Dangerous Pursuit (Lords 0f Whitehall Book 1)

by Ann Chaney

  Tired of dancing around the problem, Richard mimicked Moreham’s stance. “What’s important now is the lady is safely back in Hanover Square. Snug in her bed.”

  “It’s your opinion this debacle is over. You couldn’t be more wrong. Arnold is refusing to talk to anyone but Lady Serena.” Moreham motioned to the carriage. “You will return to Hanover Square and bring the lady here. I want this matter resolved before daybreak.”

  Speechless, Richard stared at his superior. He shook his head in disbelief. Moreham wanted him to bring Serena here in the middle of the night? With no chaperone?

  Moreham lowered his voice. “This is the closest we have come to learning about the true purpose of Mrs. Ramsey’s salon. We need Serena to talk to him. Before you suggest we hand him over to the Alien Office to get our answers, doing so will take longer and I don’t want to wait a second longer than we must. Once Arnold’s compatriots learn of his abduction, they’ll scatter like ants fleeing a smashed anthill. Fetch her. Now.”

  Left with no recourse, Richard nodded to the coachman who’d heard all that had been said and climbed back inside the carriage. Moreham slammed the door and stepped back as the carriage moved forward. The repercussions of climbing that trellis into Serena’s bedchamber dogged his every step.

  An hour later, Burley House was shrouded in darkness. His coachman continued down the street past the townhouse before coming to a halt. Richard left the carriage after glancing all around to ensure no one was about. He made his way once more into the back gardens.

  He could not believe he was about to break into the Earl of Burley’s house, a second time. Should the earl ever learn of his late-night visits, Burley would pull that old ceremonial saber that hung over the library fireplace and skewer him. Serena’s father might be obsessed with orchids, but he was a bloodthirsty sort about family honor.

  He made his way to the trellis. Ready to climb when he heard rustling. He looked up to find Nettie, wearing a woolen cloak watching him. He started to speak but she motioned for him to follow her. Why did his gut roil as he entered the townhouse through the same door, he’d exited barely four and twenty hours before?

  The maid opened the morning room door and stepped aside for him to enter. Serena stood by the fireplace dressed in a day gown and a woolen cloak. He kept his peace until Nettie closed the doors behind him and took her place in the shadows. It would not do for Serena to be alone with him in the dead of night. Not that he had any desire to take advantage of the headstrong vixen.

  “You knew I would be returning? Why not share your thoughts with me and save me from another carriage ride tonight?” He motioned at her from head to toe. “Never mind, we are wasting time. Moreham sent me to escort you to the safe house where he is holding Arnold. He’s agreed to talk, but will only talk to you, you knew that would be the circumstance, didn’t you?”

  “Can you honestly say you would have agreed with me if I’d asked to go with you? My only thought was if you are correct about Arnold, then he is more cunning than any of us can imagine. Courting a duke’s ward? Managed to secure a position at Whitehall? He’s not a dullard.” She reached for her reticule. “All of this fuss about talking only to me is a delaying measure on his part. Why? I don’t know, but I’m sure we’ll find out when he wants us to know.”

  Richard took hold of her arm. “Our methods to encourage Arnold to talk will take time. Time, Moreham believes we do not have. Therefore, since you’ve been cooperative enough to anticipate this turn of events, shall we be off?”

  “You want me to go out into the night with you, and talk to this cretin? What about all that talk about my safety? Don’t you and the others know how to deal with his sort?” He winced. The lady wanted her pound of flesh for his earlier insistence she return home.

  “Yes, your safety is my first concern. Yes, I will be by your side every second to ensure you are never at risk. Yes, we do know how to deal with the Percy Arnolds of this world, but tonight we believe having you talk to him is the best course of action. Now, will you come with me and help us?” Richard winced at his request. How he abhorred asking her to face the weasel. He wanted to walk out of the room and not look back. Doing so was not an option.

  “Very well, I am not going with you alone. Nettie will be going with us. I will not tempt ruination a second time.”

