“My daughter, Mariah,” Papa said in a wintry tone. She curtsied. “Mariah, would you please excuse us,” he added with a significant look.
Lord Camden gave her a faint nod. “Lady Mariah.” Again he turned back to Harry, as if he were a curiosity the viscount couldn’t take his eyes off of. For a moment there was silence as Camden stared at Harry and Harry stared back. “Let her stay,” said Camden thoughtfully. “I suspect she will be relevant.”
Relevant! As if she ordinarily weren’t! Mariah blinked, then looked at her father, whose eyes narrowed. He drew breath to speak, but Camden went on before he could. “You have the look of your mother about you,” he said to Harry. “Is she well?”
Harry’s grip on her hand tightened for a second, then eased and slid away. “Yes.”
The viscount made a noise in the back of his throat. “Does she know where you are?”
Harry hesitated, then shook his head once.
“Good.” Camden turned back to Papa. “What is your complaint against him?”
Papa drew himself up. “It is a private matter, sir, one I shall deal with myself.”
Camden harrumphed. “He tangled with your daughter, didn’t he? Looked far above his station and dared to approach a young lady whose handkerchief he wasn’t fit to hold.” Beside her, Harry stiffened but said nothing. “I am not surprised,” Camden went on, slewing a sour glance at him. “I should have expected as much, perhaps.”
“That is not true!” Mariah burst out. “I begged him to come to see me! I sought him out every chance I could! How dare you say he’s not fit to hold my handkerchief, you—”
“Is the harm irreparable?” Camden asked her father, whose face was mottled red with temper again. Now both of them looked ready to send Harry to the hangman.
She hated being talked about as if she weren’t there. “Yes, it is!” she said before her father could respond, unconsciously stepping in front of Harry as if to shield him. “I am irreparably in love with him! I will never marry anyone else—I shall never receive another gentleman, and if you force me to marry someone else, I shall leave him! I shall live the most scandalous life London has ever seen—” She cast about wildly for anything else she could use to frighten her father with. “—and I will never see or speak to you or Mama ever again!”
“Mariah,” her father said, his face now white—with fury or with hurt, she didn’t know. “You will retire to your room. You are overwrought.”
“No! Not until you swear to me you won’t do anything to him.” She folded her arms and silently defied them. A touch on her shoulder startled her.
“I think I can speak for myself,” Harry said with a faint, wry smile. “Not quite so eloquently, perhaps, but you’d better let me have a go.”
“Oh.” Flustered, she retreated to his side. Her allegiance was unchanged. If her father wanted her to leave the room now, he would have to drag her out himself.
Harry looked over Mariah’s shoulder. John Stafford gazed at him with opaque eyes, not making the slightest effort to control the situation for better or worse. That was different, but no less than he deserved. He took a deep breath and turned back to Doncaster, ignoring the other man in the room. “I have never done a moment’s harm to Lady Mariah.”
“She thinks otherwise,” said Camden, who looked almost fiendishly pleased Harry was speaking for himself.
She rounded on him. “I never said that! He never did anything to hurt me—”
“Not all harm is violence, young lady,” Camden snapped. His eyes ran over Harry again. “But let him speak: what has he done?”
Finally, Harry turned his full attention to Camden. “I have done my job.”
“She was never part of that.”
“No?” Harry raised his eyebrows. “And yet she was in the coach when the radicals lit a powder keg beneath it.”
Camden pressed his lips together in a furious scowl.
“What the devil,” said Doncaster, angry once more. “Why have you been sneaking around my house like a thief, trifling with my daughter? Answer me, sir!”
“Now, that only he can answer,” said Camden. “But he does have an honorable reason to be about London, particularly when not himself. And in your position, Doncaster, I should be very grateful to him.”
“I should like to hear why,” Doncaster bit out.
Camden waved one hand at Harry. “Go on, then.”
Harry hesitated a moment, waiting, but still Stafford didn’t speak, so he turned back to Lord and Lady Doncaster. “The attempt on your life, sir, was not unexpected.”
