Racing with the Wind (Agents of the Crown)

by Regan Walker

  When his horse wandered off course, he did not redirect its path and soon found himself near Campbell Manor. It was a greater distance than he had planned to ride, he admitted to himself, though in the back of his head was a fear that it had been his destination all along. The thought only got stronger when he came upon the object of his reconnaissance. She was galloping along the river on her imposing black stallion.

  Hidden by the grove of oak trees, he watched. Mary had never seemed more beautiful to him, her golden hair streaming out behind her, and she laughed wildly with the apparent joy of simply riding her horse. It was a sight he’d never tire of. Her zest for life captivated him, and he realized he wanted her not just in his bed but in his life.

  Good God. He was losing a battle to keep himself unmoved by the girl. What was he going to do with her in Paris? It was not a good idea for a young innocent to be there, not now. Not with all the dangers that might arise. He would have to work harder to persuade her uncle to see reason.

  And, perhaps he would attend the next ball to speak to Lady Mary himself.

  Chapter 8

  Rain pelted the windows of Adrian’s study. It had been pouring in London all day, and now the drops sounded like hailstones hitting the glass, making him exceedingly glad to be sitting by the fire in the comfort of his overstuffed chair. He set down his glass of brandy just as Withers came to the door.

  “My lord, Lord Ormond has just arrived. He apologizes for not having an appointment but was hoping you might have a few minutes for him.”

  “Of course, Withers. Please show him in.”

  “Very good, my lord.” The butler dipped his head and departed.

  It was not an unexpected visit. Adrian had been to see the Prince Regent a few days before, and since Mary had told him the young lord was opposed to her going to Paris, he had expected the man to seek an audience. “Good afternoon, Lord Ormond. Come in and warm yourself by the fire.”

  His guest raked rain from his hair as Adrian handed him a glass. “Thank you, Lord Baynes, a brandy is most welcome. It’s dreadful out there today. And, please…call me Ormond. Since we will be working closely together, I fear ‘Lord Ormond’ an unnecessary lot of words.”

  “Of course, Ormond. Please sit down.”

  The two men retired to the wing chairs in front of the crackling fire with their drinks, and after a moment Adrian inquired, “How are the ribs?”

  “Much better, thank you. I suspect they were only a bit damaged. I can even ride again.”

  “My niece told me about your heroic act. Is Arborn recovered?”

  A look of surprise crossed the young lord’s face. “Your niece is too generous. It wasn’t really bravery. I was merely in the right place as he started to fall. And, yes, Arborn seems to have recovered.”

  “Perhaps he should leave the foxes to younger men,” Adrian suggested. “I myself gave up the hunt years ago.”

  “I’ll let you tell him that.” Ormond said with a chuckle. “I think he expects to ride the hunt forever.”

  The two men were silent again, each nursing his drink, until at last Adrian’s visitor appeared to take a deep breath as if gathering his strength. His face became serious and his tone grim. “Lord Baynes, I want to talk to you about our troubling issues in France and about your upcoming trip.”

  “Of course,” Adrian replied. But he wasn’t going to make this easy. “What concerns you?”

  Ormond began by sharing with him some further information he’d received concerning their French agent and the general suspicion that he might be passing England’s intelligence to France.

  “One of those that you folks call a double agent….” Adrian sighed, displeased.

  “Possibly,” Ormond said soberly. “The information you brought back from your last trip is truly damning. The descriptions of the British troop placements are something he would have access to in his work for France, though the detail is rather surprising. Our reports also suggest certain factions are looking for the Nighthawk.”

  “I wondered about that,” replied Adrian. “I suppose it will make this next trip to Paris more than a little interesting. Will you still be joining me?”

  The young lord set down his drink and ran his fingers through his hair. Letting out a long, slow breath he said, “Yes, I think I must. To sort this out, and to be available to you should the need arise. I also have some other business there that demands my attention. But I will come later, after you arrive. I’ve sent a message to our chief agent in Paris, Sir Martin Powell, to expect me. He’s a good friend and can be counted on. Besides, I have a feeling we’re going to need his help.”

