A Spy's Honor (21 page)

“I will do what I must. This is none of your concern, Claire,” he said, sounding as priggish as the headmistress at her old school.

Well, it would be easy enough to disabuse John of whatever mistaken notion he had about her fiancé. “What is it you think Kensworth has done?”

“It isn’t only Kensworth. And I cannot tell you.”

“Why ever not?” she said with sarcastic sweetness as he whipped off his spectacles. “I can help you, for I am certain I can clear Kensworth of any wrongdoing.”

He took two steps toward her, crowding her back against the table. “This isn’t a parlor game. You have no idea the magnitude of what I’m doing.”

With his exceptional height and severe expression, he loomed over her like a menacing shadow. This intimidating side of him surprised her, though she imagined it was helpful in dealing with foes on the Continent. But he was still John, and she was not frightened. “Then tell me.”

Clenching his jaw even tighter, he leaned closer and said, “No.”

She had never argued with John before, not about a matter that didn’t involve the erstwhile state of her heart. It was odd, how she could feel the urge to slap him on Kensworth’s behalf and yet could still be so aware of him as a man. Every breath she took carried the sweet almond scent of him, and with less than a foot separating them it would have been so easy to reach out and touch him.

Luckily, today her respect for Stephen kept her anchored to the subject at hand. That, and the fact that, unlike usual, John looked unlikely to kiss her.

Claire let herself relax against the table. “Tell me what your mission is about and I will help you. I will prove to you that Kensworth is innocent.”

She thought she saw a crack in his forbidding features, but just then they both remarked the click of a door handle. John looked over his shoulder, and Claire peeked around him. Allerton stood in the doorway. His black eyebrows rose high when he noticed the two of them, but he appeared even more shocked when they said in unison, “Go away.”

He opened his mouth to speak but must have thought better of it, for he turned on his heel and left, closing the door behind him.

John turned back to Claire as if there had been no interruption. “We have nothing further to discuss.”

“Oh yes, we do. I will not have you maligning my fiancé. Tell me what you are about or I will go straight to him with your perfidiousness.”

John wrapped his hands around her upper arms. His grip wasn’t painful, but Claire couldn’t move. “Did you not hear me? This is not a child’s game. There is a traitor among us. The danger to our nation, and some of its people, is great. You cannot go to Kensworth, Claire. I need your silence.”

In the normal course of things, she might have been thrilled to be such an intimate part of whatever John was doing, but not now. Not when Stephen’s good name was at risk. “You would have my loyalty above that which I owe my fiancé?”

He hesitated, again searching her eyes for something unknown. Finally, he said, “No. Your country would have it.”

She pulled herself free of his grasp more easily than she would have thought and walked to the other side of the table. “This has to be nonsense. I cannot believe you are looking for a traitor among the aristocracy. How great can the danger be?”

“Graver than you can imagine.”

She straightened her spine and stared at John. “Kensworth is not capable of such behavior. He served in the army, for heaven’s sake.” She blinked back unwanted tears. Stephen was still her fiancé and her friend, and she couldn’t bear to have him treated like a criminal. Especially not if she was also to break their engagement. “How do you live with yourself? How do you live with all the lies—and casting suspicions on everyone you know?”

John stared stonily back at her. “Believe it or not, I do not want to suspect Kensworth of anything. However, I need you to keep silent. In return, I promise you I will do my utmost to cross him off that list.”

“After all the deceit and subterfuge of the last few years, why would I believe you?” Why had she ever thought John’s work was a decent thing? Spying on enemies was one thing, but he was now doing the same to his own countrymen!

He sighed and replaced his silver spectacles, then began gathering his things from the table. “I honestly don’t know, Claire. Think what you will of me, but I cannot do anything other than what it is required.”

He was staunch, she’d give him that. He was also wrong about Kensworth.

She strode to the table and splayed her fingers across the top. “You will have my silence—if you let me
help
you clear Kensworth’s name.”

“No.”

“Then I will speak to him this very day.”

He stared her down, but she didn’t flinch or look away. He wouldn’t win a contest of wills. She had been called obstinate by her family more times than she could count and was secretly proud of that fact.

