Her arms dropped to her sides. She hung, rigid in Edward’s embrace. Why did he have to be there, to remind her of how fragile each moment was? “Lord Anglethorpe, Henry—”
He spoke over her. “Good to see you have survived all in one piece. Although I never doubted you would.”
Edward wouldn’t let her go. He retained an arm around her waist, his strong hand tucked onto her hip bone, pulling her against his side. “That was a despicable act, Henry.”
Henry gazed at Edward in evident astonishment. “I wasn’t the one to throw those arrows, Edward. It’s a good thing you are together with Celine here. It seems you need some looking after.”
Edward’s arm fell away from Celine, leaving a coldness to creep up her spine, despite her fur coat falling back into place over her heated skin.
“I mean leaving her in the shop,” he said quietly.
Celine stared at Henry as he stared back at her. He cocked a head on one side. “Celine? She can look after herself, Edward. You’ll find that out sure enough, if you haven’t done so already.”
Henry turned to walk up the steps without waiting for a reply. Celine put a hand to her mouth as Roland tried to tiptoe down behind him.
Henry stopped. “Who are you?” he barked.
Roland shrank, his tall gangling body folding in on itself. Celine watched amazed as he tipped his hat. “Tiger, sir. First day on the job with Miss—” he looked helplessly at Celine. “Miss Celine, sir.”
Henry nodded, obviously satisfied. “No one knows her last name boy. Here.” He held out a hand with a coin in it which Roland pocketed faster than Celine could blink.
“Thank ee, sir.” Roland bobbed his head. “Thank ee kindly.”
Roland scattered down the steps as Celine stumbled past him, only dimly aware of Edward behind her.
“That was Roland wasn’t it?” he whispered in her ear.
Celine jumped and nodded.
“I would recognize those legs anywhere.” The satisfaction in Edward’s voice was palpable, if a little nasal again.
“I suppose it was as familiar as looking at a ledger,” she said sarcastically.
Edward stayed silent, but within Celine crumpled. How could she? After the kiss he had just given her. The kiss that no closed man could have given without…without what?
As Celine swept through the front door she crossed her fingers. Please don’t let Agatha be here as well. It really would be the icing on the cake.
“Celine!”
She sighed and bowed her head, before pasting a wide smile across her face. “Agatha, how good to see you again.”
CHAPTER 8
Everybody seemed to ignore Edward as they walked into the hall. He kicked the door shut and turned as Celine greeted Lady Anglethorpe with a kiss on both cheeks. A collective sigh greeted the cordial greeting between the two women. Lady Anglethorpe turned and walked forward with a broad smile towards Edward.
“Mr. Fiske! I am delighted to meet you.”
“Lady Anglethorpe.” Edward bowed, his borrowed breeches from Henry a snugger fit than he thought.
“Bah. Don’t call me that. I’m Agatha. Celine and I have been on first name terms for a while. I’m so pleased that you are back together. You are just right for each other.”
Edward swallowed and blinked, and then swallowed and blinked again. “We are?” He glanced at Celine who looked horrified. It might not have been part of her plan, but it was certainly part of his. “We are,” he said in a satisfied voice.
“Of course, after Henry told me about Celine and the Melinno Society, it all fell into place.” Agatha swept away leaving Henry and Celine open mouthed behind her. “You shouldn’t be surprised. Henry always knows where everyone is. Even those that watch the watchers…”
Henry had a pained look on his face. “Agatha, we talked about this.”
Agatha stopped and planted her hands on her hips. “You talked, I listened, Henry. And then I made my own choice about what I would and would not say.” She cast Celine a bright look and smiled. “And I think for the sake of everyone here, it would be better to have all cards on the table, don’t you?”
“I don’t know enough about the Melinno Society to know if I trust them.” Henry ran his hand through his blond hair. The formidable spy looked unusually hunted.
Agatha raised her head and gazed mutinously at her husband. “I know enough about Celine to know that I trust her.”
Edward turned away. “Perhaps Celine and I should leave.”
