by Aston, Alexa
“The situation in Portugal is critical now, especially with Wellesley’s recent defeat of Soult’s forces at Porto.”
“He won?” A thrill of pride rippled through him.
“Yes. We’ve just received the dispatches,” Smith said. “The papers will be reporting it in tomorrow’s editions.”
“Is Talavera next?” Burke asked, thinking it the logical place for Wellesley to move.
“It is,” Morris confirmed.
“Then make sure something comes across your desk—and is passed along to Burford Brandon—that will throw the traitors off the scent.”
Morris rose. “I’ll take care of that now.” He nodded brusquely to Burke and Jones. “Good work.”
Smith looked to Burke. “You need to get in with these people now, Nicholson.”
“I think I have a way.” He looked to Morris. “Make sure whatever documents you concoct have Wellesley crossing into Spain.”
“But that’s what is planned—and what would be expected,” Morris protested. “British forces will join with General Cuesta and march east. The combined forces will fight Joseph Bonaparte, luring him to just north of Talavera. The campaign is set to occur in mid-July, possibly a week later, depending upon troop movements.”
“Then say the Spanish under Cuesta plan to attack Talavera from the north and that Wellesley will march his troops and split from Cuesta’s, coming up from south of Talavera. Bonaparte will have to split his forces to defend against both armies. It’s enough of a change that if the British traitors send word to Fouché, it could give Wellesley and Cuesta a leg up.” Burke paused. “And it might give me an in with Melton and the others.”
“How?” Smith asked.
“Plant the false documents and give Brandon time to pass along the information. Then I will approach Melton with the same information. He’ll already have it and know it’s good because Brandon has become a trusted source.”
“But how will you have obtained it, Nicholson?” Morris asked.
Burke smiled. “By bedding the right woman who has access to it.” He gazed pointedly at Morris. “It seems as if I will be starting an affair with your wife.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Burke made sure he danced with Lady Morris at a ball that night. Her husband had told her a small part of the scheme and her role in it as a lover to one of his agents. As they danced now, she told Burke she was flattered.
“I’m at least ten years older than you are, Mr. Nicholson. While Sir Paxton still tells me I am pretty, I know I’ve gone a bit plump.”
“You are very pretty, Lady Morris. Smile at me.”
She did and it made her even prettier.
“See, that wasn’t so hard. We’ll dance again once at the ball two nights from now. By then, the seeds will have been laid.”
She smiled again and the dimple in her right cheek made her look very appealing.
He sought her out at the next ball and they partnered again. She laughed when he told her to and gave him a coquettish look, batting her lashes and peering up at him in mischief.
Burke laughed. “I do believe you’ve missed your calling, my lady.”
“I have no idea what Paxton does but I’m enjoy myself immensely.”
“I don’t think anyone will approach you but if they do and ask about me, say something nice.”
“That will be easy to do, Mr. Nicholson. You are very handsome. And very charming.”
“Thank you, Lady Morris.”
He escorted her from the dance floor, noting that Melton watched them. Kissing her hand, he turned and spied Hampton also looked on with interest.
Burke sauntered toward the card room. Though he’d rather one of those two men approached him tonight, he would seek them out if needed.
He played a few hands and then rose, claiming a drink and leaning against the wall, watching those still playing.
Lord Hampton joined him. “Nicholson.”
“Hampton.”
“You seemed to have a bit of luck at cards tonight.”
“Which is why I stopped,” Burke said. “I don’t gamble often and when I win, I step away from the tables.” He inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. “It’s much more pleasant to play cards in an English drawing room than around a campfire that might be shelled at any moment.”
“Is that how you lost your eye?”
He shrugged. “It’s gone. That’s what matters. And it is England’s fault. Wellesley, in particular.”
“You didn’t like fighting under him.”
“I didn’t like fighting. Period.”
Burke let the sentiment set in, hoping he’d baited the hook enough to reel Hampton in.
“You’ve been a bit outspoken lately against the government and the war.”
He turned and gazed at Hampton pointedly. “Do you blame me?” he asked harshly. “I gave up some of the best years of my life, along with my eye. Now that I’ve returned home, I plan to enjoy myself.”
“I don’t see you with Lady Covington anymore.”
“No, you don’t. My attitude toward the war was but one reason we drifted apart. She worshiped her father-in-law and was proud that her husband died a war hero, on the battlefield. What rot.” Burke took a long drink.
Time to see if Hampton was biting.
“You work at the War Office, don’t you?” he asked, his tone accusatory. “Can’t you help end this idiotic war?”
“I’m trying,” the earl said, a gleam in his eyes. “Unlike many of my colleagues, who think Britain right in all things, I have a tendency to agree with you on matters of war. And how long we’ve been in the midst of it. War is costly. In coin and lives. Enough of both have been wasted.”
“Finally. A voice of reason,” Burke praised. “The prime minister should put you in charge.” He paused and leaned over as if sharing a confidence. Lowering his voice, he asked, “Do you truly believe as I do? That England is in the wrong?”
Hampton waited a beat and then responded, “I do.”
