by Gayle Callen
When he tried to suggest eating in her room, or at least in the private dining room, she refused, saying that she liked to sit and listen to people talk.
Before he knew it, she was asking the innkeeper if there was anyone present who knew the local history. Was she lining up the sites she wanted to see the next day?
She actually left his table to talk to someone sitting by the massive hearth. The man had one foot propped up, a cane against his side, and a shabby cloak draped over the chair. He wore a workingman’s cotton shirt and trousers held up by suspenders. When he tilted his head to talk to Jane, the light caught and glittered in his eyes.
Will froze. He was no mere farmer. As if he sensed Will’s stare, the man glanced at him and tipped his head with subtle amusement.
He was Nicholas Wright, a fellow agent with the Political department. Whereas Will had left the spy business, Nick was still very active—and had obviously come looking for him.
Chapter 8
Will sat alone in his room for another hour after Jane had retired to hers. He wanted her to be long asleep before he went back down to the taproom. Barlow had brought Killer up earlier, and the dog was now snoring on his bed.
Although Will was tired, he wasn’t worried about accidentally dozing off. In Afghanistan, where he’d been in constant danger, he had snatched brief but refreshing hours of sleep. In England, where nothing threatened him, he spent his nights frustratingly awake, only dozing for a few hours before dawn.
He finally slipped on his coat, locked the room behind him and went downstairs.
The taproom still had at least a dozen men sitting at various tables and at the bar. Nick was settled before the hearth on a wooden-backed settle, his “injured” leg stretched out on the bench. The atmosphere was smoky and loud, but Will still wouldn’t risk talking business here. For business was what it had to be, especially since Nick had taken the trouble to track him down and appear in disguise.
Will drank a beer sitting at the bar, talking to the innkeeper about nearby estates available for sale. Occasionally he dropped his hand down to his side and made a gesture that he and Nick had long used for “meet outside in the back.” Once he was certain Nick couldn’t possibly have missed the message, Will strolled out the front door.
The night was cool, and the damp smell of the Ouse River settled about him. He took the alley back toward the stables. When a woman’s sultry voice called to him from the shadows, he only shook his head and kept going. The carriage was parked near the stable, and he knocked softly so as not to startle Barlow. The man immediately sat up, and Will knew there would be a pistol in his hand.
“It’s me,” Will whispered. “Nick Wright’s inside. He’ll be back here in a moment.”
When Barlow nodded blearily, Will continued, “Here’s the key to my room, the last one down the hall on the left. Go up there and keep watch on Miss Whittington. She’s next door.”
“What about Killer?” Barlow asked.
“Don’t bite him and he won’t bite you.”
After the coachman had left, Nick walked out of the shadows, the dark cloak swirling around his cane as he limped. He was a broad, tall man, with an air of mystery that usually kept people away from him.
“Is the wound real?” Will asked.
“No,” he said in a low, gravelly voice. “Nice to see you too.”
Will shrugged. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to say the same. The disguise doesn’t reassure me.”
“It shouldn’t. There’s trouble. I never would have bothered you otherwise. But let’s not talk here. I have a room above a tavern nearby. Follow me.”
The alley deteriorated the farther they went. With each building they passed, the smells of stale smoke, slatternly women, and cheap beer blasted out at them.
Finally Nick held up a hand. “This is the place. I’ll go in first. Take the steps in the back, right corner. I’m the first door on the right at the top.”
Will slouched against the wall as he waited, pretending to swig from an empty bottle he’d found in the street. When enough time had passed, he plowed through the front door, then deliberately staggered sideways and caught himself on a loaded table. The patrons angrily pushed him away. He gave them a bleary smile, tipped his hat in apology, and headed for the stairs.
He found the correct door and knocked softly. Nick let him in. The room had been built into the eaves of the roof, so the ceiling slanted over the bed. Nick was almost too tall to stand straight. There was a crude table and chair, an oil lamp for light, and not much else. Peat smoldered on the iron grate in the fireplace to give the room warmth. Nick’s cane and cloak had been carelessly tossed on the bed.
Nick grimaced as he examined Will. “I should have given you the cloak. You stand out around here.”
Will looked down at his own expensive clothing. “They thought I was drunk, so I fit in well enough. Now what do you want?”
With a sigh, Nick nodded toward the chair. “Sit down.”
Will did as he was asked, then waited as the other man sat on the bed.
When Nick turned up the lamp, his unshaven face looked shadowed and grim. He was a dark man anyway, black hair and eyes, perfect for a life in the shadows. That’s what he and Nick had done together, roamed the Afghanistan mountains, blended into tribes, sent their information back to the Honorable East India Company—who acted on it or passed it on to the Queen’s army.
When Nick didn’t immediately start talking, Will said, “That wasn’t you following me the last few days.”
“No. I sent Sam.”
Samuel Sherryngton was the third member of their trio of agents. “He’s here, too? I never thought he’d leave Afghanistan.”
Nick shrugged. “He’s not in Huntingdon. He’s following someone else tonight.”
“Are you going to tell me who?” These games were tiresome after all the years he’d played them.
