Nothing.
William shoved it aside and reached for another.
If she and her father had done work on behalf of the Brethren, they would be here, in one of these books.
Where were they? Where were they?
The search for any hint of their names kept him focused. The methodical task kept him from the horror of what she’d endured. He paused, his gaze frozen on some other unfamiliar name written there in Stone’s hand.
“Because of me,” he whispered into the empty stillness of the room. If what she professed was in fact true—and there was no reason for her to put forward any such lie—then that would mean—
His stomach pitched.
Giving his head another shake, William pored over the rows upon rows of names and occupations and other distinguishing details marked there.
Rap-pause-rap-pause—rap-rap.
“Enter,” he thundered, abandoning the second book and finding another. He flipped it open.
The measured, familiar fall of his brother’s steps echoed in the room, followed by the click of the door as he shut the panel behind him.
“Now, this is certainly not what I expected to see,” Edward said quietly, his words hoarse not with sleep but with relief and joy.
William turned the page and froze.
His heart, soul, and body turned to stone as he stared at the lone name written there in Stone’s hand.
Francis Allenby. Medical Consultant for the Brethren. Tending injured agents and others on behalf of the Brethren.
Oh, God. His stomach roiled.
“I’m going to be ill.”
“William?” Edward’s concerned tone drifted through the haze, but William remained firmly absorbed in that name, uncaring that he’d spoken aloud.
“What is it?” his brother asked, rushing over to the desk.
Elsie’s father.
And yet…
William searched. “Where is it?” he whispered. His fingers trembling, he grappled with the edge of the thick velum page, turning it. He scanned. Skimming… There was not even a mention of her. She’d worked alongside her father on behalf of the Crown, giving of her services, and she was not so much as a footnote upon those pages? William turned back to Francis Allenby’s name. “It isn’t here,” he repeated dumbly. Her life had been upended, her services enlisted to help William, and no one had thought to record her name.
Resent Stone, or Edward, or whoever kept notes on the staff in the fields, but you were the one who authorized the hiring of these people… whose names you yourself did not even know.
Edward opened and closed his mouth several times. “I don’t know what you are ta—”
“You brought her here.” Fury ripped that from him. “Surely you know something about her,” he charged ahead before his brother could speak.
Understanding lit his brother’s eyes. “Miss Allenby.” Just that, her name. Edward drew out the winged chair and slid into the leather folds. “What is this about?”
“How did you know of her?” he asked in deadened tones. How did you know of her, when I knew… nothing?
When it had been his responsibility. Before.
But now… now, he wanted to know because of who Elsie was.
“Ah,” his brother said, as if he understood everything clearly, when William himself couldn’t make sense of up or down, left or right. Edward looped his ankle across his opposite knee and rested his clasped hands there. “Our father recommended Francis Allenby’s hire more than two decades ago.”
“Our father,” he repeated dumbly. His father had hired Elsie’s. Their families had been linked by their service to the Crown, and she had been a stranger to him, until now.
His brother waved a hand, infuriatingly nonchalant. “A former agent was thrown from his mount when riding through Bladon and taken to convalesce at Dr. Allenby’s cottage. Father learned about the man’s capabilities, and he was… petitioned.”
Petitioned. Which, under his own leadership and the leadership to come before, would have really meant forced.
My father was a healer. He did not end lives… He saved them. And that generosity extended to animals.
A man such as the one described by Elsie would have never rejected any request to help any man who was wounded or suffering.
Winded, William fell back in his seat. “How did I not know any of this?”
Edward shrugged. “It was a long time ago, and overseeing Francis Allenby was delegated to Bennett. It was an irrelevant matter that wouldn’t have commanded your time or energies,” his brother said gently. His words were meant to lift guilt, but they only compounded the shame that stung at his insides.
“What happened?”
Edward’s expression darkened, and he shook his head slightly.
Snarling, William leaned forward. “I am not asking you a question as your brother. I’m issuing a directive.”
“Of course.” His brother instantly sat upright in his chair, and as he spoke, he doled out details the way any agent might when asked for a full report. “Francis Allenby betrayed the Brethren.”
William jerked. “What?” he demanded. “Impossible.” He knew the man not at all, but he knew the daughter, knew Elsie, and of what she spoke and her own goodness. Those people were incapable of deceit or treachery.
As soon as the thought slid in, he faltered. For the whole of his adult life, he’d been led to question everyone’s culpability and motives. To be wary and mistrustful. And yet… he inherently trusted her.
“Quite true,” Edward said, nodding. “He confirmed to enemies not only the existence of the Brethren, but his role within the organization.”
“Bloody hell.” William swiped a palm over his forehead. “Why?”
“I don’t know those details. We severed ties, but the damage was done.”
The clock ticked. The fire hissed and popped.
“That is it?” William asked when it became apparent his brother had nothing else to say.
Edward lifted his shoulders and continued with a methodical telling. “From my understanding of speaking to Bennett, the moment he revealed the information, he realized his mistake and sought help from the Brethren.”