He fell silent as if contemplating something and then drew the earl aside to a corner.
“What if I could tell you something. Something that you might be able to pass along to the right . . . sources.”
Hampton regarded him with interest. “Such as?”
“No, never mind,” Burke said. “I was wrong to say anything. You work in the War Office.”
He started to walk away but Hampton caught his arm. “I’m listening,” he said in velvet tones.
“What if . . . I could tell you where Wellesley is moving next? Would you be able to . . . pass it along to the appropriate parties?”
Hampton studied him a moment. “I could do that.”
With those words, Burke believed he could share his misinformation—and that it would get results.
“This would have to stay between us.”
“Of course,” Hampton assured him. “What do you wish me to know that might help quell this conflict?”
He looked around the room and then back at his mark. “Wellesley is leaving Portugal for Spain.”
The earl snorted. “Any fool who reads a newspaper knows that.”
“But do they know he’ll connect with General Cuestas? They’re to march toward Talavera as a combined force. Before they arrive, though, they’ll split. The Spanish troops will move eastward to the northernmost part of Talavera. Wellesley’s troops will march and approach from the south.”
Hampton eyed Burke with interest. “So they would divide their forces? King Joseph would have to fight on both fronts to protect Talavera.” Hampton frowned. “How do you know this? From what I’ve overheard at the War Office, England and Spain would unite and stay as one large force.”
Burke knew this was his test. He only prayed he could pull it off and convince this rebel of his worth.
“That’s what they want others to think,” he said, knowing Brandon had already given Hampton the false report. “What I’m telling you is the true strategy to be employed.
”
“How do you know this?” challenged the earl.
Burke glanced around and then leaned closer. “From my current lover. Lady Morris.”
He saw understanding flash in his enemy’s eyes.
“You’re saying Sir Paxton spoke of this to his wife.”
“I am. And she told it to me.” He gave Hampton a wicked smile. “Linda is a tiger in bed. She tells me her needs had never been met until I found my way there.” He paused. “She also becomes rather loose with her lips after a lengthy bout of sex and a brandy or two.”
“I see.”
Burke waited, hoping Hampton believed him.
“She is rather pretty when she smiles,” the earl said.
“I know. It’s that dimple,” he agreed. “I’d never had a lover her age but I’ve found her to be quite experienced. In fact, she’s taught me a thing or two,” he confided.
“She seems so . . . harmless in public,” Hampton said.
“She adapts a shyness around others. Alone in her bedchamber, though? It’s a far different story.”
A smattering of emotions ran across the earl’s face and then he said, “Would you like to meet a few others who are like-minded as we?”
“I’d be more than happy to, Hampton. Anything to see this war comes to a quick end.”
“We’re meeting tomorrow night at my mistress’ home. Midnight.” He gave Burke the address. “Be there and you can share with the others what you’ve told me. Don’t bring your carriage. Take a hansom cab instead.”
Looking solemn, he said, “I would consider it an honor, my lord. Until then.”
As Burke strolled away, he felt success was in his grasp. He left the card room to return to dance a few times.
And ran smack into Gemma.
*
Gemma accompanied Charlotte to the retiring room. She and Gray were leaving in two days and Gemma would miss the couple terribly. She’d grown close to them both during the past month, as well as young Harriet and Jane, and had spent many hours at their London residence. They were among the few hours that proved happy. The rest of the time Gemma moped. She still completed her work for Sir Paxton but it had become dreary.
Every moment of every day, she missed Burke.
Seeing him at social events gutted her. He never once looked in her direction. He charmed every beautiful woman in the room, no matter what her age. He smiled and danced and flirted and acted as if life were one huge party—while her misery knew no end. Gemma didn’t show it, though. She pretended as if she hadn’t a care in the world. No one except Charlotte and Gray knew how she truly suffered.
It became apparent to her that Burke hadn’t shared with Gray the mission he’d accepted from Sir Paxton to discover and infiltrate the circle of traitors. In fact, Gray had become angry at his old friend, who never called upon them and was polite but distant in public. She longed to explain to both him and Charlotte what was going on but kept quiet. It was Burke’s business, not hers, and he could treat his friends however he wished. She thought he behaved the way he did to keep them safe. Just as he had cut ties with her, he’d done much the same with Gray and Charlotte.
Charlotte emerged from behind the curtain, obviously weary.
“I think you’ve had your fill of dancing,” she told her friend.
“This is our last ball. I wanted to enjoy it. Tomorrow, I’ll be supervising the packing for our return the following day to Gray Manor.” She clasped Gemma’s hands in hers. “You will come see us?” she asked anxiously.
“Once the Season ends, I will come for a short visit. You should have had the baby by the time I arrive.”
Charlotte rubbed her belly. “It will be a relief. Already, it’s a little hard to breathe. I get winded easily. Gray has taken to carrying me to our chamber at night.”
“He loves you very much.”
Charlotte gave her a sad look. “He does. I only wish you had someone—”
“Don’t,” Gemma interrupted. “I refuse to cry in the middle of a ball.”
