Checkmate, My Lord

by Tracey Devlyn

  “For you, as well.”

  “This could become unpleasant, Catherine. I don’t want you exposed to this.” Nor did he want her to witness his darker side, the one most detested for its ruthlessness.

  “I will not watch the bad parts, Sebastian,” she said. “Understand that I’m not leaving you.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, I’m not leaving you here to sort out Jeffrey’s mess.”

  I’m not leaving you. A wild instinct, ominous and possessive, assailed his senses, overwhelming in its strength.

  “Chief, perhaps we should finish this,” Helsford said.

  “The carriage is gone,” she said. “And I’m not walking back alone.”

  “Dammit, Catherine. You have no business here.”

  “I have as much right to be here as the rest of you.” Her gaze landed on Cochran. “He threatened my baby girl.”

  She had placed him in an untenable situation. How could he protect her and conduct a thorough interrogation of his prisoner?

  Cochran laughed. “What’s the matter, Somerton? Afraid your mistress won’t like what she sees?”

  Sebastian ignored him. Pointing toward the shadowed tree line, he said, “Stand over there. Do not go near either prisoner, no matter what. Understood?”

  “Yes, Chief.”

  He waited for her to comply before heading back to the circle of men. “Pick him up.”

  Helsford pulled Cochran to his feet. With his wrists and ankles bound by the same rope, the prisoner hobbled about until he gained his balance.

  “Tell me who you’re working for,” Sebastian said.

  Cochran smiled. “Why would I need to take orders from anyone?”

  “Because you’re not intelligent enough to mastermind this elaborate a plan.”

  Cochran’s gaze sliced to Silas, who stood passively in Danforth’s grip. “Intelligent enough to locate and silence your nosey agent.”

  Catherine’s sharp intake of breath speared through their circle.

  “Was it Latymer?” Danforth demanded.

  Cochran’s gaze landed on Silas again. He said nothing.

  Sebastian nodded to Helsford, who knocked Cochran’s feet out from underneath him. The prisoner landed on his face with his bound hands behind him. Helsford grabbed the rope connecting Cochran’s hands to his feet and set a boot to the middle of the man’s back. Then he pulled on the rope like a bowstring, wrenching the prisoner’s arms and legs into an unnatural angle. Cochran cried out.

  “I believe Danforth asked you a question,” Sebastian said.

  “Go to hell,” Cochran said through gritted teeth.

  The rope tautened.

  “Care to try again?”

  “Yes,” Cochran ground out. “I reported to Latymer.”

  Sebastian released a satisfied breath. “What was your agreement with the former under-superintendent?”

  “To retrieve a list of your agents.”

  “In exchange for?”

  More silence.

  The rope tautened.

  “Latymer discrediting you,” Cochran gasped. “I’ve answered your questions. Now call off your dog.”

  “How would you benefit from my disgrace?”

  Cochran glared up at him. “I would have taken your place.”

  Danforth barked out a laugh. “You? Chief? Please tell me you aren’t serious.”

  “If not for someone named Specter muddling in my affairs, I would have been the new chief of the Nexus by tomorrow’s end. Some of the greatest minds in England would have been at my disposal.”

  “Get him up,” Sebastian said to Helsford. “What made you think Reeves would appoint you as chief, rather than one of my agents?”

  “Latymer still has powerful friends in the Foreign Office,” Cochran said.

  In a lightning-swift maneuver, one Sebastian had never witnessed before, Silas somersaulted out of his captors’ grip and snatched a pistol from Danforth’s waistband. Using his weapon, he motioned for a fuming Danforth to step back and then leveled the barrel at Sebastian. The look on the man’s face could only be described as gleeful.

  “No.”

  Sebastian glanced back to see Catherine scrambling out from the cover of a tree, her fiery gaze on Silas. “Catherine, no!” He had wanted to know what it would feel like to have a champion in a wife. This was as close as he would ever come to knowing the feeling—and he liked the sensation. A lot—until the terror took hold. “You promised, remember?” He waited for her to acknowledge him before pouring all the love that had been building in his heart over the last sennight into his gaze.

