The Duke's Gambit

by Tracy Grant

  "From Newgate."

  "One can accomplish a great deal from a cell. And people tend to underestimate one's reach, which can be an advantage. I didn't know she was really Miranda Dormer until then. Once I learned that and learned she was still in communication with a young man in his mid-thirties who had been adopted from France as a child, I began to have my suspicions. When I had Lumley followed, I realized someone else was shadowing him as well. I didn't know Simcox was working for St. Juste, but just the fact that he was of interest to someone else was enough to confirm my suspicions."

  "No wonder you didn't want me investigating. You had everything under control on your own."

  "I didn't want you investigating because I didn't want you and your insights and your conscience anywhere near the Wanderer."

  "And because Beverston knew the truth about Gisèle's parentage."

  Carfax's mouth tightened. "He told me just after I spoke with Miranda Dormer. Otherwise I'd probably have been gone before her body was discovered."

  "What did he want you to do?"

  "He didn't say. I think at that point he simply wanted me to know the power the League could hold over me. I confess I was in shock."

  "Not surprising even for you."

  "I went back to see Miss Dormer, in the hopes of learning more about Beverston's plans." Carfax hesitated. "I found her dead. If I hadn't been in such shock, I might have got myself out of the house before anyone else came in. As it was, once I was discovered with her, I decided I might be able to discover more from prison, with Beverston off guard."

  "Castlereagh knew."

  "I got a message to him that night. He already knew about the Wanderer."

  "But not that Wanderer himself was an imposter."

  Carfax's gaze settled hard on Malcolm's own. "Obviously." He settled back in his chair. "There was also the matter of the foreign office intelligence the League were getting. We never could work out the source. We started with everyone within the League we knew of with foreign office connections, but that got us nowhere. Finally we decided it must be someone Beverston was paying outside the League. He was known to spend a great deal of time at the Barque of Frailty. I wondered if Derenvil could be the leak. Castlereagh didn't want to think it of him, but Castlereagh was also surprised he was visiting a brothel. Part of my aim in showing up at the Barque of Frailty was to let Beverston know we were on to him, though I genuinely thought Miss Dormer might be able to give us intelligence. I certainly never intended—"

  "Trenor didn't kill her because of you, sir. He may have been more on edge because you were there, but his motivation was her confronting him about passing information to Beverston. At which point he probably realized she was working for someone other than Beverston."

  "She was obviously a very capable agent." Carfax gripped the arms of his chair. For a few minutes he and Malcolm had fallen back into speaking as spymaster and agent. Now something shifted in his face. His fingers curved round the chair arms as they though were made of porcelain rather than carved wood. "Gisèle—"

  "She left last night." Four simple words that covered strained goodbyes, second guesses, Aunt Frances's white face, tears (his own, hidden from everyone including his wife).

  Carfax fixed Malcolm with a hard gaze. "She's gone back undercover."

  "No comment."

  "You have a way to reach her?"

  "Can you imagine I'd have let her leave if I didn't?"

  Carfax relaxed back into his chair. "For all your insights, I imagine last night's revelations came as a surprise to you."

  "Perhaps none more so than my sister's parentage."

  "Surely at this point your mother's love affairs don't surprise you."

  "It's not Arabella's actions that surprise me."

  Carfax held Malcolm's gaze, though Malcolm saw a spot of color on the other man's face. "With all the other sins you've laid at my door, surely this isn't the worst."

  "Not the worst. But perhaps the most surprising."

  Carfax glanced away, then looked back at Malcolm. "I don't believe I owe anyone an explanation, save Amelia should she ever find out. But for what it's worth, it was an aberration."

  Malcolm drew a breath. Part of him wanted to know as little as possible. And yet he had to learn more. For Gisèle's sake. Perhaps for his own. "Which of you—"

  "Seduced the other?"

  "I was going to say was seeking information from the other, but it's much the same thing."

