A Lady's Secret Weapon

by Tracey Devlyn

  Whirling about, he left the study and, when he gained his butler at the entrance, he plucked his gloves and hat from Tanner’s grip. “I’ll be at Somerton House if you should need me.”

  “Will we see you for dinner, my lord?”

  “Tonight’s sugar puff night, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  “I’ll be here, unless someone carts me off.” Again.

  “Pardon, sir?”

  Ethan closed the door, warding off further questions. He jogged down the few steps to the pavement and then turned toward Charles Street.

  Not long ago, he had attempted to hunt down the French bastard who had kidnapped his sister Cora and tortured her for information about the Nexus. He’d followed a trail of information to the London Docks, where he met up with three bears of men. The hired footpads had grabbed him in broad daylight and then hauled him to a deserted area near the docks and proceeded to beat him senseless.

  But sometime during the night, a cloaked figure had moved him from the wretched, damp alleyway to an abandoned warehouse, where a dark-haired maid had looked after Ethan for several days. She had kept him in a laudanum-induced fog so he could sleep and heal. A state he appreciated at the time. Now, though, he had trouble recalling anything of significance of his stay in the warehouse, including a clear picture of either of his saviors.

  Once the threat to Cora had passed, he’d returned to the docks and made inquiries about the two strangers who had helped him, to no avail. Why had they disappeared? He wanted to thank them and possibly return the favor in some way.

  The more time that slipped by, the more Ethan’s agitation grew. Their avoidance only made him more driven to track them down. When he found them—and he would—it would be a toss-up as to whether he would express his gratitude or hang them up by their big toes.

  Ethan rapped on the door at 35 Charles Street. A distinguished man in his early fifties answered.

  “Hello, Rucker,” Ethan said. “I’m a little early for my appointment with Somerton.”

  The butler stepped back. “His lordship has not yet returned. Shall I see if Mrs. Ashcroft and her mother are available?”

  He glanced up toward the attic and wondered if he could indulge in a few rounds of target practice before imposing upon Somerton’s almost-betrothed, Catherine Ashcroft. “No need to disturb the ladies. I’m going up to the attic to throw a few rounds first.”

  Rucker, who was even more accustomed to looking the other way than Tanner, didn’t miss a beat. “As you wish, my lord.”

  Ethan had ascended no more than two stairs when Catherine Ashcroft appeared on the landing above him. Still dressed in mourning black for the death of her father and husband, she carried the quintessential features of many English women. Average height, blond hair, oval face, creamy complexion, slim figure. The only fissure in her classical landscape was a pair of piercing brown eyes that saw far too much for a country miss.

  Her face brightened, and she held out her hand while giving him a warm, welcoming smile. “Ethan, how nice to see you.”

  Her genuine pleasure helped assuage the sharp edge of anticipation gliding across his nerves. “Catherine.” He climbed the remaining stairs, kissing her cheeks. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you. I thought to keep myself busy in the attic until Somerton arrived.”

  “The attic?” Her smile widened. “Whatever for?”

  The widow’s run-in with a traitorous Foreign Office official gave her access to knowledge about the Nexus few outside the Alien Office had. Ethan had no way of knowing if Somerton had revealed details about their covert activities beyond that one incident, nor did he know if Somerton had discussed his role in Ethan and Cora’s unusual upbringing. Not everyone would understand why the young deBeaus were shown how to pick locks, lift goods from pockets, and use their bodies as weapons.

  He decided to take the careful route. “Something Cora and I used to do as children. Perhaps you will allow me to keep you company until Somerton arrives.”

  “Of course,” she said. “Rucker, will you ask Marston to send around a tea tray?”

  “Of course, madam.”

  She led Ethan to a small sitting room that appeared to double as a workspace. The writing desk near the window held a number of ledgers, and a low table in front of the sofa had an assortment of papers strewn across its surface.

  The widow’s skill at developing task lists and charting out work schedules had brought her to Somerton’s attention, and Ethan doubted she would ever be free of the earl again, especially once her mourning period was over. Catherine appeared quite content with the arrangement.

  “How goes your search for Giles Clarke?” she asked.

  Out of habit, Ethan hesitated to reveal the details of his current mission. So much of what he and the Nexus did hinged on absolute secrecy. But, in this case, Catherine had been drawn into the situation from the beginning and deserved an update.

  “I’m afraid I can report little progress. Right now, I’m trying to get a sense of the Abbingale’s operation and hopefully gain a visual on the boy. But you must trust that I will find him, Catherine,” he said. “I am very good at locating missing persons and retrieving them.”

  She nodded. “Sebastian said as much. I don’t mean to imply otherwise. It’s just that—the woman obviously loved her son and would have done anything to keep him safe.”

  Time for a change in topic, but Ethan was damned if he knew what. He still had another twenty minutes before his meeting with Somerton. What the devil was he going to discuss with Catherine in the meantime?

  Then it struck him. “When we were all last together, Somerton had mentioned you’d noticed an unfamiliar maid at Sophie’s birthday celebration,” he said. “I’d like to know more about her.”

