“Why is the proprietress investigating Abbingale?” Helsford asked, bringing order back to the conversation.
“Her name is Miss Sydney Hunt. She owns and operates the Hunt Agency.”
“I’ve heard of it,” Somerton said. “My housekeeper used the agency a few years ago and was pleased with their services.”
“Yes,” Ethan said. “From what I can tell, the agency has an unblemished reputation.”
“How did Abbingale Home come to her notice?” Somerton persisted.
“An ugly rumor had reached her ear.”
“What sort of ugly rumor?” Cora asked.
“A former servant made allegations of abuse. We saw no physical evidence of it, but none of the boys appeared enamored of the place either.”
“Few orphans take to the restraints of such a place,” Somerton said.
“What would she have done had she witnessed said abuse?” Cora asked.
“I asked her a similar question, once I realized what she was about.”
“And her answer?”
“She said something about destroying those responsible.”
Cora glanced at the other two men before returning her gaze to him, or rather to his mouth. Her focus was more than a little unnerving until he realized he was smiling like a fool. He wiped his face of expression. “Something unusual did surface during my surveillance,” Ethan said, redirecting them.
This time Cora smiled, not fooled by his tactic at all.
“I noticed some of the boys leaving the establishment.”
“Why is that unusual?” Helsford asked.
“It’s my understanding that orphans rarely leave the home once they’ve become a resident and, if they do, they’re in groups and always escorted.”
They were all silent for a while, then Cora asked, “How did Miss Hunt help you identify Giles Clarke?”
To his astonishment, Ethan balked at sharing Sydney’s secret. There were no three other people on this earth that he trusted more, but he could not get the words past the protective barrier.
“I take it her investigative methods were somewhat different than yours,” Helsford said.
Seeing his struggle, Somerton offered, “Every agent here understands the compelling need to safeguard the privacy of someone important to us. Through her exploration, Miss Hunt might have come across information we need. All I ask you to consider is if the privacy of one individual outweighs the protection of a nation.”
Torn in a way he had never been before, Ethan reviewed what he knew of Sydney and her mission of justice. What would it hurt for them to know the lengths Sydney would go to in order to save a child? The likelihood that she would cross paths with any one of them was minimal. Even if she did, Ethan knew the agents would say nothing. Not to her, or anyone else.
“You’re right, of course,” Ethan said. “Miss Hunt, also known as Mrs. Henshaw, is posing as a wealthy merchant’s wife in search of her next charitable endeavor.”
“Quite brilliant,” Cora said. “As a potential benefactress, she would gain access to the entire facility, under the guise of assessing its level of need. I can’t wait to meet your Miss Hunt.”
“She’s not mine, and you’re not meeting her.”
“Whyever not?”
“Cora.”
She opened her mouth to say something more, but Helsford laid a hand on her shoulder, and she clamped her lips together. Ethan shook his head at her easy acquiescence.
“Did she see anything out of the ordinary on the inside?” Somerton asked.
“Yes and no. Abbingale is well maintained and the staff ensures that the boys are schooled on various subjects. Though we saw no signs of abuse, the boys have a healthy fear of their caretakers.”
“We?” Helsford asked.
“I accompanied her today.”
His friend’s eyebrows rose.
“Come back to that later,” Somerton said. “What else?”
“Something about Miss Hunt’s initial visits to Abbingale made her wary of one of the nurses and the schoolmaster.” Ethan glanced around the room and noticed their closed expressions. “I know what you’re thinking. That her imagination might be conjuring villains where none exist. She’s not prone to overreaction, and from what I’ve seen, she’s a good judge of character.”
“Have you met them?” Somerton asked.
“I met the nurse today and would agree with Miss Hunt’s assessment. She’s suspicious to the point of ridiculous. The schoolmaster left before I could manage an introduction.”
“What are their names?” Somerton asked.
“Mrs. Drummond and Monsieur LaRouche.”
“LaRouche,” Helsford repeated.
Ethan smiled, but it was not one of amusement. “Rather too coincidental, wouldn’t you say?”
“Did the staff know you were coming, or did you invite yourself along?” Helsford asked, with uncanny accuracy.
“I invited myself. However, there would have been plenty of time for someone to notify him of my arrival.”
“I don’t like it,” Somerton said. “A Frenchman’s presence at the same boys’ home that is holding the son of a woman forced to watch over Catherine while she’s made to search my home for a nonexistent list of agents?”
“Latymer is connected to all this,” Cora said. “He must be.”
“I agree.” Helsford kneaded her shoulder. “But how?”
“You mentioned that the boys were coming and going at odd times,” Somerton said. “Did you notice if they were carrying anything as they left?”
“You’re thinking of some type of courier system,” Ethan said. “I had considered that, but the few boys I saw carried nothing.”
“Maybe they’re hiding something beneath their clothes,” Cora said. “Or perhaps Abbingale is only their starting location. What if the boys pick up the package at their next stop?”
“Excellent point,” Helsford said. “Is there any way of confirming either of these possibilities?”