  “I am glad you will be coming,” Adrian conceded. “Your advice is welcome. I know Louis well, but some of the intrigues in his court and the men coming to meet with him are more in your realm of experience. Does our French agent in Paris know who you are?”

  Ormond seemed to consider before he said, “No, not as far as I know. At least, we’ve never met. And I intend to tread carefully with him.”

  Adrian couldn’t agree more. “Yes, it is certainly a time for caution. I imagine there are things it is better we keep unknown, in particular your past work for the Crown.”

  Ormond nodded. “But there is another matter I was hoping to discuss with you. I believe your niece desires to go with you. Since there are now added risks, I was thinking perhaps you might consider leaving her in London.”

  Adrian thought he detected more than just solicitude for Mary’s safety in the other man’s voice, which he found most interesting. “Yes, I’m aware of your thoughts on that subject. Mary has told me of your…conversations. But it’s been decided. She will go.”

  Hugh frowned. “Does the Prince Regent know?”

  “He does. In fact, it was Prinny who approved Mary’s participation. I guess I never told you, but it was Mary who retrieved the information from the French minister’s desk. The Prince Regent knows, which is one reason he believed it a good idea to include her. He thought she might be helpful again. He remembered her and called her ‘the Swan.’ That was the picture in his mind when she was first presented at court.”

  * * *

  Listening to Lord Baynes, Hugh felt his heart sink. Of course a swan. A vision of Mary gliding across the dance floor in white satin came to mind, though he preferred to picture her galloping across a green field like a fierce Valkyrie. Regardless, he was not surprised Prinny had been taken by her.

  “Is Lady Mary truly aware of the danger? After all, she’s not been trained, and Paris is somewhat unstable just now. If she’s been told all that—”

  “No,” Lord Baynes interrupted, “she doesn’t know all we’re engaged in. She’s only aware there is an issue regarding an agent. Nothing more.”

  Hugh loathed the danger Paris might present for Mary. He had an unexpected desire to protect her. She should be safe at Campbell Manor, not roaming the streets of Paris. And he did not need the distraction.

  “Does she know of my work?”

  “No,” Lord Baynes said, his countenance serious. “I didn’t think she needed to be burdened with those details, not even the few I know. But she does know you will be working with me at some point. Oh, and she has recently been asking about the Nighthawk.” With an amused look he added, “It seems she admires him—as does much of London thanks to the Times. I told her what everyone believes they know about the French legend.”

  “I can only hope she does not learn more.” Hugh was reluctant to accept the fact that he could not persuade Lord Baynes to keep Mary in England, but with the Regent giving sanction, he gave up trying.

  Lord Baynes seemed to sense his hesitation and said, “I agree we will have to try and limit her involvement, Ormond, and hope her fondness for adventure does not become a problem.”

  They could hope.

  The older man’s intense perusal made Hugh uncomfortable, and eventually Lord Baynes spoke. His question was entirely unexpected. “Ormond, do you care for Mary?”

>   Hugh was not prepared to answer, not even to himself. He took a moment to breathe before saying, “I’m just concerned that an untrained young woman is involved. We have to assume they are alerted to our suspicions. If they track the information back to that letter, that day with Mary in the minister’s office—”

  “Yes, it is a concern,” Lord Baynes agreed. “Mary’s wellbeing and safety are paramount. But we both have orders.”

  “Indeed.” Hugh wasn’t sure what else there was to say.

  Lord Baynes suddenly shook his head, as if remembering something unpleasant. After a moment he leaned forward and said conspiratorially, “There is another matter concerning the Prince Regent and his approval of my niece.”

  “Oh?” asked Hugh, frowning. What could be worse than the danger they were putting her in?

  Mary’s uncle sat back and gazed into the fire. “As I said before, when I reminded him of her and that day she was presented at court, he smiled and said he remembered the Swan quite well. But the look in his eyes told me he might have more interest in her than just as a help to my work. I am a bit worried that he may call for her when he returns from seeing about plans for that Pavilion he so adores. Mary would be horrified if he were to present her with an invitation to become one of his mistresses, an invitation few women have been able to turn down.”

