Dair Devil (10 page)

“For helping a couple elope? Don’t be a fool, man! There ain’t anything treasonous in that!”

“For knowingly aiding a traitor to evade capture, the penalty is—I see that you do not know what transpired earlier today, Roxton?” Lord Shrewsbury continued, and was interrupted by Kinross.

“I’ll tell you what happened this morning. Shrewsbury here gave permission for the militia to storm your mother’s house at dawn. Imagine! The house was overrun with troops. It was a damned frightening experience for Mme la Duchesse—”

Roxton half rose out of the armchair.

“
What?
Soldiers
stormed
my mother’s
house?” He looked from Kinross to Shrewsbury. “What game are you playing at? It’s intolerable you have me summoned here not five minutes after I reach town, leaving my wife,
my pregnant wife
, troubled as to the nature of your business. And now I find you have distressed my mother even more so? I will not allow—”

“What you will and will not allow is irrelevant, your Grace,” Shrewsbury cut in politely. He looked over the rims of his spectacles, blue eyes cold. “You need to ask yourself how Kinross knew your mother’s house was searched by militia on my orders. And at such an early hour of the morning, when most of Westminster is still sleeping…” He looked directly at the Duke of Kinross and said without blinking, “My guess is the Duchess was still in bed… None would know that better than you, your Grace.”

“Ha! You short change yourself, Shrewsbury. Given your sinister line of work, I’ll wager my silver cheroot case you not only know the answer to that, but which side of the bed she prefers!”

Shrewsbury inclined his white head at the backhanded compliment.

“And when not in bed, the preference is for a chaise in the book room, or the public space of her Grace’s pretty summer pavilion, is it not? The infinite variety of settings you choose for your torrid couplings is limited only by your imaginations.”

Kinross bared his white teeth. But there was no laughter in his eyes. He drew back deeply on his cheroot and deliberately blew the smoke at the Spymaster.

“What a sad little man you are, Shrewsbury. The salacious reports about a beautiful woman being pleasured by her lover get it up for you, does it? Keep those under your pillow? Take them out to salivate over when you need some relief? Ha! My bet is you’ve been spying on Mme la Duchesse well before I—”

“For God’s sake, Kinross! You’re talking about my mother
.
”

It was Roxton. He was hard gripping his chair, face the color of puce. He looked about angrily at Shrewsbury’s secretary, Mr. William Watkins, who instantly dropped his gaze to the quill in his hand. “
My mother
, Kinross,” he said in a fierce, whispered aside. “Not a common harlot. A duchess. I thought you—God! I don’t know what to think now!”

Kinross patted the younger man’s velvet sleeve affectionately, and leaned in to speak to him quietly. “My apologies. He got under my skin. Made me as mad as hell. He has no right, no right at all, to spy on her. I didn’t mean to upset you. Julian…” He waited for Roxton’s green eyes to meet his gaze. “I love and adore Antonia, most sincerely and devotedly. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to make her happy. I mean to marry her, and without delay. Your blessing, or not.” He gave a lopsided grin. “I would prefer to have your blessing.”

“Good. Roxton can present you with the Special License he recently procured from Cornwallis, once you’ve taken your leave of me. Perhaps he has it now, in his frock coat pocket…?”

“How did—?”

Shrewsbury smiled thinly, unconcerned and pleased with himself for managing to rile both noblemen within minutes of their discourse. Matters were progressing more quickly than even he anticipated. Both dukes stared at one another and then at Shrewsbury.

“Don’t expect him to tell you!” Kinross said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He grinned sheepishly. “But I’ll gladly accept the license, if indeed you have one.”

“Of course I have one! Damn you!” Roxton blustered. “I cannot say I’m overjoyed to gain a father who is a mere eight years my senior. That you sincerely love my mother, and come with a dukedom, sweetens that bitter pill. Besides, it’s what she wants. You make her happy. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted for her—to be happy. So for God’s sake, marry her without delay. This afternoon wouldn’t be soon enough!”

Kinross shook his head with apology. “Not today. Promised to accompany her to the theater. Opening night of Sheridan’s new play. She’s been lookin’ forward to it for weeks. Can’t disappoint her.”

