Dangerous Pursuit (Lords 0f Whitehall Book 1)

by Ann Chaney

  Jones glared at her before he spoke. “An agreement to not hang me. I am a little fish in that scummy pond of bluebloods. Like I said, I do the heavy work for the gents. They don’t like to get their hands dirty.”

  Moreham nodded his agreement. “Give me something and we will see.”

  Jones didn’t speak for several moments. He seemed to come to a decision and took a deep breath. “Arnold is part French. His father was French, his mother, English.”

  “Arnold is one of many who lay claim to French blood.”

  Jones grinned. “Yes, but do any of those gents recruit members of the peerage to influence the direction of the war? Do they have a list of members of their group? I’d wager not.

  “My job was to exert a bit of persuasion with my fists if necessary. Percy was the one who told me who to lean on. I got paid for any new members.” Jones stopped talking and glared up at Moreham. “There I told all I know. Don’t know who is in charge. I’m not invited to their meetings in Mayfair. I can tell you Percy is a foot soldier. As I said before, not healthy to know too much. I do my job and collect my coin. No questions.”

  Moreham looked at her and she lifted a shoulder. She wasn’t sure what else the man knew. She did have a question. A loose end. “Arnold told us there was a list of French agents living in England hidden in Lisbon. We went to Staines to give his mother the payment for that piece of information. Do you know anything about the list?”

  Jones shook his head. “There is no list. Percy told me himself. All of what has happened was planned should he ever be captured. The lordlings would have seen to his escape. He’s too valuable to be hung.”

  Richard’s voice rumbled against her back. “What is Arnold going to do? Someone went to a lot of trouble to help him. You say he’s a foot soldier. Does the dirty work. It only stands to reason the club needs him on the streets to perform a chore. One they refuse to do themselves. Am I right?”

  He shifted his gaze over her shoulder to Richard. Jones looked away and mumbled something. Serena could not make out the words.

  “Speak up, man,” Moreham demanded.

  “Wellington? Percy’s going to kill Wellington.”

  The room erupted. Shouts of crude language and bickering among the men took all attention off Jones. Richard reached for her and pulled her from the group. For the first time, since Richard had fallen into her bedchamber, she was afraid. For the first time, she understood the life and death consequences of associating with the lords of Whitehall.

  “Enough. Remember why we are here,” Moreham chastised. He leaned over Jones and placed his hands on the man’s thighs and squeezed. “Wellington? How? When?”

  Their captive dropped his head to his chest. She could not take her eyes off the man. No one spoke. The room vibrated with tension as they waited for Jones to speak again.

  “Percy travels every quarter to Lisbon to meet with the Quartermaster General’s staff. The Frenchies believe Wellington has a secret plan. Percy is to uncover the plan and kill the great man for good measure. Two birds, one stone.” The thug shrugged helplessly. “Ol’ Hookey’s life is near done unless you can get to the Peninsula first.”

  No one said a word. Shock at the magnitude of the conspiracy they had uncovered left her numb. It did make sense. Wellington possessed the ability to command men and resources to win this war. On his last visit back to England, Thorne had groused about the ineptitude of the officers assigned to the peninsula.

  The general had served in India where he learned military strategy. He was more than a match for Napoleon any day. Eliminate Wellington and Napoleon’s Grand Armeé would invade. Of that he had no doubt. All would be lost.

  Their captive shook his head. “Don’t know anything else. What I told you I overheard when Arnold met with a nobleman.” Jones shook his head before Moreham could speak. “Don’t ask who, because I don’t know.”

  “Jones, one last chance. Is there anything else you can tell us?”

  The brawny man slumped forward and shook his head.

  “A security team will arrive soon. You will be taken to Newgate. There is a secluded wing where you will be held until all of this is over.” Moreham walked to the door then stopped in the doorway. “Should anything you told us not be the truth, I will personally see to it that you are released. Word will reach this Social Club within the hour of your betrayal. You will be dead before the next sunset.” Moreham paused. “I promise you Arnold will not kill Wellington. I can also promise you will never see Arnold again. He will disappear from the face of the earth as if he never existed.”

  A knock sounded on the front door. Moreham left the room. The man returned moments later with four men in tow. The sight of one of the guards carrying the shackles they’d lock around Jones’ ankles sent chills down her back. Serena saw what she assumed were iron shackles in one guard’s hands. Her only knowledge of the metal restraints was the reference to gentlemen being leg-shackled in marriage. After this night, she would never regard that phrase lightly again.

  She stepped backward to edge closer to the door. Her escape. No one paid her any mind as she reached for the door handle. She was not able to watch Jones being restrained. Not that she felt any sympathy for him. She did not. The sight of a man, any man, being encumbered so brought home the seriousness of her involvement with Moreham.

  She slipped through the door making her way back to the sitting room. A teapot sat on the sideboard. She poured tea to the brim of a cup. She gulped the cold liquid as the sound of metal chains clinked down the corridor to the front door.

  Silence.

