“We are to meet after tea, following Uncle Charles’ and Henrietta’s nap,” Gwyneth said.
Amelia was accustomed to her own younger brother’s impatience, especially around sports. “Why don’t you go set up the equipment? I’ll come out, and we can practice before everyone else assembles.” Amelia avoided the thought that everyone would include Lord Brinsley.
“Great! I’ll get the equipment with Mr. Marlow.” Edward scooped up two biscuits from the tray before leaving.
“That was very sweet of you, Amelia. I know Edward is feeling a bit lost with Henrietta’s pregnancy and my obligations with the wedding.”
Amelia paid no attention to Gus chewing on a prize he had snatched from the table.
Amelia stood. “I’ll need you to accompany me to Madame de Puis’. I’ve selected fabric that I think will be perfect, but, of course, you’ll need to decide.”
Amelia picked up the silk scrap to rewrap the dolls. She bent to the table where the second doll had lain. The doll was gone. Panic punched through her body. She stared at the table as if she couldn’t comprehend that the doll wasn’t where she had placed it.
She looked under the table, and there was Gus with the doll in his mouth. Not chewing, but holding—like a prized possession.
“Oh, no! Gus has the doll,” Amelia shouted. “Gus, drop that, now.” She rushed around the table to grab the doll out of Gus’ slobbering mouth. How would she ever explain to Helene?
Gus immediately assumed that Amelia wanted to play the game of keep-away as he did with Edward. Gus bolted toward the door; fortunately it was closed.
Gwyneth jumped up to assist in the chase. Both women ran at the dog, who dodged them and ran around the settee then between the tables.
Amelia couldn’t breathe. Gwyneth screeched, “Drop, Gus.” The command had no effect on the dog, who had retreated under Henrietta’s morning desk.
The dog stretched out on his stomach with one paw on the doll. He looked at them from underneath the lady’s desk, his chocolate brown eyes soft and playful.
“We have to get the doll from him before he eats it.” Amelia couldn’t restrain the sheer panic in her voice.
“He won’t eat it. Labs like soft toys because of their hunting mouths.” Gwyneth tried to sound consoling, but she too was worried. This was no toy, but an expensive item belonging to a valued friend.
Amelia and Gwyneth walked slowly to the desk, trying to avoid encouraging the dog to start the game again. Amelia dropped to her knees in front of the desk, and projected her most imperious voice, the one that always worked when her brothers were ill-behaved. “Gus, give me the doll.”
By now, the doll was well back in the dog’s mouth. Amelia’s stomach churned, imagining the damage to the irreplaceable doll. She reached beyond the clenched jaws, grabbed the doll, and pulled. Gus who thought it was a new game of tug of war, pulled back and the porcelain head of the doll broke off in Amelia’s hand. Sparkly jewels spilled from the doll’s head and scattered on the rug.
“Oh, no,” Amelia sobbed.
Gus, who finally seemed to recognize Amelia’s distress, dropped the rest of the doll.
Amelia touched the sparkling jewels that had spilled out of the doll’s head.
Gwyneth dropped to her knees next to Amelia. “Are those diamonds?”
Both women sat on the floor with Gus watching them avidly, hoping for yet another game. Amelia retrieved the doll’s body from Gus’ reach. There was no damage to the doll itself, but she wasn’t sure the silk had fared so well.
Gwyneth held one of the jewels up to the light. “It’s a diamond, and a very beautiful one at that. Why would Madame de Puis put diamonds in her dolls?”
A terrible sick sensation shot through Amelia. Helene didn’t make the dolls. They were smuggled from France. Could Helene be part of a smuggling ring?
Amelia inspected the inside of the head. There were no more diamonds in the small cavity.
Gwyneth gathered up the diamonds in a pile. “I’ve counted twelve—a fortune.”
“You know what this means?” Amelia couldn’t disguise the fear in her voice.
“Madame de Puis is a smuggler.” Gwyneth finished the forbidding thought aloud.
“That is preposterous.” Although Amelia had already considered the idea, she’d rejected the possibility that her friend was a criminal. “Surely Helene would never do anything illegal.”