“Eventually.” Nick smiled, which was never really a cheerful sight. “So who’s the woman? She looks of quality, yet she’s traveling with you.”
Will snorted. “I am of quality now, old man, thanks to our good queen. But her name will tell you who she is—Jane Whittington.”
“As in ‘Colonel’ Whittington?”
Will thought Nick looked almost resigned. “She’s his daughter. I’m bringing her north to see him.”
“And she doesn’t mind traveling alone with you?”
“We’re engaged.” He deliberately displayed proud satisfaction, hiding his own uncertainty.
Nick leaned back on his hands and whistled. “Well, look at you—a nobleman, a dandy, and soon a married man. Hard to believe.”
Will braced his elbows on his knees, knowing he would make all of it work out. “Miracles happen. Now why did you feel the need to find me?”
Nick sobered. “Do you remember General Reed? He had a sister named Julia.”
“I remember. He was with the Bengal army.”
“Yes. Do you remember how his sister came with all the other army families into Kabul? She was always foolishly brave, even more so than her brother, I think.”
The last was said so bitterly that Will tilted his head and said, “You knew her?”
Nick’s lips twisted. “Intimately. We both agreed it was only for a short while because I wasn’t going to be in Kabul long. Sam had introduced us. He grew up in the same parish as the Reeds.”
“So what does this have to do with me?”
Nick looked away into the fire. “She was sending British troop information to the Russians.”
Will straightened, and for a moment, he was again in the mountains of Afghanistan, wrapped in a huge sheepskin cloak to fight the bitter winds, knowing that beneath his beard and turban he could be exposed as an Englishman at any time. But Will had banished those feelings of isolation and ruthless purpose. He wouldn’t be that man any more. “How can you accuse a woman of treason, let alone be certain she actually did it?”
“The Reeds didn’t have m
uch money. They were from an old family whose investments had long ago gone bad. I knew then that she wanted more than someone like me, a mere cousin to nobility, could give her. She took matters into her own hands.”
Will stood up to pace, knowing that such a charge of treason could sentence a man—or woman—to death. “All right, you’ve given me motive, but not any proof. I assume you know for certain this happened?”
“Originally, the word ‘treason’ was whispered by one of my Afghani informants. I knew he was playing both the Russians and us, but he could be useful. I think he was shocked when he realized that a British woman was involved. She sent the information in a coded letter, and he saw her deliver it.”
“And you know it was Julia?”
“He described her perfectly—how many women can there be in Kabul with hair so blond as to be almost white? One who would roam the bazaars dressed as a boy?”
Will couldn’t take just an informant’s word as proof of treason. “Maybe she spurned his advances, and he’s decided to punish her.”
Nick shook his head. “She left a necklace I had given her with a certain Russian officer. I saw it myself.”
“Nick, you might be only one of many she bedded. How do you know she wasn’t simply involved with this Russian?”
Nick’s eyes were black and brittle in the lantern light. “Because I traced her accomplice back to England. He’s here now, ready to testify against her. He gave me one of the letters, and he has the matching code letter. They look innocent—except for little blobs of ink, certain letters filled in, as if someone just randomly scribbled on them. She would send two letters, by two different routes, and you could not read the code until both letters were side by side. The accomplice will give me the matching code letter when I reach Leeds and get him to safety. He’s afraid she’s going to have him killed for what he knows.”
Will leaned back into his chair, understanding Nick’s desperation. Nick’s guilt was driving him, and finally he had enough proof for any English court. With the feeling of a trap closing about him, Will was beginning to sense what was coming next. “But why now? This all happened over a year ago.”
“It’s taken me a long time to track this man down. But the main impetus is that my lovely Julia has made a good match for herself. She’s supposed to marry the Duke of Kelthorpe.”
Now it was Will’s turn to whistle as the complexity of the situation multiplied. Julia’s perseverance was about to be rewarded.
Nick scowled. “I can’t let a traitor to England marry into one of the highest families in the land—hell, the groom is a distant cousin to the queen!”
Between them, the silence lengthened. They could hear the sound of glass breaking down below, and a merry group of drunks singing.
Will understood how important the monarchy was, but he reminded himself firmly of his new life. Jane would need all his attention. “I understand your position, Nick, but I’ve left the Political department—and the army. I can’t do anything for you.”
“But you can. I don’t need much from you.”
“No.”
“I’m not calling you back into service, Will. Sam found out that Julia left London today. Maybe she discovered that we know about her accomplice and the letters. It will be the final jewel in our crown of evidence if we can follow her right to this man and then intervene. But if she reaches him before we do—”
“Is she honestly a murderer?” Will interrupted.
“Her information helped murder sixteen thousand British troops and their families in the Khyber Pass,” Nick said, sitting forward on the bed. “They were cut down by the Afghani tribes from the hillsides.”
Will remembered too well those treacherous, rocky peaks, and the ravines where their enemy could hide and fire at will. Over and over in his dreams he changed the past, somehow making General Elphinstone listen to his warnings rather than underestimate the Afghanis.
