Against the Wind (Agents of the Crown Book 2)

by Regan Walker

  “The whole country is about to rise,” Oliver said, looking at the men around him glazed with drink and taking in his every word. “There be thousands in London who will join the workers in the north when the time comes. I’ll be traveling to Derbyshire soon meself to see how their efforts are coming and to tell them about the London folks, as I am their delegate.”

  “Would you mind if Jean and I join you?” asked Martin, indicating himself and John. “We’ve several weeks free just now, and I’d like to meet the workers. Though the revolution has long faded in France, perhaps I can help the men of the English countryside see the good that came from what happened there.” He was testing the waters to see how badly Oliver wanted an ally. As Sidmouth’s lackey, the man might be leery, but perhaps his enthusiasm would override his caution.

  “’Tis your decision, Monsieur Donet. I’ll be at the Talbot Inn in Derbyshire. Ye can join me if ye like.”

  Pleased beyond words, Martin stood and shook all the men’s hands. His task had officially begun. He would meet Oliver in Derbyshire.

  Chapter 10

  “See that man leaning against the lamppost?” Mary whispered in Kit’s ear as they stood behind a tree in the West End residential area just off St. James Square where the de Courtenays lived.

  Kit’s eyes followed Mary’s to a man slumped against the post. “Yes, I see him. Not very subtle, is he?”

  “No, he is not. His eyes never leave the de Courtenay home. No doubt he is watching for you. Do you recognize him?”

  “No,” Kit said, “but Rutledge has several men in his service that come and go at all hours of the day and night. They carry knives and pistols, no doubt to assist some evil purpose. This man may be one of them.”

  “Come, then, let us not dally.”

  Dressed in the plain brown gown of a shop worker, Mary handed Kit the package she carried and briskly set forth, making her way to the servants’ entrance at the rear of the de Courtenay townhouse. Kit followed, head down, praying her stable boy disguise fooled the man posted to watch. Her auburn hair was tucked into a large cap that fell to her eyebrows, so she thought herself a passable shop worker’s assistant.

  The door was answered shortly after Mary’s knock, opened by the cook. Mary immediately introduced herself. “The Marchioness of Ormond to see Madame de Courtenay.”

  The plump cook peered at her and Kit from under her muslin mobcap before her face screwed up in a frown. But Kit knew the cook couldn’t ignore the voice of command, even if she was reluctant to trust the woman before her based on dress and an appearance at the rear door.

  “I am who I said I am, good woman,” Mary promised, and handed over her calling card.

  Reading it, the cook immediately relented and flung the door wide. “Follow me, please.”

  Once in the kitchen, Kit took off her cap. “Cook, it’s me.”

  The plump woman swung around. “Miss Endicott?”

  “I had to come in disguise, Betty, but it is me.”

  “Miss Endicott! Why, child, where have you been? The mistress is plumb worn out from worry about you, and Gertie is fit to be tied. The twins miss you something awful.”

  “I am sorry, Betty, but I had to leave the ball suddenly. I was being pursued.”

  The cook chose that moment to remember Mary, and her eyes darted to the marchioness who said, “Can you direct us to Madame de Courtenay?”

  The cook was immediately apologetic. “Fergive me, yer ladyship.” She dipped a deep curtsey and escorted them into the parlour.

  Mrs. de Courtenay joined them a few minutes later. She paused only a moment to consider Kit, then threw her arms about her. “Miss Endicott! It is you! Oh my dear, what has happened? We were ever so worried when you left the ball so suddenly.”

  “It is a long story, Mrs. de Courtenay. I think it best I not try to explain it all just now.” She gestured to Mary. “This is my friend, the Marchioness of Ormond. Excuse us for the way we are dressed, but we were trying to avoid the man watching your house.” Then to Mary: “Allow me to present to you Mrs. de Courtenay, my employer.”

  Mrs. de Courtenay bade them sit and called for tea. She smiled graciously at Mary, and though looking askance at her attire expressed delight at meeting Miss Endicott’s friend. “Welcome to our home, Lady Ormond!” Then, seating herself on the sofa opposite, she turned to Kit and said, “Someone is watching the house?”

