by Cara Elliott
“You have to admit that your skulking around the castle in the dead of night does raise some unsettling questions,” he replied. “Like why you would have cause to visit the Gun Room at midnight?”
“Research,” she said tersely. “I needed a closer look at the mechanisms of a rifle for the next scene in my book, and for obvious reasons didn’t wish to answer questions as to why.”
“Ah.” Ducking under the low archway, Devlin led her into the enclosed rose garden.
“As for my other forays, I was following you,” continued Anna. “Which leads me to the fact that you, sir, still have a great deal of explaining to do.”
As in a game of high stakes cards, a quick decision was called for. “I suppose I do owe you an explanation. But first I must have your solemn promise that you’ll not tell a soul what I am about to reveal. Not even your sister.”
She took a moment to think it over. “That’s a reasonable request, assuming I have the same promise from you about keeping mum about my secret.”
He nodded.
“Excellent. Then we have an agreement.” Her lips curled up at the corners. “Do you wish to for us to prick a finger on one of the thorns and sign a pact in blood?”
“Such drama would make an excellent scene for Emmalina and Count Alessandro,” responded Devlin. “But no. I am content to take you at your word.”
“Thank you.” She set a hand on her hip, a gesture far more eloquent than words in conveying her impatience to hear what he had to say.
“You are correct in thinking I am here not merely to shoot Lord Dunbar’s birds or drink his excellent wines. I have been asked by someone in the government—
“Who?” demanded Anna.
“Never mind,” he said brusquely. “There’s no reason you need to know his identity.”
She scowled but didn’t argue, which he took as a signal to go on.
“I have been asked to keep an eye on Prince Gunther. As you know, he is not only a relation of the King, but also the sovereign of a small state in a region that is key to our alliance against Napoleon. The political situation there is rather tense at the moment, so if any accident were to befall him, it could have grave consequences for our country. That is to say, if we can’t protect the King’s own relative, how can we be counted on to be a reliable ally.”
“I see.”
Devlin was sure that she did. Anna was far too clever not to grasp the ramifications.
“So you are saying that the prince is in danger of being murdered by one of our fellow guests?”
“Not exactly. The man I work for says the information is unclear. There may be no threat at all. In which case I have wasted the effort of coming north.” He shrugged. “But as I am well paid for my time, I have little reason to complain.”
“You and the Home Office,” she mused.
“I didn’t say I worked for the Home Office.”
“Oh come now. Who else would be handling a threat to the King’s relative here on British soil?”
Damn. She was sharper than any other lady of his acquaintance. He would have to remember to be very careful with his words.
“I take it you have worked with the government before.”
“They hire me occasionally for certain missions where my skills may come in handy,” he replied.
“I did wonder how you obtained the precision instruments you lent to Wrexham when he was about to set off in pursuit of the villains.” Anna pursed her lips in thought. “Good Lord—you made them, didn’t you?”
“The man who employs me will once in a while have need of certain complex implements that are not easy to construct. He happens to know of my mechanical skills.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “The automaton you are making in your room—what purpose does it play for this mission?”
Devlin allowed a tiny smile. “None whatsoever. It’s purely personal. A wealthy collector has commissioned it, and if I can make it work, I will be paid a very large sum. Given the remote location and the filthy weather here at Dunbar Castle, it seemed likely that I would have time to kill, especially if the suspected plot proved nonexistent. So, like you, I brought along my work in progress to keep boredom at bay.”
“And here we have been running back and forth spying on each other, like actors in a stage farce,” said Anna with a rueful sigh.
“It has had its comedic moments.” The breeze had kicked up, and the sting of salty air from the nearby sea was prickling against his cheeks. “Come, let us walk for a bit.” Another archway led into another secluded space where the walls hung heavy with a profusion of tiny pink climbing roses.
She didn’t miss the edge in his voice. As soon as they had passed through the opening, she said, “But I’m assuming the drama isn’t over.”
Once again the gears in her head were whirring with military precision.
“Correct,” he admitted. “Yours is not the only room I’ve examined for telltale evidence. As of yet, I haven’t found anything to indicate there is a plot to harm the prince. The hunting incident could have been just what it appears—an unfortunate accident.”
“However, you aren’t convinced the threat is a farrididdle.”
“No.”
“Good Lord. Having seen me sneak into the Gun Room, it is no wonder you thought the worst.” Anna grimaced. “Though I am curious—for whom did you think I was working? I live an awfully staid life in London and have precious little opportunity for involving myself in nefarious intrigue.” She cleared her throat with a cough—or maybe she was simply disguising a laugh. “That is, except for those I create in my head.”
“That was certainly something I had to consider.”
This time, there was no mistaking her mirth. “Mayfair ballrooms are hardly a hotbed of treasonous plots and international deceptions. The only betrayals going on are those between husbands, wives, and lovers.”
“You might be shocked at what people will do for money or power,” said Devlin softly. “Or the simple thrill of doing something dangerous.”
Anna’s face paled. “And seeing as I was willing to sell myself to a rich husband in order to take care of my family, why wouldn’t I sell myself for any task if the price were right.”
