He released her and then smoothed the backs of his fingers over her upper arm. “My apologies, love. I’m not used to such squealing and fear I overreacted.”
The nurse smiled, though the beam seemed weaker than before.
Movement to the right caught his eye. An open-top carriage pulled to the side to speak with two women and a child on horseback. A ribbon of unease skipped down his spine. One of the riders sparked a faint sense of familiarity. He narrowed his concentration on the equestrienne with the yellow bonnet. Her seat was accomplished and her figure slender. Beneath the bonnet, he could see that her sable-colored hair was styled in a close-cropped fashion. It wasn’t until she tilted her head just so that he noticed the scar.
His chest rose on a harsh intake of breath. He knew of only one woman whose beauty was marred by such an unfortunate disfigurement.
Cora deBeau. Raven. One of the Nexus’s most valuable secret service agents. Once his comrade, now his enemy.
William spared a glance around the area to make sure no other agents lurked nearby. He detected none, but with the Nexus, one could never be certain. Sweat pebbled on his upper lip. He was torn between retreating to a safe distance and finishing his task. When he glanced back at the group of women, he found a footman on horseback staring right at him.
The toddler jangled the coin pouch. “Ducks, ducks, ducks.”
William grabbed the toddler from the carriage.
“What are you doing?” Margaret asked.
“Making it easy for us to cross,” he said. “Come along.”
With long strides, he set out for the other side. He heard a plop-ping sound, but paid it no mind. Master Henry started to fuss.
“Will, wait,” Margaret said. “He dropped your coins.”
He did not slow his pace.
“Go back,” the toddler said, stretching his body over William’s shoulder.
William smacked the boy’s bottom. “Hold still. We’re almost to the ducks.”
The swat rendered the child silent for all of three seconds and then he released a blood-curdling scream.
“Will, stop!” Margaret’s voice grew more distant. “Someone, help me. Please.”
Cursing, he half walked, half ran toward the dense tree line. About twenty feet away, he chanced a glance at the Raven and her group. Raven and the footman wheeled their mounts in his direction.
“Let me go!” the toddler yelled, wiggling in earnest. “Nurse!”
“Master Henry!”
The shadows from the canopy closed in around William, and the brush grew thicker. Another quick check behind him revealed he was no longer visible, though he could hear the distinctive sound of horse’s hooves bearing down on him.
He tossed the toddler over his shoulder, like a side of beef, and ran.
Twenty-three
A woman’s scream of terror pierced the serenity of Sydney’s outing. Craning her neck, she noticed a distraught woman standing at the edge of the gravel path and a gentleman carrying a child, walking quickly toward the woodlands. “What’s going on?” She rose to her feet for a better look.
“Stay here,” Mac commanded, with a severe look in her and Amelia’s direction. He kicked his horse into motion.
“Sophie,” Catherine Ashcroft said, “come to me.”
Sydney watched as the seven-year-old did as her mother bid, though her gaze kept slashing back to the unfolding tableau ahead. “What’s happening, Mama?”
“A minor family squabble,” Catherine said. “Nothing for you to worry about, but I want you to stay by my side, understood?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Rigby,” Sydney said to her driver, feigning nonchalance for Sophie’s sake, “I’m stepping down.”
“I’ll hold them steady, miss.”
Amelia laid a restraining hand on her arm. “You’re injured.”
Sydney patted her friend’s hand. “I’m not going far, I promise.” Using her walking stick, she thumped her way toward Cora, who sat on her horse, tense and ready, staring at the spot where Mac disappeared into the woodlands.
After Ethan had left that morning, Sydney had removed the bandage and noted the damage wasn’t as bad as she had feared. The knife wound was raw and tender, but barely deep enough to need stitches. She gave the area another thorough cleaning, lathered it with a foul-smelling salve left by Amelia’s apothecary and then she insisted on a drive through the park. Her decision was met with much tsking by her assistant and scowling by her bodyguard. With Mick gone to meet the thief-taker Cameron Adair, she was spared his opinion.