  He led the women through the back garden into the mews. Richard still did not breathe easily until they were heading out of London. Moreham’s estate was located near the village of Swithin-on-the-Thames, an easy ride to Town. Moreham used the dower house as a safe house for his government activities. Known to spend time at the estate, Moreham’s comings and goings weren’t remarked upon.

  The ride to Swithin was quiet. No one spoke. This was one of those times when words were not needed. Nettie sat next to Serena, while he sat on the opposite seat. Serena kept touching her oversized reticule. Nettie glared at him. He tried to discern where he had lost control of the night. In the end, he blamed Percy Arnold.

  The carriage slowed, coming to a stop in front of the dower house. The residence was perfect for their activities.

  Richard reached over and squeezed Serena’s hand. “Stay close.” He ordered before turning his attention to her maid. “Nettie, the housekeeper will see to your comfort. We shouldn’t be long.”

  Nettie started to say something but remained quiet as Serena shot the older woman a severe look. The carriage door opened. A footman handed the maid down from the carriage. Richard left the carriage, waving the footman away. He would be the one to offer Serena assistance. He watched her face as her wary gaze took in her surroundings. He extended his arm to her and she smiled up at him. That smile did not reach her eyes. She did not trust him. Richard understood—he didn’t trust her either.

  Richard forced all expression from his face as they stepped over the threshold. It would not do for the others to see how Serena’s presence affected him. Every moment since he’d greeted her at the ball the previous evening had been leading to this, his point of no return. Her reputation, his feelings for her, hers for him were hanging in the balance as they walked into his world of subterfuge and illusion. He wanted to take Serena’s hand and run in the opposite direction as fast as they could. It was too late to escape.

  Chapter 7

  So, this was what it was like to have an adventure. Serena shivered with anticipation and drew her reticule closer to her body. Still unloaded, the solid weight of her old pistol reassured her.

  There was no one in the front hall as Richard removed her cloak. A woman garbed in black from head to toe appeared from a servant’s door near the stairs. She and Nettie left Serena standing with Richard, alone in the entryway.

  It didn’t sit well with her that Nettie had complied with Richard’s directive without complaint. Had she told her the same, she’d have received a lecture about comportment and safeguarding her reputation. Trepidation shot through her. Whatever was she doing chasing spies in the middle of the night? This escapade was getting out of hand.

  “The others are waiting.”

  She wanted to ask who these others were. Had there not been enough surprises for one night?

  Richard led her into a sitting room decorated in hues of pink. Whoever decorated this particular room had undoubtedly purchased every bolt of the sweet hue for sale in the London warehouses. Chintz and lace covered every chair. Pillows graced every settee. The walls were papered with pink roses. She could not keep a giggle from surfacing as she realized there were two men in the middle of all this, well, pinkness. Two men, she knew.

  “My lords, I must say seeing you here is rather surprising.” She curtsied as they bowed.

  Sturmbridge motioned for her to join them on the rather dainty chairs encircling the fireplace. She sat and waited for the three men to do the same.

  “Richard, you made good time,” Sturmbridge stated with all the aplomb of an elegant dandy enjoying a cup of tea in her Hanover Square drawing room. She jumped a bit when he t
urned his attention to her. “Welcome Lady Serena, please accept our apologies for rousting you from your bed. I assure you, if there had been any other way—”

  “There wasn’t,” Crossley bit out from clenched jaws.

  So, the earl did not like her being involved. Well, that made two of them, but neither she nor he had a choice.

  Silence filled the room as Sturmbridge and Crossley stared at each other. She looked at Richard who shrugged. Both men seemed to realize at the same moment they were making a scene. She bit back a smile as the two men stiffened, resembling two cockerels at odds.

  Her heart skipped a beat when both gentlemen gifted her with one of their infamously charming smiles. No wonder there was such a high demand for unmarried women to have chaperones. These men, including Richard, possessed a titillating charm that could be lethal to any lady’s sensibility.

  Fortunately, she knew how to handle their consequence. She’d grown up in a male household and had learned a thing or two about masculine foibles.