  "I'm not entirely sure. And I'm not sure either of us could have said at the time. Arabella wanted to discover what I knew about your father's activities in Ireland." Carfax adjusted his spectacles. "I trust we can dispense with the farce that I don't know who your father is."

  "Of all the secrets in our family, that's hardly the one I'd most jealously protect. In fact, it's become a fairly open secret."

  "She risked a lot for him. But then, I'm not entirely without understanding of the pull of love."

  Of all the shocking things Malcolm had heard from his spymaster through the years, this was perhaps the most surprising. "You think it was love?"

  "Why else would she have done what she did to protect him?"

  "To further her cause. Or his own. Or both of theirs."

  Carfax gave a short laugh. "All of you and your talk of causes. I swear you're more romantic fools than those acting out of romantic love. In any case, Arabella wanted information that would help O'Roarke."

  "And you?"

  "Need you ask? It was '97. I wanted information about Ireland. Arabella was O'Roarke's mistress and O'Roarke was at the heart of the brewing rebellion. And I knew Arabella was investigating the Elsinore League." Carfax settled his hands on the chair arms again, as though laying claim to a throne. "I know it's a gambit you've probably never employed yourself, but you must know seduction is as much a tool of espionage as codebooks. If you didn't know it before, surely your wife taught you that."

  "My wife has taught me a number of things," Malcolm said in an even voice.

  "Remember when I was in military intelligence, I was a field agent. Suffice it to say Arabella may have been an aberration, but not my first such."

  All these years and Carfax could still surprise him.

  The surprise must have shown on his face, for Carfax gave a short laugh. "I'll own I'm not the best suited for such a role, but I managed. Rather better than you might expect as it happens."

  "It's not that." Well, not entirely that.

  Carfax regarded him over his spectacles. "It's admittedly a difficult thing to hear about the parental generation. You're handling the discussion better than David in similar circumstances. But then, you've always been more flexible in your thinking in a number of ways."

  Odd, in this world in which infidelity was so commonplace, that the truth of Gisèle's parentage to some degree explained the secrecy. It could potentially do real damage to a marriage Malcolm had always seen as amazingly strong for the beau monde.

  Carfax coughed and adjusted his spectacles. "It's not easy to be married to anyone in intelligence, as you know. Amelia's given up a lot as my wife. I have no desire to cause her additional pain."

  "Oddly, I don't think Arabella did either. She was at particularly great pains to keep Gisèle's father's identity secret. Even from Frances and O'Roarke."

  "Probably embarrassed to be associated with me."

  "I think there was more to it."

  "That's the way your mind works, Malcolm."

  "Perhaps. But she was quite frank with both of them about her love affairs. She never objected to my friendship with your family. Reading between the lines, I'd say she had a certain respect for you."

  Carfax snorted. But something about the look in his eyes suggested the idea was not entirely lost on him. Or unwelcome. He removed his spectacles and polished them with his handkerchief. "I liked your mother. I was—sorry—when she died."

  "So was I." Malcolm sat back and regarded his former spymaster. "Did you know? About Gis
èle?"

  "Suspected." Carfax tucked his handkerchief back into his coat pocket. "There was very little to be gained from confronting your mother, and obviously it was better that both Gisèle and the world remain in ignorance." Carfax turned his spectacles in his hands. "I was glad she seemed happy with Thirle. I certainly never wanted her to be drawn into Arabella's work."

  "You never thought of recruiting her yourself?"

  "Are you mad, Malcolm?"

  "You recruited me. You recruited Sylvie St. Ives."

  "You're a man."

  "Don't let Mélanie hear you say that. Or Gisèle. And Sylvie's a lot of things, but she's definitely a woman."

  "And you needed employment. And Sylvie had already put herself in play."

  "You and Arabella shared a common enemy."

  "True enough. As do you and I now."

  "But it didn't occur to you to make an alliance with her. Like the one you offered me."

  "Arabella and I both wanted to know about the League. I'm not sure we'd have put the knowledge to the same use. I imagine you've resisted forming an alliance with me for the same reason."

  "Fair enough."

