Tonight, she would go to the theatre, and enjoy herself, tonight, she would let herself forget that it wasn’t real, tonight, she would let herself imagine what life would be like, if he was always there.
She looked at herself in the mirror again, and almost laughed – no matter how good she looked, she was still nearly forty. She should be grateful that she’d had a good marriage, even if there had been no children, and not dream of more. But the dreams were persistent things, and no amount of cynical practicality seemed able to quash them. Well, so be it.
As she descended the stairs, the knock came at the door, and Jenks opened it to admit Lord Setford. He looked up, and saw her. His eyes widened, and a smile spread across his face. He was, she thought, remarkably handsome when he smiled, it quite transformed his face. She felt a little as if she was floating, buoyed up by his expression. It was surprising, she thought, that she did not trip and fall down the stairs, so unaware was she of where her feet were. But, somehow, she reached the bottom. He bowed, and offered her his arm. She chose to offer him a deep curtsey, before rising and taking the offered arm. She was acutely aware of the warmth of him, beneath her hand, and the hardness of the muscle of that arm. A light shiver ran through her – excitement, of a kind she had not felt in a very long while. He glanced at her, sidelong, as if he had felt that shiver – perhaps he had.
In the carriage, they barely spoke, comfortable with the silence, yet she was aware of every movement, every tiny expression that crossed his face. And people thought him impassive! He was so complex, so subtle, so much of him showed in his face, in his movements – how could they not see it? Or was she, truly, that much more observant than most?
His voice broke her from her reverie.
“Nearly there. Even this late in the summer, there is a queue.”
The coachman let them down as close as he could get to the theatre, and they walked that last block, neither of them so high in the instep as to insist on being driven to the very door. She found herself guided smoothly through the throng of people, some of whom acknowledged one or the other of them, some of whom raised eyebrows at the sight of them together, and up the stairs. How he moved through crowds without effort amazed her – but she was grateful for it. He led her along the upper corridor, to the very end, where the ‘staff only’ stairs were located, and through the door of the last box on the row. She glanced around, working out where she was in the theatre. Ah, this was the box owned by Hunter’s family. They settled onto the chairs closest to the rail, and, by unspoken consent, began to scan the faces of those present. It amused her that it was the first response from both of them.
“So many people, even in late summer! But then, there are fewer performances at this time of year. Can you see any of our suspects? So far, I see only people that I know, who are rather boring, like Lady Comerton, over there, in the box to the left. Gossiping as usual. Oh, down there, towards the front, isn’t that young Garwood? It is! I wonder if the others are here?” Anna stopped herself, realising that she was being rather garrulous, but Lord Setford simply smiled at her, his eyes giving away his amusement at her enthusiasm.
“If one is, possibly they all are. Which makes me wonder…”
“Wonder…?”
“Yes. I haven’t had the chance to tell you yet, but today I received a piece of information which may be the beginning of the breakthrough we’ve been hoping for. Have you ever met Baron Partmann?”
“Partmann? Once, perhaps – I certainly don’t know him well. Why?”
“Because I suspect he is our ringleader. He has reason for resentment, and has made those feelings somewhat obvious. I think that he is using the rest of them, firing them up with high ideals, all to simply exact his own petty revenge.”
“Oh… the gossip… his wife… yes, I see how that might work. The man’s a fool. He could have used the situation to his long-term advantage, but instead, he has made enemies. But still, I wouldn’t have thought that enough of an offence to him to warrant what they are contemplating!”
“You are as astute and quick to understanding things as any of the Hounds, do you know that?”
“What a spectacular compliment, Lord Setford! And yes, I mean that, for they are, saving present company, the most intelligent people I know.”
“My, is that flattery, my Lady?”
“No my Lord, bald honesty, more like. But what do you plan to do about Partmann?”
“That is yet undecided, beyond the watch I have set on him. I don’t believe that they will try to act for another few weeks at least – not before the Prince Regent returns from Brighton.”
“I see.”
“If you have the chance to discover more about him, please do – but take care – a man who would contemplate what he appears to be doing, for such a petty cause, is a man who may act rashly if he feels threatened.”
He hesitated a moment, his eyes locked with hers, then reached out and took her hands in his, his next words coming low and intense in tone.
“And I cannot bear the thought of you being harmed, my Lady.”
The words filled her heart. She allowed herself to believe that they meant more, far more, than just the concern of a friend. If, on the morrow, in the cold light of day, the foolishness of that belief was brought home to her, so be it – for now, she chose to bask in the warmth of his regard. She looked away, suddenly unable to bear the weight of his eyes upon hers, afraid that her feelings were writ clear upon her face. She took a deep steadying breath.
“I… thank you for your concern. I will continue to be cautious, my Lord. But knowing who we must discover more about will make it far easier to ask the right questions.”
His fingers tightened on hers, where her hands still lay in his, and she allowed herself to return that pressure. It was as if, when she did so, he realised for the first time that he held her so. He stilled, in that way he did when he thought deeply, and she quivered – partly with the fear that he might release her, partly with the enticing idea that he might not. He gave a tiny sigh, as if wishing to do or say something which he could not, then, releasing just one of her hands, turned back to contemplating the people in the theatre. Her other hand he retained in his grasp.
