The Secrets Of The Sixth Night (The Northumberland Nine Series Book 6)

by Dayna Quince

  And yet now she knew.

  Would she one day hear about his demise, read a false headline, but deep down, know the truth could be far more sinister? She shivered.

  She set her fork down, realizing her hand was visibly shaking. She wrapped both hands around her teacup, letting the warmth seep through her gloves, and took a deep breath.

  Whatever he was up to, she certainly had no right to ask for more information than she'd already been given. She should take the whole situation for what it was worth—a blessing that she hadn't been found by someone else. That her own secret midnight visit to the beach, alone, would be one more secret for him to carry. A rather light one, she would assume. She'd give him no more trouble. If he was here, that meant serious business was at hand.

  Chapter 5

  Once they had finished breakfast, Theo pulled Callen aside, and they stepped into an empty hall.

  “So, what happened last evening? Did you tie up our loose end?”

  “I did but I may have made things a bit complicated,” Callen said reluctantly.

  “You bloody devil, you seduced her, didn't you? You took my idea for yourself.” Theo chuckled and shook his head at him.

  “I did no such thing,” Callen snapped at his brother. “I'd have to marry her and then what? I can't marry a woman and then abandon her because my idiot brother managed to kill a judge’s nephew.”

  Theo sobered. “We don't know he’s dead yet.”

  “No, but every day that passes and we don't hear from Coombs doesn't bode well for him. The bullet struck his gut.”

  “The bullet wouldn't have hit him at all if you hadn't intervened. My plan was to shoot at air.”

  “His plan was to shoot you, but instead he hit me.”

  “Again, not my fault you stepped in between two men with pistols. I had it handled. You weren't supposed to be there. Coombs was my second, not you.”

  Callen clenched his teeth and his fists. His side burned, and this morning as he’d dressed, he’d noticed little streaks of red speared out like roots from the bullet hole in his side. For a week-old wound, he expected better healing than this. He wanted to go back to his room, lie down, and stay there for the remainder of the day, but that would only arouse suspicion. Perhaps if he just went to the drawing room and sat, he might feel a bit better.

  “I'm tired of arguing about this with you. I'm tired of arguing over every damn little thing about your life.”

  “Then don't,” Theo returned. “I never asked you to play nursemaid, now did I? At some point, you'll have to let me clean up my own mistakes, Callen.”

  “You don't know how because you've always had someone there to do it for you. You'd be dead if it weren't for me,” Callen said. “Father and Mother spoiled you with their love. You never had to face consequences for your actions. And now you're full-grown, and you still need someone to come and rescue you. How am I supposed to stop?” Callen asked. “Truly, I'd love to know. I've already taken a bullet for you. I think I've reached my quota for brotherly devotion.” Callen clutched his side and winced.

  Theo rolled his eyes. “Don't be so dramatic, brother. You talk as though I'd walk off a cliff if I didn't have you to steer me in the proper direction. No one asked you to look after me. I know you do it because it makes you feel so superior. You can prove to yourself over and over how you’re the better son. You wanted their love for yourself, didn't you? They loved us both, Callen. It wasn't a competition. I was never going to replace you in their eyes.”

  Callen’s gut tightened as his parents came to mind. In his head, he could hear their weak voices just before they both succumbed to their fevers.

  “Help him,” his mother begged. “You only have each other now. You two are more alike than you think. But you got all the patience and he got all the wildness,” she rasped.

  “What am I supposed to do for him?” Callen asked.

  “Just love him,” his mother said, and then she grew too weak to talk.

  “Set the example, Callen,” his father had said, his face pale and sweaty. Callen remembered feeling so helpless as he stared down at his father, holding his hand. They lay side by side, two people that embodied what it meant to love unconditionally.

  “We can barely stand the sight of each other,” Callen said to his father. “He doesn't listen to me. He never has.”