“Searching one of the boys shouldn’t be a problem.” Ethan had done far worse in the service of his country. “And I can certainly try following them again.” He paused a moment, his gaze sweeping between Somerton and Helsford, not knowing to whom he should direct his next comment. “Anything else?”
Cora cut in. “Now that you’ve found Giles Clarke, what are your plans?”
“I’m going to retrieve him tonight.”
“Without assistance?”
Ethan stopped short of snorting. Breaking into Abbingale would require little more than stealth on his part. Quite unlike other retrieval missions he’d participated in over the last two years. She had no way of knowing his experience with such things, because she had been away in France. But she had benefited from his expertise not long ago, when he and Helsford had crossed the Channel and rescued her from an active French dungeon.
Instead of snorting, he settled with a shrug. “It’s fairly straightforward.”
“Is it now.” She peered over her shoulder at Helsford, who also shrugged.
“The boys looked unharmed?” Somerton asked again.
Deep in the darkest pit of Ethan’s stomach, dread stirred. As much as he admired Somerton, his former guardian and mentor was a ruthless bastard. Ethan’s instincts screamed that he was about to feel the merciless edge of Somerton’s implacable resolve. Again.
“Yes,” Ethan said. “However, there’s a hundred different ways of hurting a child without it being visible.”
Somerton’s gaze did not waver, though his jaw appeared to be carved from raw granite. “Follow the boys tonight and report back. If nothing appears amiss, finish your original mission and remove Giles Clarke from Abbingale tomorrow night.”
Ethan’s muscles went taut, an attempt to repulse the unsavory command. He would not stop to consi
der that he’d thought along similar lines after learning LaRouche had left the building. Perhaps he was no better than Somerton in this regard. Even then, he had not stopped to think about the fate of the other orphans. If it turned out that Abbingale was harboring French spies, the boys’ home would have to be shut down.
Thirty homeless orphans. Some might be in a similar circumstance as Giles Clarke—forced to be there, but not without family. Others would abandon the system and strike out on their own—with no relatives or friends to help them navigate the perils of the city. And the rest? He supposed they would have to be relocated to another home for orphans.
Sweet Jesus. This was worse than crossing into enemy territory and facing capture around every corner. He prayed Somerton had a plan for Giles Clarke. Shuffling him from home to home would only serve to increase the boy’s anxiety and awful loss. As for the rest of the orphans, he would speak with Sydney and see if she had any suggestions. She was good at finding new situations for people. Surely, such a skill could be applied to a bunch of orphaned orphans.
“Danforth, do you understand?” Somerton asked, his expression no less uncompromising.
Always a good soldier, Ethan capitulated, though he was certain he could already feel the fires of hell consuming him. “One more night.” He did not cage the statement as a question.
“One more,” Somerton agreed.
“As for Latymer’s role in this possible courier scheme,” Ethan said, changing the subject, “Miss Hunt’s assistant has copies of Abbingale’s annual reports for the last five years.”
“How will those help us?” Cora’s voice was rough with emotion.
“The reports list the names of Abbingale’s donors and subscription holders.”
“Do you think Latymer’s name will show up in the register?” Helsford asked.
“Honestly, no.” Ethan sighed. “He’s much too careful to leave any type of trail for us to follow. All the same, I want to look at this from every angle.”
“Thorough is always good,” Somerton said. “Now, on to the second reason for my visit.” He nodded toward Cora and Helsford. “And their primary reason for accompanying me.”
Ethan had forgotten there was another reason. He had also somehow forgotten the drink in his hand. He bolted back the rest of the amber liquid and set the crystal on a nearby table. “I’m listening.”
“Someone broke into my home last night and destroyed my study and library.”
“Is everyone well?” Cora asked.
“No one was harmed.”
“Anything missing?” Helsford asked.
“Not that I found. My personal papers were strewn everywhere, and the intruder seemed particularly interested in my file on the First Lord of the Admiralty, Lord Melville. Rather untidy to leave the file out for me to see.”
“Please don’t tell me we’re back to the damned list,” Ethan said. Sophie Ashcroft nearly lost her life because one of the Nexus’s enemies believed Somerton had written the names of all his secret service agents on a very dangerous square of paper. Anyone who knew the former chief would know he would take his own life before placing his agents in danger.
“Either the list,” Somerton said, “or something else entirely.”
Ethan sent him an exasperated look. “Well, that narrows things down.”
“If the intruder was searching for the nonexistent list,” Cora said quickly, “we must assume Lord Latymer is still in the area.”
“Yes,” Helsford said. “Finding the former under-superintendent’s weakness is of vital importance now.”
“Weakness?” Cora asked.
“Helsford’s right,” Ethan said. “Latymer is an intelligent man. He must know by now that, if there ever had been a list, Somerton would have destroyed it the moment he sensed his enemy’s interest.”
“If he knows there is no list, then why the search?” Cora asked.
“A very good question.” Somerton glanced between each of them. “One thing I do know is that Latymer is running out of time.”
“Why do you say that?” Ethan asked, though he suspected he knew the answer.