“Tomorrow morning then. No later.” When Kinross nodded, Roxton audibly sighed his relief. He took from a deep frock coat pocket a packet with the Archbishop of Canterbury’s seal upon it and handed it over. “The rest of the details I leave to you… You, sir,” he said, addressing Shrewsbury, “I shall have your apology for casting aspersions on the character of the Dowager Duchess of Roxton, and I will have it now or I leave your house, and never will I or my friends speak to you again.”

Shrewsbury was not the least intimidated, and he leaned forward in his chair and crossed his arms on the blotter on his desk.

“What is it with you, Roxton, that you have this inherent belief that your dukedom puts you and your family above the law and its statutes?”

“My father certainly believed so,” Roxton quipped, then added seriously, “You know me for a stickler in doing what is right. That a member of my family could well be a traitor to his king saddens and appalls me.” He glanced at Kinross. “I confess I only became aware of Cousin Charles’s treasonous activities recently. That family members felt obliged to assist him evade capture is not something I applaud. But I believe such actions were taken with the best of intentions, even if they were
misguided
.”

“Best of intentions? Misguided? Balderdash!” Shrewsbury stated dismissively. “For their
assistance
, your mother and Kinross may as well be in league with the French!”

“Charles Fitzstuart eloped with my daughter to France, and I gave my consent, so it’s not a crime,” the Duke of Kinross stated. “That’s all anyone outside these four walls needs to know. And there’s an end to the matter!”

Shrewsbury stared at Kinross with half-closed lids.

“Do not insult my intelligence, or the intelligence of Roxton and my secretary. You and the Dowager Duchess were instrumental in Charles Fitzstuart evading capture and fleeing to France. Punishing Fitzstuart has now become academic. But just because that bird has flown does not mean others cannot be punished and made an example in his stead. Those contemplating treason must be shown that even if they manage to avoid capture, it does not mean they are free, particularly when they leave behind friends and family. There are a myriad of possibilities of inflicting punishment without putting a finger on the traitor.”

Shrewsbury’s mouth twitched with self-satisfaction. He put up his arm and beckoned someone out from the shadows of the long room.

“Your family will be held accountable, and I will make certain Charles Fitzstuart is punished. In fact, I mean to kill three crows with the one stone. And I have just the instrument to do that. ”

“Instrument?” Roxton asked, exchanging a look with Kinross.

When that nobleman shrugged his shoulders and pulled a face of incomprehension, Roxton looked behind him. Kinross did likewise. Both Dukes were taken aback when out of the shadows Major Lord Fitzstuart appeared. But their surprise was not that he had been there the whole time and overheard the entire conversation, but at the state of his appearance.

Kinross could not help exclaiming, “Good God! What happened to you?”

D
AIR
SMILED
, but even this small action made him grimace. He instinctively touched the corner of his mouth where his lip was split and where an ugly blue-black bruise was getting uglier by the hour. Above his left eye his brow was also black and swollen, and there were abrasions and bruises to his knuckles. Every part of him felt raw. But for all that, he could still stand upright. A good hot soak in his bath had gone a long way to easing his aches. A shave, a clean white shirt and stock, and a suit of coal black linen with silver lacings and matching buttons, and he had regained the appearance of a gentleman, even if the state of his face and hands made him look the street ruffian.

“Come and take a seat, Major,” Shrewsbury said with genuine warmth. “Do the honors with the teapot, Watkins.”

When the secretary half rose out of his chair, pulling a face in the process, Dair waved a hand at him to resume his seat.

“I’d prefer an ale, but tea will do. Don’t put yourself to the bother, Watkins. I’ll fend for myself. You might need to consult your notes on the off chance I don’t get my facts straight. Was I pummeled by ten, or was it twelve, soldiers?”

“I—I can’t—I don’t—” William Watkins blustered and pretended to look through his notes by shuffling paper.

He wondered how the Major knew, not only that he had written up an extensive report of the drama played out at Romney’s painting studio the night before, but that he had been there to witness the entire inexcusable episode. The man was an animal. He couldn’t wait for Lord Shrewsbury to read his report, and for that, he waited with gleeful expectation of this arrogant luggard getting his comeuppance.

“It was ten,” Dair stated, dropping a sugar lump into his tea cup and stirring. He sipped gingerly at the black brew. “Not the best odds, but I came out of the lacing better than some of those leather-heads.”

It was the Duke of Roxton’s turn to furrow his brow.

“
Ten
soldiers set upon you?”

