by Robyn DeHart
He turned back to his companions. “What business is so urgent that we had to intrude upon a simple country ball?” Bennett asked as servants scurried out of the room. “I realize that we often have to be secretive about our meetings, but this seems a little extreme.”
“I’ve called you here because of a concerning matter,” Potterfield said after the servants had cleared. “As you know, Her Majesty was injured a few days ago at the opening of the Royal Ascot. Initially, we believed the injury was not serious, but it is apparent that it will take some time to heal.”
Bennett withdrew from his waistcoat, then grabbed a linen cloth from the basin and began drying his face and hands. He found a thin black ribbon in his coat pocket and after wringing the towel through his wet hair, he pulled it back and tied it into a queue. “What happened, precisely, as I was not there?” he asked.
“Someone bumped into her and she fell. Her ankle is quite swollen and it will take some time to heal up so that she can walk normally. The physician doesn’t seem to believe it is serious, merely an injury that will require her to be off her feet in order for her to heal,” Potterfield said.
“Did people see her fall?” Bennett asked.
“Not many, but some. She graciously stood and waved to those who had and made her way to the carriage, making a jest as she went. It wasn’t until she was seated again that we noticed the swelling. I called in her private physician straight away.”
Bennett eyed the two men. “The people already believe her too young and inexperienced to lead. It would be damaging to allow her to be seen limping and injured. This will only serve in weakening her reputation.”
“Precisely, which is why I’ve already arranged for Her Majesty to be taken somewhere until she heals,” Potterfield said. “She needs to be away from the prying eyes of London and the new palace.”
“And in the meantime what are people to be told?” Bennett asked. “I doubt it will help her reputation if the Queen takes a holiday.”
“That is why we are here.” Potterfield took a seat and motioned to Ellis. “After the incident, Ellis had an idea worth investigating and it would seem you were correct. Your cousin looks remarkably like Her Majesty.”
“A stand-in?” Bennett asked, understanding now why Ellis had pointed her out. There was no possible way for that woman to pose as Queen Victoria.
“You intend to have a simple country miss charade as the Queen?” Bennett asked. “That’s ridiculous.”
“She’s quite amiable,” Ellis said. “And intelligent. I can assure you, Evelyn is up to the task.”
“We would compensate her for the time she provides,” Potterfield said.
Bennett couldn’t believe the discussion. He was nearly on probation with the Brotherhood for following his instincts rather than orders, and yet they were going to bring in a girl who was barely gentry to impersonate the queen! The whole notion seemed asinine. He’d made no apologies for his methods. While they might be unorthodox, they often worked, even if they did stray from direct orders. This was madness. How could the man who was constantly criticizing Bennett’s unorthodox methods believe this was a good idea? Obviously it was up to Bennett to be the voice of reason.
“She is trustworthy? This is a most delicate situation,” Bennett said. “Think of the consequences if this ruse is unsuccessful. We can’t afford to have some girl go half-cocked and start spreading rumors about the queen or the palace or anything that takes place within its walls.”
“Evelyn is not a gossip,” Ellis said. “Trust me, she is perfect for this assignment.”
“We can use the girl for the Belgium opera performance and the people will be none the wiser,” Potterfield said. “She won’t need to speak, merely make an appearance. It will buy us some time for Her Majesty to heal and then we can proceed as usual.”
“How will she know how to behave properly? This is the queen we’re speaking of. Not any woman can stand in her place and behave accordingly,” Bennett said.
“Precisely why you’re here, Somersby.” Potterfield gave him a toothy grin. “You will train her and be her escort. Were you not already planning to attend that opera with her?”
“With Victoria, yes, she is my cousin,” Bennett said.
“Then nothing has changed with that,” Potterfield said.
He felt as if the world had turned inside out. He steered clear of proper Society as much as possible, yet he was the one chosen to teach the girl manners. “She is a woman.” One to whom Bennett had felt the powerful pull of attraction. This would never work. “Do you not think someone who is more genteel would be better for the task? Someone who is better with women?”