“Twice, he has failed to deliver for the French,” Somerton said. “The first time involved my assassination and the second was the agent list. Rather than achieving his goals, he lost his associates in the battle and disappointed the French. Whoever is manipulating his strings won’t tolerate a third failure.”
“Where do we go from here?” Helsford asked.
Somerton straightened. “Danforth continues his investigation. Follow a few boys, check for packages, and see what the annual reports uncover.”
“What about us?” Cora asked.
“There is no us.” Somerton’s features hardened. “As I mentioned at the end of our last mission, you’re on leave.”
“But—”
“Helsford,” Somerton cut in, “on the other hand, can look into Sophie’s former governess’s background. I want to know how Lydia Clarke got caught up in Latymer’s scheme, which resulted in the boy’s stay at Abbingale.”
The mutinous look on Cora’s face did not bode well for her ability to follow Somerton’s directive. Ethan lifted an eyebrow in Helsford’s direction. His friend’s lips thinned in resignation.
“Send me updates as they occur.” Somerton nodded and then left.
Cora made an irritated noise in the back of her throat. “Does he not realize that keeping my mind active is far better for my recovery than sitting for hours, with nothing to do but remember?”
Distracted by his own thoughts, Ethan said, “He feels a fair amount of guilt over your imprisonment. Keeping you out of harm’s way is as much for his sanity as it is for your safety.”
Ethan caught the astonished look on his sister’s face, but he paid it no mind. She would do as she pleased, with or without Somerton’s approval. As for him, his focus had shifted to the chief, or rather former chief. Even though Somerton’s new position gave him ultimate authority over the Nexus’s activities, Somerton respected the chain of command, and he would want Helsford to be successful in his new role. Instead of deferring to Helsford, he had handed out orders as if he were still leading the Nexus. Why?
“As much as I appreciate the gesture,” Cora said, interrupting his internal debate, “I cannot sit at home and do nothing.” She glanced behind her. “Guy, you must take me with you.”
Helsford smoothed his knuckle along Cora’s jawline. “I hadn’t planned on doing anything else.”
“Shall we reassemble tomorrow?” Ethan asked.
Cora stood. “Yes, I look forward to hearing about what you discover tonight.”
“Do you need assistance?” Helsford asked.
Ethan shook his head. “I don’t foresee any problems.”
Striding forward, Cora laid her hand on his forearm. “Invite your nosy proprietress to join us tomorrow.”
“She knows nothing of the Nexus.”
“Nor should she,” Cora said. “She knows you’re investigating a missing boy, right?”
He nodded.
“Then there is no problem.” She stepped away and Helsford offered her his arm. “You can simply tell her we’re helping with the search.”
“You will find there is nothing simple about Miss Hunt.”
Her smile was slow and knowing. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“Cora—”
“Come along, Guy. We mustn’t keep my brother any longer.”
Helsford murmured, “Showed your hand, old man.”
Ethan gritted his teeth as he followed the couple from the room. Helsford’s pronouncement clattered inside his head like a badly tuned violin. One question surfaced, again and again.
What exactly had he shown?
Seventeen
Dear Madam,
The bearer hereof, Miss Lucy Prickett, is a y
oung lady of honesty and obedience and has a strong sense of duty. She has served our family well for the last three years. It is with great confidence that I recommend Miss Prickett to you.
Madam, your most humble servant,
Diana Pinthorpe
Sydney read over the false letter of recommendation once more before passing it on to Amelia for distribution. No matter how many times she scripted recommendations, she always experienced a certain amount of angst. The same mantra filled her mind upon completion—did she manage the right tone? Provide enough information? Select the best words? She knew each recipient would read the letter with a certain amount of prejudice and expectation, making the whole process subjective and highly volatile.
So much depended on her getting it right. Livelihoods hung in the balance and hope teetered on the edge. She rubbed her tired eyes. “Any more?”
Amelia shook her head, folding the letter. “This was the last one.”
“I admit to being relieved by your answer.”
“You’ve been at this for two hours, and the shadows are moving in.” Amelia stood. “Shall I light another candle?”
Nodding, Sydney said, “Please summon Mac and Mick. We need to discuss our plans for this evening.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Her assistant sent her a wary glance. “Why not wait until tomorrow night, when you’re better rested?”
Sydney dropped her pen in its holder. “Finding the link between Latymer and Abbingale has taken too long already. Every day that goes by feels like an eternity. Tonight, I will have an answer, one way or another.”
Amelia was silent for a long second. “Perhaps a swift resolution is best. I fear we will not be able to fool Lord Danforth much longer.”
“Nor I.” Amelia started to walk away, then paused. “Do you have a moment? There’s something I need to speak with you about.”
“Of course. Please sit so I can see you better.”
Her assistant strode around the desk and perched on the edge of a guest chair, with her hands clasped in her lap. “Four years ago, you gave me an opportunity, even after Mac uncovered my dark past.”
“Mac never revealed what he found. And he assured me that whatever it was would have no negative impact on your duties here.”
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