“Who told me what?”
A muscle in her brother’s jaw twitched. He hadn’t shaved yet today, judging by the dark shadow along his jaw line. “Brackley. He told you about the spy network.”
She snorted and crossed her arms. “Please. I’m no imbecile. I’ve known for months.”
Morgan looked surprised. Did he think she was that daft?
“Does Mother—”
He cut himself off and fingered the white streak at his temple.
Lucy shrugged. “How am I to know? I’ve never told her, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He pointed to the chair in front of his desk. “I think you need to explain what’s happened.”
Her stomach shrank to the size of a pin as she obeyed. She perched on the edge of the chair. He remained standing, arms crossed, looming over her. His silver-gray eyes didn’t help matters.
She took a deep breath. She’d rehearsed this. When she felt calm again, she met his gaze.
It was a mistake. Her courage shriveled like a prune.
“I know what Monsieur V looks like. I think I’m the only one.”
The bands of Morgan’s arms bunched, the only indication of his emotions. “And what led you to believe that? Where did you hear the name Monsieur V?”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “Can you pretend for a minute that I’m not a child? I didn’t know who he was when I met with him, but I put it together later. When Lord Strickland sent you a message.”
Morgan bristled. “Strickland sent a message? Here?”
Lucy winced. She’d kept that from him. Seeing as Morgan must not have received another message, Lord Strickland must have taken her presence in London to be an indication that Morgan had received the message and assigned her to the task. Apparently Strickland didn’t know her brother very well.
“During Phil’s labor,” Lucy mumbled under her breath. “You were busy so I intercepted it. The code wasn’t terribly complex. I figured, since I was the only one to know his face, I would find him for you.”
“Find him?” Morgan bit off the words.
She didn’t still have the missive or she would have shown it to him. She frowned, rubbing her forehead as she tried to recall exactly what the message had said. “Monsieur V returned to London. Lord Strickland didn’t know where he was and wanted your best people on it. Since I know what he looks like and no one else does, I figured that was me. So I went to look for him.”
“Alone?” Unlike most men, when Morgan got angry, he got cold. His eyes turned to ice and his expression might as well have been one of the carved busts down in the ancestor’s hall. “Or did you have help?”
She looked down, unable to meet his gaze without shaking. “Alone, at first. But Alex—”
“Alex?” Morgan bit off the name as if it was poison.
She glared at him. “Lord Brackley, then, if you prefer. He puzzled out what I was about and told me I ought not to go after a French spymaster without help.”
“You ought not to have gone after a French spymaster at all!”
Lucy gritted her teeth. “Will you let me tell you what happened or won’t you?”
When Morgan said nothing, she took that to be an indication for her to continue.
She straightened her shoulders and spoke the words she’d rehearsed. “I tracked Monsieur V from the costume he’d worn to Lady Belhaven’s ball. That led me to a costumer near Bond Street, who had a message to me from Monsieur V.”
“A message to you?” The words were delivered with such frost that it was a wonder his breath didn’t fog in front of his face.
“Yes. To me. He left a dress and an invitation to meet at Lady Leighton’s house party.”
“Which you foolishly accepted.” It was a statement, not a question.
Lucy took a deep breath and tried not to lose her temper. It wouldn’t help either of them. It wouldn’t help Alex.
“Lord Brackley was there as well,” she said, emphasizing the formal title. “We joined forces in order to bring the traitor to justice.”
“But he slipped away.” Again, not a question. Morgan must have heard too much of the same story.
Lucy pressed her lips together, struggling to get her emotions under control. “He wouldn’t have, if Alex had listened to his own advice and taken me with him. We found a clue, an address where Monsieur V had sent a package. Alex left in the middle of the night and went alone. By the time I got there the only thing left to find was his ring.”
Emotion choked her. She breathed evenly through her nose, tasting tears at the back of her throat. She struggled not to cry, fearing that her brother might find it weak. She wanted him to think of her as an equal, not a baby, even if there was thirteen years between them.
