From Adam’s expression, she guessed that he knew something about his friend’s covert activities. Warily he asked, “What form would this aid take?”
“Instead of going to Ralston Abbey, I will stay in London and visit establishments where the conspirators might be found,” she said, trying to sound as if such activities were perfectly normal. “I will use my ability to recognize scents to attempt to locate the kidnappers. If found, they might lead us to their fellow conspirators.”
Before she could say more, the general leaped to his feet and slammed his hand on the table, rattling the teacups. “Gambling hells and rookeries? I forbid it!”
Clenching her hands, Kiri said, “I am of age, sir. You can’t prevent me.”
“I can damn well tie you up and carry you to Ralston Abbey and lock you in one of the monk’s cells!” Under his outrage, she saw fear.
In a voice that was quieter but edged, Adam said, “Surely you have other means to locate conspirators, Kirkland. My sister should not have to do such dangerous work.”
“Her ability to recognize scents is unique,” Kirkland replied. “I swear that she will be well protected. She would stay in a house of mine that contains several trained agents, and she would not go anywhere hazardous without a bodyguard.”
“No matter how many guards there are, you can’t guarantee her safety!” the general snapped. “Even if she isn’t hurt, what about her reputation?”
For the first time, Lakshmi spoke. “You forget of whom you speak, John. Kiri is no frail hothouse flower. She is a warrior and a descendant of warriors, raised in an army household and taught of duty and honor. If she is needed, how can she refuse?”
The general look shocked. “Won’t you worry about what might happen if she puts herself into danger?”
“Of course I will worry, but life comes with no guarantees,” Lakshmi said quietly. “If the measles had been severe, we might have lost Thomas or Lucia or both. Kiri might go with us to the country and break her neck riding.” She gestured at Kiri. “Look at her. She is eager to do this work no one else can do, both to serve and to test herself in a matter of great significance. Would you deny her that opportunity? You cannot.” She gave a fleeting smile. “Even if you want to.”
The room was utterly silent for the space of a dozen heartbeats. Leave it to Lakshmi to understand her unruly daughter. Kiri broke the silence by saying brightly, “Now that that’s settled, would anyone like more tea?”
The others laughed, easing the tension. Except for the general, who watched Kiri with brooding misery.
“Papa,” she said softly, deliberately using her childhood name for him. “I once heard of a young man who came from a family of vicars. He was very clever and his family had great plans for him. Oxford, a good living, perhaps someday he’d even become a bishop.
“But the boy was mad to be a soldier, and he resisted all attempts to guide him for his own good. He organized the neighborhood lads into armies and led them to war. He practiced cavalry maneuvers with his old pony. He mastered Latin only so he could read Caesar’s war commentaries in the original language. To his parents’ regret, he never became a bishop. But he became a very fine and honored general, didn’t he?”
Her stepfather exhaled roughly. “Very well, my dear, I surrender. It’s not right to try to force one’s child against his or her nature. You were not born to spend your days in embroidery and watercolors. But if you must do this, be careful! These are treacherous waters you’re entering.”
She got up and rounded the table to give him a hug. “I’ll be very careful indeed, Papa. And I’m going to be surrounded by people determined to keep me safe.”
“Sir,” Adam said, “I can assure you that Kirkland has a great deal of experience in these matters, and he’s well respected at the highest levels of government. He also has excellent people working with him. I trust him to see that Kiri is as safe as humanly possible.” His cool gaze implied that Kiri would be safe, or else.
The general asked, “How soon must Kiri begin this?”
“As soon as possible,” Kirkland replied. “Today, even.”
Lakshmi sighed. “Will you come home to see your brother and sister before embarking on your mission?”
Today! Kiri’s heart leaped with anticipation. “Of course. I want to see them, and I must do some packing as well.”
Kirkland looked wary. “Not too many clothes. Almost anything you own will stand out where you will be staying.”
“I understand that. But I do want to bring some of my perfume-making materials, since they might be useful.”