  Tears filled her eyes. “Sebastian.”

  “Stay put, love.” Then his smile faded. Taking advantage of the distraction, Sebastian inched his hand toward his weapon.

  The little man tsked. “Kindly raise your hands, my lord.”

  Sebastian weighed his options. With Silas’s weapon pointed at his chest, he had none. He lifted his arms in the air.

  “Silas,” Cochran said. “Come remove these bindings.”

  “In a moment, sir.”

  “What do you mean ‘in a moment’?” Cochran tried to wrench free of Helsford’s hold.

  Silas’s watery eyes settled back on Sebastian. “I am saddened by this turn of events,” he said in perfect French. “The widow has been a worthy adversary, as have you. We shall meet again.”

  Before Sebastian could work through the man’s cryptic remark, Silas swept his weapon toward Helsford and fired.

  “No—” Sebastian dove toward his agent in a futile attempt to block the bullet, but it was not Helsford’s body that bucked against the impact.

  Cochran’s neck jolted back and his body froze for an instant before melting in Helsford’s arms. Then his head rolled forward, revealing the bullet’s entrance, his death told by a single track of scarlet liquid.

  With a fluid sweep of his arm, Sebastian grabbed his gun, twisted his body around to face Cochran’s murderer, and pulled the trigger. Sebastian’s bullet cleaved into Silas’s forehead at the same time another lead ball from behind blasted into the man’s back.

  “Get down!” Sebastian yelled as he dove to the ground. “Helsford, to Catherine.” He didn’t have to look to make sure his agent followed his direction—the man was trained to do so without question. He watched Silas’s body collapse in a heap, dead before his face hit the hard-packed road.

  “Who’s there?” Sebastian’s gaze flicked from one corner of the darkness to the next. “Show yourself.”

  “It would be my pleasure, Lord Somerton,” a new voice said. “As soon as you lower your weapons.”

  Sebastian glanced from Danforth to Helsford; both agents shrugged their shoulders. “I’ll have your name, sir.”

  “Reeves. John Reeves, Superintendent of the Alien Office.”

  Twenty-seven

  “If you three women don’t stop pacing,” Danforth said from his location near the drawing room window, “you’re going to give me a megrim.”

  Catherine halted behind one of Sebastian’s burgundy damask chairs, clutching the back with her cold, clammy hands. Cora and Dinks continued their assault on the expensive carpet, pausing only long enough to throw Danforth a leave-me-be look.

  “No sign of them yet?” Catherine would never forget the steel coating Sebastian’s blue-gray eyes when he forced her to return with the viscount while he, Helsford, and Reeves dealt with the aftermath of Cochran’s failed abduction.

  Danforth sighed, having fielded the same question no less than a dozen times since they had returned to Bellamere an hour ago. “They could be coming down the drive right now, for all I know. This blasted darkness has been both a blessing and a damned curse.”

  “If you don’t mind, Miss Cora,” Dinks said, “I’ll look in on the wee ones. This waiting has my nerves stretched thin.”<
br />
  “Of course,” Cora said. “Why don’t you make sure Bingham is still abed? I caught him trying to limp off toward the stables not long after we arrived.”

  The maid’s eyes narrowed toward the open door. “Did he, now?”

  “Thank you, Dinks,” Catherine said. “I doubt Mother has left the children’s side, but I’m sure she’s curious if there have been any new developments.”

  Dinks picked up the tea tray and turned to leave. “I’ll have a fresh pot brought around.”

  Catherine noted Cora’s sly smile. “Something amusing, Miss deBeau?”

  “Do call me Cora. I detest such formality amongst friends.”

  Glancing between brother and sister, Catherine said, “We are friends?”

  The other woman lifted a sable-colored brow. “Are you finished plotting against Somerton?”

  Danforth paused in his surveillance of the front drive to await her answer.

