you? Having never touched you? Just because you slept by his unconscious body?�
� Aunt Myrtle nodded. “Yes, of course he did. And then he brought you home, just as he should. Well, you’ve had him for a while, now. What do you think of him?”

  Willa smiled softly. “Oh, I’ve taken quite a fancy to him. He is great fun.”

  Aunt Myrtle blinked. “Fun? Goodness, girl, these days Thaniel is as serious as they come. For months I’ve tried to make that boy perk up.”

  “Really?” True, his eyes were sometimes sad, although not as sad as they had been. “Why, he makes me laugh all the time. Like the time he told me not to call him ‘darling.’ And when I made him listen to stories about my home village. He is riotously funny.”

  Aunt Myrtle’s jaw actually hung open a bit as she regarded Willa with obvious disbelief. For a moment Willa wondered if perhaps they were not talking about the same person after all. Then a deep voice from the doorway made her jump up with a happy smile on her face.

  “Myrtle, my love, how are you this morning?” Nathaniel started forward with a small smile on his face but stopped when he saw Willa. “Aha. I see you have met Willa.”

  “Thaniel, darling, get your manly self over here and give your old auntie a good-morning kiss.”

  Nathaniel looked past Willa to Aunt Myrtle once again. He knew she would never speak ill of him to anyone, and a little of the aching tension left his shoulders.

  Taking Willa’s hand in his, he took her with him to greet Aunt Myrtle. “Myrtle, darling, I would like to present the future Lady Reardon … my affianced wife.”

  Willa shot him such a look of surprise that Nathaniel realized he had never said the words out loud before. Strange, but they seemed natural enough at the moment.

  “Your what?”

  That indignant screech came from the doorway. They all turned to see an appalled Victoria standing with a very lovely young blond woman.

  “Hello, Daphne,” he said stiffly. “You look well.”

  “Thaniel, you—you’re engaged?” Daphne’s gaze was wide and hurt. Damn. He had not thought she would be here. Of course she felt betrayed. After all, he had insisted on breaking their own engagement.

  “Victoria, take yourself and that washed-out wife of Basil’s out of here this instant. You are making me lose my appetite. At my age, I dasn’t skip a meal, for it may be my last.” Aunt Myrtle was using that mildly bored tone, the one that the family recognized as deadly anger.