In the end, she won the row, reasoning they could use the opportunity to touch base with any of their service clients who might be in the park. Although they had not run across any clients, their paths had crossed with these three interesting young ladies.
Sydney sidled up next to Cora’s horse and noticed the agent’s right hand rested on something at her waist. Standing there calmly was one of the hardest things Sydney had ever done. Had Mick been with them, she would not have felt quite so anxious.
“I don’t like the feeling of this,” Cora said in a low voice.
“Nor do I.” Sydney couldn’t take her eyes off the place where Mac had disappeared. “That wasn’t a domestic issue.”
“No. How skilled is your footman under difficult situations?”
“Very. Though the child might complicate things.” Sydney peered up at Cora. “All appears to be well here. Perhaps, you might check on Mac while I speak with the child’s chaperone.”
The agent met her gaze; a wealth of understanding passed between them. Cora nodded and kicked her horse into motion.
Over her shoulder, Sydney said to Amelia and Catherine, “I’m going to go speak with the child’s—” she glanced at Sophie, “mother.”
In an uneven gait, she hurried to where the woman paced at the edge of the tree line. Given her attire and the way she referred to the child, Sydney doubted the woman was the child’s mother. More like his nurse. “Hello, I’m Sydney Hunt. Are you harmed?”
“I’m fine.” The woman paused. “What’s happening? Why would Will steal Henry?”
“I don’t know.” Sydney settled her hand on the woman’s back. “But my friends will bring back your child.” She prayed she was telling the truth.
“He’s not my boy. I’m Margaret Finley, his nurse. Was his nurse. Once Mr. Saunders-Dundas finds out I lost his heir, I’ll be sacked for sure.”
“Saunders-Dundas,” Sydney repeated, stunned. “Robert Saunders-Dundas?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the nurse said. “Do you know him?”
“Only by reputation.” Sydney’s mind raced. “Did you know the gentleman who ran off with your charge?”
Margaret’s face crumpled. “Not well. I met Will yesterday. He was so gallant and charming. Said he wanted to see me again today.” She blew her nose in a handkerchief. “What could he want with Master Henry?”
“What’s Will’s surname?”
Margaret’s gaze dropped to the ground, her eyes frantically shifting from side to side. “He never told me,” she whispered.
Sydney rubbed the nurse’s back, feeling an odd kinship with the woman. Movement near the tree line caught her attention. Cora guided her mount out, her expression murderous. The hope Sydney had been carrying in her heart plunged into her stomach. Then she caught a glimpse of Mac’s dark head.
Relief washed away the dread. They were both safe. But the child—her throat closed.
“Ducks,” a small voice cried. “Want to see ducks!”
Margaret’s head whipped up. “Master Henry.” She ran toward the trio.
The plump-cheeked child sat in front of Mac, waving his arms in frustration. She smiled and followed the nurse at a more sedate pace.
“Thank you, sir.” Margaret pulled the child from the saddle and hugg
ed him close. “Thank you so much.”
Sydney stepped closer to Mac and Cora, while the nurse cooed nonsensical words into her charge’s ear. “What happened?”
“He was not able to lose us in the woodlands like he thought,” Mac said in a quiet, dangerous tone. “So he dropped the child to distract us.”
Cora said, “When the kidnapper broke free of the underbrush, he knocked a gentleman off his horse and took off.”
“Everyone is all right?” Sydney asked.
“Yes.”
Sydney checked the nurse’s location before asking, “Who was it?”
“I don’t know for certain,” Mac said.
“But you have a guess.”
A muscle in Mac’s jaw jumped. “A loose one.”
“Mine is better than loose,” Cora said.
“Who then?”
“Lord Latymer.”
Twenty-four
Ethan sat in Somerton’s drawing room, listening with half an ear to the conversation around him. Anger, humiliation, frustration, and a heightened sense of expectation spiraled inside his mind like a child’s top spinning out of control. He’d said little since Somerton had retrieved him and Helsford from Brooks’s a half hour ago.