Eventually he sighed in capitulation. “Lord Stretton recently returned from Scotland. Find out exactly what day he came back.”

“Stretton? What about proving Kensworth’s innocence?”

“I cannot put you in danger. Stretton’s whereabouts need verifying. Do you want to help or not? Are you rethinking lowering yourself to my level?”

She smiled faintly. “I will discover what you need in short order.”

“Discreetly, Claire.”

“I’m no longer a foolish young girl, John. Do have some faith in me.”

“I have the utmost faith in you,” he replied in a low and gravelly voice that made her stomach flutter. Without further ado, he strode out the door.

Despite his promise, Claire feared for Stephen. For his reputation, for all that he had worked so hard for in the last year, for the dignity of his family. All it would take was a whisper of suspicion and he could be ruined.

John is accompanying me to Wakebourne.

Claire let out a groan of utter frustration as she recalled Stephen’s words from the other night. John was using Stephen, pretending to want assistance in standing for Parliament while he spied on her unsuspecting fiancé.

Not while she lived and breathed. She marched toward the door with purpose. She had a valise to pack.

Chapter Sixteen

John strode out of the library without slamming the door and even managed not to pummel the paneled wall as he made his way to his bedchamber. Once there, however, he slapped his journal onto the small writing desk with such force that a branch of candles crashed to the floor. They were unlit, so he ignored them and paced around the room.

Brought down by a three-year-old with a future as a pickpocket. Caught out by a woman whose soft brown eyes disguised a will of iron.

He hadn’t had failures such as these since his first days as a spy.

Claire’s zealous defense of Kensworth’s honor—and decimation of his own—had brought him back to coherency like a slap to the face. God, her loyalty was a thing to behold.

Her stubbornness he could do without.

He stopped in the middle of the room; his stalking back and forth had dispelled his frustration and anger. What was done was done. Now he must carry on.

While trying to keep Claire safe.

He pulled the telescope from his pocket and snatched up his journal of coded notes. Easing himself to the floor beside the bed, he tucked them between the frame and the underside of the mattress.

However small his blunders had been, he could only hope the prime minister didn’t pay the price.

He left the house, informing the butler on his way out that he wouldn’t be attending dinner. Yes, he was avoiding Claire, but more importantly he was going to meet with Watson. Considering the way his day had gone, the last thing John wanted to do was play cards with his bitter schoolmate. However, the Home Office must be informed of these activities.

He set off at a brisk pace and entered the card room of White’s fifteen minutes later. Watson stood nearby, accepting a glass of port from a footman.

John moved casually forward then stopped abruptly as if he had just noticed the man. “Watson! It’s good to see you again.”

Dismay flashed across Watson’s features before he bowed and settled his mouth into an amicable smile. “Lord John. I was on my way out for some air. Would you care to join me?”

So, Watson didn’t intend to lose at cards again. Fine. “Excellent idea.”

John led the way, and soon they were strolling side by side up St. James’s Street. The sun had begun to slip beneath the horizon of London’s buildings, and there was a crispness to the air that hadn’t been there earlier. As they turned onto the busier thoroughfare of Piccadilly and passed Devonshire House, Watson seemed content with silence. Perhaps he was afraid John would demand his six hundred pounds.

John had no such intention at the moment. He gave a furtive glance around, but as dusk was nearly upon them the park was empty. “I am heading to Hertfordshire in the morning, at the invitation of Lord Kensworth.”

“I’m glad to hear it. He’s such an interesting fellow. A rather common background for a peer.”

John didn’t know every detail of Kensworth’s upbringing, though he remembered the viscount bitterly mentioning that it had been “different.” Still, it irked him that Watson, or Sidmouth, could think a humbler beginning evidence of Kensworth’s guilt. “That’s neither here nor there.” He paused then added a half-truth. “I hear a Hampden Club thrives in the area. I’m going to attempt to infiltrate it.”

He should mention that
Kensworth
meant to take him to the meeting of the Hampden Club, but he said nothing further as they turned into the Green Park. Whether he kept his counsel because of Claire’s vehement affirmation of her fiancé’s innocence or his own uncertainty about Kensworth, he had no idea.