  Hugh felt his face drain of blood, but there was little he could do or say. Why should he care whether Mary became this Prince Regent’s mistress? But he did care.

  Lord Baynes continued: “Of course, if she were to marry, Prinny might leave her be. Though it’s possible he would pursue a married woman, and certainly he has before, there are other young women to choose from who are not so encumbered.”

  Hugh’s throat was dry. “Have you said anything to Mary?”

  “No, and I think I won’t, at least for the present. She does not need to be worried about the schemes of the Prince Regent. But this is one reason I am glad she will be coming with me to Paris. I would not leave her in England alone with him.”

  Chapter 9

  One social event remained before Mary and her uncle were to leave: the next ball of the season. As Lord Baynes had informed her, it was to be held at the grand home of the Dowager Countess Claremont.

  Mary remembered the countess’s home from her past visits. It had the most beautiful great room in all of London, one that would provide a most excellent ballroom. The floor was white marble. Tall columns stood at one end, and six long crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling. Mirrors covered one wall. She could only imagine them reflecting a thousand candles. It was a perfect stage for an extravagant affair.

  Thankfully, she would be going with her uncle and Lizzy.

  “Milly, I am late now! Hurry and help me dress or Elizabeth will be here and I will still be in my chemise.”

  “And I’m thinking it’s a shameless chemise you’ll be wearing this night, mistress.”

  Mary grinned. She knew the servant was teasing her. The two of them had enjoyed a fond relationship for the last several years.

  The young lady’s maid had spent more time than usual on Mary’s hair. The devoted girl wanted Mary’s crown of curls to be special this night, and so with considerable care she had drawn them up into soft layers leaving a few golden wisps curled at her temples. The gown Mary intended to wear was ivory, a color appropriate for a young, unmarried woman, but the silk was not just any ivory color. It shimmered with golden highlights. A wide, garnet-colored ribbon was tied at the garment’s high waist, and small flowers at the hem were embroidered in the same color. She would wear dark red slippers on her feet, which was another expression of her own taste, as few would dare choose slippers of such a strong color. But they were Mary’s favorite.

  “You look like a princess tonight, Lady Mary,” Milly exclaimed, standing back and giving her mistress an admiring perusal. She had been determined to have her look the part of a most elegant ingénue, even if Mary’s heart wasn’t in it.

  “And you are too kind for words, Milly.”

  Just as Mary finished dressing, Elizabeth arrived. Her friend wore a white gown with a pale blue sash a shade lighter than her eyes, and with her copper curls worn up save a few left dangling over her nape she was radiant. Mary took in her friend’s unusual finery and found herself willing to concede the balls did have some purpose, since they gave Lizzy such joy.

  Her friend drew near and whispered, “I am wearing my new French silk chemise, Mary. The blue one. And it does make me feel wicked!”

  Mary grinned. “You’ll not be alone, Lizzy. I’m wearing one of my new ones, too. I do believe I shocked dear Milly. It’s a bit like having nothing on, don’t you think?”

  “I do!” Lizzy’s eyes were twinkling.

  “I thought it would help me get into the frame of mind for Paris.”

  Lizzy whirled in a circle, her skirts held in her spread hands. “I’ve never been to Paris, Mary, but I feel French tonight.”

  After a moment, Mary saw her friend’s eyes studying her. “What is it, Lizzy?”

  “You are quite beautiful tonight, Mary. And there is an excitement in your eyes I haven’t seen before.”

  Mary dismissed that. “Whatever can you mean? We’re just going to a dreadful matchmaking event, one of the many that make up a season.”

  Lizzy shook her head. “I think it’s more than that. You actually look excited to be going. Could it be that you’re looking forward to seeing someone special?”

  Mary scoffed, fighting off a blush. She’d been doing her best to suppress her interest in a certain rake about town. “Well, there are very few I would consider interesting. If someone like the Nighthawk were to appear—”

  “That old French legend?” Lizzy shook her head. “I am talking about real men, Mary, and you know it. What about Lord Ormond? Could it be that you are thinking he will be there?”