Her heart raced, and suddenly, breathing was difficult. The performance began and, throughout, he kept her hand in his.
The heat of that contact spread through every part of her, until every nerve was on fire. She had promised herself an evening where she allowed it to be real – now, with this, he made her feel even more so that it was. Repressing the small cynical voice in her mind, which warned of the pain to follow, she cast her heart into the experience, into the sense of being treasured, for herself.
As the performance wound its way towards the intermission, she steeled herself for the moment when he would release her hand, for the chill that would bring, replacing this warm glow. In the end, her delight was cut short, in the most unexpected way.
He stilled – not the way he did when thinking, but the way that a hunting dog did, when it saw its prey – almost quivering in place. His fingers uncurled from hers, one at a time, as if reluctantly releasing her. She followed the direction of his gaze.
“There, in the lower box on the other side. Partmann. I don’t think that he is aware of us. I must go, see who he speaks to…”
“What will I…”
“Stay here. This box is right at the end of the corridor, you won’t be interrupted, take a turn in the corridor, but don’t go far. I will be back as soon as possible. Oh, I forgot – perhaps this will help to distract you.”
He pulled something from his pocket and thrust it into her hands. A slim volume. She followed him through the door, then sank onto the steps nearby, the book in her hand, and watched him hurry away.
Chapter Seven
Gilbert Harmton, Baron Partmann, watched the group of young gentlemen where they clustered in the cheap seats of the theatre, close to the stage. They were crowded amongst the common people, yet t
he fools thought it an adventure, a chance to be raucous, to drink, and to behave rudely. Partmann did not, however, look upon them with disapprobation – the more outrageous they were, the more they dared each other on to action, the more they believed themselves not bound by the constraints of society, the better for his purposes.
Soon, there would be an intermission, and he would, on the excuse of mingling, of seeking out a drink in convivial company, slip down from the polite society who would congregate on the upper levels, and find those young men. He would speak to one or two of them, as if greeting passing acquaintances. He would give them a meeting location and time. They would, perhaps, give him some news of progress. To the people around them, nothing out of the ordinary would occur.
But it would move things forward, towards the fatal day.
The day when his revenge would be complete, when the man who used the country’s coffers as his own, who took from everyone, with no care for the impact of his actions, would be gone. It would not be his hand which struck the blow, more’s the pity, but he wanted to live, afterwards – so one of the young fools would be the one to act. They were so easy to drive into a fervour, so easy to manipulate.
The curtain fell, and the theatregoers thronged into the foyers, the sound of hundreds of voices filling the space with a subdued roar. Partmann stepped out of his box, and moved through the crowds, his path apparently casual, but his intent as sharp as a knife. In the swirling tangle of people, his meeting went as planned, information was passed in both directions, and he returned to his box well pleased, certain that he had not been observed to do anything in any way suspicious.
~~~~~
Cecil could still feel the warmth where Lady Farnsworth’s hand had rested in his. He had not wished to release it, but twenty years of instinct and duty had made it necessary. If Partmann was here, and more than one of their suspected conspirators was also, then there was a high chance that it was not a matter of coincidence.
He did not look back as he sped down the corridor towards the main stairs. He trusted that she would, being a woman of great practicality and sense, do as he had asked, and simply wait. If he could, he would bring refreshments back to her, but for now, speed was of the essence. In the back of his mind, he wondered if she would like the book.
Then he pushed the thought aside as frivolous in that moment, and concentrated on watching the crowds. When he reached the main foyer, he paused, perfectly still, against the wall, and scanned the space. Partmann had just entered from the other side, and Cecil watched as he moved about, chatting casually with quite a few people. Yet Cecil was sure that his path was not that of random social exploration. Behind Partmann, seeming, on the surface, equally purposeless, was one of Cecil’s men, following Partmann as directed.
They exchanged tiny nods, and Cecil moved forward into the crowded space. With the ease of long practice, he did two things at once – greeting those he knew, chatting then moving on, all whilst never losing sight of Partmann. To one side, he saw their young suspects – becoming raucous, obviously the worse for drink, and behaving generally disreputably. Had the crush not been so great, people would have been giving them a wide berth – but the production was one which was justifiably famous, and the theatre was packed with people of all levels of society.
Cecil drifted through the crowd, easing steadily closer to the young men, even as Partmann moved that way too. Eventually, Cecil reached a point close by them, and allowed himself to be drawn into conversation with an older man. A man who happened to know what it was that Cecil did. Lord Fortnum raised an enquiring eyebrow, and Cecil simply smiled.
“Good to see you, Fortnum, old man. What do you think of the performance? The one on the stage, that is – for the disreputable performance of these young bucks, both now, and in the theatre, is enough to distract anyone, isn’t it?”
“It is, it is. Cads and bounders, the lot of em!”
