by Anne Mallory
Calliope was already looking through her things. "No, I don’t believe so, it’s more a feeling."
She was staring anxiously at the door and window.
"We’ll both stay here or in my room."
Relief and alarm warred on her face. "Perhaps I’m just a bit edgy because of Pettigrew’s study. "
"If anyone sees me leaving your room in the morning, it will lend credence to our relationship. As long as no one sees me on the sofa, that is. Now, here’s your shawl, let’s try Pettigrew’s chambers."
The suite was as far away from their rooms as one could get in the huge manor. For the first time James grudgingly found himself admitting he was glad Calliope had accompanied him. If they were caught, their presence in any part of the house could be easily explained away as a lovers’ game.
They were in and out of his rooms quickly. Pettigrew’s rooms proved as fruitless as Roth’s. By the time they left his suite it was three o’clock in the morning. Because it was necessary to keep track of the guests, James and Calliope kept making appearances downstairs. The party was still in swing, but they noted several of the guests had retired.
"It’s going to be more difficult to conduct a search when we don’t know which rooms contain guests," James said.
They passed the card room, where a heated game was being played. Mr. Ternberry was wiping his brow. He appeared to be losing heavily.
"Ternberry is well known for his tenacity at trying to win his money back. Usually an unwise decision. So let’s search his room next. He will be preoccupied for at least an hour or two."
Calliope nodded and they headed toward the west wing where Ternberry’s room was located.
A laughing couple came down the hall and James put an arm around Calliope, pulling her close. He tipped her chin up and their lips met. A soft sound of surprise was swallowed as her body melted against his. The couple passed, but James didn’t stop. He couldn’t.
Calliope’s hands snaked their way around his neck and she was leaning against him. He didn’t know who was hungrier, or why were they standing in the hallway when their rooms were just down the hall.
She tasted just like she smelled. . . a hint of lavender.
A door slammed closed and reality intruded. The thought was like a cold bucket of water.
James broke the kiss and looked down at Calliope. Her eyes were wide and her mouth slightly open. Hell, he wanted to kiss her again, but they had dallied too long and time was running short.
"One of these times we won’t be interrupted, I promise."
James pulled her along in her slightly dazed state. Ternberry’s door was locked.
He withdrew a thin piece of metal from his pocket and worked on the mechanism. It clicked and a remarkably composed Calliope looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
They entered the room and found a mess. It was the opposite of Roth’s spartan and well-organized room. There was a certain irony in the situation, since the two men’s attitudes garnered contradictory impressions.
"This is going to take a while."
James had to agree. There were piles of papers on the floor and they agreed it was the best place to start. Paper after paper was discarded. Sifting through the papers together on the floor was uncomfortable. After that kiss, all James wanted to do was drag her back to her room.
Calliope finally held up a sheet of paper in triumph. "This is it, I recognize this sheet from Pettigrew’s study."
They bent their heads together. Unfortunately for James, her hair and skin smelled like the scent always surrounding her.
Forcing his traitorous mind back to the paper, he read the pertinent part aloud: " 'Something needs to be done about the Stephen Chalmers situation. Look into it right away and take the necessary action.'" It was unsigned, but a recognizable seal was embossed in the corner.
An icy stab flew through James. "This is from the Foreign Office."
What was this contract doing in Ternberry’s room?
Calliope looked at him. "What does it mean?"
"It could mean anything. It’s too cryptic."
She frowned in disappointment and picked up another sheet of paper.
"Looks like a birth certificate."
James took the offered sheet. It was a birth certificate for Edmund Henry Samuel Crane. The date listed was 1802. "That’s Holt’s son."
The clock struck four.
"Come, the time is late and we can’t risk discovery." He replaced the sheets and scattered the pile to resemble its former mess.
James grabbed Calliope’s hand and when she didn’t protest, he pulled her to the door. Peeking outside, he pulled back as a scantily clad woman ran from one room to another, knocking softly on the door. Another glance showed a man buttoning his trousers as he sauntered to a room a few doors away.
Calliope was attempting to peer over his shoulder but he held her back, breathing a sigh of relief when the traffic in the hallway momentarily halted. He locked the door and tugged her outside. They ran down the few steps to her room and fell inside.
Calliope started laughing uncontrollably. "It’s like musical doors around here."
James felt a tug at his own lips. "Yes, house parties can be like that. Luckily we don’t have to play that game."
Calliope’s laughter died as she saw the expression on his face. A fire slowly built. "No, I think that might be a bad idea. I believe we both should retire now. We can talk in the morning."
He didn’t move for a moment and she held her breath thinking he might ignore the entreaty. A part of her wished he would. She tried to tamp the thought down but it wouldn’t desist.