For the first time in his life, he hadn’t the faintest idea of what to say or how to act around his former mentor. Part of him wanted to apologize for being a damned fool and throwing away his chance at the chief’s position. Another part of him wanted to beat the manipulating bastard to a bloody, unrecognizable stump. Both notions turned his stomach sour and his heart cold.
Besides all that, the waiting scored his nerves raw. Cora and Catherine would be here any moment and then the group would discuss the latest regarding the Clarke-Latymer situation. Hours would pass before he could go to Sydney. He had so many questions. Was she Specter? Why did she become the elusive underworld spy? Who else knew? Why had she saved him and then disappeared?
Most of all, he simply wanted to be with her. Wanted to discuss Somerton’s test and how he’d failed it. Wanted to touch her, kiss her, hold her in his arms.
Sweet Jesus, forgive him. He wanted to bury every ounce of regret and disappointment in her warm body and have her soothe it all away.
“They’re here,” Somerton said from his position by the window.
Ethan rubbed his hands over his face and sat up a little straighter. Perhaps, if he could hurry their meeting along, he might still be able to see Sydney before going to White Horse Street and plucking Giles Clarke from Abbingale Home. Which reminded him that he still didn’t know why Sydney had been traipsing around the other night. So many questions.
A minute later, Catherine Ashcroft burst into the drawing room and went straight to Somerton at the window. “Good afternoon, Lord Helsford. Lord Danforth.” She peered up at her soon-to-be-betrothed. “Lord Somerton.”
The ever-serious spymaster’s lips stretched into a smile, and he dutifully bussed her proffered cheek. “Mrs. Ashcroft.”
“Ethan!” Sophie Ashcroft exclaimed, running into the room. She climbed onto his lap and wrapped her boney arms around his neck. “Wait until you hear what happened at the park. Oh! And I have a guillotine for Dragonthorpe.”
“Such a bloodthirsty banshee.”
She pressed closer, and Ethan felt his eyes go out of focus. “We have a surprise for you.”
“Do you, indeed.”
Her red-gold curls bounced excitedly. “Yes, but Mama said I must hold my tongue.”
“And how will you do that? With a pair of forceps?” He smacked his thumb and forefinger in front of her face, making her squeal. “Or with your fingers?” He moved his pinching fingers toward her mouth and then dove toward her rib cage.
Sophie let out a shrill laugh. “No, Ethan.” More giggles. “No. S-sstop.”
When she doubled over, trying to fight off his attack, he saw Sydney standing in the doorway of the drawing room, smiling faintly at their antics. He froze, his own tongue refusing to work.
The little she-devil in his lap yelled, “Surprise!” Sophie clapped her hands together. “We found them in the park.”
Sophie’s use of the word them snapped him out of his trance. He noted Cora joining Helsford near the sideboard and Amelia Cartwright moving to stand by a red-and-orange-striped chair against the wall.
“Miss Hunt and Mrs. Cartwright consented to join us for luncheon,” Catherine Ashcroft said.
Ethan rose, tucking the scrap of a girl in the corner of one arm. When he reached Sydney’s side, he glanced down at her cane. “Should you be up and about?”
“I could not have borne another hour of idleness.” She flipped a ruffle on Sophie’s dress back in place, garnering her a grateful smile. “The wound is not as bad as someone led me to believe.”
He had seen the bloody mess that was her leg before the apothecary had cleaned her up. No matter how superficial the cut had turned out, Ethan would always remember how she looked when Mac had first set her down on the bed. He recalled the suffocating constriction in his chest and the bleakness blanketing his mind. Never did he want to experience those feelings again.
Sophie cupped a hand around her mouth and whispered loudly in his ear. “Ask her to sit.”
The blood drained from his face at his thoughtlessness. He’d suffered knife wounds before and knew how they could pulse with fiery pain when upright too long. “Yes, of course.” Ethan offered Sydney his arm. “Miss Banshee has reminded me of my manners. We have a seat for you over here.”
Smiling at his helper, Sydney slid her hand into the crook of his free arm and allowed him to lead her to the chair he’d vacated.