“Who would you suggest? Morton? He is the best among us with women, if that is the only requirement,” Ellis said.
“Morton is a fool,” Bennett said, flexing his fingers and then clenching them into fists.
“Precisely,” Potterfield said. “You were selected.”
“I don’t know the first thing about training women.”
“Can’t see that it could be more difficult than the training you do at Argyll.”
Their annual training exercises in Scotland covered everything from weaponry skills to extreme riding conditions, while Bennett himself had always been the lead trainer for hand fighting and proper defense. “I don’t see how teaching gentlemen the necessary skills to protect the monarch prepares me for this. Is Ellis to instruct her on his horse acrobatics as well?”
“Somersby, enough. This is not up for conversation or negotiation,” Potterfield said. “You will do this.” With that, he came to his feet.
Bennett could knock the man down with little more than a shove, yet he had to defer to his authority if he wanted to be a working member of the Brotherhood.
“Ellis, it is up to you to persuade your uncle to agree to this, tell them whatever you have to, but do not disclose the Queen’s injury. Somersby, you will work with her, teach her what she needs to know to pass as Queen for the Belgium opera.” Potterfield patted Bennett on the shoulder. “I shall make arrangements for you to be brought into the Queen’s cabinet so you have easy access to Miss Marrington. In the meantime, Lynford will go with me tomorrow as we settle Her Majesty in her new location. The two of us will be the only ones who know of her whereabouts. To keep things safe.”
“You are bringing the priest with you?” Ellis asked.
“She is still unmarried,” Potterfield said.
“Her reputation will most assuredly be safe with Lynford then,” Bennett said. “Those foolish oaths of his.”
“Now then, I am going to head back to London.” Potterfield looked pointedly at Bennett. “You will follow your orders, understood?”
“Understood,” Bennett said. Technically Bennett outranked Potterfield, at least in the aristocracy, but here in the Brotherhood, Potterfield was in charge and he doled out the orders as best he saw fit.
Bennett knew Potterfield was punishing him for “disregarding orders.” Still, Bennett maintained he made his choices for good reasons. He had excellent instincts, and compliant or not, his calls had been the right ones on more than one occasion.
After Potterfield left, Bennett and Ellis agreed to change and meet back downstairs. If Bennett was to be working with the girl, he’d need to observe her, see what he was up against.
Twenty minutes later Bennett was on his way downstairs, clean and in dry clothes, clothes that were not exactly meant for a ball, regardless of it being in the country. He did not intentionally engage Society more than his work required of him. He’d been raised in it so he was perfectly capable of tutoring any young chit on the manners and expectations of the queen’s court, but it was an absurd waste of his talents.
“I don’t know about you, but I feel a hell of a lot better in dry clothes,” Ellis said from behind him. The man was shorter by nearly a head. “Shall we?” He led them over to where his cousins stood.
Bennett did his best to keep his eyes off Evelyn Marrington; ins
tead, he focused his attention on her father, Sir Marrington.
“Cousins,” Ellis said, inclining his head to the women with a fond smile. “Uncle.” He shook the older man’s hand, then bent over his aunt’s hand. “Aunt.”
“Ellis, I do hope you’re well,” Sir Marrington said.
“Indeed,” he said jovially.
“My dear nephew, do not be rude and deprive us an introduction to your handsome friend.” Mrs. Marrington smiled up at Bennett, then gave a curtsy, her manner simpering.
“Bennett Haile, Earl of Somersby, my aunt, Lucinda Marrington, and her daughters.” He spoke their names, but the one who held his attention was Miss Evelyn Marrington.
Bennett bowed his head, but before he could say anything, Mrs. Marrington pushed herself forward, both physically and conversationally.
