Blake asked, “Turn me over to whom? Why do you need me?” He was extremely frustrated at not being able to deduce the reason for his abduction.
With a snicker, his kidnapper apprized, “Do not concern yourself, Devonton. All will be revealed in due time.”
He tried to turn as footsteps retreated. The gentleman ordered, “Lights out.”
A huge fist struck him, and stars appeared. Then blackness descended upon him.
Lucy wiped the back of her hand across weary eyes. Someone was snoring. Loudly. It was Matthew. She observed her brother’s form facing the fire, his head resting on a throw pillow from the settee and his jacket over him like a blanket. It was as if he was accustomed to sleeping on a hard surface and not in his luxurious bed that easily held his tall frame. When had he had cause to sleep on the floor? What type of assignments had Archbroke sent him on? Lucy frowned, not quite believing her eyes. Why had I not trusted my twin? How had he not confided in me?
Lucy released a deep sigh, banishing the depressing thoughts. As another snore rattled the walls, she thanked her lucky stars her rooms were in the opposite wing of the town house to Matthew’s or she would never get any sleep.
Blake had been taken nearly a fortnight ago. They were exhausted; they had hoped to have the assignment completed before the original deadline of the nineteenth, but even working day and night, they were not able to decipher the missives.
Home Office had sent agents to the Lone Dove to monitor activity, but Archbroke’s hunch that the plans had been altered was confirmed when there was no sign of Blake. They both knew the answers to their questions were contained in the missives. She was growing extremely frustrated and had been undulating between tears and pure determined focus. Matthew had been quiet but supportive, making sure she had everything she needed and providing helpful responses even when she seemed to be talking to herself.
Lucy stretched and saw Mr. Smyth snoozing in a chair by the door. He had remained present, although he did not involve himself in her work. He remained vigilant in his duties. He ensured the town house was not being watched. He acted as Lucy’s messenger; she often sent him to the Home Office to obtain documents. Other times, when Matthew was unavailable, Mr. Smyth, acting as a Harrington footman, would escort Grace to visit Lucy, ensuring her safety to and from her parent’s town house. Grace was the only distraction Lucy allowed herself.
Despite having the two men by her side day and night, she longed for Blake. She didn’t fully comprehend how the man whom she had spent relatively little time with could make her feel safe and comfortable.
Lucy called for her maid and a bath and quietly made her way up to her room. “Carrington, I’ve never had this much trouble decoding. I can’t seem to see any correlation between the five documents, and while I’ve tried to decode them as if they were all independent, it just doesn’t feel right. Argghhhh…”
“My lady, I think you are putting too much pressure on yourself. Perhaps you need to walk in the garden, get some fresh air. You haven’t been out in days. It might help you relax and clear your mind.”
Lucy lay back in the tub and tried to submerge more of her body in the hot, almost burning water. For days, she had felt a cold numbing sensation invade her body as if she were experiencing the feelings of another, and in her mind, she was convinced it was Blake. She feared he was unwell and his mental strength was being tested to its limits, just as her limits were being pushed. Lucy wondered how she had come to be in tune with the man in such a short time.
“My lady, it seems to me you have strong feelings for Lord Devonton. Might you pretend another was taken and not Lord Devonton?”
“Carrington, I have been trying! He needs me, and I’m failing. My thoughts are a jumble, and I keep remembering our conversations. They play over and over in my mind, and sometimes I think I can actually hear his laugh.”
Carrington was frowning as she tried to follow the conversation. “His laugh, my lady? What would he have to laugh about?”
“My jokes! The ones I shared with him by the lake at the Redburn house party.”
“Your jokes. He actually laughed?” Carrington was grinning at her mistress.
Lucy frowned. She was fully aware that it was rare for anyone to understand her wit and humor. She often received blank stares or silence in response when attempting to share a joke.
“Blake may be the only person to really understand me, and… I miss him. I can’t stop thinking about his all-knowing smiles, his intense looks, holding his hand, his kisses, and his… I miss everything about him terribly.”