“No!” Henry barked the order. “I visited Lord Granwich right after you left him. He could barely breathe. He told me to speak to you. I want to know what you said to him.”
“I’ll ring for some tea.” Agatha smiled weakly. “Do go into the morning room and sit down. Please mind the table though. I’m trying out a new experiment.” She busied away down the stairs. In the distance Edward just heard her voice once more. “Now then, Mrs. Noggin…”
“Perhaps we should use another room.” Henry shifted from foot to foot in an uneasy fashion. “Agatha’s experiments are always rather unexpected.”
“It’s perfectly harmless, sir, I have just been checking on it, hence why I did not manage to open the front door before Mr. Fiske got to it.” Henry’s butler opened the door to the morning room, his hands covered in a large pair of leather gloves and goggles still protecting his eyes.
The last time Edward had met the Anglethorpe’s butler, he had been immaculately dressed in long black tails. Now, the man looked disheveled, as though he had wrestled with an alligator.
Edward took Celine’s arm. “Shall we?”
She looked at him for a moment, an uncharacteristic soft glance, before allowing herself to be drawn through into the morning room.
A set of low chairs had been arranged around a table upon which a cage rested. The cage was filled with sawdust. In evident relief Henry sat down and gestured to the chairs around him. “I’m sorry, a few years ago Agatha’s interests lay in more explosive experiments…phosphorous, gunpowder.” He drew out a handkerchief and wiped it across his forehead. “Now then. Tell me about Granwich.”
Edward glanced at Celine. Her eyes were riveted on the cage. He told the facts of their visit economically without revealing Celine’s comments about the music box.
“So, Lord Granwich has a son, from this lady.” Henry sat back in his chair. “And what does Mr. Khaffar hope to gain from having this information?”
“Perhaps to blackmail him with?” Celine spoke without moving her eyes from the cage. “Pithadora regards the note as harmless, but when children are involved, situations can become very heated.”
“Something the Melinno Society is familiar with.” Henry raised an eyebrow.
Celine flicked a glance at him and then turned to Edward. “Pithadora, the head of the society deals with those types of things. I don’t blackmail people. I investigate, I—”
“Befriend for information.” Henry’s voice was cold.
A cold ball of bile caught in Edward’s throat. He watched as Celine brought her gaze up to Henry’s. Her eyes were cold, colder than they should have been.
“Something which you of course never do, Henry.”
By god. Henry had hurt her. Edward had dashed away all thoughts of Celine being Henry’s lover, had ignored them in his mind as he had been attracted to her presence as a moth to a flame. She was a courtesan, a butterfly that flittered amongst men, alighting at will. She didn’t have feelings for them.
But she had had for Henry.
The bile slid up his throat. He swallowed it back. She wasn’t just a courtesan though. She was a…a…he couldn’t define it. A woman that worked for a secretive society, that preyed on men that would aid their cause.
Prey. That was what he was. And to think he had just kissed her in front of everyone, as if he could devour her. Damn Lord Rochester for taking over his body at that moment. Edward gazed bitterly at the cage, and
blinked as the sawdust moved. It was only down to the Lord Rochester part of himself that he was even with Celine. If it had been all up to Mr. Fiske then…then he would be entombed in a large room full of ledgers with only Alasdair for company.
Henry’s voice was strident. “You are right, Celine. I knew who you were before we became involved.”
“But you didn’t know about Lady Guthrie,” Celine muttered.
“Bloody hell, Lady Guthrie!” Henry stood.
Edward frowned. “Lady Guthrie?” He hadn’t been aware that Henry had been involved with a Lady Guthrie as well.
Celine sighed. “Lady Guthrie was one half of the pair of spies that was attempting to infiltrate the War Office at the same time as the Melinno Society was.”
“She just picked on older lovers.” Henry waved his hands scornfully.
Celine flushed a bright red. “We were never lovers, Henry.”
“What have I missed?” Agatha stepped in to the morning room followed by a large maid and a tea tray. “Anything good?”
