The Marquess Meets His Match Read online

  “Yes, it is. Lady Alice has already been following leads and gathering information and she needs to hear what you've come to say.” His gaze fell on his daughter. “Lady Alice, I’m sure you’ve been introduced to the Marquess of Wolverton, but we in the Falcon group know him as Wolf.”

  Wolf. For a moment she could only stare at the man. His reputation preceded him. Commander of men. Charmer of women. Legendary tracker. It was said he could find any quarry, even blindfolded on a moonless night. He was one of the most decorated agents in all of Britain. Alice had heard plenty of stories of his bravery and abilities to escape even the most slippery of situations. Impressed, but not wanting to show it, she merely dipped her head in acknowledgment.

  Lord Wolverton stood very still, as if he couldn’t process the duke’s words. “Your daughter is part of the Falcon group?” he said slowly. “Your only daughter?”

  “No one knows of her role, and with my own position kept under strict orders of secrecy, she’s safe. And frankly, she’s one of our best intelligence gatherers,” the duke said without preamble. “Alice is especially talented with blades and getting information from those who are reluctant to talk. We need her skills.”

  “But if someone had reason to suspect her and put her name on that list, they could have been shooting at her.” Christian looked at the duke. “We must look at every angle. Why did they choose your home for the attack and a time when your daughter was out in the garden? Could your identities have been compromised?”

  “I suppose it’s possible, but the number of people that know of my involvement can be counted on one hand.” The duke sat down in the chair behind his desk and motioned for Christian and Alice to take the chairs opposite.

  “Can someone explain to me what exactly is going on?” Alice asked, looking at her father. “How would our identities relate to Thomas’s murder?”

  “Wolf has received intelligence that a peer of the realm will be in Kent to exchange a list of names of British intelligence officers for a fat purse from the French. Thomas’s death was merely to provide proof that the traitor knows each member of the Falcon Group from the lowest messenger to the highest peer.”

  “Your Grace.” Christian looked her father in the eye. “As the head of Falcon Group and with a daughter who is involved, you and your family are in danger, I’d like to suggest retiring to your country home immediately, using several agents as footmen or stable hands to strengthen your security until we can apprehend the traitor.”

  “Yes, I agree, we should leave at once, but not so I can hide. Our country seat, Langdon Park, is in Kent, and we are planning our annual house party. This is the perfect opportunity to invite any nobleman who might have access to that list of agents and keep a close watch on them.” He paused. “Our final ball of the party is always a masquerade. I can’t help but think since the traitor is part of the nobility, he’ll see that as a chance to stay anonymous while he sells that list and signs a death warrant for our agents.”

  “But will he dare risk committing treason in the house of a spymaster? He will know your position if he’s read that list himself.” Christian glanced at Alice. “And it also puts your family in close proximity to someone who isn’t averse to killing.”

  “My family will be well protected, I assure you. If we remove to our country seat tomorrow, no one will question the timing as the house party is scheduled to begin a few days hence. That will give us time to strategize.” The duke steepled his fingers and sighed. “When I helped a few French nobles escape the Terror, I never dreamed that it would turn into a double life of service to the Crown. But I don’t regret it. And the few trusted men who know the names of those in service will be thoroughly investigated. A traitor among us is unacceptable. I’ll do everything in my power to find them and their French buyer and make sure they are punished.” His voice was hard, in a way Alice had never heard before, but it added emphasis to his words.

  “Your Grace, the traitor likely knows that you and your daughter are on that list. Having a murderer in your household is quite risky and might not be the best course―” Lord Wolverton started to protest, but the duke stood and cut him off.

  “There is much to do. For right now, however, if you would kindly escort my daughter back to the festivities, that would be most helpful. I’m sure her mother would appreciate her presence in helping with her hostess duties.”

  “Papa, I’d rather stay here and discuss the details.” Alice gave him a speaking glance, but he didn’t acknowledge it.

  “I’ll join you shortly.” He came around the desk to kiss her cheek. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk later, my dear. You and Wolf will need to compare what intelligence you’ve gathered already. Between the two of you, perhaps we can apprehend the traitor before the list is in play.”

