by Aston, Alexa
“I’d be happy to do so,” she told Harriet.
“We get to help with the baby,” Jane said. “Harriet wants a girl like us but I’m hoping it’s a boy. I miss having a brother.”
“Come along, my ladies,” Miss Wight said.
After they left, Charlotte said, “They lost their older brother last year. Rodger was only twelve but had been in poor health most of his life. He was an unusually intelligent boy and the girls miss him terribly.”
“I’m sure whether you have a boy or girl, they will be happy,” Gemma said. “I daresay with the looks your husband gives you, you will be having several babies over the years.”
Her new friend smiled wistfully. “Gray is a very loving husband and father. I hope we will fill Gray Manor with children. I’m glad Harriet extended an invitation to you. We’d love for you to visit us in the country.”
She hesitated and then said, “As much as I would like that, I’m not sure if it’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“I know Burke and Lord Crampton are very close friends.”
“Something’s happened,” Charlotte said astutely. “Have you and Burke quarreled?”
“We have. We just aren’t suited for each other, Charlotte. I’ll admit there are feelings there on both our parts but in the long run? Burke Nicholson is not the kind of man to settle down.”
Charlotte studied her a moment. “You’re guarding your heart. I don’t blame you, Gemma. I do understand your concerns about Burke. Yes, he once was very much a ladies’ man. I believe he’s changed, though. Perhaps absence will make the heart grow fonder. A brief separation between the two of you might be what it takes for him to realize how much he needs you.”
Charlotte took her hand. “If not, I’ll make sure that the two of you are not at Gray Manor at the same time, Gemma. I hope you’ll still want to come.”
“Of course.”
They finished their tea and Lord Crampton entered the room, giving her a warm smile. She wondered if he would have if he’d known she and Burke were now estranged.
“Did you meet our girls?” he asked. “Aren’t they wonderful?”
“They are, indeed,” Gemma agreed. She rose. “I know it’s time for your reading hour and I must leave. I’m attending the theatre this evening with an old friend.”
Charlotte kissed her cheek. “Thank you for coming. Will you be at the Monroes’ garden party tomorrow afternoon?”
“Yes. I look forward to seeing you there.”
The earl escorted her downstairs. As they reached the foyer, he said, “I’m happy you and Charlotte are becoming friends, Lady Covington. And that you and Burke are growing close.”
Gemma shook her head. “While I enjoy Charlotte’s company tremendously, I’m afraid to tell you that Mr. Nicholson and I are no longer seeing one another.”
“What did the bloody idiot do?” he demanded.
She laughed. “You know, my lord, I could actually be the bloody idiot.”
He dismissed her words with a wave of his hand. “Nonsense. I’ve known Burke since we were seven. He’s impulsive and too frank by far. If anyone’s to blame for your separation, it’s him. I love him more dearly than any brother could but I can tell you without knowing the circumstances that he’s the one at fault in your quarrel.”
The earl took her hand. “Please, forgive him, my lady. Whatever he’s done, I know that he cares for you a great deal.”
She looked at him sadly. “Sometimes, caring is not enough. In this case, it’s better that he and I part ways.”
“I see.” He squeezed her fingers in sympathy. “I’m sorry. I feel you would have been very good for him.”
“I’m sure he’ll find someone else. Knowing Burke, several someone elses.”
His brows arched at her comment. She knew this man would confront Burke. It would be up to him to tell why they no longer were involved.
“Good afternoon, Lord Crampton.”
“Lady Covington.”
Gemma returned to her house and decided to forego dinner since she’d eaten so much at tea. Harriet and Jane had pestered her to try almost everything on the teacart. Besides, she and William planned to have a late supper following the play.
She dressed in blue, a color she loved because it brought out the blue of her eyes. She also thought it complemented her auburn locks.
William arrived at the appointed hour and escorted her to his carriage.
“What are we seeing tonight?”
“It’s Shakespeare’s As You Like It. I’m sure you’ve seen it before.”
“Actually, I haven’t,” Gemma said. “I know it’s a comedy.”
“A pastoral one,” William said. “And love plays a central role. I think you’ll enjoy seeing how Rosalind and Orlando come to wed.”
Gemma watched the play unfold with a different heart, having been in love herself. She doubted she would have understood the struggle of the central pairs before meeting Burke. When the four couples wed in the last scene, she dabbed her handkerchief to her eyes.
As they left, William said, “You do know it was a comedy, Gemma. I’m not sure why you cried.”
“Sometimes tears can be ones of joy, William. I was merely happy Rosalind and Orlando were able to wed. Celia and Oliver, too. It was touching to see him repent after Orlando saved him from the lioness. It seems they all got a happy ending.”
“Unlike some of us,” William said, handing her into the carriage and joining her.
“You’re sad because you were jilted at the altar,” she told him. “In fact, it was the best thing to happen to you. Imagine if you’d wed and your wife loved another man. She would have been miserable and probably made you miserable, too. By following her heart, it was the best for everyone. It leaves you free to find someone who will make you happy.”
“And what of you, Gemma?” he asked softly. “Losing Rob. Becoming a widow at a young age. Have you thought of marrying again?”