“Dear nephew, have you forgotten that my dear Portia recently married the Viscount Handlebrook? And it will be news to you that our Jillian is newly betrothed to the Earl of Bellview.” She smiled at Bennett, her gaze gleaming with calculated intent. “Our Evelyn hasn’t made her match yet.”
He allowed his eyes to fall to Evelyn Marrington. Her whiskey-colored eyes locked on his and the intelligence shining there drew him in, the proverbial moth to the flame. He’d always been attracted to clever women, but he knew from experience they were the most dangerous. Silly and foolish girls could be irritating, but they did not have the skills to be cunning.
Miss Evelyn Marrington’s eyes were not her only fine feature. Her blazing hair fought against the constraints she’d put it into, the vibrant ringlets framing her face. Her figure was the soft and curvy kind that made him want to lock them in his bedchamber and explore every delicious inch.
The woman in question rolled her eyes. “Mother, please,” she hissed. Her delicate complexion did nothing to hide her embarrassment, and it only increased as they stood there in awkward silence. Mrs. Marrington was waiting—apparently—for him to drop to one knee and instantly propose to her middle daughter. Miss Marrington looking as though she was waiting for the ground to open up and swallow her.
For a moment he was tempted to dust off his rusty manners, step forward, and put her out of her misery by asking her to dance. He ruthlessly squelched the urge. He refused to indulge Mrs. Marrington’s fantasies that he might make an appropriate suitor, or Miss Marrington’s for that matter. Although her mother’s pushiness clearly embarrassed her, the interest in her gaze was unmistakable. No, neither of them needed encouragement, and he certainly didn’t need to break the girl’s toes before they brought her to London.
“May I have this dance, dear cousin?” Ellis asked.
Miss Marrington hesitated for an instant and her mother, entirely lacking in grace, nudged her. “Evelyn, don’t be daft, dear,” her mother said.
Evelyn blinked her eyes slowly, and it seemed she suddenly became aware of her mother and cousin.
Ellis held his arm out and she reluctantly took it, disappearing into the crowd on the dance floor.
Only then did Bennett take a breath.
Chapter Two
“Ellis, what are you doing here in Epping? You rarely visit and you certainly have never brought guests,” Evelyn asked once they began their dance.
“Can a man not come out to see his favorite cousins?” he asked.
“I suppose, but you don’t. Or you have not until tonight.”
He chuckled. “You are a suspicious sort.” Then he gave a slight shrug. “Though I suppose in this situation your suspicions are not unwarranted. I came to speak with you.”
Ellis was five years her senior, which was just enough that they’d never been particularly close, and while they’d always been friendly, she could think of absolutely no reason why he would want to talk her alone.
Did it have something to do with Lord Somersby? Was Ellis conspiring to marry her off, too? She looked in the direction where the earl had previously stood, but he was gone. A pang of disappointment shot through her. Not that she wanted to pursue anything with him, but he was a feast for the eyes. He had a face and form the likes of which she rarely had the opportunity to appreciate.
She swallowed and nodded. “Very well. Perhaps we should walk instead of dance.”
“Excellent idea.” He led her off the dance floor, then looked back to where they’d left his travel companion with her family. “Bennett will likely have my head for leaving him there with your mother and sisters, but I have something to discuss with you in private.”
Private. In her experience there were only two reasons she was ever called in for a private discussion. The first because her mother was disappointed in her lack of interest in securing a good match, and the second because her father wanted her to know that her mother was a nervous sort and to not heed her warnings. Evie didn’t think her cousin wanted to talk about either of those things. “This all sounds so mysterious, Ellis. Do hurry and tell me, as you’re making me quite nervous,” Evelyn said.
He chuckled. He maneuvered them to a quiet corner, far from the crowd. “Have you ever heard any rumors about me?”
She eyed him a moment, trying to gauge if his question was sincere. How was she supposed to answer that? It was not in her nature to be dishonest, but much of what she’d heard about her cousin was so sensationalized. “I suppose, nothing too salacious though. Merely about your past time.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “And that you are an excellent rider.”