Kirkland looked as if he wanted to ask how, but since he’d proclaimed her his expert on scents, he refrained. “Shall I collect you at your parents’ home at four o’clock this afternoon?”
After a swift calculation, Kiri nodded. “I can go home now if you’re ready,” she said to her parents.
They agreed and a maid was dispatched to pack Kiri’s belongings. After Kiri took her leave of Mariah and Sarah, she left Ashton House with her parents.
She had a strange, unsettled feeling that was a mix of alarm and excitement. She was fairly confident that she’d be able to stay alive. But she knew in her bones that this mission marked a turning point in her life.
In the quiet after the Stillwells and Lady Kiri left, Kirkland said to Ashton, “I must be off also. I have much to do.”
“I can imagine.” Ashton was watching with unsettling intensity. “Was recruiting my sister really the only choice?”
“No. But it was the best choice,” Kirkland said honestly. “She’s very capable, and she may make the difference between success and failure in stopping this assassination plot.”
“Are you bringing in Rob Carmichael as part of your team?”
“Of course.”
“That’s comforting. He’s the best.” Ashton looked every inch a powerful duke as he lifted a newspaper he’d glanced at as the others were leaving. A bold headline proclaimed NOTED CLUB OWNER KILLED IN ROBBERY ATTEMPT. Other newspapers had similar headlines. The murder of someone so well known in the fashionable world would be a subject of shocked discussion in many houses across the city and the nation.
Ashton continued, “A great pity that Mackenzie was a victim of your conspirators.” There was a question in his voice.
Kirkland hesitated from the habit of secrecy, but devil take it, this was Ashton, one of his oldest and most trusted friends. “You shouldn’t always believe what you read in the newspapers.”
Then he turned and left Ashton House, praying that nothing would go wrong and injure those who trusted him.
Chapter 18
Night fell early in November, and it was nearly dark as the small, nondescript hackney carriage made its way to 11 Exeter Street. Kiri watched out her window as the streets became narrower and shabbier. Kirkland said, “It’s not too late to change your mind, Lady Kiri.”
She turned and asked curiously, “If I decided to go home, what would you do to catch the conspirators?”
“The same as we’re doing now, only with longer odds of success. In my trade, we work with what we have. If enough good people are working on the problem, eventually there is a breakthrough.” After a long pause, he added in a low voice, “Sometimes that comes too late.”
It was easier to be a soldier than a spy, she decided. More straightforward. “Could you tell me who else will be staying at your house? Mackenzie, of course. Did you mention a couple who take care of the house?”
“Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Powell. They’re very capable and completely discreet. If you need anything, ask one of them.”
“What about my chaperone, Cassandra?”
He laughed a little. “I don’t usually think of her as a chaperone. She’s one of my best agents and recently back from France. She stays in Exeter Street whenever she’s in London. If she wishes you to know more than that, she’ll tell you.”
The hackney stopped in front of a sizable town house. “It’s larger than I expe
cted,” Kiri observed.
“This was a fashionable neighborhood once. The ton has moved west, but the well-built houses remain. Most are broken up into flats or rooms to let. Number 11 is considered to be a boardinghouse since people come and go.” Kirkland opened the door and climbed down, then turned to give her a hand out. “I do hope you don’t come to regret your courage in joining this particular mission.”
“I doubt I shall.” Kiri took his hand and climbed from the hackney. His touch still felt brotherly, not that there was anything wrong with brotherly. “I don’t usually look back. When I make foolish decisions, I file the consequences under lessons learned and tell myself not to be stupid in the same way again.”
He laughed. “You’re a remarkably wise young woman.”
“My grandmother said I was an old soul, but she was biased. If I was really an old soul, I wouldn’t make as many mistakes in the first place,” Kiri said candidly.
“If you weren’t a duke’s daughter, I’d recruit you as an agent in a finger snap,” he said with conviction. “Now come inside and meet your companions for the next little while. It’s best not to use your own name. Mackenzie said you told the smuggler that you were Carrie Ford. Will that do?”