  “Yes,” Kit said. “Someone hoping to catch me returning.”

  “Does it have something to do with your flight from the ballroom—and this disguise?”

  “Yes.” Kit stared down at her hands in her lap, embarrassed. “It does.”

  Mary must have seen her embarrassment, because she came to Kit’s rescue. “Kit—Lady Egerton—is staying with Lord Ormond and me, Madame de Courtenay, though we would ask you to tell no one.”

  “Lady Egerton?” Mrs. de Courtenay’s head jerked as she glanced back to Kit. “Not Lady Katherine Endicott?”

  “That was my name before I married Lord Egerton, Mrs. de Courtenay. The use of my former name was necessary, but I am sorry. I am Lady Egerton, a dowager baroness.”

  “Ah, I see,” the woman said, nodding, though she clearly didn’t. “Well, no matter, my dear. We love you.”

  Kit smiled, grateful to be forgiven so quickly.

  “We came today,” Mary offered, “so Lady Egerton could say a proper goodbye to you and the twins, and to ask if you might in exchange for her wages allow her to keep a few of the gowns you purchased for her.”

  “Of course! Lady Egerton may have all of her clothes, my lady.” Mrs. de Courtenay turned to Kit. “And I’ll not hear another word about you giving up the wages you earned.” Returning her gaze to the marchioness she added, “The twins have done very well because of Lady Egerton’s expert instruction. No,” she decreed, directing her comment to Kit, “the wardrobe is yours, my dear, and the wages as well.”

  “Oh, Mrs. de Courtenay.” Kit was filled with emotion. “You are too kind.”

  “Nonsense, my dear. You surely deserve more than the little I can do.” Her countenance saddened. “We hate to lose you, Miss Eger…that is, Lady Egerton. You know the twins and I will miss you very much.”

  “I will miss you, too.” Kit’s eyes misted over. It seemed she was always saying goodbye, and she hated losing the people she loved. “Perhaps when this is over we can renew our friendship.”

  “Yes, we would like that. May I keep the sketches you made of the girls? They were so very good, and Mr. de Courtenay is quite fond of them.”

  “Oh yes,” Kit urged. “Please keep them.”

  “You are an artist, Lady Egerton?” Mary asked.

  “I like to draw, people’s faces in particular. The lines form a map of one’s life, reflecting all a person has suffered or enjoyed, all they have lived through.”

  Mary gave Kit a smile. “A woman of many talents, I see. And much insight.”

  “It is but a hobby,” said Kit.

  Mary turned to Mrs. de Courtenay. “I would propose to send men to retrieve Lady Egerton’s trunks. Those men will also come in disguise, likely as carters.”

  “Of course,” Kit’s erstwhile employer said. “You may send whomever you like.”

  “Before we leave, I would love to meet the twins,” said Mary. “If they are at home.”

  Mrs. de Courtenay seemed pleased. “You most certainly will meet the twins, my lady! The girls would be disappointed if they missed seeing their governess one more time.”

  The tea arrived just as Mary and Mrs. de Courtenay finalized plans for recovery of Kit’s clothes. And just as they began to sip from the flowered teacups, the twins burst into the room.

  “Miss Endicott!” Pen shouted, running over. “We were so worried. Are you all right? Why are you dressed as a lad?”

  “I am fine, Pen,” Kit assured her, rising to give the girl a hug. “The disguise was necessary, I assure you.” Seeing Pen’s sister she added, “Hello, Pris.”

>   Pris smiled in greeting, and Kit turned to make introductions all around.

  “Lady Ormond, may I present my charges, Miss de Courtenay and Miss Penelope.” To Pris and Pen she said, “The Marchioness of Ormond.” At the girls’ puzzled looks she added, “We are both in costume. And my real name is Katherine, Lady Egerton.”

  The twins curtseyed charmingly before Mary, seeming to accept easily her new name. A sense of pride welled up within Kit. They had learned well the lessons she had taught them.

  “Lady Egerton has told me much about your wonderful daughters,” Mary said to Mrs. de Courtenay, “and I can see she was not wrong.” Addressing the twins she added, “I was eager to meet you both. Lady Egerton’s descriptions of you were charming and accurate. You are both lovely.”