Seeing her haunted expression, he quickly replied. “I didn’t really consider you a likely suspect. However I had to be sure.”
“Are you now?” she challenged. “Perhaps I’m clever enough to conceal my true motives behind the ruse of penning a book.”
Devlin shook his head. “That won’t fadge—the writing is too good.”
Her mouth slowly stretched into a grin. “You know exactly how to disarm an author.”
“I shall remember that when you’ve got your book knife pointed at my liver.”
“I’m not your enemy,” replied Anna. “But I imagine you have some ideas on who is—or might be.”
“There are several who stand out as possible suspects,” admitted Devlin.
“Who?” she asked eagerly, turning so quickly that her shawl snagged in the thorny vines.
“Anna,” he murmured, reaching out to untangle the finespun wool.
“That,” she snapped, “is exactly the tone of voice men use when they are about to say ‘don’t worry your pretty little head about such things.’”
“It is an exceedingly pretty little head,” he drawled. “And there really is no need to worry it with such things.”
“That’s not amusing.” A yank freed the shawl. “I would like to help.”
“I don’t see how you can,” he replied coolly.
“To begin with, if any one of your suspects is a lady—and I would wager that’s a good possibility—I have a far better chance of entering her room for a clandestine look around. My presence in that part of the castle will draw no undue attention, while you will have a much harder time of gaining access.”
She had a good point. He was not anxious to initiate another amorous encounter with Lady de Blois. Sacrifices for King and country wer
e all very well, but the idea of taking her to bed had lost its allure.
Still, what she was suggesting was too…
“And as for the men,” went on Anna. She paused to flash a brilliant smile. “I can employ certain wiles to charm information out of them that you cannot.”
His jaw tightened. “Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
“Because. It. Is. Dangerous.”
She uttered an oath that he had not ever heard outside the slums of Southwark. “Oh, and you are not facing peril if there is an assassin among us?”
“It’s different,” he muttered.
Her gaze sharpened to a steely stare. “If you are implying that I am helpless because of my sex, I just might fetch my book knife after all.”
Bloody Hell. How was it that Anna Sloane always found a way to put him on the defensive? He was usually adept at dealing with women and the diabolically complex way their brains worked. She, however, had gears and levers he had never encountered before.
Reminding himself that he was good at figuring out new mechanisms, he tried another approach. “Anna, this is not one of Emmalina’s exciting little adventures. It’s all very well to go dashing around courting danger on paper, but it’s quite another thing when the stakes are real.”
When she didn’t answer right away, Devlin began to congratulate himself. Conundrums were easy to solve if one simply exercised some patience and fortitude—
“Adventures on paper.” She stopped abruptly and perched a hip on one of the stone urns dotting the path’s verge. “Come to think of it, a prince in danger would add a very exciting element to my book. Emmalina has just arrived at a remote Scottish castle, and…”
“You swore an oath to tell no one!” exclaimed Devlin, adding a few words that ought never be uttered in front of a lady.
The breeze had tugged a few locks of hair free from her bonnet. Gleaming gold in the sunlight, they waved like tiny naval flags signaling the start of a battle.
Sure enough, the rumble of the big guns rolling out immediately followed.
“I swore to tell no one about this specific mission,” pointed out Anna. “Using it to inspire fiction was not part of the agreement.”
“The devil it wasn’t!” he snapped.
She lifted a brow.
“You are an imp of Satan in disguise,” he growled.
“Then we are well matched, aren’t we?” she countered.
Devlin sucked in his cheeks, trying to control the fierce twisting in his gut. It wasn’t just anger but fear. Fear for her safety…
Fear for his own detachment going up in smoke.
“I’m not a feather-headed widget,” she added. “I won’t do anything to imperil your mission.”
“And what of yourself, Anna?”
She looked away. “Lord Davenport—Devlin—I have become quite skilled at playing a role. You have seen for yourself that London Society sees me as a demure, dutiful young lady, a perfect patterncard of propriety, when at heart, that isn’t the real me at all. I am tougher than I might seem, and more of a pragmatist than you might think, because my family circumstances demanded I be so.”
It was true, conceded Devlin. She had unselfishly accepted a heavy responsibility, and had proved herself strong and steady with its weight on her shoulders.
Anna seemed to sense his wavering, for she quickly added, “And because people see me as naught but a sweet, biddable girl, you would be amazed at how comfortable they feel in confiding things to me.”
Devlin watched a scudding of shadows pass over her profile. “I’m frightened for your safety,” he finally confessed.
Her lips curled ever so slightly upward. “First of all, I can’t imagine you afraid of anything.”
Ha! I’m terrified of your wonderfully clever mind. I’m terrified of your intriguingly impish smile. I’m terrified of your sweetly sensual body. I’m terrified at how the walls around my heart seem to be crumbling into dust.
“And secondly,” she explained, “I am willing to set some parameters. I’m not a fool, and so I won’t do anything foolish.”
“Our definitions of ‘foolish’ may be at odds,” he pointed out.