“What address?”
Lucy ignored his clipped tone and told him, watching as he scribbled it down. He ripped off the corner of the page and shoved it into his pocket.
“I’ve already searched the house,” she informed him. “The only thing to find was that ring.”
Morgan tucked the ring in his pocket along with the address. For some reason, that made the ache in Lucy’s chest burn even more. That was Alex’s ring. If anyone should have it, it should be her.
“And you think because you found his ring that Brackley is in danger.”
Lucy fisted her hands in her skirts. “I know it.” She met Morgan’s gaze and held it. “I went to his townhouse and his country estate. He’s at neither one. He went to that address without me. Monsieur V must have—” Her voice cracked. She shut her eyes to hide the unshed tears that threatened to fall. Once she took a deep breath, she added, “He must have taken him. I didn’t find any blood. He might still be alive.”
“We’ll have to go to London to be certain. I’ll say goodbye to Phil and tell Tristan to pack a trunk. We’ll leave as soon as may be.”
Relief swept through her. Although her knees wobbled, she forced herself to her feet. She reached out to clasp her brother’s hand. It was much warmer than hers.
“Thank you, Morgan. My trunk is already packed. Just let me know when we leave.”
He pulled away. “By we, I meant Tristan and I. You’ve played at being a spy long enough. Too long, in fact. This is dangerous work, Lucy. You’re staying here.”
He strode away before she could argue. If he thought that would settle the matter, he was wrong. She wasn’t going to give up on Alex. Her brother was only one more obstacle.
“Shouldn’t we be going to the Tenwick townhouse?” Charlie asked as the carriage rolled to a stop.
“You go,” Lucy answered absently. “I need to talk to my brothers first.”
Charlie sighed. “It feels like we’ve been traveling forever. I suppose I’ll nap after we visit your brothers.”
“No.” Lucy shook her head. “You go on without me. I don’t know how long this will take. In fact…” She thrust Antonia into her friend’s arms. “Would you mind taking her? She’ll only cause a ruckus if she comes in with me.”
Charlie blinked owlishly. “What’s this about? We saw your brothers at the inn last night. Why are you so desperate to speak with them again?”
Lucy craned out the window as a second Tenwick carriage pulled up to the curb. At last. “There they are! I’ll be back at the townhouse before you know it. Thank you, Charlie!” She knew that the flurry of words wouldn’t postpone her friend’s questions for long, but she didn’t have time to explain what was happening. Since they had stopped at Alex’s country estate on the way to Tenwick Abbey, Charlie had probably already started to piece together some of what had happened. Even if she couldn’t possibly guess all of it. Lucy hadn’t shared knowledge of her brothers’ involvement in the spy network. That had seemed like something best left a secret.
She flung herself out of the carriage and into Morgan’s path. His expression turned stony. “We don’t have time for this, Lucy. We have work to be about.” He stepped around her and loped up the steps to the door of the St. Gobain townhouse, wh
ere Morgan had lived ever since his marriage.
Tristan fell into step behind him. Lucy took up the rear. She didn’t say a word as the butler, Mr. O’Neill, opened the door. Instead, she followed as Morgan led the way to his office. As they breached the threshold, she said, “I’m helping. Monsieur V has been trying to make contact with me for the past couple weeks. He might do so again. I can draw him out.”
“You can stay out of this,” Morgan said, his voice like ice. When he turned, he looked as warm and welcoming as a blizzard. For once, Tristan matched his expression rather than taking the opposite side simply for the fun of it. They presented a united front.
“I will not. Lord Brackley is missing and I will help find him.”
When Morgan advanced on her, she instinctively took a step back. He’d never raised his voice to her, never so much as threatened to lift a hand, but it seemed wise not to provoke him nonetheless.
“You will do no such thing. This is a matter for seasoned spies, which you are not. We will handle this. I will send word to you once it is resolved.”
He shut the door in her face. A click echoed, indicating that he’d locked it. He’d locked the door! As if closing it wasn’t statement enough. She stared at the keyhole, debating whether to try eavesdropping.
