His musings were interrupted by the sound of voices in the parlour. Voices where there should be none, for his sisters were out with his mother, and his father had gone to his club. A woman, speaking to one of the staff. A woman whose voice he had heard before. Where? Then it came to him. She had been here, in the last few days, for that dreadful soiree – it was the one he had run into in the hallway, who had so rightly maligned Charmian’s musical talent.
She had been talking to a footman then – he had thought it odd, especially as he had partly heard the conversation – which had seemed to be about him. He could not conceive of a reason for this woman to be asking about him. But perhaps he had misheard – his friends and conspirators had been rather inebriated by then, and somewhat rowdy. Still, it was odd enough to make him concentrate now, and listen to the soft voiced conversation which was going on in the parlour.
“…have that group of men always been his friends?”
“Why no, my Lady, most of them have only come into his circle of acquaintance in this last year. A circumstance which does not seem to have been beneficial. Lady Hershmore is not impressed with them, in the least.”
“Doesn’t it seem odd, that his entire group of friends should change, so suddenly? And you say that he seems different since, different attitudes?”
“Yes, my Lady.”
“I am sure that is very distressing for his mother.”
“More so for his father, I believe, if I may venture an opinion. Lord Hershmore does not like their manner, not at all.”
“That must be most distressing for him.”
“Indeed, my Lady. A fact which he has clearly expressed a number of times, loudly enough that it was impossible not to hear it. But please, enjoy your tea, and I will go to see if the staff have found your missing bracelet yet.”
“Thank you.”
Charles heard the door close in the parlour, and considered carefully what he had heard. That woman was asking about him – about his life, his friends and his behaviour. Even the most dedicated of gossips would not go so far as to interrogate a man’s servants. Something was seriously amiss here. A chill ran through him. If anyone suspected… But no, surely not – why would an older woman like this suspect anything, what possible cause for suspicion had they given? None. He was sure of it. She must simply be a gossip of such ferocious dedication that she could not be satisfied with the normal run of gossip, but had to dig into the lives of everyone she met.
He shuddered at the idea. For if that was how she was, it made her dangerous, intensely dangerous to them, at this late stage of their planning. He could not allow her to stop them, to accidentally stumble upon the truth. Nothing must prevent them from achieving their goal. The Prince Regent must die, and as soon as possible. The future of the nation depended on it.
He would think on it, perhaps discuss it with the others, but he knew that, in the end, if she kept prying, something would have to be done.
Chapter Nine
Anna reported her findings to Lord Setford the following day, and they agreed that everything pointed to Garwood having been specifically recruited into the group of ‘friends’. From what Jones had said, the first of them had been seen in his company just after a rather large Ball he had attended at Baron Partmann’s home.
Lord Setford thought a moment before commenting.
“If that is so, then as long ago as last year, when Lady Partmann first caught the Prince Regent’s eye, Partmann began planning. For a man hot for revenge, he has an unexpected level of patience. He is unlikely to allow anything to stand in his way, if he can prevent it. And I suspect that the young men have been wound into their patriotic fervour by a very long campaign of careful words. Men whose views have been twisted like that are dangerous, because they genuinely believe that what they do is for the best. You must take care.”
“I fully intend to. But there is one last event I must attend – an autumn Ball at the home of Lord Charteris.”
“Ah, another of our conspirators. Why is this one significant?”
“Because Jones seemed to remember that Lord Charteris was the first of the others to come to Garwood’s home. And because Polly’s cousin is a housemaid in his employ.”
“I see. Well, if we can learn enough of him to confirm his role in recruiting Garwood, that would be useful. I do find myself wondering if any of them realise just how cleverly Partmann is using them. I have some progress on identifying the ‘old house’ – but it seems that Lord Peterman does have more than one estate close to London, with a rundown gatekeeper’s cottage. So, my men are looking into it further, trying to find someone who might have seen activity at one of those houses in the last few months. But I am hopeful that we will know in time to foil them, to capture them at their meeting.”
“Then in two days’ time, I will attend the Ball at Lord Charteris’ home, and discover what I may. After that, I can only hope that your men identify the correct ‘old house’ in time. For with the information we already have, surely discovering them all together, discussing it, will be the final piece to allow them all to be arrested?”
“It most certainly should be. And I far prefer to take them all at once. If they are all together, none can escape to warn any other, and it will all be dealt with far faster. This has gone on much too long already.”
The conversation turned to more pleasant things, and Anna was more pleased than she should have been, when Lord Setford suggested another evening at the theatre.
That foolish hope welled up in her again, and she allowed it some space – perpetually denying her desire for this man became wearing.
~~~~~
Lord Charteris stood, receiving his guests, enjoying the fact that he had managed to attract so many to attend, even in the unfashionable days of autumn. The line of guests moved slowly in through the door, and he began to wonder if it would ever end. One moved on, and another appeared before him.
This time, however, he hesitated a moment. He did not know this woman, yet he had seen her before. She was announced, and he bowed over her hand, muttering some inane welcome. But his mind was working. Where had he seen her before? Then it came to him – she had been the woman in the hallway at that terrible soiree at Garwood’s home. The one who had shared his dislike of Lady Charmian’s playing. The one who Garwood had recently reported to have been prying into his business, a little too deeply for comfort. Why was she here?