“But you’ve told me she gets her fabrics from smugglers.”
“Yes, but…I just don’t believe she’s otherwise involved. I don’t think she knows what was in the heads. Why would she lend the dolls to me if they contained a fortune?”
Amelia gathered up the diamonds and the doll’s head and body and slowly climbed to her feet.
Gwyneth did likewise. “Are you able to get the head back on?”
“Yes, it fits easily back into the body.” Amelia twisted the porcelain head back into the body. Neither Gwyneth nor Amelia could admire the doll anymore, now it had become something disreputable.
“Should we look in the other doll’s head?” asked Gwyneth.
Amelia nodded in agreement. Her thoughts rushed in a mix of logic and emotion. She had to protect her friend. Helene would be punished ferociously if she was caught in any association with a French smuggling ring; it was bad enough that she bought goods from a smuggler. With Napoleon ready to invade England, anti-French feelings and suspicions were running high.
Gwyneth held the doll in its gorgeous lemon yellow dress. “Do you want to do this, or shall I?”
Overwhelmed, Amelia nodded. “You can do it.”
Amelia and Gwyneth sat down on the settee together. Gwyneth slowly turned the head out of the body. She held the doll over her lap in the smooth part of her skirt. Again, diamonds spilled out. This time Amelia counted. Twelve small but perfect diamonds. What had Helene gotten into?
“Are you going to tell Helene what you’ve found?”
“I’m trying to decide the best approach.”
“But if you tell her and she knows, that makes her a criminal; you could be in serious danger.”
“I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it,” Amelia said adamantly, desperate to convince herself as much as Gwyneth. She thought of the long hours with Helene, pouring over fabrics, drawings, sharing their love of fashion.
“I agree. I can’t imagine Madame de Puis as a threat. Maybe we should put the diamonds back and not tell her,” Gwyneth said.
“But what will that accomplish?”
“We could return the dolls and see who comes for them. Someone knows about the diamonds. Someone will want them. And if Helene is involved, we’ll know.”
Amelia recognized the excitement in Gwyneth’s voice and the way her dark eyes lightened. Gwyneth was primed for an adventure.
“I’m not sure I’m following your plan.” Amelia was committed to do whatever would help her friend, a French émigré who had worked hard to survive after the French terror. Amelia’s father was well placed in society and government; he could help if Helene needed protection.
“You spend a great deal of time at the shop. And with my wedding, I’ll need to be there for fittings,” Gwyneth continued, immersed in her plans of a real spy adventure.
“But how does that help us know about the dolls.”
“We can observe the people who come and go. We can do what Ash and Brinsley did last night. They went undercover to a pub on the docks, to observe.”
“I’ve spent a great deal of time in the shop and the only people who frequent the shop are ladies of the ton or gentlemen with their paramours.”
“Yes, I know, but I’m talking about the back of the shop. Who delivers the fabrics?”
Amelia smiled at Gwyneth. “You are really good at this spy stuff.”
Gwyneth grinned back in her infectious way; it made both of them laugh.
Then Amelia had a thought. “What about Ash?”
“What about Ash?” Gwyneth’s chin went out
in a mulish manner familiar to Amelia.
“Helene is my friend and I want to help her, but I don’t want to cause any problems between you and Ash. You don’t have to be involved.”
“I want to be involved. Wedding planning is fun, but I don’t have your talent in the design. My talent is in spy work. I come from a family of spies.”
Amelia knew Cord was a spy, but who else did Gwyneth mean?
“We’re going to only do the leg-work, as Cord calls it. And if we need help, we can ask my Aunt Euphemia,” Gwyneth said.
“Your Aunt Euphemia? She’s dear, but I can’t see her helping.”
“You don’t know about Aunt Euphemia? I thought Henrietta would’ve told you. My Aunt Euphemia was, and most likely still is, a spy, even though she would deny it.”
“Your Aunt Euphemia is what?”
“A spy.” Gwyneth’s dark eyes twinkled.
“A spy? Really?”
Gwyneth laughed. “Is there an echo in here? Yes, my aunt helped rescue women and children from France during the Reign of Terror. If Aunt Euphemia can help women escape France, you and I can help one French woman already in England.”