  “Theo is too stubborn for that. He can't be lectured to. His marks at school have proven that. He has to learn on his own. Set the example, Callen, and with time, he will grow to see that the two of you are not so very different. You will find you have much in common. He's strong where you are weak and vice versa.” His father sucked in a breath, but it sounded like he was drowning.

  They had succumbed to their illnesses that night. While his father's and mother's pleas had stayed with him, he didn't believe in Theo the way they did, and he hadn't even bothered to try. If he managed to keep his brother alive into old age, he'd consider his duty met.

  He pulled his mind from the past and refocused on his brother standing before him with a nasty scowl.

  “Mother and father asked me to look after you,” he confessed. “I never believed you were trying to replace me. You are my brother, and for that alone, I will always try to protect you, even from yourself. I never thought we were in competition, but I always worried if I wasn't there to keep you from walking off a cliff, you would willingly jump on a dare. I can't control your every action, but dammit, I will always try to save you. Now, as for what I told Miss Lunette…”

  His brother glanced away, seeming to collect himself as the tension had grown thick between them. The change in subject was a relief.

  “I told her we were agents of the Crown on official business.”

  His brother's gaze snapped back to his and widened. He must be stunned because he had no immediate comment. Callen didn't think he had ever stunned his brother into silence before now.

  “You… You what?” Theo asked in astonishment.

  “Though she had already come to the conclusion we must be smugglers or rather, not us, but Weirick and Roderick. She didn't appear too distraught by that idea either. I think here along these smaller coastal towns, smuggling is less a sin to the locals than it is to the authorities.”

  “I don't believe what I'm actually hearing. You told her we were spies?” he asked with a loopy grin.

  “I would have gone with the smuggling bit if I'd known that was what she was thinking, but I didn't. I thought the more serious and legal the situation might appear, the more she would remain silent."

  “To think you didn't use this bit of scintillating secrecy to get under her skirts, my, what a wasted opportunity.”

  Callen clenched his teeth. “I wasn't thinking about getting under her skirts, I was thinking about covering our tracks. We are not here to dally with innocent women, Theo. We’re here to make sure you don't hang.”

  Theo scoffed. “I'm not going to hang.”

  Callen raised both brows. “Judge Blackwood nearly hung a baron. He’s fighting to abolish privilege of peerage.”

  “It will never happen,” Theo muttered.

  “What do you think he'll do to a second son? I can't protect you from the law, not with Judge Blackwood presiding over it with an iron fist. We’re talking about his nephew.”

  “I haven't forgotten,” Theo bit off. “Not with you reminding me every day.”

  “And yet this was your fourth duel. You'd think you would have learned how dangerous this was from your first one.”

  “Well, the first three didn't count. They were respectable fellows who knew the rules, and we both shot over each other's head. All honor was restored and two of them are good friends of mine,” he finished defensively. “Sir Kirby is generous with his uncle and cousin, that’s the only reason they want him to live. He’s a damn fool and they know it. That’s why the cousin Jameson went as his second and threatened to inform Judge Blackwood about the other duels.”

  Callen rolled his eyes. �
��You haven't learned a damn thing, have you? That’s how they’ll get you. You can’t claim privilege of peerage if it’s not your first offense. Judge Blackwood will use your reckless past against you and hang you with it.”

  Theo’s lips turned white as he pressed them together. “Let's get back to you lying to Miss Lunette about us being agents of the Crown, shall we?”

  Callen relented. He could tell his brother had had enough for the moment. “Nothing more be said. I didn't say anything further than that. I didn't make up some ridiculous lie about national security. I kept it simple. We’re agents doing business in the name of England and nothing more was said. And nothing more need be said about it because an agent wouldn't say any more than he needed to, would he?”

  “I don't know. I've never met one, have you?”

  Callen sighed. His brother was not being serious enough. As usual.

  “If you're so concerned about her asking you questions, just refer her to me and I will handle it.”

  “Oh, so now you're also the superior agent?”

  “Of course, I'm the older brother. I'll always be one step ahead of you."

  Theo folded his arms. “And you’ll never let me forget it.”