  One delicate eyebrow arched high. “I wondered when you would get around to inquiring. You seemed inordinately curious about her at the time. Something to do with the warehouse incident?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Can you provide more of a description? Her height, her build, any distinguishing features that might set her apart from other women? A scar, perhaps?”

  Catherine’s expression turned thoughtful. “I recall her being tall, with a full figure. Not robust, mind you. Ladies would envy such curves and men would worship them.” Realizing what she’d said, the widow’s cheeks flushed scarlet. “Pardon, my lord. I doubt those were the types of distinguishing features you were inquiring about.”

  “Actually, those are exactly the types of observations I’m interested in. Please go on.”

  “She wore a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles. In her early twenties, I’d say. Very dark hair.” The widow’s forehead knitted together. “I’m afraid that’s all I remember at the moment. She was some distance away when I noticed her.”

  “Did you see her engaged in conversation with any of the guests?”

  “Not that I saw,” Catherine said. “She appeared to be absorbed with clearing away the dirty dishes and eyeing the guests.”

  “Eyeing the guests?”

  She smiled. “It seems I have a knack for identifying such insignificant details. Sebastian learned early on the futility of keeping secrets from me.”

  “Any thoughts on what the maid might have been searching for in the crowd?”

  “No, sorry. Most of my attention was focused on my daughter’s whereabouts.”

  “Quite understandable. She spoke to no one during the party?”

  “Of course she spoke to the guests,” Catherine said. “But she did not engage any of them in conversation. At least, not that I noticed.”

  Disappointment curled in Ethan’s chest. There had to be thousands of tall, dark-haired maids in England. Why he thought his dockside nurse and Catherine’s mysterious servant might be one and the same, he didn’t know. He would blame it on this seething desperation to bring the warehouse
incident to an end. His family had always accused him of being rather bullheaded when it came to resolving matters or protecting loved ones. For the first time, he could clearly see what they meant.

  “Thank you, Catherine.” He braced his hand against the windowsill and peered down at the garden. “Seems I have more missing persons to find. But do not fear. Giles takes priority over my personal needs.”

  “Sebastian remarked that the people who saved you are avoiding you. Why do you think that is?”

  “They’re not avoiding me, per se,” he said through tight lips, turning back to her. “More like, they do not wish to be found.” Her eyebrow arched again, so he clarified. “By anyone.”

  “When you find them, what will you do?”

  Ethan did not miss her reference to “when,” rather than “if,” he would find the cloaked figure and the maid. “Initially, I wanted to thank them and be done with the whole thing. Now that they’ve caused me a great deal of inconvenience, I have other, less pure thoughts traveling around in my mind.”

  “I don’t blame you.” She canted her blond head to the side. “Are you sure your interest does not go beyond gratitude?”

  “To what?” Ethan shook his head and began to pace. “No, there is nothing brewing beneath the surface of my interest. It’s unfinished business, that’s all.”

  “No desire to uncover the individual beneath the cloak?” she pressed.

  His eyes narrowed. “How much time have you been spending with Cora?”

  “Is that a polite way of saying ‘mind your own affairs’?” She grinned. “I suppose you’re right, but your curiosity has roused my own.”

  “Perhaps,” he said in a menacing tone, “I should continue my march up to Somerton’s attic and remove such temptation from your presence.”

  She rose, her lips fixed in a knowing smile. “If you insist, my lord.”

  The door burst open. “Mama!” A mop of blond and red curls streaming behind a miniature body ran into the room. Then the girl spotted him, and her pixie face lit up much the same as her mother’s had. “Ethan!”

  Sophie Ashcroft’s little body plowed into his midsection. She had changed directions so swiftly and with such force that the assault caught him off-guard. The impact of her enthusiasm forced out a whoosh of air between his lips.

  “Where have you been?” his assailant asked.

  After catching his breath, he looked down at the newly minted seven-year-old clinging to his waist. Her sparkling blue eyes danced up at him. They had only been acquainted a few weeks, but she had taken a distinct liking to him on sight. When it came to him, she respected nothing. Not his clothing, his space, or his time. She had an affinity for his lap and putting her grubby hands on his face while speaking to him from a mere three inches away. Ethan had no notion of what to do with her or her overabundance of affection. In this instance, he patted her shoulder.

  “Hello, banshee. Did you escape your grandmama again?”

  Her grin broadened. “Have you come to take me for a ride in the park?”

  “And have Teddy rip out my guts?” Ethan asked, recalling the stable lad who had been instrumental in thwarting a kidnapping attempt on his playmate. “I don’t think so.”

  She bent back to see him better. “Don’t be a silly goose,” she said. “Teddy’s in Showbury. He’ll never know.”

  “Sophie,” her grandmama said, coming into the room. “Do not call Lord Danforth a silly goose. It’s bad enough that you use his Christian name.”

  “Yes, Grandmama.” The girl’s blue eyes gazed up at him with an eagerness that did strange things to his chest. “May we go for a ride in the park?”

  Ethan grasped her narrow shoulders and stepped back at the same time, exerting pressure until her vine-like arms released their hold. “Just because your young man is miles away and will likely not hear of our escapades in the park doesn’t mean we should. Send him a letter and ask if he minds. If he gives you the nod, I will be happy to escort you about the park.”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “Why should I ask him for permission? He’s not a relative.”