“No,” she said swiftly.
“I thought you might. You’ve been seen in Mr. Nicholson’s company recently. He seems quite taken with you.”
“Mr. Nicholson is taken with a pretty face. He’s moved on and so have I.”
“Is that so?” William stared intently at her. “You have no feelings for him?”
She did—but she would never admit them to her friend.
“Feelings are ephemeral. Mr. Nicholson has found others to hold his attention.”
“What of you, Gem?”
She noticed William called her by the name Rob had always used. No one else ever referred to her that way. She started to ask him why but before the words left her mouth, he kissed her.
It wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, it was rather sweet.
But William wasn’t Burke. No one would ever be Burke.
Gemma placed her hand on his chest and nudged him away.
“Too soon after Rob?”
She nodded. “I’m afraid it will always be too soon, William. I don’t believe I’ll ever wed again.”
He took her hand and kissed it. “I hope you don’t think me too forward but I had to try. I hope you’re not angry. That we can remain friends.”
“We’ll always be friends, William. I hope we’ll always be able to count upon one another.”
Chapter Twenty
Burke idly watched the comings and goings at White’s as he sipped on a whiskey. He put the drink down and left the remainder untouched. Usually, he refrained from alcohol and at most had a single drink, due to how overindulging affected his balance. He’d worked too hard after losing his eye to become comfortable in his body again, fighting to conquer the lopsidedness he felt. Even now, when others approached him from his right side, he had to depend upon his other senses to be aware of their presence. His heightened sense of awareness, especially smell, had helped.
More than anything now, he wished he could smell Gemma. Not just the vanilla scent that wafted from her skin, especially when it heated at his
touch, but the smell of her hair. The clean, fresh scent of her clothes. The past month had dragged at a snail’s pace without her in his life. He’d immersed himself in his role of the carefree rake and teased and flirted at every affair he attended. He’d danced with every pretty girl making her come-out, often under the disapproving eyes of their overprotective mamas, who would never have approved of Burke as a future husband. Four widows and three unhappily married women had cozied up to him, wanting to begin an affair. He’d put them all off. Funny how he was supposed to be a scoundrel of the worst kind and yet he hadn’t had sex in a very long time.
No matter what event, he was always aware of Gemma. Where she was. What she wore. Who she danced with and spoke to. He made sure they never crossed paths. Never spoke. Never even looked at one another.
And he’d never been more unhappy in his life.
Not even losing his right eye could compare to the loss of Gemma. He would give up his other eye. Every limb. His very soul—if only for one more kiss with her.
Burke stood, instantly making a decision. He’d volunteered his services to Sir Paxton Morris. Unlike his obligation in the army, there was no commission to sell. He would simply tell Morris he was done. Out. Though he’d made sure to converse with every suspect on Morris’ list, making clear his resentment and hostility regarding Britain’s role in the ongoing war, no one had bitten. At this point, he didn’t think they would. He wasn’t doing any good. Morris and Smith might as well have someone else try to infiltrate the circle of traitors since Burke hadn’t had any luck.
Stepping away from his role as a rogue wouldn’t mean he could be with Gemma, though. He didn’t have any means of an income and doubted anyone would want to hire a one-eyed former soldier whose chief skills were killing men in war and seducing women. Besides not being able to give her a home, he couldn’t help but recall how she’d demanded a stop to their kisses. Though she might physically desire him, too much of her was still in love with her dead husband. Even if she could get past her feelings for The Don, there was still the fact that Burke had inadvertently caused the man’s death. What woman could look past that?
Still, he was tired of the games and lack of progress. He would go see Morris now at the War Office. Perhaps the man had some other assignment he could give Burke, either in London or abroad. That might be best, getting away from England so that he wouldn’t have to see Gemma from afar. If Morris turned him down, Burke supposed he could go home to his parents and see if they could use him on the estate.
He left White’s and walked the entire way to his destination, the movement invigorating him. He might have lost an eye but he was blessed more than some soldiers, who came home without arms or legs. It was time to stop feeling sorry for himself and move on.
To a life without Gemma.
As he turned the corner, Burke halted, shocked by what he saw. After all this time, the elusive thin man had appeared, stepping from the very building Burke went to.
Did he work in the War Office?
He must or else why would he be leaving from there?
The man hailed a hansom cab and Burke turned, frantically looking for one. Fortunately, a gentleman was just exiting one and Burke rushed up and told the driver he wished to engage his services.
“Where to, sir?” the cabbie asked.
As his suspect’s cab started up, Burke pointed. “Follow that cab. And don’t lose it.”
He jumped in, his heart racing. The thin man might lead him to the fourth man he and Jones had never been able to identify. No more meetings had occurred at Mrs. Crawford’s abode. It would be the greatest of luck if by following this man, he would lead Burke to the unknown member they’d sought.
His driver slowed the vehicle and Burke glanced out the window, seeing the cab they followed had turned and now faced the opposite direction. The thin man got out and Burke almost did the same—until he saw the man climb into another hackney. As it passed, he glimpsed inside and saw Viscount Carpenter.