Dair sprawled out in a chair beside William Watkins, making that gentleman feel instantly so inadequate beside such a colossus of brawn that he instinctively shrank away from him. If he noticed the secretary cowering beside him, Dair ignored him and stretched out his long legs, one polished black jockey boot heel upon an upholstered foot stool.

“I’m surprised I wasn’t poked with a cheese toaster into the bargain,” he replied nonchalantly. “Still. Can’t complain. Bruises heal quicker than a sword slice.”

“Why would you be stuck with a sword?” Kinross asked.

Dair lifted his black brows with mock surprise; and even this made him twinge. He had no idea eyebrows had so much feeling in them. Still, he managed to appear unconcerned and unhurt.

“Isn’t that what happens to traitors?” He looked to Shrewsbury. “Or do the traitorous sons of noblemen get the block and axe?”

Shrewsbury inclined his head and said, “I cannot prosecute your brother for his treason, but I can throw
you
in the Tower—”

“
What?
Commit
Dair
to the Tower? For-for
treason
? Are you mad?” the Duke of Roxton demanded. “Don’t be absurd! No one will believe that for an instant! Why would a war hero, who spent nine years in the army, three of those years fighting the rebels, suddenly decide to betray everything he holds dear? Not possible! Not plausible!”

“So you think? Yesterday no one would have conceived that a mild-mannered idealist, who spent his days with his head in a book, capable of treason, but Charles Fitzstuart has committed just that by passing on state secrets.” Shrewsbury glanced at Dair, who continued to sip at his tea, unconcerned, and addressed Roxton and Kinross. “You are both going to help make the muck stick. It’s the least you can do for the part you played in allowing Charles Fitzstuart to escape. As for why the Major failed his countrymen? Take your pick: Conscience, war-weariness—debt?”

Roxton brushed this off. “Nonsense! Never. None of those will wash.”

“No matter. One will have to do,” Shrewsbury replied, saying with a lift of his brows at Roxton’s continued frown, “Please don’t concern yourself unnecessarily, your Grace. I don’t intend for the revelation to reach the newssheets—nothing so sordid. It only needs to reach the ears of society that the Major has been committed to the Tower under suspicion of committing treason. If you both refuse to confirm or deny the allegation, then society will believe it true. No doubt you’ll hear whispers at your back, but no one will be brave enough to voice the accusation to your face. But I’m afraid such a revelation will cause heads to turn in your direction and for all the wrong reasons.” Lord Shrewsbury shook his head in disapproval and addressed the Duke of Kinross. “What a shame it is the war hero and not his brother who must be branded a traitor. I hope you can sleep at night knowing you assisted—”

“You’re an utter whoreson, Shrewsbury.”

The Spymaster spread wide his hands and smiled in response to the Duke of Kinross’s name-calling disgust.

“For the greater good, I assure you, your Grace. And I am doing you the courtesy of informing you before news the Major has been arrested and thrown in the Tower reaches Westminster breakfast rooms.”

“And you…? What do you think of this?” Roxton asked Dair.

“He don’t seem too concerned about it, that’s for certain,” Kinross muttered.

Dair gingerly sat up and took his boot heel off the footstool. Every square inch of him throbbed with pain. It made him irritable and insolent.

“It doesn’t matter what I think. All that does is making reparation for my brother’s unconscionable actions. If that means shackling me in the Tower, then so be it.”

“You are not required by law to take your brother’s place,” Roxton stated. “He would not want you to. If he thought you—”

“That’s just it. He didn’t
think
, did he?” Dair threw up a hand. “And I’m considered the dullard of the family!”

“No one said you—”

“I don’t want your pity or your help, Roxton. Traitors get what’s coming to them!”

“But Charles is your
brother
.”

“And did my brother once think of me, his brother, when he was acting as go-between for the French and the Colonial rebels, while I was fighting for king and country? Did he ever stop to think that the numbers on the scraps of paper he passed to the French were in actuality flesh and blood? Each number a man with a family, a man fighting thousands of miles from his home, in foreign fields, being cut down where he stood, a limb hacked off here, a leg blown off there? That man left his wife a widow and his children orphans, all to fend for themselves. Did he give me or any of those men a thought? His treachery added to our dead and wounded; possibly lost us a battle or two. He deserves the same consideration he gave me; none. But as he is a coward and did not stand his ground, then it is left to me to stand mine, and take what is his due. And I am no coward.”