“It sounds delightfully average.” As she climbed the steps, she said thoughtfully, “It will be interesting not to be Lady Kiri Lawford.”
“Perhaps, but you’ll be glad to go back to her when this mission is done.” Kirkland opened the door with a key. “Our own problems have the virtue of familiarity.”
He ushered her into the front hall. The table and two chairs that flanked it were modest and the picture above was an unremarkable watercolor of the Thames, but the area was spanking clean. A middle-age man and woman appeared, followed by a hulking man who looked like a servant. Kirkland said, “Miss Ford, meet Mr. and Mrs. Powell. She and her husband will take good care of you.”
Mrs. Powell was short and plump, with shrewd blue eyes and an imperturbable expression. “Welcome, Miss Ford. Our lodgers mostly look after themselves, but I clean the rooms once a week and his lordship has arranged for you to take your meals here. You’re also welcome to make tea in the kitchen whenever you wish.”
“I know I shall be very comfortable, Mrs. Powell.” As for Mr. Powell . . . Kiri asked, “Would that be Sergeant Powell, retired?”
He grinned. “’Tis that obvious, Miss Ford?”
“A lucky guess,” she said, returning his smile.
Mrs. Powell said, “Daniels, bring in Miss Ford’s baggage and take it to the back room on the second floor.”
The servant bobbed his head and moved toward the door with stolid steps. As he moved past Kiri, she caught his scent. After a startled moment, she whirled and said, “Good evening, Mr. Daniels. Haven’t we met before?”
The fellow wore an eye patch, but the other eye sparkled with amusement. It was Mackenzie, looking older and wider and very unlike the dashing club owner. “Doubt it, miss,” he said in a voice subtly different from his usual speech. “I’d’ve surely remembered such a fine lady as yourself.” His visible eye closed in a slow wink before he shuffled outside to get her luggage.
As Kiri grinned, Kirkland offered his hand. “You can trust all the residents of this house, Miss Ford. Good luck and good hunting.”
“I’ll do my best.” She cocked her head. “Am I now an official British agent?”
“Indeed you are.” His gaze was sober. “Be careful. I don’t want to face your brother if something happens to you.”
“I’ll try to spare you that,” she promised.
Then Kirkland was gone, and Kiri was on her own. She must succeed or fail on her own merits, not because she was the general’s daughter or of royal Hindu blood, or the daughter of an English duke. The prospect was . . . exhilarating.
Mackenzie had already left most of Kiri’s bags in her room, so she unpacked. The room was simple, but pleasant. Medium size, very clean, a comfortable bed, and a frayed but warm carpet on the floor.
As she placed folded garments into the clothespress, Kiri realized how carefully thought-out the house was. There was no grandeur that might attract unwelcome attention in a poor neighborhood.
But the modest furnishings were well made and included everything a guest might need, including a screen in one corner, a washstand, a desk, and writing materials. There were even a couple of books, one a King James Bible. Kirkland had created a refuge for agents who might be exhausted or emotionally frayed from their work. The house offered uncomplicated welcome.
Kiri’s heart jumped when a knock sounded on the door. Mackenzie with the last of her luggage? But when she opened the door, she found a woman so neutral in appearance that she didn’t need a crowd to disappear into.
The newcomer looked a few years older than Kiri, probably under thirty, though it was hard to tell. Medium height, medium brown hair, a well-worn calico gown in shades of tan, and unremarkable blue eyes. The perfect appearance for an agent.
Guessing the newcomer’s identity, Kiri said, “You must be Cassandra. Welcome to my humble abode.”
“Call me Cassie.” She moved soundlessly into the room. “You are Kiri, known as Carrie, and I’m supposed to offer guidance and try to keep you from serious trouble.”
They eyed each other like cats. “Cassie and Carrie,” Kiri remarked. “This could become complicated. Do I pass the test?”