  "And when it came to Ireland I knew we'd never be allies."

  Had he even seen Carfax and Arabella together? Malcolm wondered. He must have done, at least in passing. He'd thought he was fairly sensitive to the feelings of adults, but he'd noticed nothing.

  "You were a child," Carfax said, reading him well as he so often did. "An observant child. But one doesn't think of one's parents—"

  "That's just the thing. I knew perfectly well how Arabella conducted her life. I had no illusions about her relationship with Alistair. Did she learn anything from you?"

  Carfax shifted in his chair. "A bit. Probably enough to help her get O'Roarke out of Ireland."

  "Did you learn anything from her?"

  "Can you doubt it?"

  "Yes, actually. You're formidable, but so was Arabella."

  Carfax gave a faint smile. "I learned a bit. Not as much as I hoped."

  "Gisèle's taken on Arabella's quest. And yours." Malcolm folded his arms across his chest. "You and Arabella were remarkably alike in your determination to bring down the League."

  "I've interested myself in a lot more than the League for the past two decades."

  "But you've been willing to sacrifice an incalculable amount in pursuit of them."

  "They're an incalculably dangerous enemy."

  "They still know the truth about Gisèle's parentage."

  "I know. I may have to tell Amelia the truth. You of all people should know a marriage can survive that." Carfax leaned his head back against the claret velvet of the chair. "Are you going back to Italy?"

  "As soon as we can tidy up loose ends here and pack our things. Nothing's changed in that regard."

  "A pity. You're needed here more than ever."

  "Then perhaps you should have thought of that before you moved against us, sir."

  Carfax gave a wry smile. "Fair enough." He pushed himself to his feet. "Is O'Roarke here? I'd like to have a word with him before I go."

  Chapter 45

  Raoul was on the drawing room carpet playing with the children when Carfax found him and asked for a word. He followed Carfax into the small salon, not quite sure what he was letting himself in for.

  “That’s a sight I never thought to see,” Carfax said.

  “What?” Raoul asked, closing the door.

  “You on the floor building pillow forts instead of directing snipers behind real fortifications.”

  “One adapts to the needs of the moment.”

  Carfax studied him for a moment, as though piecing together a code key. “Arabella would be pleased, I think. To see you happy.”

  “I hope so. I’m quite sure she’d be pleased to see you out of prison.”

  “Perhaps.” Carfax moved across the room, where the light from the windows was at his back. “I rather think there’s a great deal Arabella would blame me for.”

  “Gisèle’s tough,” Raoul said. “She’s more like Arabella than I credited. But without the illness. In fact, she’s also more than a bit like Malcolm.”

  Carfax’s gaze jerked to his face. “She’s scarcely more—“

  “She’s not a child. That’s a mistake we all made, I think. At her age, Arabella was trying to bring down the League. You and I were agents. So was Malcolm.”

  “She’s—“

  “I don’t know your wife well, Carfax. But I’ve glimpsed your eldest daughter’s mettle. And I’ve seen a bit of Isobel and Lucinda. I would think they’d have taught you not to underestimate women. Even if Arabella didn’t.”

  Carfax gave a nod of acknowledgment. “One doesn’t stop worrying.”

  “We’re all worried. None of my confidence means I wouldn’t do almost anything to bring her back. But forcing her to give up what she feels she must do would be a disaster.”

  Carfax nodded again. “Malcolm will be all right, I think. Despite the strains.”

  “Yes, so do I.”

  “But it doesn’t stop you from worrying.”

  “I don’t think one ever stops worrying about one’s children.”

  “No. One wants to give one’s children the best start possible. Ideally one wants to be able to acknowledge them.” Carfax held Raoul’s gaze for a moment. “Even when that’s not possible, it doesn’t change the way one feels.”

  “No,” Raoul said. “It doesn’t.”

  “But easier for everyone if one can acknowledge the child to the world.” Carfax pushed his spectacles back up on his nose. “It’s a long time since Amelia and I’ve gone through it, but I’d hazard a guess Lady Tarrington’s baby is due in the spring.”