Lucy closed her eyes as Carrington poured water to wash out the soap in her hair. Carrington had always been the one Lucy talked to when she was working on missives in the past.
Abruptly, Lucy sat up in the tub, sloshing water on the floorboards. “Carrington, I need you in the library with me. Matthew has been there, but I need you. You are the one who has helped me all these years. Why have I not thought of this before…”
Carrington’s eyes were misting—had she hurt her maid’s feelings by not realizing this before? “I would be delighted to join you in the library, my lady.”
Glad that Carrington would not hold the oversight against her, Lucy said, “We must hurry, Carrington. We need to get to it right away.” Lucy stood and tried to exit the tub.
“My lady, there is still soap in your hair. Please sit so I can finish.”
She sat back into the tub. “Yes, yes. Just hurry, Carrington. Blake needs us…”
Dry and dressed in a simple lemon-colored day gown, Lucy sat in front of the fire as Carrington brushed her hair. The maid listened to her mistress recount the various details of the five missives. “My lady, do you think you could tell me the rest while we take a walk in the garden?”
Carrington’s suggestion was perfect. Lucy always worked best when she was in motion. “Certainly, Carrington. We will just have to inform Mr. Smyth.”
Lucy continued to share with Carrington everything she had determined and eliminated as they descended the stairs. Mr. Smyth was milling about in the foyer.
“Mr. Smyth, I’ve decided to take advantage of the weather and venture out to the garden. Carrington will accompany me.” Lucy had not even bothered to stop to hear his reply as they made their way out to the garden. Even though the man walked without sound, she was confident Mr. Smyth would only be but a few paces behind them.
Carrington asked, “My lady, do you find it odd that five missives were intercepted all at one time? Before they would come to us at different times; it seems like a lot of work for five to be written together.”
Lucy pondered Carrington’s question. “Do you think they intentionally sent multiple, just to cause confusion or to delay?”
“Well, we have never had two missives that go together before, my lady.” Carrington was quiet for a moment. She continued walking but was looking down at the ground and then slowed to a stop before saying, “My lady, I find it all unusual. The Lone Dove is a tavern used by our people, not the frogs. Why was Lord Devonton over on the Continent for the duration of the war, I wonder? Why would anyone have need of Lord Devonton, my lady?”
Lucy had asked herself those exact same questions many times over the past few days. The war had been declared over as soon as word came of Napoleon’s exile to Elba. Were Napoleon’s supporters behind Blake’s abduction? Had he been taken to somehow assist the frogs in determining the terrain that would aid Napoleon, or was there another reason for Blake’s abduction?
As they stood in the garden, Lucy took in a deep breath. Carrington had been right. She needed the fresh air to clear her mind. A light drizzle fell, and it was rather refreshing.
Unexpectedly, Mr. Smyth’s hand was at her elbow. “My lady, I think it is time we return to the house.” Mr. Smyth’s hand was warm but firm. He kept looking behind them as they turned back.
“What is it, Mr. Smyth?” Lucy asked as she twisted to see what Mr. Smyth was concerned about.
&n
bsp; “I’m not certain. I just have a feeling we are being watched. I want to return to the house immediately.”
“Mr. Smyth, I think you are overcautious. Why on earth would anyone be watching our stroll in the garden?”
The look Mr. Smyth just gave her could only be described as incredulous. Did he think she was unaware of the dangers of working for the Home Office or being identified as being one of their agents? She was well aware of the risks and on more than one occasion had been reminded she was but one woman, but she was not one to ever give up. Lucy had worked diligently to establish her skills, not only to assist the Home Office. Others had benefited from her sharp mind and intuition.
Mr. Smyth was still muttering curses when Lucy addressed him again. “Mr. Smyth, that is some colorful language. You must tell me what on earth you are saying.”
“None of what I spoke is for the ears of a lady.”
