by Jun, Kristi
Knock, knock.
Rubbing his eyes, he threw the thick wool blanket aside and opened the door. “What is it?”
Brandon entered the room and closed the door behind him. “She’s gone.”
Michael shook his head, not quite understanding the meaning. “Who’s gone?” Walking into the dressing room, he raked his fingers through his tousled hair, grabbed a robe and pulled his arms through the sleeves.
“Your fian—I mean, Miss Willoughby. She had me at gun point last night and took the carriage.”
“What?” Michael said. “Did you attempt to stop her?” Frustrated and angry at her for leaving Chatham Hall in the middle of the night with the murderer still about, no less, was dangerous. What was she thinking? He paced the room. Oh, hell, he should have never left her alone after the way they ended their conversation.
“I tried talking her out of it, but she wouldn’t listen to me. She had the maid tie me up and she did a grand job of it, too. She instructed the maid to untie me in the morning, so now here I am.”
Michael patted his back. “Of course. My apologies. I know you did everything you could.”
“I questioned the maid but she insists she doesn’t know where Miss Willoughby has gone.”
“Don’t bother. I already know where she is headed.”
A quick knock alerted him. Who the bloody hell is it now? “Come in.”
The door opened and a chamber maid walked in. Wide-eyed and gawking at his chest, her gaze lowered and she blushed. It was then he realized he’d had only a drawer loosely tied under his robe. Quickly he fastened his robe.
She curtsied. “Pardon, Mr. Whitfield,” the young chamber maid said, still avoiding his eyes. “I was asked to give you this as soon as you awoke.” She handed it to him, then quickly scurried out of the room and closed the door.
He quickly unfolded the letter and read it:
Michael,
I contemplated whether I should write this, but in the end, it was necessary. You already know where I am headed. Please don’t try to stop me. Despite our transgression, I choose to believe in hope and trust that good will prevail. That was my sole motive for joining Lord Tomkin’s team. Your family loves you very much. Please don’t let your pride and suffering keep you away from them for long. Your family has helped me renew my purpose. They made me realize what is important. I hope one day you can understand what I mean.
Emma
No time to think. He needed to go after her. From his approximation, she should be only a few hours from London by now. If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.
“What does it say?” Brandon asked.
“She’s gone to London to confront Lord Tomkin. Look after my family.”
Brandon nodded. “Of course. What do you want me to tell your family?”
“Tell them I had an urgent business meeting in London. Tell them Emma is with me.” He hoped his family would understand but that was the least of his concerns right now.
“Will do. You want me to ready a carriage for you?”
“No,” Michael said. “I need a horse. It will be faster if I ride alone.”
* * *
Meanwhile in London….
Tomkin made a point to stop at the St. James Royal Hotel where he stayed last night with his mistress, then this morning he drove to Bond Street for late morning shopping, and finally off to White’s.
His typical schedule.
Still, loose ends pricked his nerves. It would not do. He could think of few individuals who might have removed the letter that was safely locked away in his study. Clearly, it was not carried out by an amateur, but by someone with skill and intelligence.
The thought of his plans, ones that he carefully concocted, ruined in the hands of the English made his stomach sour with fury, but he soothed the passing storm with skilled patience, just as he had done countless times. Allowing his emotions to get the better of him didn’t help his cause. He’d made that mistake once.
He leaned back on a leather chair that faced the bow window with a view of the busy street. Leaning over, he picked up his miniature flute from the table and sipped his sherry.
Soon, he needed to make the final arrangements for Marseille. He could send for Emma once the Emperor returned. Ah, she would love Paris, it’s people—his people, history and rich with elegance; more than anything, it was his home, he thought with a firm squeeze in his chest.
Tomkin reached into his inside coat pocket and pulled out a message he’d written to Shaw just before he’d arrived at White’s, instructing his partner to meet him at the Royal Opera House after the evening show.
Tomkin watched patiently for several seconds for a waiter, perhaps one with a new face and not too familiar with the members. A young waiter quickly walked past to deliver a drink to another member who was reading the newspaper across the room.
He hailed the young man. “You’re new here?”
“Yes, sir,” the young man eagerly said. “Today is my second day, sir.”
“I see.” Tomkin showed him the note with the message he’d written to Shaw. “A member has asked me to deliver this on my way out, but I fear I am unable to do so just now. Would you mind delivering it for me, young man?” Tomkin pulled out a shiny coin from his coat pocket and placed it on the young man’s palm. The waiter eyed the coin, his eyes wide.
“Of course, sir.” The waiter eagerly began to leave, but halted and returned to the table. “I’m sorry, sir,” he asked, as if embarrassed. “Who should I say it’s from?”
“Don’t worry about that. Just deliver it to the address on the note.”
“Of course.” With that, the waiter jauntily left the club to deliver the note.
He’d have lunch soon, then he planned to head back to his townhouse to make last-minute arrangements and witness the finality of the plan he’d concocted with great pleasure.