“Indeed. I find myself watching them with somewhat horrified fascination. One never knows what this generation will do.”
Lord Fortnum met those piercing grey eyes, and gave the smallest inclination of his head. “True. I’m sure that they warrant watching – wouldn’t want them to turn out to be close with anyone I think worthwhile. And they seem the sort where drink can lead to… shall we say… unsuitable behaviour.”
“Exactly my thoughts, Fortnum.”
Partmann had reached the place where the young men stood and, as the crowd moved, it seemed that he was jostled by them. He put out a hand to steady himself against one of the men, and some words were spoken. The words were soft, almost whispered, but Cecil heard. The rumours of his preternaturally sharp hearing were not exaggerated.
“Four weeks. At the old house again. I’ll send you what you need to know, as it happens, before then.”
“Good, we’ll have it planned by then. Burton gave me the schedule, finally, so we know where he’ll be, when.”
Partmann’s eyes had taken on a fanatical light, his expression one almost of glee, at Garwood’s words.
“At last! Soon, we will put an end to this disgrace to our nation.”
The men moved apart. As Partmann’s hand left Garwood’s side Cecil could just see the edge of the paper he now held. The operative who followed Partmann continued to do so, and Cecil turned back to Fortnum for a few more minutes of innocuous conversation.
Garwood and the other young ruffians made their way back towards their seats, and Cecil bid good day to Fortnum, and went in search of food and drink.
When he reached the corridor near the box, a footman following him with the tray, he gave a snort of delighted amusement. Lady Farnsworth sat on the lower part of the servants’ stairs, her skirts disarrayed around her, her eyes focussed on the book in her lap. It seemed that the book had caught her attention so strongly, that she had not even bothered to go back into the box before beginning to read it. She looked up, hearing the footsteps, and her face lit with a smile. It took his breath away, completely. He suspected that she had no idea of how beautiful she was.
He reached her and, as the footman took the tray into the box, he offered her his hand, and assisted her to her feet. It felt right to have her hand in his again. He did not release it until they had gone through the door, and settled into the chairs, the table laden with food and drink before them.
The footman bowed, and left, closing the door behind him.
“Please, eat and drink – I must apologise for being the very worst escort, and abandoning you like that.”
“It is of no matter – you had good reason.”
“Thank you for being forgiving.”
A fleeting frown crossed her brow.
“Why would I not be? Is not everything we are doing for the sake of thwarting this plot?”
He felt a matching frown come into existence on his own face, and banished it immediately.
She was right. The earlier part of the evening had been so pleasant that he had foolishly allowed himself to forget that this was fiction, to entertain, again, the idea of this courtship being real. He could not allow that to happen again. He had to respect her – respect what she was willing to do for the Crown, because he had asked – he could not presume upon her courtesy.
“Indeed.”
His voice was uneven. For twenty years he had successfully remained impassive in the face of Kings and Princes, spies and traitors, yet this woman brought him undone. Was he wise to reach for more in his life? To allow emotion and care to disrupt his calm days? Yet he had seen the joy which love had brought to the lives of all of the Hounds. Did it, he wondered, always come with pain?
The curtain rose, and the performance began again. Softly, under the sound of the performers, her voice came to him.
“Did you discover anything of use?”
He brought his thoughts back to the business at hand – deep contemplation of the pain of life could be kept for later.
“I did. Partmann might have made a good operative, were he a dif
ferent sort of man. He slipped through the crowds looking like any man out for a social evening, engineered being jostled by Garwood, and exchanged both words and notes with him, all within moments, before slipping away again. But I was close enough to overhear.”
“Ah! I expect that only you could manage that, amongst a noisy crowd like that. Your legendary hearing being used to advantage, no doubt.”
Cecil laughed softly, amused by her description.
“Yes – although I am not sure when it became legendary! Perhaps only amongst the people that you know best. I certainly hope not amongst the ton in general – that would make it far less useful!”
She sipped on her drink, watching him thoughtfully. He dragged his eyes away from her, back to the performance on the stage below. After some time, her voice came again.
“What did they say? What did you discover?”
“He was setting up a meeting, in four weeks, at a location he described only as ‘the old house’. And Garwood passed him a note, which he had from someone named Burton. I suspect, from what he said, that the note contained the details of the Prince Regent’s movements over the next month or more. Burton is likely a servant of some sort in the Prince Regent’s household. I will find him – and soon.”
“What happens next?”
“We continue as we were. Partmann will be watched continuously. You will still gather whatever further information you can, from the houses of the nobility, and I will attempt to discover just where ‘the old house’ might be. The most important thing about this evening is that we now know that Partmann is working with our conspirators – that my instinct was right – he is the ringleader, for his own petty reasons.”
“As you wish, my Lord. And now that we know that Partmann is a key player, I can ask my network of the servants of the ton to tell me what they know of him. It will be most interesting to hear how they see him.”
“Yes, it will. But now, let us leave this aside, and concentrate, instead, on enjoying what remains of the performance.”
Attracting the Spymaster: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 15) Page 5