  “My lord.” She smiled at Sturmbridge. “You were Richard’s accomplice earlier tonight?”

  “Ah…yes. I was there.”

  “You were also the gentleman who took a rather unexpected swim in the Serpentine last week, weren’t you?” Serena asked in all innocence or so she hoped he thought.

  The viscount’s face reddened at her question. Ever the rake, he recovered with a grin and leaned over and murmured in her ear.

  “I would enjoy telling you the truth of that dunking sometime.”

  Serena laughed while Richard elbowed Sturmbridge out of the way, took the chair next to her and glared at the other two men.

  “Lady Serena, this is no laughing matter.” Crossley chided. The earl had always been the more serious of the gentlemen. He and Sturmbridge, the jokester of the group, sat on the other side of Richard.

  “My lord, I assure you I am fully aware of the importance of being called from my home in the dead of night to meet a traitor. Now, where is Mr. Arnold?”

  Crossley nodded in the direction of the library door. “In the room across the hall under guard. He has been restrained and can in no way hurt you.”

  “I will remain by her side throughout her visit,” Richard spoke up with a loud voice. The other two men did not challenge his assertion. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity.

  “Shall we give the man what he wants?” she asked no one in particular.

  “We must wait for Moreham. He said he wanted to be here when you spoke with Arnold.” Crossley explained. “Sent word you arrived. He’ll join us momentarily.”

  The click of the door handle served as a period to Crossley’s assertion. She and the gentlemen all rose from their seats. Moreham entered the room and closed the door before executing a courtly bow to Serena who responded with an equally impressive curtsey.

  “Hello, my dear, so good of you to come.”

  Serena swallowed hard to keep her fit of giggles from erupting at the sight of the spymaster surrounded by all the frills of a lady’s boudoir and his ever so proper greeting. This was most definitely a first for them. Their usual meeting spot was on Rotten Row exercising their horses at dawn before the rest of Polite Society rose from their beds.

  Moreham accepted the glass of brandy Crossley handed him. He sipped the liquor and set the glass aside. “Serena, Mr. Arnold hasn’t been very cooperative with us this evening. We are in need of your special touch. Mr. Arnold came to our attention when we received word from a servant of Mrs. Ophelia Ramsay that there were strange happenings at the lady’s salon on Wednesday afternoons.”

  “I’ve attended several times with Aunt Philly over the last few months.”

  “Yes, you have. Whitehall has received a list of names…gentlemen who attend the salon. Arnold’s name was on the list. Word is the gentlemen do not attend the salon but adjourn to the lady’s library. Have been told the group calls themselves The 1804 Society. It is my belief those men are conspiring to cause mischief with the government.

  “We need you to interrogate Arnold. Find out what you can about The 1804 Society. No detail is insignificant. Do you think you can do that for us?”

  She heaved a deep breath before replying, “yes, I can. Lead the way. I’ll do my best.”

  “Good, that’s all I ask.” Moreham nodded to the others and the lords stood.

  Sturmbridge and Crossly made their way to the double doors of the sitting room. Richard tarried and took her arm then led her into the corridor. A moment later a brawny man who she assumed was a guard opened the massive carved door. Richard stepped behind her, so she was sandwiched between him and Crossley. She peeked over Crossley’s shoulder to see what she could see.

  The guard returned to his post next to a second guard. Both sat in uncomfortable wooden straight back chairs…watching. Arnold sat in the middle of the room devoid of all other furniture. Even the walls had been stripped of wallpaper and painted white. No pink flowered wallpaper to distract, she supposed.

  Arnold’s arms were tied behind his back and his feet bound to the front legs of the chair. The gag from earlier in the carriage had been removed.

  The captive showed no emotion. He glared at Crossley before turning his gaze to her. This man wasn’t the same man she’d danced with earlier that night. That man had been simpering with his attentions. Always talking about nothing.

  In other words, he fit right in with the other dandies. Was Richard cut from the same cloth as Arnold? Saying what she wanted to hear?