  There he went again. Round and round in circles, this game went. But Callen was too tired to play. He wanted to rub his temples, a growing headache taking root in his forehead, and he could feel his shirt sticking to his side. His wound must've soaked through the bandage already. But there wasn't anything he could do about it right now. He couldn't let anyone know he was injured. He supposed he could go into the village, rent a room, summon a doctor, and pay the man for his silence. But that sounded like a lot of work when all he wanted to do was just lie down in his bed.

  “Damn it all," he muttered.

  “You don't look well,” his brother said.

  “I don't feel well. I feel like I have a hot poker jabbed in my side.”

  “Your wound is healing?”

  “I thought it was, but I know almost nothing about tending to a bullet wound. They don't teach that at University.”

  For once, his brother seemed concerned for his well-being. It was almost worth the burning hole in his side just to see that.

  “I'm sure it's fine,” he assured Theo. “I don't think bullet wounds are supposed to feel good. I'm going down to the kitchen to take some headache powder, then I'll meet you in the drawing room.”

  Theo nodded, and they parted.

  But Callen didn't go down to the kitchen. He went to his room and dosed himself with some headache powder that Coombs always stocked with his things. As they shared a valet, Coombs knew what both of them needed, but right now he was back in London, keeping watch on Sir Kirby's household and waiting to hear if the man would die or not. And then he would report back to them as soon as possible, so they could leave England before Judge Blackwood could prosecute Theo.

  Callen glanced at the bed with longing, wishing he could crawl up into the pillows and sleep the day away. Surely that was what his wound needed. They'd been traveling nonstop after the duel until they arrived here. That was probably the reason his wound was not healing properly.

  He needed rest and this party would almost have been the perfect reason and excuse to be lazy for once—if Roderick hadn't lied about the purpose for the party. Instead, Callen had to pretend he was hale and whole and do so in front of nine beautiful women, all in desperate need of husbands. He wasn't in a state to be anyone's suitor. Not with this wounded side, and not with a brother who took nearly every ounce of his energy.

  He'd hardly been able to maintain a mistress as busy as he was. He'd managed a few temporary liaisons over the years. But lately it seemed more and more difficult to let himself forget about the weight of his worry and focus on someone else, to look down on a pretty face—in his mind, Luna's face appeared—and not ruin the moment with thoughts about what his brother might be doing. The disasters that could be occurring at that moment.

  He sat down in the chair by the hearth. He knew if he got on the bed he wouldn't get up again, but he did take a moment in the chair to ease the strain in his side and close his eyes. The vision of Luna was still there. She appeared so refreshed this morning. Her sable hair coiled into a demure bun on her head, the dove gray shade of her gown a complement to her roses and cream skin and the warm shade of coffee that was her eyes.

  He exhaled, and the vision of her soothed his tortured body, his pulse calming, the tightness in his limbs leaving him, and the pounding in his head less severe. He sat there for a moment and just thought of her. When he opened his eyes some moments later, he felt better.

  Good enough to pretend he was fine and meet the other guests in the drawing room. He didn't want to consider why thinking of her had calmed him so much. Maybe she was a witch, he thought with amusement. She had cast a spell over him, maybe to help him, maybe to ensure he kept her secret along with his own.

  Chapter 6

  Luna took her favorite spot on the settee next to Nic and happily accepted a cup of tea from Mrs. Kemp.

  “What an odd day,” Nic commented. “It must be the full moon.”

  Luna smiled at her sister. “You put that much faith in the phases of the moon?”

  “Georgie calls it moon madness. She says the animals are extra feisty, and I believe people are affected too. Just observe the gentlemen closely tonight. You will see.”

  Luna wasn’t sure she believed it, but… “It’s only folklore, stories told to make children stay in their beds.”

  Nic shook her head. “Ye have little faith. Look what happened during our kite flying this afternoon? Poor Mr. Cage was attacked by a kite, and now this squall coming in so fast.”