He wanted her to stay at home and wring handkerchiefs, hoping that the man she cared for would somehow come home safe? Not bloody likely. If Morgan wouldn’t let her help him, then she would find Alex on her own.
She turned and stormed from the St. Gobain house, a woman on a mission.
25
If her brothers wouldn’t let her help, then Lucy needed a different ally to aid her search. She couldn’t do this alone. She knew of only one woman that she could trust with any secret. One woman who would be very upset that she hadn’t shared such titillating information with her earlier.
Lucy found her closest friend in her room at the Tenwick townhouse. It seemed that Charlie had sought out her nap, after all. Lucy felt almost guilty for waking her.
“Charlie?” Lucy opened the door a bit further as she slipped inside. The drapes were drawn, but daylight seeped into the room through the crack. It took only a moment for her eyes to adjust. She found her friend’s form on the bed, a shawl thrown over her shoulders as she slept above the covers.
Charlie made nary a sound, which made it difficult to tell whether she was awake or asleep. When at home, she never snored unless she was sick. Lucy tiptoed to her side.
“Charlie?”
The blonde groaned groggily and rolled over. “Is it supper?”
“No. It’s mid-afternoon.”
“Then why are you rousing me?” Her voice was thick with reluctance and sleep.
Lucy perched on the edge of the bed, next to her friend. “I need your help.”
Charlie turned her head with a raised eyebrow. “Are you going to tell me the truth this time?”
“I promise.”
The blonde sighed. She sat up and pulled the loose strands of her hair over one shoulder. “Very well, then. I’ll listen.” She plumped up a few pillows and leaned against them.
Lucy took a deep breath, wondering where to start. It had been easy to confess her knowledge of the spy operation to Morgan—he was involved in it. But Charlie would have questions. Questions that Lucy, since she had only gleaned information because of her own curiosity, would not be able to answer.
She started with, “There is a spy ring in Britain and my brothers are involved in it.”
“I know.”
Lucy gaped. “You know?”
Charlie shrugged. “My mother is a part of it…or she was, before Harker died.”
Lucy had never liked that man, who had acted as guardian to Charlie and her sister after their father had passed away. The fact that he had died at Tenwick Abbey a year ago gave her no sadness. Nor, judging by Charlie’s expression, did it bother her overmuch.
Lucy leaned her palm against the bedspread. “You knew about the spy network for over a year and you never told me?”
Charlie shrugged. “Mama swore me to secrecy. It’s just as well, since you knew and you never told me.”
Touché.
Lucy took a deep breath. “Well, Brackley’s a part of it, too. We were working together for the good of Britain and now he’s gone missing. I need your help finding him.”
“Me?” Charlie’s eyes widened. “Why not ask your broth… Oh.” She cleared her throat. “You just did.”
Lucy nodded confirmation.
“They wouldn’t help?”
She made a face. “If by help, you mean conduct the search on their own, then yes.”
“Why not let them? They are experienced in this sort of thing.”
Lucy clenched her teeth. She was letting them help…why couldn’t they give her the same consideration? “I can’t sit by and do nothing. You know I’m not that type, Charlie.”
Her friend narrowed her blue eyes as she studied Lucy. Whatever her thoughts, she kept them to herself. After a moment, she swung her legs off the bed and offered her hand to Lucy. “Well, I wouldn’t mind some excitement, but let’s go find Mama. Maybe she can help. She knows that world, too.”
Lucy sighed, her shoulders slumping a bit in relief when her friend didn’t argue. She knew that Charlie didn’t like Alex. She thought him a rake and a reprobate. But she was helping Lucy without question, anyway. Lucy squeezed her friend’s hand, as close as she could come to saying thank you around the lump in her throat.
They found Mrs. Vale in one of the downstairs parlors, working on correspondence. When the pair stopped in the doorway, Mrs. Vale looked up from the writing desk. “Girls? Is something amiss.”