  Alice’s stomach sank. She didn’t want to work with Lord Wolverton, but from the look on her father’s face, he would not be dissuaded, so she capitulated. “Yes, Papa.” Taking Christian’s arm, she faced the door. “Thank you for your kind escort, my lord.”

  Christian opened the door and led her from the room. Many of the guests had already left the dining room and were filing into the ballroom, where the musicians were beginning to tune. Had they been gone so long? They must have. He stopped near the entry doors and turned to face her.

  “It appears we’re going to be working together,” he said, keeping his voice low. “We’ll have to learn to trust each other for a partnership to work.”

  She looked up at him, his gaze steady as he waited for her reply. He was in earnest, there was no doubt about that. “Yes, though I think that might be more difficult for one of us.”

  He’d seemed so shocked that she worked for the Falcon group. Alice had met several men that didn’t feel intelligence work was suitable for women. Was Lord Wolverton one of them? That was likely, but a small part of her was disappointed. Just once, she’d like to have a man see her contributions instead of focusing on her gender.

  A few matrons stood on the far side of the dance floor, and Alice spotted her mother in the middle of the group. “Thank you for your escort. My mother is just there, so your obligation is fulfilled.” And she was anxious to be rid of him. She needed to do a little more investigating on her own before she was saddled with Lord Wolverton as a partner.

  Christian gently took her elbow. “Your father asked me to see you to your mother. I mean to do just that.” He pulled her arm through his and slowly strolled across the room.

  Alice forced a polite smile to her face. “As you wish, my lord.”

  When she finally reached her mother’s side, she could see the anxiety in the duchess’s eyes, which she was trying to hide. Alice touched her mother’s arm and drew her slightly away from the group. “All is well, Mama,” she said quietly. “Perhaps you should sit down? You look a little flushed.”

  “She’s right, Your Grace. Allow me to fetch you a drink.” Christian bowed slightly and strode away toward the refreshment table.

  Alice watched him go for a moment, grateful that he wasn’t hovering over her and was being helpful instead. Turning, she focused on her mother. “Father informed me that we’re to go to Langdon Park tomorrow to get ready for the house party.”

  Her mother took out her fan and flipped it open. “If he thinks that’s best. The extra time for preparation might be just the thing. Your father always invites a few more guests than I anticipate, but I can’t begrudge him. He so rarely takes leisure time, and the hunting is good this year.”

  Christian returned just in time to hear the last part of her mother’s statement. “My father once told me that the hunting at your country home is second to none, your Grace.”

  “My husband would agree.” The duchess took the proffered drink from Christian. “I believe my husband is well-acquainted with your father. I was sorry to hear of the death of your brother and your father’s ill health.”

  “Thank you.” He coughed slightly into his hand. “After being away for so
long overseas, I’ve been busy helping care for my father and see to estate affairs and haven’t accepted as many invitations as I would have liked. Is it too late for me to accept for the house party?”

  Alice started. Had he truly been invited already? And, if so, why hadn’t she been informed?

  “We’d be delighted to have you. I’m sure my husband would enjoy renewing his acquaintance with your family.” The duchess snapped her fan closed. “Alice, I shall have to ask you say my farewells to our guests, I’m afraid. I must excuse myself. There is much to do before we leave.”

  Christian bowed as the duchess swept past, her skirts swishing across the floor. Alice started to follow her, but stopped and turned to him. “For a man who is known for being mostly in seclusion, you have quite clearly stepped out of the convenience of that reputation by accepting the invitation to tonight’s ball and to our house party.”

  “As your mother said, we will merely be renewing an old family acquaintance.” He quirked an eyebrow. “And it would be hard to partner with you if we aren’t in close proximity to each other. I admit, I’m looking forward to it.”

  Her heart skipped a beat at his low voice and daring glance. Did he mean he was looking forward to partnering with her, or to being at the house party? Blast. She needed to double her defenses when he was near. They seemed rather thin in his company. “Of course, my lord.” She curtsied. “I will be happy to receive you there.”

