Dark Angel (52 page)

Leighton's face drained of color. His hands clenched together so tightly that Adam heard the scrape of bone on bone. "I don't believe you," he said.

Adam shrugged. "You must make up your own mind. But you should realize that the Home Office would be more inclined to show sympathy to a man who has cooperated with their inquiries." This was perfectly true. Adam had just neglected to mention that he was not working for the Home Ofice.

Leighton drew a shaky breath, his eyes a study in conflict. The light from the lamp on his desk revealed the sheen of sweat on his forehead. "And if I talk?" he asked. "Assuming, that is, that I have something to say."

Adam held Leighton's gaze, knowing that these were the most crucial moments in their interview. "I can promise you nothing. I intend to prove Colonel Rawley's guilt with or without your assistance. If you help me, I'll do what I can to see things do not go hard for you and your family."

Leighton regarded Adam with a mixture of fear and calclation. Adam waited, knowing if he pressed Leighton he might destroy any chance of getting him to talk.

All at once Leighton released his breath and slumped back in his chair. "It was Talbot who came to me. I knew him slightly. He said he was acting as an intermediary on behalf of his cousin. He made it sound like a personal favor more than anything. Overlooking a few minor flaws. I'd just got married. My wife was only eighteen. She's a darling, but she hadn't a notion how to manage and we went through money like water." He looked at Adam with pleading, horrified eyes. "I didn't know anything about espionage. I swear it."

"I believe you." The sympathy Adam felt for Leighton was tinged with anger. His careless act had cost men's lives. "And afterwards?" Adam asked. "Talbot came to you and asked you to keep his name out of it?"

Leighton hesitated. "Yes. He told me if I kept quiet and resigned my commission, there'd be no formal charges. The army didn't want a scandal. He said he could arrange for money to be paid into my bank account every quarter as long as I cooperated. My wife was pregnant by then. It seemed the answer to our prayers. If Jared Rawley didn't accuse his cousin, who was I to interfere in the matter?"

"I see." Adam wondered why Leighton had hesitated before he spoke. Was there more to the story? Adam considered pressing him, but decided not to push his luck. He had Leighton on his side for the moment and he wanted to keep him there.

"Will Colonel Rawley be charged very soon?" Leighton asked, the anxiety in his voice evident.

"I'm not sure," Adam said. "But I'd begin to think about making other arrangements for your income."

Leighton swallowed, then straightened his shoulders with a touch of soldierly bravado. "I'll manage."

He sounded as if he almost believed it. Adam left the house a few minutes later, wondering which of them was the more anxious about the future. He drove back to London and arrived in Red Lion Square just as Margaret and Hawkins were sitting down to a light repast in the breakfast parlor. Adam joined them and told about his meeting with Leighton.

"Interesting," Margaret said, spreading butter sparingly on a piece of bread. She sounded as if the matter was merely an intellectual puzzle. It was, Adam knew, her way of dealing with anxiety. "Do you think you can get him to admit it to Lord Castlereagh?"

"Provided I can get him to talk before he realizes there are no charges against Talbot." Adam took a bite of cold game pie and chewed it without tasting it. "If that doesn't work, I'll have to rely on Talbot. If I'm any judge of character, he'll try something soon. With luck he'll hang himself."

"He'll certainly try to hang someone," Margaret said, a sharp note creeping into her voice. "But I wouldn't count on it being himself."

Adam grinned. "I'll be careful. Have you ever known me to be otherwise?"

Margaret gave a snort that was answer enough. She left shortly after, saying she had shopping to do, but Adam and Hawkins lingered at the table. Hawkins had been silent throughout most of the meal. Though he had taken the news about Leighton seriously, Adam knew his mind was elsewhere.

"The man in the fawn coat was on my heels again this morning," Adam said, "so we know he didn't follow Sheriton and the women."

Hawkins looked at Adam across the table. "Unless Talbot has two men working for him."

"That's always a possibility," Adam admitted, subduing a twinge of fear. He knew the worry and helplessness Hawkins felt, but he could think of little to say to cheer him for he felt exactly the same himself. It was not like either of them to brood or admit to anxiety in the midst of a crisis, but then they were not used to having their women involved. "They're better off out of London," Adam said.