It took a while to outline the facts. Harry didn’t hide anything about his mission, although he was conscious of Stafford at his back the entire time, and so skirted a few parts rather delicately. Doncaster listened with a mixture of outrage and anger in his face, and when Harry finished, it was to Camden he turned.
“I was suspected? Of treason?” Fury laced his words. Harry grimaced; he had tried to treat that as lightly as possible, but Doncaster was no fool and had seen between his words.
“You yourself were not suspected,” said Stafford smoothly, falsely, finally stepping forward. “We suspected someone in your household could have been selling information, or perhaps stealing it.”
Doncaster didn’t look as if he believed one word of this. He turned at once on his footman and snapped his fingers. “You.” Brandon stepped forward. “You work with these men, don’t you?”
Brandon nodded.
A shadow seemed to pass over the earl’s face, and he braced his hands on his desk. His voice shook. “All my life has been given in service to the Crown. I have dragged my wife and child across Europe for the sole purpose of doing His Majesty’s bidding and preserving England’s dignity and sovereignty. To know that my own have turned on me, suspected me and spied on me—”
“But I presume, since you are revealing this, you have caught the traitor,” said Lady Doncaster when he broke off. She placed her hand discreetly on her husband’s back.
Stafford bowed his head. “Yes, my lady. Mr. Sinclair realized the true threat. His actions alone prevented the attempt on his lordship’s life from succeeding. We are greatly indebted to him.”
That was a rather ringing commendation, Harry thought, and not something he had expected.
Lady Doncaster turned to him, her lips parted in surprise, and he shifted his weight uncomfortably. “And what does this have to do with Mariah?” she asked.
He looked at Mariah. “I saw her at your ball and was struck,” he said. “Every moment I have known her since then has only deepened my feeling, until I have fallen utterly in love with her.” Doncaster winced and Camden’s mouth twitched.
“And I with him,” Mariah said, beaming back at him.
“Mariah,” said her father. “Please—”
“It is true I cannot offer her a life to equal her current one,” Harry went on. “It is true my family is nothing to hers, and I am no one of consequence—”
“I don’t care,” she exclaimed. “To me you are everyone.”
“Stop,” said Doncaster wearily. His shoulders slumped and he looked old all of a sudden. “No more of this, Mariah…”
“You might as well let him have her,” said Camden. “His mother thumbed her nose at me just the same way, and ignored every word I said.” He shook his finger at Harry. “You’re just like your father.”
Harry bowed his head. “Thank you, sir.”
Camden snorted and turned to the earl. “Well, Doncaster? Are you going to let your daughter marry my grandson or not?”
Chapter 27
“Your grandson!” Mariah’s mouth fell open. Doncaster raised his head. Everyone turned to Harry.
“I don’t claim the relation,” he said.
Mariah closed her mouth and poked him in the arm. The grandson of a viscount was at least a plausible match for the daughter of an earl, and despite all her bluster, Mariah didn’t want to leave her parents forever. She would have missed them b
oth dreadfully. If there were any way she could have both Harry and her parents, she was all in favor of it. “Why didn’t you tell me that?” she whispered.
Camden gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Oh, you’ll claim it, all right, young man. You’ll claim it to marry the girl you want and win the seat in Parliament you’ve got your eye on. Either Doncaster or I will see to that, I expect.”
Harry said nothing, his face gone hard and taut. Camden laughed again.
“Thought I didn’t know? Why? Just because your name’s Sinclair instead of Farrington?” He came closer, until he and Harry were almost eye-to-eye. Fascinated, Mariah searched for any resemblance, and found more than she expected. “Why do you think you’re in London?” Camden asked very softly. “Who do you think put your name in Stafford’s ear?”
Harry could barely hide his astonishment. Camden? The heartless old man who had sworn never to see his mother again as long as she lived with his father? Camden had tapped him for his post? It was more than shocking; he would have wagered that Camden hadn’t even known of his existence.