Carrington giggled, and Mr. Smyth made a hasty retreat.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Seated with his hands bound behind his back, Blake raised his head and stated, “The winds must have changed.” From the sway of the ship, it was moving forward but at a plodding pace.
His statement garnered him no reaction from the guard, who sat with his head in his hands, elbows on his knees, and feet braced apart.
The gentleman in charge had remained out of sight since Blake regained consciousness. Attempting to gain information, he stared at his guard before saying in German, “Der Verräter hat Sie stattlich zu vergüten, damit Sie ihm helfen.” The traitor must be paying you handsomely to assist him.
Garnering no response, Blake searched the man’s form. Dark brown hair, forearms of an olive tint, hints of being from southern Europe. Blake continued this time in Spanish. “Si me ayuda, le pagaré el doble. ¿Qué dice?” If you assist me, I’ll pay you double. What do you say?
Unexpectedly the man grunted, “Nein,” and then raised his eyes to meet Blake’s and grounded out, “No.”
His response had been spoken with no discriminating accent. The brute had obviously spent time on the Continent and was versed in languages other than English.
Donning a mask of indifference, Blake asked in French, “Comment vous appelez-vous?” What is your name? Since Blake wasn’t expecting a response, he continued in English. “I shall call you Brutus.”
What would it take to garner a reaction out of Brutus? Insults?
Blake asked, “Tell me then, Brutus, are you to be my nanny for the entire journey?”
A fast fist approaching his face was the answer. With his eyes shut, Blake held still waiting for the impact. When he felt nothing, he opened his eyes only to see Brutus still seated but glaring at him. Spit landed in Blake’s eye. He was not sure which was worse, a punch to the face or the foul-smelling saliva on his cheek.
Not one to give up, Blake continued to ask questions and mixed in a few insults. Brutus’s only reaction was to place his hands on each side of his head and stick his forefinger in his ear. Only when Blake had inferred his mama might be a French courtesan did Brutus react with his fist. Frustrated that he was unable to convince the guard to engage in a conversation, Blake resorted to issuing more insults, only to receive a swift punch to the face or gut.
Unable to obtain information and sore from the abuse, he refocused his efforts on loosening the restraints. He had nearly managed to loosen the rope, but then his vision was full of stars.
When he awoke, he found himself knocked to the floor, on his side, and bonds tightened once again.
Blake stared at the blurred form in front of him. “Brutus, how long was I out for this time?”
Brutus pushed a plate of bread and cheese with his toe toward Blake. Was he to eat like an animal? Blake was starving, but he refused to behave like a dog. He had survived starvation before. The plate shifted slightly with the roll of a wave and then shifted back. The plate’s movements hypnotized him into closing his eyes.
Instantly an image appeared like a ghost haunting him: it was Lucy, her sweet voice saying, “Don’t give up.” Memories of their discussions by the lake renewed his motivation to endure the beatings.
One question that Lucy had posed plagued his mind. Why did you choose to tour the Continent during a time of strife? At the time Blake had given her a vague response for he didn’t want to ever lie to her. He promised himself if he ever saw her again, he would tell her the truth. It hadn’t been out of selfish reasons to explore; he wanted to be needed. His skill was highly valued at the Foreign Office, which in turn fed his self-esteem. His fellow Foreign Office agents had relied upon his cartography skills. Some had even thanked him personally and had claimed that the accuracy and the detail contained in his maps were the only reason they had managed to escape detection or capture. It was their stories that had led Blake to continue to serve on the Continent. Milling about Town and engaging in the idle activities his peers seemed to enjoy held no appeal.
Head slumped forward, he again questioned his captors’ motives. What information did they believe he held that they could not gain otherwise?
Lucy’s voice drifted through his thoughts once more, “If you are able to recall every detail of every city without the assistance of a map, you would be the ultimate guide.” A guide? Did they need him to lead them?