  The thought of Jones or any person for that matter being led away to Newgate rolled over her like a grieving fog. She had never visited the place. Papa used to discuss such places with her until Nettie told him doing so gave her nightmares.

  Lost in thought, she started when Richard appeared by her side. The others had followed him into the room.

  “What now?” Sturmbridge asked the room at large.

  “I’ll go.”

  Serena gasped as Richard’s quiet words vibrated through her body. Arnold would recognize him on sight. She fisted her hands and stiffened her body to keep from voicing her opinion. These men would not take kindly to her interference. The silence following Richard’s assertion was deafening.

  Moreham stared at Richard and with a bare glance in her direction nodded his head in approval.

  “I will send a message to Sir Perceval with the particulars and request The Vigilant be readied to go on the evening tide. The ship will make the best time. You may even beat Arnold to Lisbon. We have the element of surprise. He believes you both are still in Staines-on-the-Thames.” Moreham hesitated. “Do not underestimate him. He has survived on English soil for many years without being discovered. The rest of us will continue to track down other members of the Society.”

  “I’ll send a note to mother for Lady Philly and Serena to stay with her while I’m gone. She and Lady Philly will be safer there. Once we are done here, I’ll see Serena to my townhouse. Society will assume they are keeping my mother company. I’ll have my valet pack a bag for me to take to White’s. I’ll go in the front door and out the back. Should anyone remark on my absence from social evenings, mother will tell them I’m busy with estate business.”

  “Yes, of the three of you, you are the one with the most experience on the Peninsula.” Moreham looked at the others. “Would you give me a moment with Weatherington?”

  Crossley stood then offered Serena his arm. The pair left the room with Sturmbridge bringing up the rear.

  Moreham remained silent until the door clicked shut. “Richard, Arnold had nothing to do with your father’s death. The Alien Office has evidence he was in France when your father and his servants were killed. Your quest for revenge is misplaced. I must ask knowing this do you still want to be the one to sail for Lisbon?”

  He’d been so certain Arnold was his father’s killer. He fought the overwhelming urge to bellow his frustrati
on.

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Not go? Moreham had just said he was the agent with the most experience. It would not matter to Serena whether he or one of the others sailed on The Vigilant that night. She’d be on the ship of that he had no doubt. He refused to think of her with Crossley or Sturmbridge at her side.

  He’d been reared to do his duty for his king and country. Wellington’s life was at stake. He’d go. He’d teach Lady Serena a lesson or two about the reality of the world before they returned to England. He ignored the fear neither of them surviving. That’s how he’d survived the last four years, pushing all thoughts he didn’t like into a small box at the back of his brain.

  “No, I haven’t changed my mind. Thank you for telling me what you’ve learned. I suppose I have Serena to thank for deciphering my motive for taking on the capture of Arnold. You spoke the truth when you said I had the most experience traveling Spain and Portugal. Also, I’m sure you know Serena is plotting as we speak to be on board that ship tonight? Crossley and Sturmbridge are ill-prepared to deal with her. They see a gently reared lady, but we know she is much more than that. Unfortunately. No, I’ll go.”

  Moreham moved forward with his hand outstretched. “Thank you. I agree with your assumption about Serena. Take care of her. Although, I believe she may be more than able to take care of you. Find Arnold. If you have to, kill him. I’ll brief the Home Secretary after you’ve left. No need to get his minions queering up the works.”

  Richard shook his mentor’s hand before heading for the door. Moreham fell in step behind him. They found the other three standing in the corridor–looking far too guilty. He’d trained his agents well. All three would have availed themselves of the opportunity to eavesdrop on his conversation with Weatherington. Especially Serena.

  Moreham stepped into the middle of the group. “While Richard is running Arnold to ground, we’ll be investigating the gentlemen who attend Mrs. Ramsay’s salon. Lady Serena, I’m certain if you ask one of your more bluestocking friends if they attend and express your interest, you’ll have an invitation before the next salon.” He turned to Crossley and Sturmbridge. “You’ll call at Burley House on Serena after the salon and make a list of all the gentlemen in attendance. We’ll investigate each gentleman. There must be a pattern of some sort. All younger sons, titles in the suds moneywise or some other connection. We’ll find it, none of us will rest until we do.”

  “Off with you.” Moreham took Serena’s hand and bowed. “My lady, thank you for all of your assistance with Arnold and his compatriot. Your contributions have been invaluable and will save many lives. Of that have no doubt. Thank you”

  Serena and Richard said their goodbyes to the others. Nettie stood waiting in the entryway. Within minutes they were riding hell bent back to London. No one spoke. For her part, conversation was impossible while she mulled over how to convince Moreham to help her stowaway on The Vigilant.

  She nibbled on her thumb. Maybe Aunt Philly would help her? She’d beg if she had to. Richard wasn’t going to chase after Percy Arnold with no one to guard his back. Gentlemen were so rigid in their thinking on the subject of honor, loyalty and integrity. It was time for Richard to learn that ladies possessed those same beliefs. He might be an agent of the Crown, but he was also the man she loved.