She pondered that for a drawn-out moment. “Fair enough. Then how about we settle on a compromise. Let us agree to work together to discover if there is a plot to harm Prince Gunther. However, if and when you feel it’s getting too dangerous for me to be involved, I will stop.”
“You will obey my order?”
“Yes.”
His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What verbal loopholes am I missing here?”
She laughed. “None that I can think of at the moment.”
“Anna, I—”
“That was a jest. You have my promise. A word from you and I shall back off.”
“Truly?”
“Truly.”
Clasping his hands behind his back, Devlin took a silent turn around the urn. Did he dare make a deal with the Devil? She was right—her assistance would be invaluable. And no doubt Thorncroft would expect him to accept it without batting an eye. No sacrifice was too great for King and country. Including her life as well as his own.
“Damnation,” he muttered, uncertain, undecided. “If I say yes, I shall likely regret it.”
Anna crossed her ankles and smoothed at her wind-ruffled skirts.
“Damn, damn, damn.”
“Swearing and walking in circles is not the best way to come to a reasonable decision,” she murmured.
“I’m not feeling very reasonable,” retorted Devlin.
Because I’m devil-damned if I can describe the unreasonable emotions twisting my innards into a knot at this moment.
She eyed him as if he were a slightly slow-witted schoolboy struggling to add up a simple sum.
Her look provoked a fresh scowl. “You promise there will be no mechanical eagle or plot to murder a prince in your new book?”
“You drive a very hard bargain, sir. It is a great artistic sacrifice that you demand, but yes, you have my promise.”
“Oh, bloody hell,” he conceded, after pacing through another turn. “Very well. We have a deal. But I warn you, if you try to wiggle out of your promise I shall find the deepest, darkest dungeon in Christendom and lock you there until Doomsday.”
“Fair enough.” A smile bloomed on her lips. “Now enough of sparring with each other. Tell me whom you consider to be the most likely suspects.”
Chapter Sixteen
You were missed at the picnic,” said Caro, turning around from her dressing table as Anna entered her bedchamber. “I have much to tell you—”
“Alors, please sit still, Mademoiselle Carolina, while I fasten the last hairpins in place,” chided Josette. “The supper bell rang several minutes ago and I should not like for you to be late in joining the other guests.”
“Yes, do hurry. We ought not be rude,” said Anna, impatient to join the party in the drawing room. Her sister’s late return from the outing had precluded a private chat before the evening’s activities began. And while she was curious to hear about the day, it would have to wait. “We can talk about it when we retire for the night.”
“One of the carriages became stuck in a rut on the way back, and the one I was in stopped to help,” explained Caro. “So a number the others will be making a late entrance to the drawing room.” Looking unhappy at having to hold her tongue, she added, “You ought to know before we go down that Colonel Polianov seemed upset that you had not come. He kept dogging my steps all afternoon, asking all sorts of impertinent questions about you.”
“Indeed?” Anna’s attention snapped to full alert. Devlin had seen her nocturnal wanderings, so it was possible that Polianov had too. “How very odd. What sort of questions?”
“Oh, ones concerning your likes and dislikes, your habits. That sort of thing. I found it exceedingly odd too, especially as he’s been rather rude up until now.” Caro’s reflection in the looking glass sharpened to a speculative stare. “Yo
u must have had a reason for warning me to not to go off alone with him.”
“I was simply worried that he seemed an aggressive sort of man,” she answered, hoping to put an end to the subject. Given any encouragement, her sister’s vivid imagination could prove an impediment to the investigation. It would take some adroit handling to keep her off the scent. “His behavior was unsettling, but I think I was merely overreacting. Russians are simply…very Russian.”
“Lord McClellan’s behavior was even more unsettling. He kept staring and scowling…and trying to overhear what Polianov and I were talking about,” muttered Caro.
Yet another of Devlin’s prime suspects. The conversation was veering onto treacherous ground.
Before she could react, her sister asked, “You’ve had more worldly experience with men than we have, Josette. What’s your impression of the colonel and the baron?”
“I do not see much of the gentlemen guests,” replied the maid. “But downstairs there is always gossip. The colonel’s valet says he is a cold fish, and the house servants say Lord McClellan can be very moody.”
“It’s clear he dislikes the English,” murmured Anna. Servants often knew a great deal of intimate information about the people they served. Perhaps she could learn some useful information. “Do they give any reason why?”
“They say he has some very radical views on politics and equality for all men.”
“That must earn favor with the servants,” she mused.
Josette shrugged. “Most people do not like change, mademoiselle.”
A very keen observation. With her sharp eye and lively intelligence, the maid could be a very helpful ally, if handled with the utmost discretion, decided Anna.
Which would make it impossible for Devlin to deny the wisdom of sharing his secret and allowing her to be a partner in the hunt.
“I can’t help but be curious,” she said. “Is any other reason mentioned for Lord McClellan’s feelings for the English. It almost seems that there is a personal grudge of some sort?”
“Not that I have heard,” answered Josette. She finished threading a ribbon through Caro’s topknot and set the brush down. “Would you like me to ask?”