Edward’s head reeled. “Um—”
“Lord Anglethorpe was just about to tell us about Lady Guthrie and her connection to Lord Granwich.” Celine’s voice did not stumble, swiftly she covered the contents of the note and the history behind it.
“Lord Granwich always has been a dark horse.” Agatha nodded sagely.
We were never lovers still rung in Edward’s head.
“Tea, Mr. Fiske?”
Edward blinked as Agatha held out a cup. “Err yes, please.”
“I suppose you would rather be doing your business affairs than listening to all of this, Mr. Fiske,” Agatha said conspiratorially.
“Um. Yes?”
“I haven’t given Edward the chance to go home yet.” Celine quirked an eyebrow as Edward burned. She seemed to be the master of twisting the truth.
Agatha laughed nervously. “Henry, you were saying about Lady Guthrie.” Her voice darkened. “May she rot in hell.”
“Hum. Yes, my love. Well, she wasn’t only interested in the War Office. I found out later that Bertrand Lisle, otherwise known as the Viper and the man who originally stole the information about our spies abroad, was also touting some other information to be sold to Lady Guthrie.”
Edward filed the information away. “And you think that the information Lady Guthrie wanted was the same as the note Pedro Moreno gave Mr. Khaffar, this note about Granwich’s son?”
Henry nodded. “Almost certainly. If the Viper gave Pedro the list of British spies abroad, then he almost certainly passed on the other information too. He was running for his life at the time.”
“It doesn’t make sense.” Agatha shook her head doubtfully. “The information is too boring. Half the ton have illegitimate children.”
Edward took a breath. “Celine suggested that it was to blackmail Granwich with.”
“Bloody hell!” Celine cried, leaping from her seat and backing away from the table. Edward stared as she bunched her skirts together in her lap, revealing a large expanse of finely turned ankle. He stared some more. It would have been a travesty not to.
“There is a mouse on my lap!” she cried, jigging slightly, her calves flexing as she moved from side to side. Edward couldn’t look away.
“Ooooh! Finally.” Agatha jumped up. “Does it have anything in its mouth?”
“Do you think I looked?” Celine took three steps and deposited the contents of her dress on Edward.
Edward stared at the mouse that stood on its hind legs and gave him a beady stare. “Why did you drop it on me?”
“Because you were the nearest person!” Celine shuffled quickly backwards.
Swiftly with a finger and thumb, Edward pinched the mouse on the flap of skin behind its neck and picked it up, avoiding its razor sharp teeth. In its mouth it held a small roll of paper. He ran a finger over its belly and it opened its mouth, dropping the ball of paper into his lap. Grabbing the paper with one hand, he looked around. Smythe appeared with his leather gloves.
“I’ll take him if I may, Mr. Fiske.”
“Thank you,” Edward said politely, dropping the mouse into the butler’s gloved hands. He gave the mouse a small stroke behind its quivering ears, before nodding at the butler.
He turned back to the seated group who stared at him. He shrugged his shoulders. “Mice are an inevitable consequence of being surrounded by lots of large bound books and ledgers. They like paper.”
Agatha nodded, but Celine and Henry still frowned at him.
“Excellent, Mr. Fiske. Now then, please could you tell me what Freddie had in his mouth.” Agatha cocked her head and waited.
“Freddie?” Celine gasped.
“Did someone call me?” Freddie appeared from the hallway. “Sorry I’m late. Had to stop off at home.”
“We were just examining the mouse that Agatha named after you,” Celine said slyly. “It appeared as if from nowhere.”
“Does it have a collection of antique Spanish tableware?” Henry said in a tired fashion, “Or perhaps a collection of military regalia?”
Freddie straightened his cravat. “I’m on to Chinese snuff bottles now, old man.”
“This mouse has a collection of messages, and nuts,” Agatha interrupted. “It is a highly intelligent animal, well trained—”
“Can’t have been named after Freddie then,” Henry muttered.
“And is addicted to cashews,” Agatha finished.
“What do they do to Freddie?” Edward asked fascinated.
“Send him loopy, mostly I think.” Agatha nodded at the message. “What does it say? I got them from a Chinese man down the road when he sold me some arsenic. They are fortune papers I believe.”