“The tribes wouldn’t have had the courage to do it if the Russians hadn’t goaded them,” Nick continued. “Why should Julia stop at killing one more man?” He scowled and slammed his fist into the bed. “I wish I would have smothered her when she slept at my side.”
Will put a hand on Nick’s shoulder, feeling the twin traps of duty and regret tighten about his neck. “You couldn’t have known what she was capable of.”
Nick sighed. “I know. So tomorrow I need you to get yourself invited to the house party Kelthorpe is holding. If Julia is to marry this man, then surely she can’t afford to miss the event, even for those letters.”
Will almost laughed at the audacity required for Nick’s plan. “You want me to just walk up there and ask to spend the weekend?”
“Aren’t you looking at estates? You could start with that.”
“Thorough, aren’t you?” Will asked sourly.
“I know your persuasive powers—you could get yourself invited to live there permanently if you wanted to. You are a baron now, right?”
How clever of Nick to imply that only Will could accomplish this one crucial task. Will ran his hand through his hair and slumped back in dawning defeat. He had one more card to play. “I have Jane with me. I can’t put her in danger.”
“You’re only to keep an eye on Julia and see who she talks to. I can’t imagine the duke is involved in betraying the queen, but see what you think. I’ll be tracking Julia and her henchman beyond the estate. Frankly, Jane will make the perfect cover.”
Will glanced up at Nick sharply, surprised at his own rising anger where his betrothed was concerned. “I don’t want her to be my ‘cover.’ I won’t use her.”
“But England needs you,” Nick said softly.
Will slammed to his feet. “I gave England thirteen years of my life! Yes, I did important work! But it cost me, Nick, and you know it. There are others to carry on for me.”
“But not men I trust, and certainly no one nearby. I’d go myself, but Julia knows me. By the time I call in anyone else, it might very well be too late. What happens if she marries into the royal family? How will that look to every British citizen when her treachery comes to light? Already people don’t like Prince Albert. This would be a blow the monarchy couldn’t withstand.” Nick sighed. “Will, I need you.”
Will had never heard those words from Nick, a man who believed he could do everything himself. But now Nick was relying on Sam—and Will, too. Will let go of his anger, let go of all emotion where the mission was concerned.
“All right, I’ll do it,” he said with a nod, and as the decision was made, he put his regrets behind him. There was no point dwelling on what could have happened. He studied Nick’s weary expression and decided to lighten the tension. “I’ve heard that Julia is pretty,” he said casually. “If you need me to, I’ll seduce her. But then I’m finished.”
A smile curved Nick’s hard mouth. “Not necessary,” he said dryly. “Besides, your attributes are surely inadequate—remember, she’s had me.”
Will rolled his eyes. “How will we contact each other?”
“Sam will be moving between us, relaying information.”
“Will he keep to one disguise?”
Nick shrugged. “He’ll do whatever he wants to—you know that. I’ll need to know immediately once you have something for me.”
“Very well. Where is the duke’s estate?”
“Langley Manor is in Rutlandshire, near Stamford.”
“I’ll leave you then. I don’t want Jane to be alone more than necessary.”
Nick suddenly grinned. “She spends the night with you already?”
The thought of Jane naked and warm in his bed tempted him, a prize he hadn’t won yet. “Hardly. But her maid became sick—”
“She became sick,” Nick echoed with amusement.
“Yes. So Jane is alone but for Barlow and myself. She wants to see her father more than she doesn’t want to be with me. Just imagine when I insist on staying at Langley Manor.”
“Sorry.”
“Don�
�t worry—I can convince her there’s nothing like a good house party, Nick old boy.” Will whipped out his monocle and peered through it. “The excitement, the intrigue, the fashion challenges.”
“You’ve been playing a dandy for too long, Will.”
“Perhaps, but it makes things easier.” He slid the monocle back into his pocket. He tried not to dwell uneasily on the fact that he didn’t know how else to behave.
“Hmm.” Nick eyed him. “You probably won’t want to hear this, and I wasn’t sure you even needed to know—”
“Just tell me.”
“I have Jane’s sister with me.”
Will’s mouth fell open. “Charlotte?”
Chapter 9
Nick grinned and shook his head. “I didn’t mean to bring Charlotte with me—frankly, she won’t tell me why she was at Lord Arbury’s party—”
“You were there?” Will said, wincing. “It’s my fault she was there. I didn’t want her traveling with Jane and me, so I had Arbury send her an invitation. Of course she couldn’t refuse.”
“You had to send her to Arbury’s?” Nick said with obvious exasperation.
“Who else did I know so highly placed? Hell, Queen Victoria was going to be there. Charlotte was beside herself with anticipation for her first ball since coming out of mourning.” How could he explain to his old compatriot about his all-consuming need to be alone with Jane?
Nick’s face went still. “Mourning? For who?”
“Her husband. Didn’t you know?”
“She’s not exactly speaking to me.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve gagged her.”
For a moment, Will could only blink at him in shock. “Why the hell would you need to gag a gently bred woman—the colonel’s daughter?”