The other woman sighed. “You can’t do this kind of work. You may be wearing a gown with a simple cut, but your demeanor says you’re an aristocrat and rich.”
Kiri looked more closely and realized that Cassandra’s eyes weren’t unremarkable. The blue depths went all the way down to hell. Sobered by that recognition, Kiri said, “I’m still Lady Kiri. I can do better.”
“I hope so,” Cassie said pessimistically. “Can you act like a poor Londoner?”
Kiri slipped into her East End accent. “Aye, that I can. Be there any rag shops around where I can buy me a wardrobe?”
Cassie’s brows shot up. “Your accent is good,” she admitted, “but that’s not enough. You move like a woman who is beautiful, confident, and knows that all eyes will turn when you enter a room. That’s all very well for Lady Kiri, but you’ll stand out like a horse in a cow shed in this neighborhood.”
Kiri had worked hard to develop that demeanor because living with the general had taught her the value of confidence. Looking fearful or weak brought out the jackals in some situations, including London drawing rooms. When she first arrived in England, she’d decided it was better to be despised for brashness than weakness.
She closed her eyes and suppressed the knowledge that she was an aristocrat and a general’s daughter. Instead, she conjured up moments such as Lady Norland’s sneers at her mixed-blood heritage. Kiri’s mother might be a princess and a Brahmin, her father and brother English dukes, but Carrie Ford was a mongrel who belonged nowhere.
Her only gifts were a quick wit, enough prettiness to catch a man’s eye, and fierce determination to survive in a hard world. She had learned early to be attractive, but not to look too available. To pretend confidence to keep the jackals away.
And Carrie was as real as Kiri. Opening her eyes and softening her posture, she said, “Who sez a gel like me can’t have a fine gown? Got it for six bob at a rag shop, cut out the bloodstains, and made it fit. Glad you think it makes me look rich and well born. Maybe I should raise me prices.” She swished her hips like a camp follower looking for business. “A gel’s gotta use what she’s got while it’s fresh enough for a good price.”
After a moment of astonishment, Cassie laughed. “You have unexpected talents. I should have known Mackenzie wouldn’t foist an amateur on me. But you do need a different wardrobe. There’s a good shop in the next street that will still be open, if you’re not too tired to go over now.”
“I’m not tired at all.” Kiri thought of the vulnerable royal princess, who wouldn’t be safe until the conspirators were caught. “The sooner I start, the be
tter.”
Another knock at the door. This time it was Mackenzie carrying a small leather-covered trunk. He had the worn air of a tired servant. As practice, Kiri made sure her voice was noncommittal when she said, “Please put that on the table, Daniels.”
As he obeyed, Cassie said tartly, “Everyone knows who you are, Mackenzie, so you might as well straighten up. Did you come up with anything useful today?”
Mackenzie grinned and his posture changed to that of a former officer. “Carmichael and I have been making lists of the most likely hells and sporting houses, based on what little we know of the kidnappers.”
Carrie’s brows arched. “That’s a large task.”
“Which is why we’re reducing the possibilities.” He set the box on the desk.
“Does your list include Les Heures perfume shop?” Seeing his blank expression, Kiri added, “That’s the shop in St. James that makes the cologne worn by the leader of the kidnappers. Since it’s the one thing we know, it’s a good place to start.”
“An expensive shop won’t reveal who buys their products,” Mackenzie warned.
“Perhaps not, but it’s worth trying. Tomorrow morning.” She smiled. “Come dressed as my faithful footman.”
He tugged his forelock like a farm laborer. “Yes, my lady.”
“Carrie or Kiri, but not ‘my lady.’”
“She’s right,” Cassandra said. “You know better, Mac. We must live the roles we’re playing.”
“I stand corrected.” He tapped the leather box he’d brought in. “What’s inside, Carrie? It clinks. A portable liquor cabinet? You’re too young for such dissipation.”
Nowhere Near Respectable Page 13