Edward unraveled the paper in trepidation. “Today, you will go to prison.” He sat back. “I do hope not.”
“That,” Henry said, “is an excellent idea.”
Celine blinked. “Edward has not done anything wrong.”
Edward watched as the silk rustled against Celine’s legs. Oh how he wished to do something very wrong…
Henry stood. “No, but Lady Guthrie did, and if anyone knows anything about this note and why other people want it so badly, then she’s the one to tell us.”
The prison was disgusting. Foul smelling air hung closely around the damp cells which held up to six prisoners each in a room designed only for one.
The gaoler led their small group slowly along the line of metal doors, clanging his key along each one, smiling as screams erupted from within. They had left Freddie and Agatha behind by tacit consent. Celine had latched on to Edward’s arm. Where he goes I go, she had said firmly. Melinno gains nothing, we already know the contents of the note. What do we care?
Edward turned and caught her eye. She blinked, a flame burning in her iris, before banking her stare and looking away.
“We’ve had trouble with this prisoner.” The gaoler grinned as he slotted his key in the door. “Can’t keep no others in with her. They would rather be hanged than stay in the cell with her. It’s our latest form of interrogation.”
“I’m sorry?” Edward frowned.
“We put troublesome prisoners in with her. They come out bursting to tell us information and when we threaten them with going in there again they become reformed characters. Works a treat.”
Edward swallowed. He’d dealt with some pretty slimy people as a business man but this sounded as though it were in a different league.
“Mind you don’t get within striking range.” The gaoler turned the key with a click. “She’s manacled to the wall of course.”
A sick feeling entered his stomach. Caged up, and manacled to the wall. Just how horrible could this woman be?
The door swung open with a creak into a darkness that was lit only by a small slant of light from narrow window. It illuminated one side of a cheek, and a hand at the back of the cell.
“Guthrie! You’ve visitors.” The gaol
er shut the door with alacrity behind them and shouted through the metal. “I’m right outside. Bang for help.”
Henry, Edward and Celine stood close in the darkness of the narrow entranceway to the cell. Henry stepped away, but Celine stepped back, her body coming to rest against Edward’s.
A low laugh shivered through the damp dark. “So, Lord Anglethorpe. You have returned to see me? Sometimes I wonder for your lovely wife Agatha, alone all day whilst you sit here in the dark with me, just listening to me breathe.”
“We want some answers, Lady Guthrie.” Henry’s voice cut harshly through the black.
“Don’t call me that. I hated that man Guthrie. My sister did too. Bloody pious old fool.”
“You married him.” Henry was hard.
The voice turned sly. “Yes I did didn’t I? Just as the lovely Celine here wanted to marry you.”
“We’re not here to talk about me.” Celine’s voice echoed around the cell, strong, unafraid. Yet still, despite the words, her warm hand sought Edward’s. He clasped it, weakly, the words ‘marry you’, running through his head. Then he strengthened his grasp and ran a thumb through her palm. Celine had put her hand in his. Not Henry’s. That had to count for something surely? We were never lovers, that too. But then, Celine and he hadn’t been lovers either—
Lady Guthrie sniggered. “Too bad, Henry. If you had married her you might have found out who killed your father.”
“What?” Henry exploded. “Celine? What do you know?”
“I don’t know anything!” Celine’s denial came out hard and fast. To Edward’s ears it sounded true, but then she drew her hand away from his. Oh gods. She wasn’t touching Henry now was she? “Henry, you know me,” Celine continued. Edward stumbled backwards against the cold hard wall. Her voice was pleading.
“She’s trying to play you off against each other,” Edward said, the hard rocks of the wall pushing against his coat.
“You mean the bitch hasn’t told you yet?” Lady Guthrie’s voice emerged out of the blackness like the strike of a snake.
“Enough, Lady Guthrie.” Edward felt Celine’s hand grope for him again. He allowed it to rest against his coat, but he didn’t take it in his hand again. Just what did she feel for Henry?
Maddening Minx Page 7