He moved toward her, toward the bed. Her breathing became erratic.
"My lord, no .... " Her voice came out breathy and foreign to her ears.
James reached for her and she felt herself swaying toward him, tipping her chin back to look in his eyes. He rubbed his thumb across her lips, and then bent down, two inches, one inch. She rose slightly off the floor. His hand travelled down her arm. Her eyes started to close.
Air. It was the only thing touching her. She r opened her eyes and saw his retreating back, the extra blanket that had been covering the bed in his hand.
Calliope’s jaw sagged slightly.
"I will leave at daybreak. The servants will be up and about and you will be perfectly safe."
He dropped onto the settee, his long legs hanging off the end. It had to be uncomfortable, but he didn’t make a peep.
She was outraged. Calliope stomped to the wardrobe and withdrew her nightclothes.
She looked over at him, but his back was to her.
She changed her clothes with difficulty, not ringing for Betsy. She watched to see if he peeked. He didn’t. And there was no offer of help.
Calliope’s teeth gnashed together. She should be relieved. Instead, she was confused and irritated. And she couldn’t explain any of it.
Slipping under the covers, she stared at the ceiling.
She was still staring at the ceiling when he rose and quietly left the room at dawn, as promised.
Chapter 10
What a terrible night.
Every muscle in his body ached. Between the lumps in the settee and his overactive libido, he was certain he hadn’t slept a wink. Calliope had set the terms of their relationship and he had abided by them. Yet she had slammed the wardrobe and acted like a mad bee that had lost its honey. He knew she had slept as poorly as he--her breathing had never gained the even wave of someone comfortably settled. Sometimes he didn’t understand the fairer sex.
James threw the blanket on the floor and rose from the uncomfortable settee. Calliope finally appeared to be asleep. She was a small lump under the bedcovers. How to deal with her? She was the most skittish courtesan he had ever met. She acted like an outraged virgin, a category of women that he avoided like the plague. He wondered if she was even aware of the mixed signals she sent.
He had never needed to woo any woman, yet sometimes he felt that was
precisely what he was doing with her.
James exited the room and quietly but firmly locked the door. He trudged across the hall to his room. His valet, Rogers, was waiting.
"I’m not in the mood for a long, drawn-out affair, Rogers. Let’s try to keep this to a minimum."
Rogers sniffed. He had probably spent an inordinate amount of time brushing James’s trousers and polishing his boots. Rogers liked to be appreciated, but James wasn’t in the mood.
After sending Rogers off in a snit, James walked down to breakfast trying to divine the workings of the female mind. Fortunately, Roth was the only one at the table.
"Good god, Angelford, you look awful. Wouldn’t have expected such a scowl after seeing you retire with Esmerelda." Roth looked positively cheerful. "I anticipated an expression of the cat stealing the canary, not such a woebegotten air."
James sent him a withering look and snatched a plate from a waiting servant, who scurried off.
He helped himself to the delicacies at the sideboard. " Did you tup the countess without trouble?"
Roth’s grin widened as he poked a sausage on his plate. "l did not, much to the dismay of Lady Flanders, who was hoping to enjoy an early celebration in honor of Lady Pettigrew’s birthday. Supposedly she’s inexhaustible. And while that’s an admirable trait, her other attributes don’t entice me into spending the requisite time."
James smiled. "I’m quite sure she was irritated, since she appeared ready to have you unwrap and sample her overly abundant charms." Roth was a font of information and James decided to use Roth’s knowledge to his advantage. "By the way, speaking of birthdays and gifts, Holt was talking about taking Edmund out for some debauchery now that he’s older. Can’t recall how old the lad is, but seems Holt thinks it will be amusing, what with his birthday approaching soon."
"Boy will be twenty. Time to join up, just like we did."
Two ladies sauntered in for an early breakfast, giving James no time to glean additional information from Roth. Considering Roth a suspect didn’t help his investigation. His instincts told him Roth had nothing to do with Stephen’s disappearance or Salisbury’s death, but he was unable to rule him out yet.
Roth had always been deep cover and one of the country’s best agents. The betrayal of Salisbury screamed deep cover, and lately Roth had been acting more cryptic than usual. There had been a subtle, yet unmistakable withdrawal from public events. It was actually surprising he had shown up at Pettigrew’s. As soon as this investigation was over, James planned on having a long chat with his inscrutable friend and colleague.
But for now, he had the information he required. Roth’s unerring memory never mixed up facts. If he said Edmund was going to be twenty, then the birth certificate in Ternberry’s room didn’t make sense. According to the document, he was twenty-one.
Why would Ternberry possess a birth certificate for Holt’s son? True, he was Holt’s secretary, but if what James suspected was true, Holt wouldn’t entrust the certificate to anyone. In fact, the information might be something that Holt was willing to guard to the death.