Before he could tell his driver to turn around, the man did so and began following the second cab. They crossed many streets and wound up in Mayfair, stopping at a palatial townhouse. His driver slowed, allowing Burke to see the men exit their vehicle and make their way to the front door, then it came to a stop half a block away.
“Anywhere else, sir?” the driver called out.
He climbed from the cab and paid the man, praising him for following the second cab, and including a nice bonus.
“I figured that’s what you’d want.” The cabbie looked down and saw the amount Burke had given him and whistled. “Thank you very much, sir.”
In broad daylight, it would be hard to keep watch over where the men had entered, especially since the square upon which the townhouse sat wasn’t busy. Anyone loitering in the area would be noticed. He did know from Gemma’s meticulous notes that the residence belonged to Lord Melton, though. Burke changed his mind and ran after the cab he’d just released, hollering at the driver to halt.
When he did, Burke said, “I’ll pay you to sit. Swing around so I can face the townhouse but leave the carriage half a block away.”
The driver grinned at him knowingly. “Troubles with the missus? She been getting a little on the side? Happy to oblige you, sir. We’ll keep watch on the house.”
He maneuvered the vehicle so it faced the opposite direction.
Burke swallowed the humiliation he felt, hating that this man thought he was being cuckolded, but knowing it was a good cover story.
“If someone leaves the house and I tap once on the roof, you’re to stay in place. Twice and I’ll want you to follow at a discreet distance.”
“And if we just sit?”
“You’ll be well compensated, no matter what.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
Burke climbed inside and the driver drove a short distance before halting. It gave Burke a perfect view of the front door. He settled in to wait.
Almost two hours later, Carpenter stepped outside, followed by the thin man. He wished Jones were with him so they could split up, one remaining to see who else exited Melton’s establishment and the other to follow these two men. He didn’t have that luxury, though, and would need to make a decision soon.
The pair began walking along the square and he supposed they would go out onto the main thoroughfare and hail a cab. Determining it would be better to remain in place, Burke tapped once. The driver tapped back once, confirming he’d received the signal. After another two hours, no one else appeared. It was likely no one else had been at the meeting.
If he only knew what they’d spoken of—and if these were the men in the circle of treason Morris suspected.
Either way, he wanted to speak with Smith, which meant returning home and having Jones arrange a meeting. He leaned out the window and shouted his address to the driver, who took Burke home. Immediately, he sent for Jones and filled him in on what he’d seen.
“Get word to Smith. I want to see him as soon as possible.”
After Jones left, Burke recorded brief notes of what he’d observed. He itched to send word to Gemma, telling her he’d spotted their mystery man. He couldn’t do it, though. Morris had pulled her from the game. While Burke knew it was for the best and would keep her safe, he couldn’t help but resent Morris a bit for tearing them apart.
Jones returned and said that both Smith and Morris would arrive within half an hour. Burke asked the agent to stay, knowing he deserved to be there. Shortly afterward, the butler showed the pair in.
“You located the man you saw at Mrs. Crawford’s?” Smith asked, his eyes lit with eagerness.
“Yes. Coming out of the War Office,” Burke revealed.
“What?” Morris roared. “You’re joking.”
“I wouldn’t waste your time with foolish nonsense,” he said curtly. “My mistake was failing to provide a description of the man to you and Smith. You believe the traitor—or some of the traitors—works in the War Office. When we discu
ssed the meeting at Mrs. Crawford’s and those in attendance, I told you I would recognize the one I got a clear look at. I’ve searched for him ever since. Unfortunately, he was sitting under your noses.”
“Describe him,” Morris said.
“He’s over six feet and thin to the point of being gaunt. Pale complexion and a beak-like nose. He walks with an odd shuffle, almost as if he tries to disguise a limp and fails to do so.”
“Brandon,” Smith and Morris said simultaneously, shock on both of their faces as they exchanged a glance.
“So you know him,” Burke said.
Disgust and contempt filled Morris’ face. “I should. The bloody dolt is my clerk.”
Now it was his turn to be stunned. “You mean this man has access to the business you do?”
“Yes,” hissed Morris, growing red in the face. “Burford Brandon has seen all kinds of documents. Taken down correspondence. Delivered sensitive messages. By God, I’ll string him up myself.”
“Does he know about me?” Burke pressed.
“No. There’s nothing written to confirm a relationship between us. As you recall, you approached me outside my office in order to offer your services. Beyond Smith and Jones here, no one knows of your involvement.”
“Knowing he’s more than likely involved, could you feed him false information?” he asked.
Morris grew thoughtful. “I could. It would have to be handled delicately. Smith and I will think on it.”
“There is a slight possibility that Brandon isn’t guilty.”
Smith shook his head. “Where you find smoke, there will be fire. If Brandon is keeping company with Hampton, Melton and Carpenter in secret, he’s certainly a part of their ring.”
“Should we bring him in?” Jones asked quietly. “It wouldn’t take much to break him.”
“No,” Burke said. “A man like that, one who could blow away one day with a strong gust of wind, would say anything to have you stop the interrogation.” Of course, he knew what those interrogations involved, having been a part of conducting many himself. “He would be more valuable passing along the wrong kind of information to his superiors.”