“I’ve no idea what you mean,” he said. Good God. For thirty years his mother had believed herself excluded from her family forever. She was happy with his father—Harry didn’t doubt that—but she had regretted losing her brother and sisters, her mother and father. Was Camden relenting? Or did Camden have some other purpose in promoting him?
The viscount snorted again. “You know exactly what I mean.” He crooked his fingers and Stafford stepped forward. “Has he served you well?”
There was a trace of dark amusement in Stafford’s eyes as he glanced at Harry. “Indeed, sir, very well. One of my finest and ablest men, although somewhat more independent than anticipated.”
“Very good, then.” Camden glanced at Doncaster. “She is your daughter. I cannot tell you what to do. But I shall claim him, even if he will not have me. I bid you good night, sir. Madam.” Without another word, he turned and walked out of the room, Stafford in his wake. Brandon met Harry’s eyes for a moment, then left the room as well and closed the door.
“You might have mentioned your connection to Camden earlier,” said the countess in the suddenly quiet room.
Harry flinched, dragging his eyes away from the door Camden had just departed through, looking back to his companions. “I do not want any connection.”
She shook her head. “Do not be a fool,” she said gently. “A man in politics must use every connection he has.”
“I’m not—” Harry began without thinking, then stopped when Mariah stepped on his foot.
In the intervening silence, everyone turned to look at Doncaster. The pulse in the earl’s temple throbbed rapidly, and his eyes flashed fire. “The man who marries my daughter,” he began ominously, “cannot be nobody.”
“Papa, you could—” Mariah started to say, before her father held up one hand.
“Yes, I could,” he said through his teeth. He turned fierce eyes back on Harry. “You cannot marry my daughter, then, unless I make you somebody. I have a pocket borough in Yorkshire—the Aldhampton seat. If you want it, you shall have it.”
Harry’s stomach took a plunge as his heart took a great leap. Doncaster would never have said that if he didn’t mean to give his consent. Not only the wife he wanted above all else, but the political start he dreamed of. Somehow he managed to keep his composure and nod.
Mariah did no such thing; with a happy exclamation, she jumped up and flung her arms around Harry’s neck. “I told you Papa would help! And now you shall be able to do something, to help people like that poor girl in Whitechapel!” She beamed at her father. “How wonderful you are, Papa!”
Doncaster didn’t look wonderful. “If you are a damned Whig,” he growled, a muscle twitching in his jaw, “I beg you, do not tell me now. I cannot take it tonight.”
Harry swallowed a grin, sliding a quick sideways look at Mariah. “No, sir,” he agreed. “I shan’t.”
Doncaster closed his eyes for a moment, then sighed. He looked at Mariah, glowing with happiness and still clutching Harry’s hand. “This is what you want, darling?” he asked, as if to assure himself one last time. “It is not a flight of fancy?”
She shook her head. “Not a fancy, Papa. I am quite certain. I love him.”
The earl looked at Harry.
“With all my being, sir,” Harry said, answering the unasked question.
Doncaster sighed once more, then waved his hand. “I suppose I must give my permission, then.”
A while later, after Mariah had given her mother a rambling explanation of her acquaintance with Harry, and the earl had quizzed Harry closely on several points of his recent employment, Harry excused himself and stepped into the hall. Brandon was leaning against the wall, nodding off. He raised his head at Harry’s appearance.
“Congratulations are in order, I suppose.”
“And an apology,” said Harry. “I lied to you.”
Brandon shrugged. “I knew it. For such a good actor and practiced liar, your affections were pathetically obvious.”
He had to laugh at that. “I don’t think I’m meant to be a spy, then.” Brandon gave a crooked grin and shrugged again. “What made you fetch Stafford?”
“When she asked about you this afternoon, I suspected,” Brandon said. “I was sitting up when the earl rang, thinking he’d heard a rat. I gather he listened at the door for a bit…But I sent Frances up to see to her ladyship and went after Stafford, on the odd chance you’d finally misplaced your luck.