“A moment.” Ethan lifted his arm away and then lowered Sophie until her feet touched the floor. Feeling charitable, he kissed the crown of her red-gold head. When she started to scamper off, he dug his fingers into her sides. She shrieked before bursting into giggles and breaking free.
He turned back to Sydney. “Now, where were we?”
“You are not to be trusted, I see.”
Ethan’s smile faded. “No.” He offered a hand of support while she eased into the chair.
“Miss Hunt might need this.” Somerton held out a small poppy-colored stool.
Nodding his thanks, Ethan placed the stool at Sydney’s feet. “May I?” He pointed toward her leg.
In answer, she jerked her head once. Her hand curled around the handle of her walking stick until her knucklebones were outlined in vivid detail beneath her taut skin. With as much gentleness as he could manage, he grasped the lower edge of her calf and settled the stool beneath her foot. By the time he finished, the back of his neck was damp.
With great reluctance, he lifted his attention to Sydney’s face to see what kind of damage he had reaped with his clumsy efforts.
Her eyes twinkled back. “Thank you, my lord. Perhaps you might encourage Mrs. Cartwright to join us over here.”
Thankful to have another task, Ethan located the assistant still standing against the wall. He marched over and lifted the red-and-orange-striped chair. “Follow me, if you will.” He set the chair next to Sydney’s and waved his hand toward it. “Mrs. Cartwright?”
Shoulders back, the small blond assistant strode forward and perched on the edge. “Thank you, my lord.”
Watching Sydney’s face carefully, Ethan asked, “Have you met the Earl of Somerton or Earl of Helsford?”
Features even, she shook her head. “I don’t believe we’ve ever been formally introduced.”
Ethan nearly smiled his admiration. She tiptoed along neutral ground by not being completely dishonest, nor completely truthful. “Lord Somerton, Lord Helsford. May I present Miss Hunt and her assistant, Mrs. Cartwright?” The gentlemen bowed and the ladies nodded.
“If you’ll excuse us,” Catherine Ashcroft said, towing Sophie from the room. “We’re going to
freshen up a bit before we sit down at the table. You have much to discuss while I’m gone.”
Ethan glanced between Sydney and Mrs. Cartwright, who were staring at Cora. “What happened at the park?”
“We interrupted a kidnapping,” Cora said.
Both Ethan and Helsford moaned. Even Somerton released a long, hissing breath.
“Do not glare at me, Ethan,” Sydney said. “Mac chased the man down. I merely spoke to the child’s nurse.”
“And what did you do, my dear?” Helsford asked Cora.
“I picked up the child after the kidnapper flung him to the ground.” Her eyes narrowed on the silent man across the room. “Do not even try to use this against me. I’m perfectly fine.”
Somerton raised an eyebrow at her rebuke. “Can I assume Catherine behaved herself?”
“Yes. She had Sophie to corral.”
When the three women exchanged glances again, Ethan demanded, “What are you not telling us?”
Cora nodded to Sydney. “The child is the grandson of Henry Dundas, Viscount Melville.”
This time, it was Ethan’s turn to silently communicate with the three other Nexus agents.
“First Lord of the Admiralty,” Somerton said.
“After the intruder ransacked your study, didn’t he leave Melville’s file lying out?” Ethan asked.
“Yes,” Somerton said. “A fact that seemed rather careless at the time. Did you identify the kidnapper?”
“Lord Latymer, sir,” Cora said.
Ethan realized no one knew how to react to the news. Because of him, his family—especially Cora and Catherine—was drawing Sydney into the fold. Their acceptance, however, did not extend to Nexus business. What they didn’t understand—and Ethan was reluctant to share her secret until he learned more—was that Sydney probably knew as much as they did about Latymer’s betrayal.
On top of that maze of logic, Sydney would never reveal her role as Specter, assuming she was Helsford’s informant. That secret would force her to remain cautious about her level of questioning.
Quite the muck.
“A warning?” Helsford asked.
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