  Heat rushed into Catherine’s cheeks. “Of course. I hold no ill will toward Lord Somerton.” She strengthened her voice. “I did what I had to do in order to save my daughter. And I would do it again.”

  Brother and sister shared a satisfied look and then two sets of blue-green eyes settled on her. Cora said, “You will make a nice addition to our circle.”

  Catherine’s nails scored the tight weave of the upholstered chair. “It is kind of you to say so. But in a few days, the lot of you will return to London, and I will settle back into country life here in Showbury.”

  Danforth made a choking sound and pivoted back to the window. Cora scowled at her brother. “Why don’t you head down the lane to meet the others?”

  “Believe me, sister,” he said. “I would like nothing better, given the new direction of this conversation. Not sure why I was relegated to women-sitting, rather than Helsford. All the same, I prefer my head attached to my shoulders.”

  Catherine frowned. “What do you mean, sir?”

  Cora answered, “He means Somerton will lop it off if he leaves us—or rather you—unattended.”

  A soft knock drew their attention to the open door. Mrs. Fox said, “Pardon, the interruption. I have a warm pot of tea.”

  “Come in—” Cora said.

  “Please bring it in—” Catherine said at the same time.

  Catherine’s gaze cut to Sebastian’s former ward, a fresh wave of humiliation burned its way up her neck and into her cheeks. “My apologies, I forgot myself.”

  Cora smiled. “Mrs. Fox, please set the tea tray on the table next to Mrs. Ashcroft. She can do the honors.” After the housekeeper withdrew, she nodded toward the tea. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all.” Catherine appreciated the distraction. It would give her something to do with her hands besides worrying a hole in the chair’s upholstery.

  “None for me,” Danforth said. “I will raid Somerton’s stash over there.”

  Catherine lifted her gaze to Cora. “Sugar?”

  “No, thank you,” she said. “A spot of cream only.”

  Once they had their respective drinks, Catherine and Cora perched on matching chairs while Danforth kept watch.

  “Catherine,” Cora said after a short silence. “Your life in Showbury will be much altered now. Surely, you realize that.”

  “I have no doubt the events of the last fortnight will haunt my thoughts for some time,” Catherine said. “But I don’t see how that fact will affect my living here.”

  A low groan sounded from the window. “Ladies, I am going to walk the perimeter.” Danforth lanced his sister with a severe look. “Stay put, or I will haunt you—headless and all.”

  “You ceased intimidating me when I was twelve, brother,” Cora said. “Save your threats for your elusive cloaked savior.”

  His lips thinned. “Can you not do as I ask just this once?”

  Cora laughed. “This coming from the King of Rogues? From a man who takes the solitary path more often than not?”

  From the thunderous look on the viscount’s face, Catherine thought he might do his sister bodily harm. Instead, he jabbed his finger in the air. “You’re Helsford’s problem now.” Then he stormed from the room.

  “Rather lacking, as comebacks go, wouldn’t you say?” Cora asked in an amused voice.

  “Should he be left to his own devices?”

  “Do not let our sparring upset you,” Cora said. “It’s our way.” She set her teacup down. “Do you love him? Somerton, I mean.”

  Catherine could do little more than stare. Like Sebastian, Cora dipped and swayed from one topic to the next, making it impossible to anticipate the woman’s next question.

  “You think me too bold?” Cora asked. “I don’t blame you. It is no one’s business but your own.”

  “Thank you.”

  Cora sent her an admonishing look. “I ask only because I want for Somerton what I have with Guy. As agents, we’ve devoted our lives to this fight against Napoleon, never taking for ourselves. Somerton more so than the rest of us. Until now, I never knew the sacrifice mattered to him.”

  Shock jolted her heart into an uncomfortable rhythm. “Surely, you’re not suggesting that Lord Somerton holds any meaningful affection for me.” Then she recalled the fleeting expression that crossed his face when he thought Silas was about to kill him. Catherine swallowed back the lump of joy.