"It's not just that." Hawkins stared at the litter of bread crumbs on the blue-and-white Staffordshire plate before him. "Even when all this is settled—I'm not sure what I'm going to do."

"About Elena?"

Hawkins nodded, eyes still on his plate. "I asked her to marry me before we left Lisbon."

"Ah," Adam said, sipping lukewarm coffee. "That explains the tension on the
Sea Horse!'

Hawkins looked up quickly, his brows drawn together. Then his face relaxed into a reluctant, rueful grin. "Were you so sure a proposal would make things worse between us?"

"No. But Elena's suffered a lot at the hands of men. I wouldn't expect her to be eager to tie herself to any one of us again."

"I suppose so." Hawkins sighed. "I didn't see it that way at the time. I just knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her and I thought she'd want to spend the rest of her life with me. Now—" He gave a helpless shrug. •

"You're afraid to ask her again?" Adam said.

Hawkins began to push the bread crumbs around on his plate. "I'm afraid I
shouldn't
ask her again. She said I'm not cut out to be a husband. And the hell of it is, I'm beginning to think she's right. The sort of life we lead isn't exactly the ideal to offer a woman, is it?"

Adam had an image of Caroline's face when she finally agreed to marry him. "No," he said in an unemotional voice, "perhaps it isn't."

"Oh, Christ." Hawkins looked up quickly. "I didn't mean it that way. Your situation is completely different."

"I'd say it's remarkably similar." Adam pushed his chair back from the table. "Wellington will have marched by the time we get back to Lisbon. I think he may be able to go on into France this time. In which case, it's back to desks for us."

"But you'd still hardly call me an eligible prospect, would you?" Hawkins flung himself back in his chair. "In the Peninsula Elena didn't have anyone but me. But here—You remember the way those officers on the
Sea Horse
treated her. And that lawyer fellow your aunt had to dinner last week. The one who's called twice since on the flimsiest of pretexts. He was taken with Elena the moment he saw her—I could tell, because I spent that whole dinner wanting to punch him in the nose. And he wasn't just after a tumble. He treats her like a lady. Suppose Elena has a chance to stay in England and marry someone like that. Who am I to stand in her way?"

"The man who loves her," Adam said. But even as he spoke he recalled his talk with Sheriton at Boodle's. Sheriton's interest in Caroline had gone much further than the lawyer's admiration for Elena. Sheriton had wanted to marry Caroline, even after he learned the truth about Emily. For the first time, Adam acknowledged the fears he had not allowed himself to admit until Hawkins brought them to the surface. His stomach felt hollow and there was a bitter taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with the coffee. He had told Caroline she had to marry him to give Emily a name. At the time, he had thought he was her only option. But neither of them had known Sheriton would make virtually the same proposal.

Sheriton could not be Emily's father, but he could make her his ward. He could give her a fine house and the best teachers and a substantial dowry that would do much to take the sting out of any stories about her birth. He could give Caroline wealth and security and the fashionable life she had once lived with Jared. Save that even after their brief acquaintance Adam knew that Sheriton was a far better man than Jared had ever been.

Adam looked out into the garden, bright with spring flowers, so different from the tangled thicket in which they were all embroiled. He and Hawkins were sitting in companionable but gloomy silence, when John opened the door, an expression of surprise on his face. "There's man to see you, Mr. Durward. A Mr. Wilkins."

Adam did not recognize the name, but when a tall, thin man with graying hair walked into the room, he knew at once that it was Sheriton's coachman. Fear surged through him. "Where are they?" he demanded, springing to his feet.

Wilkins drew a painful breath. He must be well past sixty and he looked like a man who had ridden as though the devil were on his tail. His coat was rumpled, his hair windblown, his breathing hard and labored.

"Forgive me," Adam said, pulling out a chair and urging the coachman into it.

Hawkins, whose face had gone completely white, handed Wilkins a glass of water. Wilkins took a long drink, then set the glass on the table, his hand shaking. He looked up at Adam out of dazed eyes, as if he had stumbled into a situation where he was quite out of his depth. "I'm sorry, sir. It's a long time since I've ridden that hard."