  The girls beamed at the praise and joined them for tea, easily induced by Mary to tell stories of their first Season. As Kit listened, the dynamic between the pair sent her back to a day she and Anne had walked home in the sunshine, their only thoughts the things to which young girls of ten and eleven years give their attention.

  “You are a vixen, Kit,” her sister had said, eyes aglow with laughter.

  If a vixen was impetuous and daring, Kit agreed. She had ever been quick to rise to a challenge, sometimes without thinking. On that particular day, Kit had defended Anne from some young bullies who, while taunting her, had snatched away her most precious doll, sending Anne fleeing in tears. Though Kit had come away with scrapes and scratches, she’d sent the bullies running and recovered the doll.

  Another memory floated in front of her mind’s eye as the twins continued to chatter on, and she paused to consider it. “Men are drawn to your auburn hair and blue eyes,” Anne had told her years later. “I am content to be the small brown mouse in your shadow. You fight our battles, and I love you for it.”

  Kit forced back tears as she tried to focus on the two young women sitting before her, the sweet blush of blossoming womanhood on their cheeks. God, how she missed Anne. The hole in her heart was a persistent wound that would not heal. Perhaps it would always be so.

  Shaking off the memory, she returned to the present and heard Mary telling the twins how she had avoided her first Season altogether. They were shocked and delighted, which only led to more stories and reminiscences, and it was all too soon that they finally bade the de Courtenays goodbye.

  * * *

  Kit and Mary arrived back at the Ormond townhouse to find an angry Lord Ormond hovering like a storm cloud. The marquess was clearly displeased.

  “You went where?” he asked his wife, incredulous.

  “To the de Courtenays’, darling, to arrange for Lady Egerton’s clothes to be returned to her.”

  Mary was calm, but Kit was nervous. She stood several feet away, next to the window in the parlour, watching. She did not want to become a problem for the happily married couple.

  “Dressed like that?”

  “Yes, darling. I could not exactly go dressed as the Marchioness of Ormond now, could I? Not without attracting attention.”

  “I suppose not.” Ormond scowled. “The question is why you went at all!”

  “I wanted to meet the twins Kit spoke of, darling, the ones for whom she has been governess. And besides, she must have her gowns.”

  Kit could see Ormond was exasperated with his wife, but his anger seemed merely a reflection of his concern for her welfare. His love for his beautiful wife was evident on his face. On the other hand, Mary was all sweetness. Clearly this was not the first time she had dealt with her husband’s powerful temper.

  “And, you, my lady,” Ormond said, turning dark eyes on Kit. “What will Martin say about this? You were not to leave the townhouse! It is simply too dangerous.”

  His stare was intimidating, a dark storm about to break, but Kit would not cower. “I am sorry for being the cause of worry, my lord, but I had to say goodbye. The de Courtenays have been very good to me. I did wear this disguise, and I have no doubt it was effective. We were not recognized.”

  Ormond scrutinized Kit’s clothing, running his eyes over the worn breeches and muslin shirt. She had shed the coat and cap.

  “That attire looks very familiar—a costume my wife has worn previously, perhaps.” His gaze slid to his wife, and Mary grinned sheepishly. “My wife has a love for adventure, Lady Egerton. Did you know that?”

  Kit loathed getting Mary into trouble, but she would not lie to the marquess. “She did suggest it to me, my lord.”

  “It was only one little adventure, darling,” Mary interjected as her husband’s glare returned to her. “And it was not so dangerous as you imagine. It was worth it to meet the twins. They are lovely.”

  Ormond grunted, clearly displeased. “Were you followed? Did you see anyone?”

  “No,” Mary replied matter-of-factly, “we were not followed, I made sure of that. However, there was a man watching the de Courtenay house. He was hiding not very well in plain sight,” she reported. “Rather nondescript, slight build, brown hair, plain clothes.”

  “I am not surprised,” said her husband. “We expected Rutledge to learn of Lady Egerton’s time with the de Courtenays. I do not want either of you to go there again. You may leave the retrieval of Lady Egerton’s things to me.”