“That I am.” He glanced around them. “The others—are they about me working for the Crown?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Some ancient organization, I’ve heard.” She waved her hand dismissively. The stories she’d heard whispered seemed so outside the realm of believability, she didn’t dare whisper them aloud for fear he would laugh at her. Besides, she didn’t want Ellis to think she was a simpleton to listen to such gossip. “Sounds fairly preposterous to me.”
“It is true. I do, in fact, work for a secret organization for the Crown.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it when he nodded.
“While I cannot give you many details, suffice it to say that much of what you’ve probably heard is true. And it would seem that we find ourselves in need of some assistance. Very particular assistance.” Chagrin flickered across his face. “From you.”
Her heart stuttered. Unless they needed an awkward country miss, it seemed unlikely she had anything to offer them. “From me? Whatever could I do?”
“That I cannot tell you, at least not yet. I merely need you to understand that your country needs you. Are you amenable?”
She held up a hand. “So you’ve told me that you work for a secret government agency, though you can give me no details about it. And now you have some cryptic assignment for me, but can give me no details about that either.”
“More or less.”
“Will it be dangerous?” Her breath caught as she considered the possibility.
They stepped out of the ballroom and onto a large balcony overlooking Lady Fenwick’s gardens, nearly colliding with Lord Somersby.
“Perfect,” Ellis said, turning Evie over to the earl.
“Wait, Ellis,” she said. “What do you—?”
“Somersby will explain,” Ellis said as he made a quick departure around the corner and back into the ballroom.
The earl’s muscles tightened beneath her hand, reminding her that she’d fallen into the man’s arms and still hadn’t righted herself. She looked up at him, feeling slightly tongue-tied, not something she was terribly accustomed to. Abruptly she moved away. She rarely had contact with anyone but the local gentry, and Somersby was nothing like them. He was nothing like any local man Evie had ever met, which was perfectly absurd.
“Am I to believe you are one of Ellis’s cohorts?” she asked.
His scowl deepened. “Cohorts? What do you mean?”
“Accomplices.”
“That word does imply nefarious—”
“You know what I mean, Lord Somersby. Are
you one of my cousin’s professional associates?”
He hesitated for an almost imperceptible instant. “Yes.”
“And that is why you are here?”
He nodded.
“To… to recruit me for some secret purpose?” When she said it aloud, it sounded far more exotic than anything Ellis had said. Excitement surged through her. This man, with his imposing size and constant frown, might represent the only adventure she ever had.
He glanced around the balcony. A few couples walked together, arm in arm, or with the lady’s hand quite properly placed upon her escort’s sleeve, as was Evie’s. She looked again at her gloved hand draped onto his forearm. When had she placed it there? She hadn’t. Obviously he had done that and she had missed it entirely.
“This is not the best time or place to discuss the mission, Miss Marrington.”
Her strange musings stopped mid-thought as she realized there would never be a time or place for her to speak privately with Lord Somersby. Even now her mother must be beside herself with anticipation of an imminent proposal. She needed to get away from Somersby before anyone else drew any conclusions, either. “It must be now or never, my lord.”
He pulled her to a slightly more secluded area. “A situation of national importance has arisen, and we…well, we need a woman to assist us in dealing with it.”
He was so very earnest, and Evie found that incredibly attractive. No one ever took her seriously, not even her father, though she knew he loved her dearly.
“What would you have me do?” she found herself asking. “I have no special skills, unless you need something written, but certainly men in your positions could find someone with more experience in that area.”
“Written?”
She frowned up at him. Obviously he did not know what she was talking about. “My lord, if my cousin did not tell you about my writing, if he even knows about it, I do not see what I can possibly—”
“I am not free to disclose the nature of our mission, Miss Marrington. I don’t even believe it is a good idea.” He cast a disparaging glance toward the door through which Ellis had made his exit.