Things were looking worse.
Calliope breezed into the room looking superb in a lemon morning gown. Swirls of delicate white lace edged the cuffs and hem, making her appear as light as a fairy.
"Roth, how lovely to see you this fine morning."
She didn’t so much as glance in James’s direction. She looked relaxed and refreshed and showered attention on Roth, ignoring James.
"What a beautiful weekend for Lady Pettigrew’s birthday. I’m certain the celebration she has planned will be creative. As birthdays go, I was thinking of attending Edmund Crane’s birthday celebration next week. That dashing boy will have the ladies at his feet. Why, he’s nearly what, twenty-one?"
Roth sent James a quizzical look. "Twenty, I believe."
James was ready to throttle her. Roth donned a thoughtful expression as Calliope rattled off some of the incessant banter that she used as part of her Esmerelda guise. She continued a diatribe about the ladies of the ton, regaling him with anecdotes and the latest gossip. But Roth was no fool. Social intrigue was second nature to him.
"By the by, have you seen Ternberry this morning? I remembered something I must tell him," she said.
"My dear, Ternberry would scoff at getting up before noon. There is to be a hunt and croquet later. He will likely rouse in time to ride."
"Oh, good. Well, I will leave you two gentlemen to your breakfast and see if Lady Pettigrew has stirred."
She breezed out of the room. Roth raised his brows at James. "Well, she certainly has energy and spirit this morning. What happened to you?"
James scowled and pushed his untouched plate aside. He didn’t reply as he rose to follow her. He was going to wring her beautiful neck.
A swirl of lemon skirts rounded the landing at the top of the stairs.
She was heading to her room.
He took the stairs two at a time. He heard a door close as he gained the top step. She had been moving quickly. Reaching her door, he knocked. There was no answer. A door opened down the hall and he heard a lady titter. He gritted his teeth. "Let me in."
Still no answer. "I swear I am going to--"
The door opened and Calliope stood, panic-stricken, tears in her eyes.
He stepped inside and closed the door. Softening his voice he said, "What’s wrong?"
She pointed to the bed. He followed her gaze and saw a slashed Adelphi Theatre playbill.
She threw herself into his arms. "I locked my door this morning while at breakfast. It was on the bed when I returned. I’m so relieved you stayed here last night."
James was suddenly glad for the uncomfortable, sleepless night.
"It’s merely a threat. Someone’s trying to scare you. If anything had happened to the Dalys, I’d already know. " He rubbed her arms. "Lock the door after me. Check to see if anything is missing. I’ll be back soon. If anyone enters the room before I return, scream."
James walked a few paces down the hall and knocked on Ternberry’s door. There was no answer. He turned the knob and was surprised it opened. The room was completely empty.
James headed for Pettigrew’s study.
Pettigrew motioned for him to enter. "Morning, Angelford, I expect you spent a pleasant evening. Delightful girl, Esmerelda. And quite talented?" The last was said as a question and Pettigrew had raised a brow.
"It was quite a night." James inclined his head. "I was hoping to speak with Ternberry this morning. Do you know where I might find him?"
"There was an urgent summons directing him to return to London. His valet relayed the message. Didn’t even see him myself. "
James swore internally, but kept his face calm. "Too bad, I’ll speak with him back in town. I heard there is a twist to the hunt. I’m quite looking forward to it."
"Good, good. Should be just the thing. The wife has plenty of entertainment planned for the day."
James finished the small talk and returned to Calliope’s room. He knocked on the door. "I’m back."
As she opened the door, the panicked look was still in evidence. "What are we going to do?"
We. Something warm washed through him. "Do you have a riding habit?"
She nodded.
"Good. I’ll wait in the hall while you change into your riding gear, and then escort you downstairs. We’re going to eat breakfast and converse with the other guests as if nothing unpleasant has occurred. You aren’t to stray from my side."
She nodded again. She must be terrified, to have agreed to that.
Betsy arrived minutes later to assist her. She changed quickly. The riding habit fit her well. All of those buttons would make the thing damn hard to remove. James caught hold of his thoughts and escorted her downstairs. Roth had left the breakfast room. They served themselves and sat down.
He was much hungrier than he’d been earlier and quickly devoured the sausage and biscuits. Calliope was pushing the food around her plate.
A defiant light appeared in her eyes but she ate the eggs. Some of her spirit was returning.
Many of the guests were up and about by the time they pushed away from the table and headed toward the stables.
Guests milled about the yard, some conversing and others waiting for their horses to be saddled. James and Calliope walked into the stable and over to the stalls holding the two horses James had brought from London.
"This is Apollo and the mare is Damsel."