  Mary walked to her husband, leaned into his broad chest and reached up to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you, darling.”

  Still disgruntled, Ormond mumbled something about the mother of his child taking unacceptable risks, but Kit thought the anger was mostly an act. He clearly could not stay upset with his wife for any amount of time, and she thought it one of the sweetest things she’d ever seen.

  * * *

  That same afternoon, Martin followed Ormond into his study, his brain reeling from all he’d learned. William Oliver was going to stir up a hornets’ nest in the Midlands, that much was clear. Now he had to determine the best plan for learning all he could and minimizing the damage Sidmouth’s agent could do.

  Before he could say anything, Ormond frowned. “The ladies were busy this afternoon, Martin. It seems the two rebellious chits went to the de Courtenay house alone, albeit in disguise.”

  “What?” Martin blurted.

  “I was sorely tempted to throttle Mary. Here, have a brandy,” Ormond insisted, shoving a glass into his hand. “You look like you need one as much as I.”

  Martin was happy to accept it. “I am certain I told Kit not to leave the townhouse,” he said, taking a sip of the dark liquid and welcoming the burn down his throat. He was not fond of ale, and pretending to drink it all afternoon had not been a pleasant experience, though he had done it many times before as a spy. “I cannot believe she disobeyed me. It was only concern for her safety I had in mind. What a foolish thing to do! She could have been seen, recognized.”

  “Likely it was my lovely wife who led her astray. Another of Lady Ormond’s many adventures. Life recently has been a bit dull for her, I fear, as I have had to rein in her love of danger. Only my wife—a new mother and with child again—would consider doing what she did. We have already had words.”

  Martin shook his head. “It was definitely risky for them to go there. Do you think they were observed?”

  “Oh, they were definitely observed…by a man watching the house, according to Mary, though given how they were dressed, I doubt he knew what he was seeing.”

  How could she disobey him? Martin gazed out the window in Ormond’s study to the street below. The last thing he needed was to be worrying about Kit, but he was worried about her. Having just found her, he did not want to lose her again. He felt very possessive of the woman. His assignment was going to require his full attention, but his concern for Kit might cause him to become careless. A spy could not afford to make mistakes.

  He heard a rustling behind him as Ormond set down his paper. “What do you intend to do with her, Martin?”

  “I assume by ‘her’ you refer to Lady Egerton?”

  “Yes.”

  “Th
at,” Martin said, staring at the iris flowers blooming on the other side of the window, “is a daunting question. I feel responsible for her, though I do not know exactly why that should be. When first I encountered her at Willow House, I thought to make her my mistress.” When Ormond grunted in protest Martin added, “But of course a dowager baroness would be resistant to the idea. I’ve long reconsidered that thought.”

  “You need a wife, Martin,” Ormond emphatically counseled. “And she obviously needs a protector.”

  Martin let out a breath without turning. “I had no plans to marry again, you know that. A spy should not. The risk to the woman is too great. Any woman who is my wife would be vulnerable, a target.” Yet even as he said the words, Martin was intrigued. After all, this was his last mission. He felt certain he would never find a woman better suited to making him happy.

  “Lady Egerton is already in danger, Martin. Besides, you cannot blame yourself forever for what happened in the past. Kit is a real find, I daresay. Even my wife has remarked it. And that raises another matter. Mary is quite fond of her. In the short time she has been here, the two have become particular friends. She would not be pleased if you failed to do the honorable thing after your…initial interaction.”

  Martin turned, frustrated. “If I agree to do the deed you urge, I would only be putting her in further danger.”

  “You are also in the best position to protect her, are you not? Do not forget she is a dowager baroness and the daughter of an earl. And a rare beauty. What stands in your way? If you desire her, make her your wife. Certainly you want her?”

  “From the first time I saw her. She fascinates me, and I can barely keep my hands off her.” Martin was drawn back to the night he entered the room at Willow House to see the pale rays of moonlight on Kit’s face. He’d never forget her standing in front of that window staring out into the night. Even then he could scarcely believe she was a courtesan, should have realized immediately that she was no lightskirt. But a wife was a target, and to lose a wife could mean a lifetime of pain. How well he knew.