“When you put it that way, I agree…to help Helene.”
“Tomorrow, we’ll return the dolls. You said I had to come and see the fabric. We can ask a few questions.”
Why was her stomach roiling and her skin chilled while Gwyneth, with her wide smile and twinkling eyes, was clearly blooming with excitement over her next great adventure?
“Once we know that Helene isn’t involved. And when we know who is smuggling diamonds, then we’ll tell Ash and Cord,” Gwyneth said, certain of her plan.
Everything always sounded fine when Gwyneth was excited about it, but it did nothing to settle the dread growing in Amelia’s stomach.
“Let’s get these diamonds back into the dolls before Edward comes for you.”
The only good part of the morning—she had nearly forgotten—she now faced a cricket game that included Lord Brinsley.
Chapter Six
Brinsley and Ashworth sat in front of Lord Rathbourne’s desk, a brandy glass in hand. Brinsley felt accepted in the inner circle. After last night’s punch-up, he had moved up in Ash’s estimation. Men were uncomplicated—a good fight shared, and their friendship was sealed. Perhaps Ash had done him a favor warning him against Amelia.
“We followed the only man who ran out of the tavern. He went to a flat on the border of St. Giles. I have Talley and his men watching. We’ll monitor his comings and goings. He must be very low in the business by the look of his rooms,” Ash said. “But he was the only one who got very nervous when the brawl broke out.”
“There is no question that the French have more than one man working there,” Brinsley said. “There were several men who avoided the fight. The men enjoying the fracas were definitely the dock workers.”
“Good work, gentlemen.” Rathbourne leaned forward over his desk and smirked at his good friend. “By the way, Ash, did you start the brawl for old time’s sake since you’re about to become a married man?”
Brinsley wanted to ask Ash the same question. Hell, Ashworth wasn’t sporting a black eye to reinforce his rakish reputation with a certain lady.
Ashworth snorted. “I’m not grieving the loss of tavern fights. Any loss of my past life’s adventures can’t compare with my future with Gwyneth.”
Rathbourne leaned back against his chair and crossed his arms. “Just like you, Ash, to emerge unscathed. Brinsley got mangled while you came out without a scratch. Back in the day when Ash and I would get into a good brawl… Oh, God, I’m starting to sound like a stodgy old man, reminiscing about our fights.”
Ash leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. “I really didn’t start the fracas because it was my last mission before the wedding. I needed a distraction. I wanted to see who would scatter once the mayhem started. There were two workmen whose hands didn’t look like they had ever done a day of manual work. Clearly, they were watching Brinsley. I’m not sure what they intended, but I knew that establishing Brinsley as a fearless fighter would help his cover.”
Rathbourne inspected Brinsley’s shiner. “I’m sorry Brinsley, but I’m glad the bridegroom didn’t take this shot. Gwyneth would have my hide if anything happened to his mug.”
Brinsley wanted to explain that he had never been taken by surprise in a fight before, but he didn’t want to sound like he was losing his edge.
“Cord, you should’ve seen Brinsley. He has the same flair for a fight as you do. He taunted a bruiser who definitely was the strong arm of the place. I swear he was the size of a Goliath, and Brinsley called him a ‘damn coward.’ The look on the giant’s face was worth another evening waiting in a seedy tavern. Brinsley took the brute down so quickly that he’ll be well remembered. He also made a contact for himself,” Ash said with relish.
“A woman?” Rathbourne raised his eyebrows.
Brinsley cleared his throat, his first contribution to the conversation. “She’s a tavern wench who is willing to keep an eye out for my drunk brother who likes to pretend he’s French.”
“Let me check her out before you make further contact. What’s her name?” Cord asked.
“All I got was Bev, before Ash started the ruckus.” Brinsley tried to keep the antagonism out of his voice. Ash’s reasons were sound, but next time he’d like to have some warning before all hell broke loose.
Rathbourne gave him a look of appreciation. “That’s good. Bev witnessed the fight?”