Help that would not have been forthcoming for one who’d betrayed the organization. Allenby would have been left to flounder, owning his mistakes and crimes, and ultimately paying the price that was invariably paid—with his life.
William curled his fingers so tight into his palms he left crescent imprints upon them. “The men he would have given that information to…”
“Came for him,” Edward confirmed with a somber note of finality.
Them. Elsie would have been there, too. “What happened?” he asked, his tongue thick.
“From my understanding, he was called out for being a liar and pressed for the names of the men he’d treated. Whether he withheld them or shared them?” Again, Edward shrugged. “I’ve no confirmation. Miss Allenby was spared. Beyond that, I’ve little information.”
It was the beyond that that William needed. It would be the stuff of nightmares, and they belonged to Elsie.
What do you think? That I’m just a simple village girl afraid of the world? I wasn’t afraid of the world until I saw what men were capable of. Honorable men who simply take from good men.
His vision tunneled as horror lapped at every corner of his consciousness, battering him with visions he didn’t want, and yet, they came anyway. William struggled to breathe, focusing on drawing in a steady, even cadence.
“William?” his brother asked, concern heavy in his question.
The world sharpened back into clarity with crystalline focus. “You brought her here,” he seethed. “Knowing all this?”
Edward squirmed in his chair, the leather groaning in protest. “I evaluated the facts I was in possession of and made a choice based on that. And by your recent emergence from your rooms, and you’re not having whores in your bed, or spirits on your breath, as well as your renewed interest in
the organization, I say it proves my judgment correct.” His brother straightened an already immaculate cravat.
“I want the file,” he said in steely tones. “I want every goddamn bit of information we have about Els—” His brother’s eyes sharpened on William. “Miss Allenby,” he swiftly amended, “and her father at the Home Office and in Stone’s possession, and anyone else within the organization.”
His brother made a sound of protest. “Stone indicated it’s been five, maybe six, years. The records will have been filed and locked away at the Home Office.”
“I don’t care where they are. I want them collected. Everything. Every last detail about the whole damned… situation. And when you have it? I want all of it here. Am I clear?”
Edward inclined his head. The faintest glitter filled his younger brother’s eyes. “As you wish.” He hesitated, and his throat moved up and down several times. “I’m glad you are…” His words trailed off, and color splotched his cheeks. “I’m glad you are… back.”
Back from the dead, restored to the living… but not because of his work or his title. Not even because of his family. Rather, because of Elsie Allenby.
“Go, Edward,” he urged.
His brother offered a deferential bow and started for the door.
“Send Stone in,” William ordered after him.
As soon as his brother had gone, William scrubbed his hands over his face. Elsie would have been within her right to send him on to the devil before offering him any medical assistance, and yet, she’d not. For all the rightful resentment and animosity she undoubtedly carried, she’d evaluated his injury and issued more meaningful guidance than all the previous doctors or healers who’d come before her combined. He closed his eyes. He was in awe of her strength and spirit and purity of heart.
And I’m a blackhearted devil who has only ever taken. It had only ever been about his happiness, and his needs as a duke, and as the Sovereign. Even his marriage had been representative of that. He’d enjoyed the thrill of the unfamiliar innocence Adeline had represented, and he’d wanted to continue knowing that sentiment, even though doing so put her and those connected to her at risk.
He’d taken too much. From everyone. And now Elsie. Elsie, who deserved to be free of him and any requirements his brother and Bennett had placed upon her.
He slid his eyes closed.
Only… mayhap with this next decision, one that left him empty and aching before it was even carried out, proved he wasn’t so very selfish, after all.
Rap-pause-rap-pause—rap-rap.
William swiftly opened his eyes. “Enter,” he boomed. The final echo of his voice hadn’t even faded before the door opened, and Stone appeared.
“Your Grace?”
“Summon Miss Allenby,” he said before the other man fully stepped into the room. William got the command out while honor won out over his own desires. “I want to see her now.”
Stone rushed off.
Alone once more, William fetched the book lying open damningly before him and reread words he’d already largely committed to memory.
Dr. Francis Allenby. Unconventional doctor, with skills superior to some of London’s most notable names. Allenby’s father and grandfather were both proficient doctors. Allenby removed himself from London for Bladon only after meeting his wife, a young village girl.
No name was mentioned for the woman who’d given birth to Elsie.
William lingered on the afterthought of Francis Allenby’s wife, the young woman nothing more than a detail to explain how the doctor had come to leave London for a distant corner of England.
This was it.
This was all there was.
The Brethren had not recorded anything about Francis Allenby’s capable daughter, who was versed in ancient massage and able to identify pain and alleviate it when every man before her had failed.
The pages revealed nothing of what her life had been like as an assistant to her father, or what had become of her with Dr. Allenby’s passing. For all intents and purposes for the Crown’s business, she’d ceased to exist that day, as well.
He dug his fingertips into his temples and rubbed. Was it a wonder she’d mocked him for his simplistic challenge of her decision to remain tucked away?