  “Squalls come in all the time. They go as quickly as they come.” Both women turned to peer out the window. Rain rattled against the glass in undulating waves as the sky grew darker right before their eyes.

  A chill slipped down Luna’s spine.

  Nic turned back to her, holding her gaze. “Don’t you feel that?”

  “Feel what?”

  “The anticipation. Something exciting is going to happen.”

  “You sound like a gypsy,” Luna said, but then again… Something exciting had already happened. She could feel his presence across the room, standing near his brother and the duke by the hearth. She’d been doing her best not to watch their every movement.

  “Fine, ignore it if you want. I know Odette will believe me.”

  “She’s your twin. I think she’s obligated to.”

  Nic stuck her tongue out at Luna as she stood and joined her twin at the chess table.

  Luna wasn’t alone on the settee for long. Josie entered, appearing rather frazzled. Just when Luna was about to ask her if something was wrong, Lord Densmore appeared and Luna’s nerves simmered with an awareness of him. All thought of Josie evaporated.

  He stood by her side, and she caught a wince of pain as he leaned on the arm of the settee. All her senses screamed something was wrong. She focused on him, scanning his face, his stance, his breathing for any sign of the injury he was trying to hide. When had it happened? He seemed fine last night.

  “Are you all right?” Luna asked.

  “I’m fine, boxing injury. ’Tis nothing.”

  “Where is Lord Selhorst?” Josie blurted. “I must thank him again for his thoughtfulness in bringing me sandwiches and tea.”

  Luna turned to Josie with surprise but Josie ignored her.

  “He went for a ride,” Lord Densmore replied.

  “A ride?” she asked.

  “He always travels with his horse,” Lord Densmore answered, his gaze moving to Luna.

  Luna searched the depth of his eyes for an answer, as if she could flip through his thoughts like the pages of a magazine and discover what he was hiding.

  “Oh,” Josie said.

  “Would you care to sit, my lord?” Luna asked.

  He shook his head and folded his arms.

  “You seem a bit
peaked,” Luna whispered to him.

  “I assure you, I’m in the peak of my health, Miss Lunette.” He offered them a smile, but it was brittle at best.

  Luna nodded out of habit, but she didn’t believe him for a moment. He was hurt. She would bet her last ha’penny on it.

  “Excuse me.” Lord Densmore wandered away, his gait stiff. He left the drawing room, and Luna and Josie shared a worried glance.

  “That was odd,” Josie said.

  “No more odd than you inquiring after Lord Selhorst. Have you decided to be friendly after all?” Luna asked, but her mind was still on Lord Densmore. How seriously was he hurt? She wasn’t familiar with boxing injuries. All her experience centered on what could happen on their little plot of land. Georgie had been kicked by the sheep more than a few times. Could those injuries be similar?

  “Yes,” Josie answered. “You were right earlier. I shouldn’t let my personal prejudices get in the way of enjoying the company of others.”

  “Good. I’m going to collect my shawl. It’s a bit chill in here, don’t you think?”

  Josie shrugged. “I’m fine.”

  Luna nodded as she came to her feet. Perhaps Nic was right, and the moon made people do funny things, because Luna was about to do the maddest thing she’d ever done. Follow a man to his room or wherever he may be going. And this wasn’t just any man. He was a spy.

  She left the drawing room and caught sight of him disappearing up the stairs. His movements were slow and measured as if he were trying to move as little as possible. A definite sign of bodily injury. He must be in a fair bit of pain.

  She kept her distance but followed him up the stairs and down an unfamiliar hall.

  Luna had never been in this part of the castle before. She knew the reason why. These were the bachelor quarters, the haven of the unmarried gentlemen. So mysterious, she thought, and bit her lip. Yet it looked just like the hall that she and her sisters resided in. She ducked behind a pillar on the landing as he stopped before a door and went inside. She was partly surprised he hadn't known he was being followed. If he was a spy, wouldn't he be careful of such things? Or maybe not. He had no reason to suspect someone might be following him here in the castle.