She moved on, the socially correct greeting done, but the worry she had induced remained. Twenty-five guests later, she had slipped from his mind, for the arrival of a young widow he had been enjoying a dalliance with distracted him. But later that evening, events conspired to reinvigorate his concerns.
He had stepped away from the Ball for a short while, a respite from the demands of his guests and the pursuit of the hopeful young women in search of a title to marry, and joined Garwood in his study for a glass of brandy.
“I say, Charteris, you know that woman I mentioned to you – the nosy one? Well she’s here tonight. And I just saw her gossiping with one of your housemaids. I don’t like it.”
“What do you think she’s doing? Surely an old gossip can’t be dangerous? So many of them just can’t resist interfering in others lives. Their own must, I assume, be beyond boring.”
“I don’t know what she’s doing, but its dangerous. I only overheard one bit of it, but I’m sure she asked the maid if she remembered the first time that I came here, and whether she thought we were very good friends. That’s not a normal line of gossip. Most of them would want to know about your affairs – there’s enough of them – not about your friendships with other men.”
“Garwood, you may be right – although you could simply be blowing this up out of all reasonable shape. But I agree it’s strange. And if she keeps digging into our lives and habits, she’s sure to eventually discover something. We’ve been careful, but still…”
“It’s as if she knows there’s something to find. But… how do you stop a
woman from gossiping? How do you stop them from exaggerating anything they hear?”
“You lock them away. If you can. A bit hard when she’s a widow with no man we can rely on to control her. But still, as a solution, it has some appeal. Keep watching her, and if she gets too close to the truth, we’ll have to act. I am not going to allow one nosy woman to destroy a year’s planning, to prevent us from doing our patriotic duty, and saving this country from the madman who is paupering it.”
“I agree Charteris. I’ll keep a watch on her.”
~~~~~
Anna had easily slipped into the back hallway of Lord Charteris’ home, and found Polly’s cousin. The girl was full of information, and confirmed their suspicions about Lord Charteris ‘befriending’ Lord Charles Garwood rather suddenly. She also provided some interesting commentary on Charteris’ other friends, and the sort of things they said when the worse for drink.
Anna, after arranging to visit her the following week, through the servants’ door, and dressed as such, took herself back to the Ball, and another evening of terrible conversation.
~~~~~
The week passed quickly, with the evening at the theatre a delight – a delight which tempted her, yet again, to forget that it was all a fiction, a performance equally worthy of the stage, all done in the name of duty to the Crown. She wanted It to be more, so much more, and Lord Setford’s actions made it so easy to allow herself to believe. As the previous time, he took her hand in his, as they sat in the darkness of the box, and the warmth of his touch burnt through her like a fire.
At the end, when the final curtain fell, and she’d thanked him for the evening, he had lifted her hand to his lips, turned it, and pressed a lingering kiss to her palm. Her breathing had become uneven, and, as he raised his head again, their eyes had met. The rest of the world had simply dissolved. And then, for the barest moment, he had brought his lips to hers.
Neither of them had spoken. They had simply turned and left the theatre. Yet that gentle kiss might as easily have been a passionate embrace, for the intensity of her reaction to it. It was almost, she thought, as if he too was unwilling to put anything into words, to mention, in any way, the impermanence of their courtship.
Then, yesterday, he had brought the news that his men were almost certain of the correct ‘old house’ and would be watching the place, two days hence, when the meeting was due to occur. That knowledge had lifted her heart, but lowered her spirits too. For with the capture of the conspirators, in the act of conspiring, all need for this fictitious courtship would be removed.
Today, she would dress in her oldest, drabbest gown – one in an ugly dark grey, which she had retained from the mourning clothes – and go to visit Polly’s cousin at Lord Charteris’ home. It would be interesting to see what the girl had to tell her – was Charteris on edge, with the meeting coming so close, she wondered?
She dressed and broke her fast, then set out almost immediately – servants were about the day early, and there was less risk of Lord Charteris seeing her, if she went before the hour at which a Lord of the ton could reasonably be expected to rise. London showed a different face, early in the day. Most vehicles were delivery carts, not elegant carriages, and the people who were out and about were the poor, the merchants, and the servants, not the wealthy.
It was, she thought, a more honest view of the city. She took her carriage only part of the way, then walked the last few blocks, until she slipped down the lane behind Lord Charteris’ home.
Chapter Ten
The girl let her in through the servants’ door, and introduced her to the other servants as a friend of her cousin’s. They settled in the servants’ parlour, for Meg had the housekeeper’s approval to rest for that short while – she had already done her morning chores, and his Lordship had not yet arisen, so the house was quiet.
They gossiped about all manner of things, for Anna had assured Meg that she was there simply because she worried about some of the tales she heard, and wanted to be ready to help any girls who might suffer the abuse of their employers. Meg, after a few moments of hesitation, admitted that his Lordship had, sometimes, attempted to be too familiar with her, but that, so far, she had always managed to avoid being trapped by him.