“The other fellow—Camden—was there with him. Don’t know why, but they didn’t seem surprised to see me, and when he set his horses to, we crossed London in a matter of minutes.”
“Lovely timing.”
Brandon coughed. “For you. Camden’s your family?”
“My mother’s father,” Harry muttered. “Not that I’ve ever seen or spoken to him before in my life.”
“It appears that breach has been mended.”
Harry doubted it; but it was true that if he went into politics, Camden’s connection would help. And it would make his mother happy if he could indeed mend the breach. “Perhaps.” A long moment of silence. “I’m a damned fool, I know.”
“Without question.” Brandon paused. “I was standing right next to the carriage and never noticed the keg. If you hadn’t shouted—”
“And if you hadn’t fetched Stafford tonight…” Harry shrugged. “I should say we’re even.”
Brandon smiled, just a faint quirk of his mouth. “All even.”
“I’m out,” said Harry abruptly. “I’ve had enough of this.”
“I expected as much. A married man cannot have so many secrets, nor fling himself in front of so many powder kegs.” He put out his hand. “Good fortune to you, Sinclair. And to Lady Mariah. Especially to Lady Mariah.”
Harry shook his hand. “And to you, Brandon.”
“Give my notice to Doncaster, will you? I expect he won’t want me back, and…well…” He gave Harry a wry look. “I think you’re a better messenger than I now.” Harry nodded once, and Brandon turned on his heel.
As he walked away, Mariah slipped into the corridor. “Who is he, really?” she asked.
Slowly, Harry shook his head, still watching his fellow agent leave, his posture as straight as a pike. “A good man, of high morals and honesty. Military, I’d say, but beyond that I do not know.” He looked down at her. “We all have our secrets.”
Mariah put her arms around him, twining her fingers through his and resting her cheek on his shoulder. She looked up at him with soft, luminous eyes. “Do you? What secrets do you have, Harry?”
“From you? Too many. But none I shall keep any longer.”
“And you will tell me everything? Why you were Lord Wroth and a secretary and spied on my father and climbed in my window?”
Harry thought of Stafford’s words—that he had been one of his best men. Stafford knew he was out. He put his arm around her shoulders and laugh
ed. “Yes, I shall tell you everything. Not tonight, perhaps; we must have something to talk about all the days to come, and it is perhaps best not to exhaust every topic at once.”
“I don’t think I shall ever grow tired of talking to you.”
“Well, should I run on and begin to bore you, you know just how to silence me.” He kissed her lightly, then more deeply as she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him in place.
“A useful skill. I shall have to stay in good practice on that one.”
“I shall insist upon it.” Harry drew her fully into his arms, holding her close despite the chance of being discovered by her parents or the servants. “For the rest of my days.”
Epilogue
Two months later
It was a lovely wedding breakfast, albeit a smaller event than one might expect at the home of the Earl of Doncaster. The bridegroom’s parents were in attendance, looking very proper and respectable for a pair of actors. The bridegroom’s grandparents were there as well, vastly more austere but polite enough when spoken to. The bride’s family connections weren’t sure what to make of the match, but everyone knew the Earl of Doncaster would never have permitted the marriage if he were not perfectly satisfied, and the earl’s judgment was widely respected.
But the bride and bridegroom seemed to have vanished. “Have you seen Mariah?” Lady Doncaster asked her sister quietly as she circulated among the guests in the garden.
“I thought I saw her heading toward the house,” Lady Bennet replied.
“Oh, no, Mother. I saw her just a few moments ago walking along the path around the terrace.” Joan Bennet craned her neck to one side. “There, I think I can still see her skirt around that tree.”
“Ah. Thank you, Joan,” said the countess, turning in that direction.
Joan smiled and sipped her champagne until her mother’s suspicious gaze grew too heavy. “Yes, Mother?”
“Mariah’s not gone toward the terrace, has she?” Lady Bennet had eyes like a hawk.
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