* * *
After leaving Chatham Hall, Emma finally arrived in London after traveling all night and morning. But as soon as she entered the townhouse in Grosvenor Square looking for Tomkin, Johnson promptly informed her that his lordship may not return for several hours.
Where are you?
She crossed her arms and looked out into the busy square from the parlor, watching the people going to and fro mid-morning. She shushed the critical voice inside her head, the one that questioned her decision to come here today and face Lord Tomkin.
During the journey back to London, she’d had time to think about what Michael had said, formulating in her mind what she’d say to Lord Tomkin and the questions she’d ask him. If everything in the letters Michael had shown her last night were true, that would mean Geoffrey was a double agent and Lord Tomkin was a man wanted by the government.
Perhaps she didn’t want to see the truth. Perhaps he’d been framed by one of his enemies, after all, he’d been a spymaster for a number of years.
She thoroughly resented Michael, resented him and loved him, if that was even possible. How infuriating to feel so conflicted, to love a man who didn’t trust her and was bent on destroying the one person who’d been there for her since she’d been a child.
Her heart tugged with guilt, recalling how she’d left Chatham Hall without a proper goodbye to Kyra. She was going to miss her friend, but she could not stay. As it was, Michael’s family nearly found a permanent place in her heart.
Then there were the letters Michael had found, that pointed to Tomkin as a possible perpetrator and now Michael was suspicious of her, too. And, he’d accused her of spying on him as well, didn’t he?
Hot resentment shot through her again.
No, she would not allow such feelings to hinder her. She’d get to the bottom of this once and for all and face whatever came her way.
She gazed at the ornate clock on the mantle again. Where are you, Lord Tomkin? She felt the tension mount at the impending questions she could no longer ignore. There was no telling when he’d return. When she attempted to search h
is study, she found it had been locked. Why would she be surprised? He always kept it locked.
It was nearly two in the afternoon when she heard Johnson’s voice at the front door. With the sound of the door closing and the footfall, she gathered herself and walked out of the parlor to see who it was.
In the foyer, Johnson proceeded to remove Lord Tomkin’s coat and then walked away.
“Where have you been?” For the life of her she could not read his expression.
“I think it is I who should be asking the question, my dear girl,” he said. “Shall we discuss this in the parlor?” Lord Tomkin escorted her to the parlor and closed the door behind them. “Where is Michael?”
She watched him, searching for any clues of guilt. “Michael is with his family at Chatham Hall.” She sat down on the sofa near the fireplace. “You and I have much to discuss.”
He went to yank on the pull cord and joined her on the sofa. “You look rather…pale.”
“There are far more important matters at hand, I’m afraid.”
“On the contrary, your well-being is very important to me,” he said. “You are my number one priority in everything I do, don’t you forget that.”
His tone was genuine. She felt a sinking feeling that perhaps she may have made a grave mistake coming here. “You have been like a father to me since my parents were killed,” she started. “So please answer my question. You see…there are rumors that you…you,” she paused because she could not think it to be true. “That you have betrayed us.”
He looked at her, but said nothing. He stood and clasped his hands behind him and walked toward the window.
“Do you deny it?” She stood and joined him, her heart thumping harder, faster. Dear God, please do not tell me he was involved in this?
“I have nothing to say on past matters,” he confessed. “But I will say that I have never betrayed my countrymen.”
“Do you swear it?” Emma said.
“I do.” He turned to face her. “I have never betrayed my people.” His brows pulled together. “Who is tarnishing my good name?” He studied her again. “It’s Michael, isn’t it?”
“We must get to the Foreign Office and make certain of your innocence. If we don’t hurry, I fear—”
“I knew I could count on you.” He smiled at her. “I knew you would never betray me. Michael will no longer be our problem. I have plans for him.”
She felt a disturbing sense that they were no longer speaking of the same thing. Could Michael have been right? Was there some semblance of truth in Michael’s warning? “What plans?”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk…patience, my dear girl. When the time is right, I will tell you what you need to know. What’s important, for now, is that you came back to me. I was told not to trust you, that you’d betray me, too. Is there any truth to that?”
No time to think. No emotions. No fear. She’d need to get a message to Michael. But first she must find out Lord Tomkin’s plans. Play along. Make him trust you. “I assume everything you’ve put me through was a test of my loyalty to you?”
“Not all,” he said.
She’d been deceived—cheated. She had been his puppet. God, how she’d been fooled.
“Now that I have proven myself to you, what is the plan,” she asked. “If I am to be part of it, I want to know the truth.”
“I must say…you are taking this quite well.”
She schooled her features again and suppressed the desire to tell him exactly what she thought of him. “The truth is, you’ve been there for me all these years and you are like family to me.” His shrewd gaze seemed to assess her and she feared he might see right through her. Keep talking. Keep asking questions. “What will you do with Michael?”
“Don’t worry about him. I will take care of everything,” he said.
“Good.” Oh, my darling, please be all right. She didn’t trust herself to move or talk for fear that he may see right through her, but she needed to redirect his attention away from Michael and his family. “You needn’t worry about Michael coming here because he’s made arrangements to take his family to the Lake District.” She watched him listen to her lie, carefully formulating her words. “You were right when you said not to trust Michael. He didn’t tell me of his plans to travel north and when I found out, he threatened me that if I told you, I’d be sorry.”