His thoughts veered back to Lucy. He desired her. The woman was the only person who was able to banish the constant feeling of loneliness that beleaguered him. Did he alleviate the emptiness in her heart due to James’s death? It riled him to know he was competing with a dead man for her affections. Lucy would be a true life partner in all ways that mattered. If he was successful and she fell in love with him, he would be the luckiest man alive.
Blake’s stomach growled, but he kept his blackened and swollen eyes closed. Was Matthew on his way to the Continent? Had either the Home or Foreign Office obtained any evidence to help identify his captors or who they were working for? There would be gossip if the Foreign Office didn’t cover up his disappearance.
Had Lucy resumed the social route? How many days had he been gone? Over a fortnight. More than enough for her to forget about him. Visions of men flirting and dancing with her had his blood pumping harder. He began working at his bindings again. He had to escape as soon as they docked. He needed to return to London and claim Lucy.
Brutus righted Blake and the chair and then noticed the bindings had come undone. Without warning, Blake was struck, a hard blow to the temple. As he began to lose consciousness, he questioned just how many more beatings he could endure. But just as the thought pervaded his mind, the image of Lucy and the memory of her sweet kisses provided enough strength to continue.
Mr. Smyth escorted Lucy and Carrington back to the house. The trio came upon Matthew, who was waiting for them. “Lucy, I have a few matters I’d like to discuss with you.”
Carrington and Mr. Smyth glanced at each other before Carrington suggested, “A light luncheon, perhaps?” The pair left Lucy and headed in the direction of the kitchen.
Matthew’s gaze held her frozen as they waited until they were completely alone.
“Where would you prefer to retire to? Library? Drawing room? Or my study?”
Weighing her options Lucy decided, “The library.”
She hadn’t even settled into a chair before Matthew said, “Lucy, I have been waiting for you to share with me how you became involved with the Home Office. I cannot continue to wait for you to come forth. So how long have you been decoding missives for the Home Office?”
In the same no-nonsense tone, Lucy provided, “Years. I started the year James began discussing his desire to join the army. It all started one day when I was visiting Theo. Lord Hadfield was in the parlor where I was shown to wait for Theo. He was deep in thought, voicing his frustrations at the confusing missive he held. He did not notice my presence at first, and when I suggested he only focus on the first letter of each word, not only was he surprised at my presence but also at my solution.
; “In the beginning, I just assisted Lord Hadfield, but then I began to receive missives directly from the Home Office. I enjoyed the work and the knowledge that I was helping our men at war.”
She understood it was a lot for Matthew to absorb all at once. If Matthew was an agent, he would know Lord Hadfield had been a senior agent at the Home Office. Granted, it was not well done of Lord Hadfield to have carelessly disclosed his activities with the Home Office, but the old man had no qualms about discussing or involving Lucy in his assignments.
In an attempt to distract her brother from the details, she asked, “How is it you are involved with the Home Office?” Matthew was excellent at keeping secrets and avoiding questions. He had mastered the ability to supply the least amount of information necessary.
“I too have been working with the Home Office for years. Coincidentally, Lord Hadfield, who happened to be my mentor, failed to mention to me his recruitment of you.”
“He was not at liberty to discuss or disclose the identity of agents.”
Matthew grumbled, “True.” A frown marred his face as he continued, “Over the years, I must admit there were times when I had wished I could seek your advice. You are by far the smartest person I know. There was more than one instance where I would have benefited from one of your brilliant stratagems.”
His compliments caused Lucy to blush. “I rely tremendously on logic, but in this instance, I think my logic is working against me, and I have this feeling I’m missing the obvious. This is the first time where I have had such a difficult time resolving the code.”
“I’ve often found that going with my instincts is the best course of action.”
Since he had avoided her first attempt to understand his role, she tried again. “What exactly is it you do for the Home Office, Matthew?” Would he answer her this time? She clasped her hands in her lap to prevent fidgeting and then let her eyes follow Matthew as he paced back and forth.
Secrets of Lady Lucy Page 15