They left the retiring room and Charlotte said, “I’m ready to leave.” She sat on a bench. “I’m too tired to walk all the way to the ballroom and back. Would you fetch Gray for me?”
“Of course.”
She started toward the ballroom and, just before she arrived, bumped into someone.
“Oh, excuse . . .” Her voice trailed off.
It was Burke.
Her cheeks heated as he stared at her with a hunger she felt.
“I need to find Gray. Charlotte is ready to leave,” she explained and turned away.
But he captured her hand and tucked it through his arm. “I will take you to him.”
She held her head high, walking regally beside him, not uttering a single word as he led her to where Gray stood. The earl’s brows rose, seeing them together.
“Thank you, Mr. Nicholson.” Gemma pulled her hand away and told Gray, “Charlotte is about to fall asleep on her feet. She’s ready to go home. Will you take her?”
“Of course.” He kissed her cheek. “Will we see you before we leave?”
“Yes. I’ll come the day after tomorrow.”
“Good. We leave at ten for Gray Manor so come breakfast with us. The girls will enjoy that.” Gray glanced at his friend. “Burke.” He gave a curt nod and then left.
Gemma started to walk away but Burke said, “Wait.”
They stood facing one another and he said, “At least dance with me. For old time’s sake.”
“All right,” she agreed, allowing him to lead her to the center of the dance floor.
They didn’t speak as they danced but her body came alive being in his arms. She never experienced these feelings when held by any other man. Her breathing quickened. Her heart raced. Her insides felt turned outside. His hand pressed against the small of her back, bringing a rush of warmth.
The music faded and Burke squeezed her fingers. He led her from the floor and bowed.
Gemma turned away so she didn’t have to watch him go but every step he took, a piece of her heart broke away.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The next day, Burke read over the notes he’d taken from his conversation with Lord Hampton at the previous evening’s ball. He added a few things upon reflection and then rewrote it for Jones to pass along to Smith, not wanting the agent to have to decipher his words through all the scratch outs. He still struggled with penmanship with his left hand but it gradually had grown easier. He did better writing for briefer amounts of time so he recopied the first half of the report, stopped for breakfast, and then finished afterward. Looking over it, he was pleased with the effort.
Normally, he would want to meet with Smith but he couldn’t afford to have the agent seen coming or going from his townhouse, much less have someone spy them together in public. For all Burke knew, his house was now being watched. He had to act accordingly. He might also be followed.
Which was the only thing that kept him from darkening Gemma’s doorstep.
He shouldn’t have danced with her last night but he couldn’t help himself. She’d looked so lovely in the pale mint green gown she wore, her skin glowing and her thick, auburn hair shining. Only her eyes gave her away. She missed him as much as he missed her.
Burke had refrained from conversing with her. If he had, the floodgates would have opened and he would have shared everything that had just occurred. That he’d made contact and would now infiltrate the ring. But the less Gemma knew, the better. The turncoats might discover his true purpose and murder him. Because of that, he’d wanted one more dance.
With the woman he loved.
There was no hiding it. He knew he loved Gemma. If he never saw her again, he would go to his grave with her image etched in his mind and love for her filling his heart. To dance with her a final time was risky but he’d taken the chance because he needed to feel her in his arms once more. And if he resolved the current mission and brought the rebels to justice, it still wouldn’t be enough. Gem
ma deserved much more than Burke could ever offer.
Still, he would live on the memories of that dance forevermore.
Burke claimed the small case which held his pistols and slipped it into a satchel, along with plenty of ammunition. He went to the stables and gave the sealed letter to Jones. He briefly described the encounter and said to get the letter to Smith at once.
“What of tonight? Are you to use your carriage?”
“No. Hampton warned against that. You can drive me in the cab we’ve been using and wait around the block. Have Smith send others to watch the house as you and I did that first night.”
“I’ll drive you,” Jones said, “but I’ll let someone else stay with the cab. I want to be there for you, Nicholson. I have your back.”
“Thank you.”
“Will you do anything special to prepare for tonight?”
“No. Although I’m restless. I think I’ll ride out to the estate where you took Lady Covington and me and shoot a bit. The exercise will do me good.”
Jones nodded and they went to the stables. Each readied their own mount.
As they emerged from the stables, Burke said, “Don’t ride straight to Smith. For all we know, they’re watching the house. Me. My servants.”
The agent laughed. “I’m not new at the game, you know.” He kicked his horse and rode off.
Burke rode through London, a weight lifted from him. It had taken far too long to initiate contact. He wanted to move swiftly, ingratiating himself into the group so he could find the evidence needed to convict every man involved and see them all hanged.
He arrived at the estate, still not knowing its owner, and set up various targets. He planned to go to tonight’s meeting armed since he expected the others to do the same.
Hours later, he returned to London and called for a bath. He soaked in the hot water and then his valet dressed him. Hunger pangs gnawed at him and he asked the cook to provide only a light meal tonight. Once he ate, Burke went to his library and tried to read but the words meant nothing as his eye passed over them. Setting the book aside, he closed his eye and played out how he thought the meeting would go. What they would say to him. What would be asked of him. He went over and over it, trying to anticipate who would be there.