That led to a more detailed conversation, about his ways, and his friends, and the very frightening manner in which they sometimes behaved – drinking to excess, and raving loudly about how much they disapproved of the Prince Regent.
“Sometimes they seem like madmen! They rave about his excesses, and how he should be stopped – how can they say that? He is the Prince Regent! Doesn’t that give him the right to be different from other men? I am not sure that I approve of some of what I hear of him – but… a prince can do as he likes, can’t he?”
“He can. No matter what the rest of us think of it. And how can we know how hard it is to rule the country? Perhaps he has good reason to want to relax in excessive ways.”
Privately, Anna thought that a little restraint in his behaviour would be an excellent thing for the Prince Regent’s popularity, but it was not her place to question him.
“It’s got so much worse, this last year. All these new friends of his – they all think the same way. When they get together, it’s as if they want to outdo each other in their fervour. They frighten me. Especially Lord Charles Garwood.” Meg shuddered as she spoke. “I wish Lord Charteris had never brought him into that circle. He’s not one I want to get caught alone with either.”
“Oh? What is it about him?”
“He…” Meg looked around, as if afraid someone would hear. “…he is the most like a madman. I once heard him say something… something that sounded like… ‘the prince must die’!”
“That would be frightening. Are you sure that he actually said ‘die’.”
“Yes…” Meg broke off as the servant’s parlour door flew open with a crash. Lord Charteris stood there, looking pale and angry.
“What are you gossiping about, girl? I’ll have my breakfast now – get to it!”
Meg curtseyed.
“Yes, my Lord.”
She scurried from the room. Lord Charteris turned his baleful gaze on Anna, who had also risen from her seat. For a moment, she thought that he had recognised her, and fear shot through her. She ignored the sensation, staying as calm as possible. If the man had heard them… and it seemed he had heard something, to have accused them of gossiping. She dropped her eyes from his, gave a quick curtsey, and almost ran from the room.
~~~~~
Behind her, Lord Charteris still stood, seething with anger – anger that was touched with fear. For he had heard only a few words, but enough to know that he was in danger. At first, he had not recognised the woman, thinking her just another of his servants. Then, it had come to him – it was the busybody, the nosy one that had Garwood in such a fluster. It would seem that he had the right of it – there was something very out of the way in the manner that the woman was digging into their lives.
The meeting was tomorrow evening – he could not risk allowing things to come undone now, so close to success.
Cautiously, he moved across the room, and looked down the hall towards the kitchen, in the direction the woman had gone. She wasn’t in sight. He slipped to the garden door, and out, as quietly as he could. From there he could see into the kitchen, without being seen – hedges were very useful things.
The woman was in there still, gossiping with the cook and the scullery maids. He ground his teeth. Action was required – he could see no other course. Casually, he walked through the garden, and into the stables. He set the stable boy to hitch up the steady bay gelding to the small chaise that he used, when he wished to drive himself.
At that moment, he was actually glad that the woman was such a gossip. He needed the chaise ready to go, before she attempted to leave. He heaved a sigh of relief when the boy led the horse and chaise out.
“Take it out into the lane, and wait there for me. I won’t be long.”
/>
“Yes, my Lord.”
Charteris was glad that he’d bothered to dress at least respectably – he’d woken still in last night’s rumpled clothes, and his head still pounded with the after effects of drink, but at least now he looked like a respectable man – which was somewhat necessary at this point. He gathered up a length of rope, some old rags, and a knife that the stable boys used for cutting the twine on grain sacks, and went to stand in the shadow of the wall, just outside the garden gate.
~~~~~
Anna was glad of the cook’s cheerful conversation, and allowed herself the indulgence of simple discussion about simple things, whilst Meg gathered up the makings of Lord Charteris’ breakfast, and arranged its delivery to the breakfast room. She assumed the man had gone there to await it.
The look on his face had chilled her, and she was beyond glad that he had made no move to question her, or follow her. But fifteen minutes of the cook’s ordinary cheer had driven the chill away, and she was ready to depart. The walk in the sun would be pleasant, and she only had to go a few blocks to her carriage.
Meg came back, having handed the food trolley over to the footman allocated to the breakfast room, and Anna bid her farewell. She walked through the kitchen garden, and into the main back garden, down the path to the gate to the lane. As she walked, she was thinking of Lord Setford, wondering what she could possibly do as an excuse to continue to spend time with him once tomorrow was past, and all of this was done with.
She reached the gate, and lifted the latch, pulling it open. The lane was deep in shadow, where the high wall of the stable blocked the sun. She blinked, momentarily unable to see very well, as she stepped into the darkness, shivering as the cooler air touched her skin.
As she paused, in that momentary hesitation, waiting for her eyes to adjust, she was grabbed, and a cloth of some sort dropped over her head. Instinct took over, and she fought, trying to run, trying to lift her arms to clear her vision, all at once. None of which succeeded. ‘I should scream’ she thought, but, as she did, a hand clamped over her mouth, forcing the cloth tight against her face, so that she could barely breathe.
Attracting the Spymaster: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 15) Page 7