“Did he?”
“Yes,” she said. “The fact is, he doesn’t trust me, he never did, and I don’t trust him.”
“Are you certain he won’t come after you?” he asked.
“I gave him no cause to come after me.”
Narrowing his eyes, he watched her. “Good. Rest, my dear girl. I will be back in an hour and we shall continue then.”
She nodded and kept her lips tightly shut and held back the myriad of emotions that stirred inside her. If she didn’t, she’d fall to pieces right in front of him and the only hope of saving Michael would be lost.
He lowered and kissed her cheek before he left the parlor. When the door clicked shut, she released her breath and wiped off the spot where he kissed her with her hand.
She wanted to scream.
She’d been betrayed.
Utterly betrayed.
Tomkin was planning something sinister and Michael was part of his plan. She needed to do something to stop him—quickly.
Gather your wits and get moving, but her feet felt like stones.
Get moving and finish what you started.
She had one hour. Just one. Yes, she needed to contact the Foreign Office and find Lord Hansford. Yes, then what? Oh, a letter to Michael, of course.
She quickly walked out of the parlor and stormed up to her room. Walking to her desk, she pulled out a parchment, dipped the quill into the inkwell, and started to write. When she finished, she folded the note, sealed it and tucked it into her reticule. Hurrying down the stairs, she headed for the front door. As soon as she opened it, Lord Tomkin was standing on the top of the steps, as if he never left.
“Where might you be going?” he said.
“I—I…well, I was just on my way to call on a friend.” She forced a smile, but she had a sinking feeling he didn’t believe her.
“I see. I’m curious who that friend might be?” He paused. “Or have you been lying to me?”
Her stomach dropped. Oh, this is not good.
“I suggest we go inside,” he whispered and attempted to guide her into the townhouse.
“No,” Emma warned. “I will not.”
“You can either go inside, quietly. Or kicking and screaming. Either way you will do as I say, my dear girl.” Lord Tomkin’s tone was calm and steady.
She saw several gentlemen stroll by and she attempted to get their attention but suddenly she felt something sharp pressed hard against her midsection and all hopes faded away.
“I will use it if I have to.” He pressed the knife harder into her.
She bit her lip.
“I am afraid screaming won’t give you the results you seek. I’ll claim you have suffered from lunacy and send you quietly off to a sanatorium to live out the rest of your days. I still have many influential friends, you see, but I don’t need to remind you of that fact.”
“Who will believe you when they discover your schemes?” she hissed.
“I’ve covered my tracks well, my dear. And if you are a very good girl, I shall endeavor to make your life with me an amiable one. The choice is up to you.”
“What is it that you want from me?”
“Simple,” he said. “To take back what is mine. Now, shall we go inside?”
With the sound of the door closing, all her hopes of helping Michael were forever lost.
CHAPTER 24
As soon as they entered Tomkin’s townhouse, he yanked Emma’s reticule from her and called for Johnson.
“That belongs to me.” Emma reached for her bag, but he snatched it away.
He held it up high. The chit had a temper, one that needed to be checked.
“I don’t think so,” he snapped. “You lost your privilege in this house when you decided to betray me.” The girl was about to refute him but she kept her mouth shut when Johnson approached them from the hallway.
Tomkin quickly gave his orders. “Lock all the doors and windows, including the servants’ quarters. All of it. No one is allowed in or out unless I say so.” He glared at Emma. “Emma will not be taking any callers today.”
“Yes, my lord.” Johnson walked off to carry out his lordship’s orders.
“I betrayed you?” she hissed at Tomkin. “You are the traitor.”
Utterly annoyed at her emotional outburst in his house, he gripped her arm and pulled her along with him as they made their way to the parlor. Once they were both inside, he closed the door and locked it, freeing her from his grip. “Be quiet.”
He quickly emptied her bag, watching several shiny coins shower down on the floor, along with a piece of folded paper. When Emma reached for it, he shoved her aside and picked the letter off the floor and read it.
When done, hot betrayal burned deep inside him once more, one that was too familiar. Looking at her squarely in the eye, he smacked her with the back of his hand. Upon impact, blood oozed slowly from her lower lip. “You disappoint me more than you know.”
She touched her lips with her fingers. “When Michael finds you—”
“Michael will be dead before he finds me.” He studied her carefully, and there, in her eyes, behind that defiant glare, he saw something else. “You’re in love with him, aren’t’ you?” His tone was packed with betrayal. People like Michael always had the best pick of the litter, the diamond of first water, all sizes and shapes, all drooling and ogling over him. But he wasn’t going get his hands on Emma. He’d rather see her dead than hand her over to that elbow-crooker, entitled aristocratic shit. “Don’t flatter yourself, dear girl. You aren’t the first pretty thing to cross his path, so I suggest you take my advice if you know what’s best for you.”