  “May.” Raoul leaned against the wall. Odd to be discussing the forthcoming birth of his child with Carfax. But perhaps no odder than other things in the past year.

  “I imagine you and Lady Tarrington would like to be married before your child arrives,” Carfax said.

  “We don’t have a great deal of time, but of course that’s what we want for the child’s sake. For a long time it did seem to be a possibility, but things have changed for Margaret. My—the woman I’m married to.”

  “Mrs. O’Roarke is willing to go along with a divorce?” Carfax said.

  “She’s in the same predicament herself. That’s produced an unexpected unanimity of thinking.”

  “Convenient, perhaps.” Carfax rubbed at an ash smudge on his shirt cuff. “I’m not quite sure what my position will be when all this settles, but I should still command influence in Parliament. It shouldn’t be a problem to get the divorce through before May.”

  Raoul stared at the man who had been one of his greatest enemies for the past thirty years. A number of responses sprang to mind. Then he simply said, “Thank you. We’d be most grateful.”

  Carfax met his gaze for a long moment and inclined his head.

  “Not that that gratitude will change my future actions,” Raoul said.

  Carfax gave a faint smile. “I’d be disappointed in you if it did, O’Roarke.”

  Malcolm looked up from writing a summary of the case against Matthew Trenor that he had promised Jeremy Roth as Valentin showed Roger Smythe into the study.

  "I wanted to thank you," Roger said, when Malcolm waved him to a chair. "I understand Miranda's true killer is in custody."

  "Where I profoundly hope he stays. It can difficult, bringing the son a peer to justice."

  "I know." Roger's fingers curled round the chair arms. "I've met Matthew Trenor. I can't say I know him well. But—"

  Malcolm leaned forwards across the desk, the moment he'd try to choke the life out of Tatiana's killer sharp in his memory. "It's intolerable," he said. "But nothing you can do will bring her back. Leave this to the law. For your family's sake. For your own sake. For the sake of justice."

  Roger gave a contained nod. "I can't answer for what I'd do if I was face to face with Trenor now, but my whole li
fe is built on respect for justice. The law is my profession, after all. As it is Gerald Lumley's." Roger shifted his position in the chair. "Lumley came to see me this morning. I know he was a good friend to Miranda. And I know my father tried to use him though I don't quite understand how. But Lumley seems to think that's over."

  "It is," Malcolm said.

  Roger nodded again, his expression a trifle easier. "Lumley also told me he's going to marry Faith Harker. She's been raising Miranda's son."

  "From what I've seen the boy regards her as his mother."

  "That's what Lumley says as well. Dorinda and I would gladly raise the boy, but I have no wish to take him away from the only mother he's known. I've told Lumley we're happy for Danny to stay with him and Faith. And that I'll make sure my father doesn't interfere."

  "I'm glad."

  "We can at least snatch what good we can from this tragedy." Roger scraped the toe of his boot over the carpet. "Dorinda and I had a long talk last night. We said things to each other we both should have said years ago. I can't say we've resolved everything, but—" He gave a sudden smile. "It's amazing what the truth can do."

  "The truth, and admitting one's feelings."

  "That too." Roger studied him for a moment. "My father and the League still have to be stopped. Miranda's death convinces me of that more than ever. Though I think Father's worked out that Miranda was reporting to me."

  "Matthew Trenor probably told him Miranda was working for someone else."

  Roger nodded. "It won't be easy for me to uncover more information."

  "You'd be wise to lie low for a while. But this is a long game, and we'd welcome your assistance."

  "You have it without asking. I'm not going to stay on the sidelines. You'll be returning to Parliament?" Roger asked.

  "No, we'll be going back to Italy within the week. But I'll stay in close touch with Rupert. I shall enjoy following your parliamentary career."

  "I hope there's a career for you to follow. But I'm sorry. I'd have been honored to work with you."

  "You still will be when it comes to the fight against the Elsinore League. I'll make sure you have the codes to communicate with us before we leave."