  Christian stepped closer, a glint in his eye. “Why do I have the feeling that you are telling a polite falsehood, Lady Alice?”

  She arched her brows and gave him her best society smile. “Because you are a very astute man.” Turning to leave, she felt his eyes on her as she walked away, his quiet laugh following her across the ballroom.

  Her grin widened at the sound, but she quickly sobered. With the news that the agents of the Falcon group were in very real danger, they had only a small window of time to find out who was giving their names to the country’s enemies. If her father had a plan to capture the traitor at the house party, she would do all she could to help. Of course, Lord Wolverton being a partner in the investigation could make it infinitely more complicated.

  But she was looking forward to the challenge.

  Chapter Four

  CHRISTIAN LOOKED AROUND the tavern as he lifted his tankard and took another drink. He fit right in with the rest of the men at the tables, with his patched wool trousers and battered hat. None of them had given him a second glance when he’d come in, and he’d been grateful to sit after a long day. He’d worked hard to put any thoughts of Lady Alice Huntingdon out of his mind by retracing Thomas Norwich’s steps before he died. Nothing had seemed out of the ordinary, but he still thought that this investigation was too dangerous for the duke’s daughter and was determined to be finished with it before the house party even started. Then the Falcon agents would be safe, including Alice.

  He’d sent a discreet message to Nash, his best informant in Seven Dials, two days ago. Nash had finally sent his agreement and specified where to meet, but the delay in his response said he was more guarded than normal. Of course being seen in public was always risky for both of them, but Christian was always careful to take measures so that no one could connect them. Nash was late today, though. He should have been here a quarter of an hour ago, and Christian was starting to worry. He took another drink and resisted looking at the door. Where was he?

  As if the thought had conjured him, Nash slid into the chair across the table, pulling off his dirty stocking cap. “Sorry, guv. Thought I was bein’ followed.” He stole another glance behind him. “Gots to make this quick.”

  Christian pushed the bowl of stew and a piece of bread he’d ordered toward his friend. “Have a few bites while we talk.”

  He watched Nash tear into the bread and hardly chew before swallowing. “There’s lotsa talk about that toff who was fished out of the Thames.”

  “Anyone see anything?” Christian kept his voice low. Nash was part of a gang of mudlarks that scavenged the Thames, looking for anything valuable they could trade for coin. Not much happened at the river without them knowing.

  Nash took two quick bites of stew and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “He was wrapped in a fancy rug. Ewen jus’ thought he’d found a rug and could clean it up and trade it for enough coin for a few meals. But the body was inside. Hadn’t been dead long.” He shivered and looked around again before leaning over the table and lowering his voice even further. “He said he saw a man in a carriage watching the riverbank, but when he saw Ewen, he drove away, quick-like.”

  Christian straightened. This was the first solid clue he’d gotten on the killer. “Would he recognize him if he saw the man again?”

  “Don’t rightly know. He’s scared he’ll be accused o’ murder. Not talkin’ much.” Nash shoved the rest of the bread in his mouth. “All he said was that the man had light hair and a nose long enough to look down on anyone.”

  Which described half the ton, including Pembroke.. “I have a man who can draw likenesses of anyone. I’d like Ewen to help him draw one of the man he saw that night.” Christian handed him another piece of bread, with a crown underneath it for the man’s trouble.

  Nash took both and shoved the coin into his pocket. “I’ll tell him, but I ain’t going to guarantee Ewen will do it.” He surreptitiously glanced around the tavern. “And it’s probably not safe to meet for a while. Somethin’s afoot.”

  “Be careful. You know how to get information to me if you need to. I’ll send a message about getting the likeness done.”

  Nash grunted before he stood, and Christian watched him hurry out of the tavern. Sitting back, he finished off his drink, making note of anyone who seemed interested in Nash or looked like they were planning to follow him. No one did. Perhaps Nash was being overly cautious, but when Nash had talked about being followed, the hairs on the back of Christian’s neck had stood up. With the murder of a British spy, and a credible source reporting that others in intelligence were being betrayed, no one was safe.