  “You are surprised by the notion?”

  “I am appalled by the notion.”

  That stiffened the younger woman’s back. “I can’t think why you would be.”

  Catherine’s unease with their conversation grew with each word uttered. “Did Lord Somerton explain the full nature of our association?”

  Intelligence gleamed behind the woman’s sharp gaze as she assessed Catherine’s words, then the sharpness softened into comprehension and, even worse, empathy.

  “Believe me, when I tell you,” Cora said, “if there is one man in all of England who would understand your motives, it is Somerton. He might even be more drawn to you because of your warrior instincts.”

  “You do not understand. I deceived him in the worst possible way.”

  “Did he not deceive you by keeping the manner of your husband’s death to himself?”

  Catherine stood. “It’s not the same. I made love to him to obtain a list!”

  “Of suspected traitors?”

  Catherine turned her burning eyes on her.

  “To save your daughter?”

  Her breathing became more difficult.

  “Do you not think England’s greatest spymaster would do the same in your stead?” Cora rose and moved to stand in front of her. “No need to answer, for I will. He would. That, and a whole lot worse.”

  “Our association has been built on suspicion and betrayal,” Catherine said. “A poor beginning.”

  “One does not make love to obtain information,” Cora pointed out. “One does something altogether less pleasurable.”

  “You sound as if you speak from experience.” Not for the first time, Catherine wondered how the agent came by the scar on her cheek.

  “I do.” A shadow crossed Cora’s face. “And that experience tells me the two of you have much more to build on than the awful circumstances that brought you together.”

  A disturbance from the entry hall caught their attention and they grappled for each other’s hands in a show of feminine support. They rushed to the door, but when Catherine made to open it, Cora placed her palm against the oak panel and directed her unsettling gaze on her. “Give him a chance to love you.”

  The pressure around her chest tightened, and Catherine’s pulse roared in her ears. Overcoming the reason that brought them together was only one of their many hurdles, the biggest being Sebastian’s role with the Nexus. That role would take him away from her for long periods of time, during which she woul
d constantly worry for his return. Constantly be waiting.

  Catherine turned the latch, prompting Cora to remove her hand. She stepped through the portal and pivoted toward the commotion. There, at the far end of the corridor, where it emptied into the entry hall, stood Sebastian, looking disheveled and dangerous. The sight of him sent a tide of relief through her body, and she released a whoosh of air.

  Give him a chance to love you.

  As if he sensed her presence, his gaze caught hers, and held. Something primitive marred his handsome features, and he stepped forward as if pulled by the strength of her gaze. Then Cora squeezed past Catherine and headed straight for her betrothed. The small disruption was enough to sever her visual bond with Sebastian.

  He retreated beneath the guise of cold civility he wore so splendidly, and Catherine nudged the loose brick in her wall back into place.

  ***

  Sebastian’s heart nearly exploded with relief to find Catherine hale and looking more beautiful than anyone had a right to after such a harrowing experience. Confronted with losing her daughter, she had exhibited great courage—and foolishness—in running Cochran to ground. Thank God, the children had been clear of the area when the shooting began. As for Catherine, he could only be grateful that she had listened to him when it counted most. If something had happened to her and Sophie…

  An image of his mentor’s wife’s dead body flooded his vision. The horror the man must have faced haunted Sebastian every time he gazed upon Catherine. Knowing one’s wife was about to be murdered and being helpless to do anything was a nightmare Sebastian had sworn he would never experience.

  But he’d come close tonight. Not with a wife, but with a little girl who had somehow attached herself to his heart. As had her mother.

  Ice crackled, fusing together, inch by inch, until it slowly encased him inside a protective shell. Only he knew, far too well, that one kiss from Catherine would shatter the fragile barrier, leaving him exposed to a crushing torment.

  She must have sensed his withdrawal, for her expression molded itself into one of indifference. Clasping her hands at her waist, she retreated from view.

  “Let us move to the study,” Cora said, clinging to Helsford.