  He inched toward the door. “A courtesy for saving your life.”

  “But I’ve already thanked him, plus Bastian hired someone to fix his sick mama.”

  Ethan glanced up to find Bastian, or Sebastian Danvers, Lord Somerton, in the doorway, looking upon the girl with fatherly affection. “All the same,” he said, feeling safer with another male nearby. “Get Teddy’s consent and then send me a note.”

  Sophie huffed a discontented breath. “That’ll take days.”

  Why, yes, it will. “Doing the right thing is not always the easiest path.” The sage advice sounded pompous, even to his ears. “Somerton, shall we begin our meeting?” He widened his eyes in a “help me” gesture, hoping his mentor would take the hint.

  “By all means,” Somerton said, though he did not look pleased. “Sophie, I will take you for a ride in the park once my business is done with Lord Danforth. Will that suit?”

  “Oh, yes, Bastian.” She lifted up onto her toes and clasped her hands together. “That would suit very well.” Her happiness dimmed a bit when she glanced at Ethan.

  To Catherine, Sebastian said, “I’ll be back in a half hour.”

  “Take your time,” she said. “Good day, Ethan.”

  He nodded to the women and followed Somerton to the study, trying desperately to put Sophie’s miserable little face from his mind. She was not the first female he had made unhappy today. When had he shifted from charmer to destroyer of happiness? He shrugged off the unpleasant realization. With all his other responsibilities, he had no time left to play nursemaid to a child, especially one with so much zest for life. Not only was he on a personal quest to uncover the identities of his saviors, but he also had a mission to complete. He had to verify Giles Clarke’s presence in Abbingale Home and then extract the boy.

  What Somerton planned to do with the Clarke boy after extraction, Ethan didn’t know. With the mother dead and no other living relative to contact—at least, none they knew of—the boy would likely wind up in another home, but one of Somerton’s choosing.

  First things first. Right now, he had to mentally prepare himself for one of the most important meetings of his life.

  ***

  While Somerton closed the study door, Ethan moved to stand before the earl’s desk and did his best to settle his nerves. All his preparation and dedication to the Nexus—and to Somerton—had led him to this moment. He was ready, both in mind and body. Stepping into the chief’s position would validate all his hard work and sacrifices.

  He would finally be a greater asset to the Nexus than a boudoir spy. Although he’d ventured outside that role in recent years, seducing information from women was the one that had defined his career and the one he had come to dread. In the early days, bedding beautiful women and coaxing away their secrets had been a young agent’s ideal mission. The assignments had brought him great physical pleasure without all the emotional aftermath. But, within a few short years, his expertise had felt more like a burden than a gift.

  Somerton drew up a chair. “Have a seat, Danforth.”

  “I hope I did not offend Catherine by my desire to make a hasty exit,” Ethan said. “She was kind enough to answer some questions, and the last thing I wanted to do was upset her.”

  “You’ll find Cat’s skin to be thicker than most women’s. Besides, she’s fully aware of Sophie’s impact on others.”

  “She’s a sweet girl, but I’ve no notion what to do with her.”

  “You don’t have to do anything with her. Next time, bring up the subject of horses and she’ll take it from there.”

  Ethan nodded, even though he thought there must be more to dealing with children than talking about four-legged animals with manes.

  “What questions did you have f
or Catherine?”

  “I took the opportunity to ask her about the unknown servant at Sophie’s birthday celebration.”

  “Still trying to make the connection between Cat’s maid and your benevolent stranger?”

  There were times, such as this, when Somerton’s questions made Ethan feel lacking in the intelligence arena. In this instance, the feeling trebled, because Ethan knew it was a stretch to connect a maid from the country to one in the city, especially one who moved about the docks with no care to her personal safety. He wondered what the spymaster would say if he knew Ethan’s thoughts had even wandered to Hunt Agency’s proprietress.

  “Conducting my due diligence, sir. Even though my mind finds little logic connecting the two, my gut is guiding me at the moment.”

  “Very well. Do not allow this issue to take priority over retrieving Giles Clarke, though.”

  This wasn’t the first time Somerton felt the need to deliver an unnecessary warning or command. Ethan refused to believe that the one mistake he’d made a few weeks ago warranted such greenling treatment. Outside a handful of missions with his friend Helsford, he had operated alone and had done so quite successfully. If Ethan wasn’t determined to remain on his best behavior today, he would tell Somerton what he could do with his advice. “Of course. As I told you before, I learned my lesson well and won’t veer from protocol again.”

  He studied Somerton, trying to gauge the man’s mood. But, as always, his mentor’s expression revealed nothing.

  “I think you know why I’ve asked to meet with you today,” Somerton said.

  “Yes, sir. I have an idea of the reason.”

  “I don’t think I have to tell you what a good and valued agent of the Nexus you’ve become.”

  Somerton did not dole out praise often, so hearing his mentor’s thoughts now made his chest swell and his back straighten. “Thank you,” Ethan said, swallowing back his emotion. “I am honored to be part of such a worthy cause.”