“Oh, you’re going to actually
spy?
Do be careful.”

John ignored the remark and the smirk upon Watson’s face. “I will return in three days. Perhaps we can meet over dinner.”

“I wouldn’t tarry if I were you,” Watson advised. “We’ve learned the attempt may take place before the end of the month.”

“What?”

“Will you be ready?”

God help them all if he wasn’t. “What day? Where?”

Watson shrugged. “That’s for you to find out.”

Tomorrow was the seventeenth; the month was already half over. Could he stop the madness in time? What if he was wasting his time going with Kensworth? He would like nothing better than to trust Claire’s judgment and cross Kensworth off the list, but at the moment suspicion clung to him like a wet shirt. He couldn’t ignore Kensworth’s known association with the agitators of the Hampden Clubs.

Watson stopped on the path and asked with impatience, “Lord Romford?”

John shook his head, meaning he’d found no evidence to warrant further interest in the man.

“Are you certain?” Watson asked, his eyes narrowed as if he either didn’t believe John or didn’t want John’s assessment to be true.

“Yes.”

John turned and walked back toward the park gate with long strides, disturbing a small flock of jackdaws that had been pecking at the grass beside the path.

Attempting to carry out a secret mission here in England had been far more difficult, and frustrating, than he had ever imagined. On the Continent, once his superior gave him an assignment, he had been left to his own devices to carry it out. If he succeeded, they handed him another assignment. If he had failed and been found out by foreign authorities, he would have been on his own, unacknowledged by His Majesty’s government. Now, however, he had Sidmouth’s lackey noting his every move.

He supposed he could understand why. Sidmouth had to be panicked about a possible assassination. Still, the constraining nature of spying here in London was maddening. Perhaps he
should
contemplate a new profession.

John heard Watson’s boots pounding the path as the other man nearly ran to catch up. “Have you no other news?”

“No.” What did he expect? It had been a mere eighteen hours since they had last met, and John hadn’t been aware the assassination might happen sooner rather than later.

Again, he probably should relate the incongruities surrounding Lord Stretton’s return to London, but he didn’t. A peer might be responsible for planning the prime minister’s demise, but that didn’t mean that other, possibly innocent lords such as Stretton and Kensworth needed to have their names besmirched.

He halted and turned on Watson. “I need a list of Liverpool’s activities.”

Watson shot him a withering look. “Lord Sidmouth has already denied your request for such knowledge.”

“I need every piece of information I can get,” John said harshly. He might as well be stumbling around in the dark with this assignment. He had no assistance, certainly no moral support, and not enough information. “Tell Sidmouth if he wants results, I need that schedule.”

“Very well. Though, I don’t know what good it will do you, since you’ve no idea who the perpetrators are.” Watson shook his head and sighed. “It’s only the fate of the country.
I
certainly wouldn’t want to be responsible for such a tragedy occurring.”

John could only stare at his old schoolmate, who was acting as if he’d never grown up. “Until Thursday, Watson.” He didn’t wait for a response, heading out of the park and back onto Piccadilly.

***

The following morning, John met Kensworth near the Grosvenor Gate of Hyde Park.

The viscount, atop a strapping dun gelding, tipped his low-crowned hat. “Good morning! My brothers decided to head out earlier, so it’s just you and me.”

For a moment John thought he detected a note of artificiality in Kensworth’s cheerfulness, but the other man was smiling so John flashed a smile in return, trying to match his mood to that of his fellow traveler. It took some effort, considering he not only felt guilty about his subterfuge but also jealous of the man riding beside him. Did Kensworth know how fortunate he was to have Claire’s love and loyalty?

At first they rode north in silence, for the sounds of the city made conversation nearly impossible. John studied Kensworth for a moment. Despite not being able to wear his spectacles while riding, he could see that his companion had already donned country attire, buckskin breeches and a brown tweed riding coat, while his brown hat tamed his wavy, longer-than-fashionable hair. Although his classical features sat a little incongruously on his muscular build, women undoubtedly found him handsome.