“I assume so, but I only had time to fend off attacks then catch up with Ash. I never reconnected with her.”
“Nicely played.” Rathbourne nodded.
Brinsley’s chest eased. The two highly respected men didn’t intimidate him, but their approval meant a lot to him.
“Do you think Bev could be working both sides?”
“Most likely, but she was very accommodating when I threw the French part at her.”
Ash snorted. “Yes, she did look very accommodating.”
Brinsley felt uncertain about how to react to this new camaraderie from Ash.
“Another reason for Ash, on the verge of marriage, not to be on site in this operation,” Rathbourne said.
Ash chuckled. “Lady Henrietta had a lot of difficulty accepting Cord’s relationship with one of his female informants.”
Rathbourne ran his fingers through his thick shock of dark hair, a nervous habit that Brinsley was starting to recognize. “Yes, it is one of the many pitfalls of our work.”
Rathbourne gave Ash a piercing, black look that would send anyone into hiding, but Ash was unaffected. “I guess that’s one way of describing the circles Lady Henrietta had you running in.”
“This is the problem of having friends working for you. They forget their rank.” Rathbourne shook his head.
This comment made Ash laugh even louder.
Rathbourne ignored Ash and focused on Brinsley. “Now that you’ve been accepted into Lady Henrietta’s and Lady Gwyneth’s circle, you’ll have to be very circumspect about this mission, especially around my sister. She is always looking for adventure. She believes spying runs in the blood.”
Brinsley raised an eyebrow. “Will do, sir.”
Ash grew serious. “Gwyneth will not be involved in any further missions. Her involvement in the Christmas party was a total fluke. If I hadn’t been poisoned, she never would’ve been involved.”
Rathbourne grunted. “Spoken like a man who hasn’t been married yet.”
“I’m certain marriage to me will be enough of an adventure for Gwyneth.” Ash took a large gulp of his drink.
“Damn, Ash. I don’t want to hear this about my sister. Rathbourne held up his glass. “Top me off.”
“Sorry old man.” Ash stood and poured brandy into Rathbourne’s empty glass.
“Brinsley, what were your impressions of Ship’s Aground?”
Brinsley sat up in his chair. “I agree with Lord
Ashworth.”
Ash turned in his seat and looked at Brinsley. “You don’t have to ‘lord’ me after the Christmas party and now our brawl. Call me Ash.”
Brinsley nodded. “There are French there amongst the workers. During the brawl, you could hear the French cussing. I didn’t see any money being exchanged during my brief stint in the tavern.” Brinsley took a sip of brandy. “But how do we know the French haven’t already infiltrated the Navy yard?”
“I’ve had a man inside the shipyard since the project started.” Rathbourne shuffled the papers on his desk. “Nothing suspicious has been reported.”
“You sly dog, Cord,” Ash said.
“I wasn’t going to wait on the Navy to tell me when they wanted our involvement.” Lord Rathbourne stood. “Brinsley, I’ll expect regular updates on the business at Ship’s Aground. You can report to Ash, and when it’s necessary, we’ll speak.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll begin my surveillance tonight.”
“The secret weapon will be ready for testing in one week’s time.” Lord Rathbourne walked toward the expansive windows looking out over the garden. “Now it’s time to play cricket. I’ve promised Edward that you’ll play as well, Brinsley. It seems Edward is quite impressed with your size. He’s convinced that with you and Miss Amelia on his side, he’ll be able to beat us old men.”
Ash draped his arm over the back of the chair in an insolent manner. “Cord, you can’t actually be worried that we could be beaten by a child and a woman?”
From his seat, Brinsley could see that young Edward and his tutor were setting up the wickets. He had pretended that he didn’t anticipate this morning. The idea of participating with this group, doing something ordinary, was beyond imagination. He had endured four years since he’d been rejected by society for his supposed scandalous behavior toward his brother’s fiancée. Disgraced, he had been ostracized by society until his work as an agent brought him into Lord Rathbourne’s circle.
“Oh, I’m confident we will win. We’ve experience on our side.” Ash looked right at Brinsley.
A Code of the Heart (The Code Breakers Series Book 3) Page 5