"Where are Mrs. Rawley and the others?" Adam repeated in a quieter voice. Though every instinct urged speed, he knew he must be patient to get the story.

Wilkins shook his head helplessly. "We stopped to change horses. Lord Sheriton got down, but the ladies stayed in the carriage. I went to see to the horses and then one of the stableboys brought me a message saying I was to fetch lemonade for the ladies. By the time I returned from the kitchen, the carriage was gone. I couldn't understand it. I was sure Lord Sheriton wouldn't have left without me. Finally, I convinced the ostlers to help me look for him. We found him behind the stable. Someone had hit him over the head." Wilkins bristled at this insult to his employer.

"Where's Sheriton now?" Adam asked in the same measured voice. Beside him, he could feel Hawkins's burning impatience.

"Gone after them. Shepton, he said. I was to tell you he thinks the ladies and the little girl have been taken to Shepton. He's on his way there himself. It's in Kent near Farningham."

Wilkins shook his head again, as if he could not begin to understand what it all meant.

"Thank you." Adam placed his hand on the older man's shoulder. "You've done admirably, Mr. Wilkins. Stay here. I'll have the cook make you something to eat. When Mrs. Wellstone returns tell her what you've told us. And tell her we've gone after them."

Adam and Hawkins were out the door before Wilkins could respond. "I'll get my pistol," Hawkins said, starting for the stairs. "It looks as if we may need it." He paused at the base of the stairs and looked back at Adam. "He's taken them as bait, you know."

"Probably," Adam agreed. "But we don't have much altenative to walking into the trap."

Chapter Twenty-three

"Good God." Edward sat back in his chair and looked across his study at Lord Palmerston. "You actually saw the letter?"

"Oh, yes. Castlereagh gave it to me to read and asked what I thought. It's undoubtedly Charles Stuart's hand."

Edward passed a hand over his face. After twelve years in the House of Commons, he thought he had learned to take surprises in stride. But this news was like a bolt from the blue.

"Did Stuart write in response to Castlereagh's inquiries about Durward?" Edward asked.

"No, Castlereagh's letter couldn't have reached him so quickly," Palmerston said. "Stuart wrote because he heard your brother was going home on leave and he was afraid it might have something to do with Durward's return to England." Palmerston clasped his hands. "Apparently, before he left Lisbon, Durward had made some accusations against Talbot. Stuart says he wasn't sure what to make of them, but he knows Duward isn't a man to say such things lightly. In case there were any complications, Stuart wrote to express his faith in Durward and his story."

And the story, which Palmerston had already told Edward, was damnable. According to Durward, Talbot had been involved in the fraud five years ago. And to cover up his actions, he had attempted to have Caroline killed. It should have been laughable, but Edward didn't feel like laughing. He felt ill.

"Durward never mentioned any of this at the committee meetings?" he asked.

Palmerston shook his head. "No. He must have realized that if he accused Talbot it would look like an attempt to save his own skin. Stuart's letter proves that Durward accused Talbot well before Talbot accused him."

Palmerston did not add that therefore Talbot might have accused Durward to save
his
skin, but the thought hung uncomfortably in the air between them. Edward stared unseeing at a watercolor Dolly had painted of their children, which hung on the opposite wall. "What does Castlereagh think?" he asked.

Palmerston leaned back in his chair, his eyes shrewd with sympathy. "He says it's possible Durward is playing a very clever game. Perhaps he knew Talbot meant to accuse him and decided to accuse Talbot himself first. But Castlereagh also says this casts some doubt on Talbot's story. He'll want to talk to both Talbot and Durward again."

Edward looked levelly at Palmerston. He had always considered Palmerston to be a little reckless and impulsive, while Palmerston, Edward suspected, considered him rather stodgy and dull. But in years of working together they had formed a friendship of sorts, strengthened by the fact that Edward's wife was a good friend of Palmerston's mistress. Edward valued Palmerston's opinion. "What do you think?" he asked.

"I was taken quite by surprise," Palmerston said. "It's too soon to make any judgment, but I have to admit I've been inclined to take Durward's side from the first. If Durward were a spy, I think he'd be clever enough not to get caught."

Edward gave a curt nod. "There'll be another meeting?"