  “I have no idea if he will attend,” Mary said shortly.

  Before her friend could respond, Milly appeared in the doorway, having come and gone from downstairs. “Mistress, Lord Baynes is asking for you. He’s ready to depart.”

  The girls hurried to the stairs so as not to keep their escort waiting.

  When her uncle saw Mary descending the stairs, he smiled. “You might want to bring that gown to Paris, Mary. I think it would draw many compliments.”

  “I’m so glad you like it, Uncle. I’ll ask Milly to pack it.”

  Her uncle’s eyes took in her friend next. “You look quite lovely tonight, too, Miss St. Clair. Quite lovely. I’ll have the two most beautiful women in London by my side.”

  * * *

  They arrived at the Claremont Estate a short time later, and as they disembarked from their carriage Mary saw a large grin cross her uncle’s face.

  “It is not every man who can attend the ball with two beauties in tow,” he announced. “I’m feeling very favored tonight.”

  Mary laughed. “Your diplomatic skills are showing, Uncle. But consider this: It isn’t every lady who finds herself on the arm of such an elegant man. Your attire is quite dashing. That waistcoat and your steel-gray hair make me think of a silver fox.” Mary leaned into him and whispered, “Best beware of the ladies this evening.”

  Lord Baynes clutched her arm tighter and whispered back, “You have just puffed up this diplomat’s pride and given me a most wonderful gift. Thank you.”

  To her surprise, Mary immediately spotted Ormond’s tall dark form upon entering the ballroom. He stood just across the room with Lady Hearnshaw at his side, her gloved hand on his sleeve. The beautiful brunette was wearing a gold brocade gown with a bodice cut low to display her ample bosom. Mary barely choked down her disappointment. She had never seen Ormond so close to another woman, and though she could not hear the conversation, the way Lady Hearnshaw leaned into him brought his reputation to mind.

  “It looks as if Lord Ormond is occupied this evening,” she whispered to Lizzy.

  “Well, she is his m
istress, Mary.”

  Then why was he kissing me? “I should have remembered that….”

  Lord Baynes heard their comments, and his eyes followed Mary’s gaze. “Ahem. Why don’t I see about some champagne?” he asked.

  Mary was relieved to move on to something else, and champagne sounded perfect. “That would be wonderful, Uncle.”

  * * *

  “Dance with me, darling,” Amanda Hearnshaw purred at Hugh. “You look so handsome in your black tail coat, and it has been too long.”

  Seeing Lady Mary across the ballroom, Hugh frowned and tactfully removed Amanda’s hand from his sleeve. He didn’t want to start again with her. Though he considered Amanda a friend and had enjoyed her company for a while, she no longer held the allure she once did.

  “Dear lady,” he said in a kind voice, “I am thankful for the invitation, but I don’t think I’ll be dancing tonight.” He hoped she knew he didn’t only mean on the dance floor.

  It seemed she did. But the fire in her eyes belied the calm in her voice. “If you insist, my lord.”

  She was a beautiful woman, Hugh admitted to himself. She would have her choice of many men. She’d do fine without him.

  Amanda walked away and joined a group of friends. Relieved, Hugh turned back and saw Lambeth a short distance away, his gaze reaching across the room to Mary and a young redhead standing with her. Tonight the blonde minx was otherworldly, a golden glimmer calling to him like a siren.

  “That could have been better timed,” Lambeth said, approaching him with a smile. Apparently he’d seen Lady Hearnshaw’s advance and connected it with Mary’s entrance. Across the room, Mary turned away.

  “Perhaps.” Hugh shrugged. He would not apologize for his past.

  * * *

  Standing at the edge of the dance floor, Mary saw someone headed in her direction. His eager expression caused her whisper to Elizabeth, “Lizzy, Arthur Bywood is coming toward us. I think I shall dance with him tonight. At least he does not have another woman draped over him.”