“Yes.” Lucy squeezed her friend’s hand, needing her support. “I need your help.”
Explaining the situation took but a moment. Mrs. Vale listened with an impassive expression. Lucy couldn’t decide whether the older woman was proud of her or disapproving.
Once she’d laid out the situation, Lucy bit her lip. “I know you aren’t a part of the spy network anymore—”
“What makes you say that?”
Lucy blinked rapidly as she processed the question. She frowned. “Charlie said…” She glanced at her friend.
Mrs. Vale pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows. “Simply because I’m no longer out in the field does not mean that I discontinued my service to the Crown. I serve in another capacity. For the moment, that is keeping an eye on you—”
She gave Lucy a pointed look, one that made the younger woman’s cheeks warm.
“—and ensuring that Monsieur V does not try to harm you in any way. You make that task very difficult when you continually slip away from my supervision.”
Lucy bit her lip. “If I’d known you were a part of the spy network, I would have asked you to come with me.” Then Alex would never have had any complaints about her nosing around alone.
Would she have? The first message the spymaster had sent her had indicated that he had a spy on their side who would alert him if she had help. Could Mrs. Vale be that spy? Lucy didn’t want to conceive it. In fact, it didn’t matter. Monsieur V still wanted to talk to her, didn’t he? Perhaps Mrs. Vale would be able to bring her to him. She could negotiate for Alex’s release herself.
If he was still alive.
She pinched the inside of her wrist. He was still alive. He must be. She refused to consider any other eventuality.
Mrs. Vale drew herself up. “I will help you on one condition.”
“Anything,” Lucy said quickly. She was that desperate.
The older woman raised her index finger. “You are not to go out into the field yourself. I will make inquiries of my contacts. We’ll have a slew of information to pore over and clues to follow up on. But you must be patient. You cannot slip away again and deliberately put yourself in harm’s way.”
That made it sound as though Lucy was doing this for fun. No, she had done it to catch a dangerous criminal, to prove her worth
to her brothers, and now she was doing it to save an innocent life.
Mrs. Vale must have read the reluctance on her face. She added, “When you slip away, you put me in a bad situation. I don’t like to have to choose between my duty and my daughter.”
It seemed, in the past, Lucy had been lucky that Mrs. Vale had chosen her daughter. She might not have gotten away nearly so many times had she not.
“Very well,” she acceded. “We’ll try your contacts. I’ll do anything it takes to find him.”
Mrs. Vale turned. She fetched several sheaves of blank paper and handed one to each of the younger women. “In that case, I’ll need your help writing the instructions to each of my contacts. It’ll go quicker if the two of you help.”
At last, something Lucy could do to help further the search. It was something small, but even that helped to mitigate the feeling of helplessness.
Days passed. Lucy wrote letters, read the responses, sent further instructions at Mrs. Vale’s behest. No one had seen a man meeting Alex’s description in any of the meaner parts of London. He hadn’t waltzed into any of the usual haunts of the men of his stature, or Lucy would have heard of it. Her brothers offered no updates on their end of the investigation. If they knew that Mrs. Vale was also looking into the matter, they ignored her prying. Or perhaps they saw it as a boon. Whenever Tristan came home periodically, he spoke to Mrs. Vale in private. The older woman offered no explanation for what information they shared.
One by one, their clues and contacts dried up. At last, there was only one left, one last hope. When the letter arrived for Mrs. Vale, Lucy trembled. Could it be from the contact? She took it to the older woman and waited with bated breath in the library as Mrs. Vale read it.
Her expression turned grim. She pressed her lips together and folded the letter once more. When she met Lucy’s gaze, her look was almost pitying.
“I’m sorry. That’s everyone I can think to ask. If Lord Brackley is in London, I can’t find him.”
Lucy’s knees went weak. “You’re giving up?” She sank into the nearest chair. Charlie perched on the edge, rubbing Lucy’s shoulders with a worried expression.
Pursuing The Traitor (Scandals and Spies Book 5) Page 18