What a bloody fool he was. How self-important and ignorant, and—
Footfalls echoed outside his office, and a moment later, Stone reappeared—alone.
The spy coughed into his hand, and for the first time in all the years he’d served William, the other man avoided his gaze.
“What is it?” William demanded.
“I checked her rooms.” William’s stomach fell, and he knew with the same sick intuition that had met him when he’d awakened after two months and searched for his wife. “She’s gone.”
Chapter 19
Elsie’s father had spoken often of his time in London.
Aside from the tale he’d told of meeting Elsie’s mother, the extent of those stories had been about the university he’d attended, the medical lectures he’d given or observed, and the markets where a healer might find unconventional products that traditional doctors invariably scoffed at but in which her own sire had seen medicinal value.
That was why Elsie was just then riding through unfamiliar streets with a singular intent—to find reeds so she might properly construct a device through which William might drink and take partial meals.
Liar. You’re running from William and from what you revealed to William… and the horror that all but rolled off his powerful frame in waves.
Closing her eyes, Elsie sank into the miserable folds of the hired hack.
She didn’t hate him. She wanted to. Elsie wanted to carry the same abhorrence that had always been a part of her feelings for William and his organization and all the men who served its noble ranks.
But those gentlemen were not like… like… William. Or rather, he was so very different from all of them. William, who’d likened her to a Sumerian queen, and who’d lauded her for a strength that she did not feel, and who’d accused her rightly of hiding herself away. William, who’d seen, after only a short while of knowing her, what she’d not seen for the five years she’d been living on her own.
But that had been before she’d revealed her identity as the daughter of a supposedly traitorous fringe member of their organization.
It didn’t matter what he, or anyone, thought about her sire. She’d told herself as much through the years. They could all go hang, for she knew precisely the manner of man Francis Allenby had been.
At her feet, Bear barked once.
She groaned. “Oh, fine. I’m a bloody liar.” He yapped twice. “A blasted liar, then,” she muttered.
Elsie enjoyed being with William. When they were together, he didn’t treat her as the peculiar healer who dwelled on the side of civilization at Bladon. She wasn’t jeered for her talents, or chided for speaking to her dog or her unconventional views on animals and their place in this world.
Her father had loved her unconditionally, but beyond that, society had been content without her in it.
Until William, who’d not mocked her, but praised her talents, and who’d also urged her to do more and be more. Elsie absently stroked the top of Bear’s head. William was a man who spoke with her dog with great ease.
She stopped her distracted back-and-forth caress.
What would become of them now?
No, what becomes of you?
Elsie hugged her arms around her middle to ward off the sudden chill that stole through her. Likely, William would send her on her way and free himself of “the traitor’s daughter,” as she’d been called when an agent with the Brethren had taken his final leave of her and her father.
Which was precisely what she’d wanted after Lord Edward and Mr. Bennett had shown up and compelled her to return with them.
But everything had changed.
She enjoyed being with William, enjoyed speaking with him about her craft and his own unc
onventional knowledge. And when she was with him, for the first time in more than five years, the nightmares didn’t come. They didn’t haunt her at every turn. They’d been replaced by thoughts of him.
The carriage hit a large bump, jarring her back to the present. Grunting, Elsie spread her feet on the dirtied floor and hugged her arms about Bear, stabilizing them both.
At last, after an endless ride, the conveyance rolled to a stop.
Gathering her basket from the opposite bench, Elsie waited until the driver drew the door open. Bear jumped out first. With a word of thanks, she accepted help climbing down.
As soon as her feet landed upon the cobbles, she looked more closely at the young man. Young, with a scar intersecting half of his face, the stranger took pains to avert his marked visage from her gaze. “Miss,” he said gruffly.
Her heart clenched. She’d seen too many like him. His had been a knife attack, and by the jagged, lingering white ridges to it, the wound had cut deep and been… deliberate. It had been stitched improperly, at that. “If you’ll… wait?” she ventured. “I can offer a penny more.” Even as she said it, she recognized the inherent silliness in him remaining behind for such a paltry amount.
He adjusted the brim of his cap. “It would be my pleasure, ma’am.” His cultured tones were better reserved for one belonging to far grander stations. But then, all people, regardless of station or birthright, all found themselves falling at some point or another—she, William, her father, and all the other men she and her father had cared for were testament to that.
Elsie started toward the market square that was just being assembled. Vendors and merchants hefted carts of goods and busied themselves, readying for their day. She drew her cloak closer about herself to ward off the chill that lingered in the air and proceeded on through the wares and goods being put on display throughout the market. Bear hung close to her side, his presence comforting in these unfamiliar grounds. He nosed at the air as they walked. The thick scent of refuse that hung in the air was so very different from the crisp clarity of Bladon. Moving along the perimeter of the marketplace, Elsie searched her gaze over the raw meats hanging for the various cooks’ inspection.
Her Duke of Secrets Page 20