  When Christian finished eating, he paid for the meal and pulled his hat down low before heading out into the night. He kept his stride nice and even, though he was anxious to get home. Maybe it was Nash’s words affecting him, but Christian’s sixth sense told him he was being watched. On the corner, he passed two ladies of the night who called out to him, offering their services, but he waved them off. Holding the small pistol he had in his pocket at the ready, he didn’t let out a breath until he’d made it to the edge of Seven Dials and hailed a hack. He kept up his guard until he’d arrived in Mayfair. Knocking on the roof, he let himself out and paid the jarvey, who barely gave him a second glance.

  Reaching his townhouse, Christian went down to the servants’ entrance and let himself in. He stole up the back stairs to his bedchamber, grateful most of the servants were in bed for the night and no one had seen him. After he closed and locked his bedchamber door behind him, he moved into his dressing room. It didn’t take long to change out of his wool trousers and shirt, shoving the clothing in the very back of his wardrobe and donning his favorite blue banyan.

  It had been a long day, and though Christian would have liked nothing more than to relax in front of his fire, he still had to meet with one more person. Edward had sent a note earlier that requested Christian find him at White’s. After Edward’s behavior at the Huntingdon ball, Christian wanted to keep that appointment. If he could help Edward adjust to life outside the army, he would. In fact, he’d been giving some thought to possibly establishing a trust for veterans. He wanted to do something for the men who had served; he just wasn’t sure what would be most helpful. Perhaps he might bring the idea to Edward. If he was sober.

  Christian pulled his banyan closed and belted it. Out in the field it had seemed easier to do what was necessary to complete the mission. Somehow, being home was harder. He couldn’t explain why. Swiping his hand over his jaw, he squared his shoulders and rang for his valet.
People were depending on him and he needed to keep moving forward.

  Once he had washed and was dressed, he headed downstairs. His butler seemed to know his needs before he did and so his horse was ready and waiting. As he rode to White’s, he passed several carriages on their way to evening entertainments. He hadn’t missed the social whirl while he'd been away. Society’s clamor for gossip and good matches had paled in the reality of war and stopping those who were hungry for power. Stopping Napoleon and those who stood beside him had been why he’d joined the Falcon Group. Their missions had made him believe they could win and they had. But now, someone was threatening the peace they’d achieved. His mind went over the scant clues they had on the traitor’s identity. A British peer. Possibly blonde. A long nose. Christian let out a frustrated breath. It wasn’t much.

  Before long, he was striding into White’s. Several patrons greeted him and invited him to sit at their table, but he politely declined. He really wasn’t in the mood to socialize or talk about his father, his brother, the war, or anything else that members of the ton seemed eager to ask him. He wanted to find Edward as soon as possible.

  After looking in several rooms, Christian finally gave up and stopped a passing footman. “Has Viscount Carlisle been here tonight?”

  “Yes, my lord. He was drinking with Lord Pembroke earlier, and they left together an hour past.” The servant dipped his head. “Is there anything else?”

  “No, that is all.” Christian let out a frustrated breath. Why would Edward call him here only to leave? And what could Pembroke and Edward have to talk about? Surely Edward wouldn’t be party to any traitorous actions. He’d fought and sacrificed for England. But Christian had to admit that Edward hadn’t seemed himself at the ball. Rubbing the back of his neck, he added Edward Carlisle’s name to his growing list of peers who needed to be investigated as the possible traitor.

  As he stalked to the entrance and waited for his horse, Christian couldn’t stop thinking about Edward and the last battle they’d been in together. The unmistakable fear, combined with the raw courage of his men, haunted him the most. Seeing Edward struggling with those same demons brought out feelings he’d rather stay buried. Pushing his thoughts away, Christian mounted and took the reins, turning the horse’s head and guiding him home. The darkness, combined with the nip in the air, reminded him of his last march in Spain. He’d been tired then, too, and trying to guide his horse through congested roads. But he was in England now, and he didn’t have to worry about food, warmth, or if his men could survive one more battle.