  Arnold tilted his head back and grinned at her. His gaze traveled from the top of her head to her toes with insulting thoroughness. She had no doubt the crude man was undressing her bit by bit in his mind. Had her father or brother witnessed such behavior they’d have called out the scoundrel to duel at sunrise. Neither would have deloped.

  Her companions remained stoic. Arnold laughed. “Good evening or rather good morning, Lady Serena. So glad Moreham complied with my wish. Smart man, your spymaster.”

  Richard muttered a curse and pulled her closer to him, her back against his chest. She understood his reaction. Arnold’s insolent perusal chilled her bones. She was glad Richard said he’d remain with her. She didn’t relish the notion of being alone with Arnold.

  “Enough,” Crossley barked. “Your manner is insulting to the lady.”

  Arnold shrugged. “I find myself rather tied up with no place to go. Thought a pretty face to gaze upon was the least you Whitehall lords could do for me.”

  Crossley lunged forward.

  She reached for his arm and tugged him back. “He’s goading you. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

  “She’s right. He wanted to talk to her. She’ll be fine. I’ll see to it,” Richard assured his friend.

  Crossley gave their prisoner one last thunderous look and followed the two guards out of the room. The closing of the door echoed in the empty room like a gunshot.

  Serena directed her attention back to Arnold. “I feel I must warn you. Don’t think I am the least bit sympathetic to your plight.”

  “My lady, it was so good—”

  “It is not the afternoon in Mayfair, and we are not conversing over tea,” she interrupted him. “I am here because I love my country. My brother serves with General Wellington on the Iberian Peninsula. I will do whatever I am asked to do to ensure my brother and others live to return home. Do not doubt, should you cross us, you’ll be shot where you sit without a single qualm or regret. Please make one wrong move. Any one of my friends would relish the opportunity to put a period to your miserable existence.”

  Arnold reared backward at her words. He blinked before taking a slow breath. She’d rattled him. That was good. He lifted his chin before answering her. “I admire your devotion and integrity. I, however, suffer from no such morality. My motivation is greed. I go to the highest bidder. Napoleon and his need to conquer means nothing to me but his gold allows me to live in a manner I enjoy. My message to you is I will accept the King’s coin just as
easily.”

  “You want me or these men to offer you more coin than the Corsican? You will sell your honor?” Serena never took her intent off the little snake. Her stomach pitched as she stared into his black eyes. The darkness there filled her heart with despair.

  Percy Arnold watched her for a moment before speaking. “I sold that esteemed principle long ago, my lady. I have infiltrated a group of lordlings that are sympathetic to Napoleon and his desire to rule the world. My association is strictly for profit. I enjoy wearing Weston’s jackets and shooting Manton’s pistols, but such quality costs money and I abhor working for coin. Your intrusion in my affairs this evening will bring a halt to my pursuit of the lovely Miss Browning. A man does what he must to survive in this world.”

  She ignored his rambling. “What is the purpose of The 1804 Social Club?”

  “If you know about the club then you know as much as I do, but I’ll play along. A group of gentlemen meet to discuss a myriad of topics. The gentlemen are not slow tops. They are a group of peers who fear revolution much like what happened in France occurring in England. They see Napoleon as a man who can see us through such a struggle. I am a paid courier between these men and the French. You would be surprised at the depth in their ranks. Your own father could be a member and you would not know it. I can confirm that Mrs. Ramsay has no knowledge of what goes on in her library.”

  “Keep my father’s good name out of it,” she snapped. “Stop wasting my time and tell me what you want me to know.”

  He grinned. Serena did not look away from him. She watched his eyes as she spoke. She wanted to see if he would react to anything she said. There was no twitch, no blinking and no looking away from her. The man was being truthful, at least so far.

  Arnold shrugged his shoulders and smiled at her. “It would appear I have your attention, my lady.”

  The man was insane. Her friend, Gillian Browning had a near miss this night when he was captured. She didn’t want to think about what would have happened if they had failed to take him into custody.