  Serena closed her eyes and bit back a groan. She’d fallen in love with the one man who would never allow himself to love her. She’d never stopped loving him. What a ninny she had been to think she could be in such close proximity to the man and not have her feelings for him return? Loving Richard did not matter at the moment. Her only focus was to be on that ship with him when it sailed.

  If the events of the last two days had been planned, Arnold was a genius at subterfuge. Richard could be walking into another trap. He’d need someone with him. He needed her. She’d follow him to Portugal. There was no other way. She’d been the one who offered her services to Moreham. It was time for her to put her personal feelings aside and carry out her duty.

  “Serena, I know you are plotting. You must listen to me and remain with my mother and Lady Philly. A sea voyage can be a fraught with danger. A storm. Privateers. Smugglers. There is a war in progress. Lisbon is full of saboteurs and cutthroats. A beautiful woman fetches a hefty price.”

  She allowed herself to react not to his warning, but to the images of Arnold standing over his body. His dead body. She felt the color leave her cheeks. Her heartbeat increased to where it was all she could hear. Could one’s heart burst out of one’s chest?

  Her demeanor must have scared Richard. He reached for her and pulled her onto his lap and held her close as one would a child. She rested her head against his heart. Where her heart was racing with fear, his heart was strong and even in its beats. Serena closed her eyes and made a vow. Richard Weatherington would live to be a very old man. She would see to it.

  Richard tightened his hold when the coach slowed down to enter Grosvenor Square. Once the coach halted at his front door, he nodded to Nettie. “Go inside.”

  The maid hesitated for an instant before wrenching the door open. Once the door slammed shut, he lowered his head until his lips touched her lips ever so softly. Another kiss. She’d been waiting for him to kiss her since the moment he’d tumbled through her window two nights before.

  Serena dared not move. She wanted him to keep kissing her. His lips nibbled hers in a playful manner as if they had all night to explore. He raised his hand to her chin and nudged it lower to open her mouth. Her heart stopped as he slid his tongue into her mouth.

  She wished to forget the world outside the coach door. For the kiss to never end. A knock on the door brought the reality of their plight back to the forefront. His lips left hers. She wanted to pull him back to her for just one more kiss. She’d desire his touch, his taste for the remainder of her days.

  “John, give us a moment.”

  Richard took her hands in his. He caressed each fingertip. How could such a man exposed to the worst sorts of people be so gentle?

  “Serena, a room has been prepared. I also asked that Lady Philly have a valise packed. Please go inside and retire. I’ll ask for a bath for you and a tray be brought up. I will be gone well before midnight. You must promise me you will stay out of any government business while I’m away. Without me here to protect you, anything could happen.”

  She nodded.

  “Say the words. A vow,” he demanded.

  She did exactly what he’d expect. Heaved a deep sigh and rolled her eyes. “I give you my word I will stay out of government business while you are gone.”

  Richard looked very pleased with himself. “Thank you. I will be able to concentrate on the business at hand if I’m not worried about you. Now, out you go. I have much to do before I leave.”

  Serena followed him from the coach with a smile plastered on her lips. All she had to do was get to her bedchamber without him realizing she also had much to do. Once inside, they gave their outer garments to his butler. Richard pulled her into the dark library.

  She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “Richard, I’m sorry. I misjudged you. You’re a courageous man. I’m proud to call you my friend. You’ll be in my prayers as you always have been.” She left him standing in the darkened room.

  Enough playacting. Time to make her intent a reality. Heaven help the man or woman who got in her way. A sense of peace settled over her as she made her way to the third floor where Nettie stood at the top of the stairs waiting for her. The maid nodded in the direction of an open bedchamber door.

  Serena entered the room and crossed over to sit at the dressing table, jerking her combs out of her hair. “Nettie, go down the hall and ask Aunt Philly to join me. Then have a footman accompany you home. Pack that old satchel of Thorne’s. I need his castoffs. You’ll find them in the back of the armoire. Bring everything you find there, jacket, breeches, linen. You’ll find a pair of his boots hidden under my bed. I’ll need one of his beaver hats. Oh, and plenty
of shot and wadding for the pistol Weatherington gave me. Hurry, there’s not much time.”

  “You’re going with his lordship,” the maid stated rather than questioned.

  “What I’m about to do is not up for discussion. Now go.” She shooed the old woman away. She searched the dressing table for a hairbrush and a pair of scissors. The hairbrush she found but not the scissors.

  Moments later, Aunt Philly entered the room wearing a vibrant-pink dressing gown and a nightcap on her head. Without blinking an eye, Aunt Philly spoke, “I told Moreham you’d not be satisfied with being his dancing partner. I assume you’ve summoned me here to solicit my help in whatever scheme you’ve devised. Weatherington is involved, isn’t he? I knew the minute he returned to Town you were bound for trouble. How I wish for once you had proven me wrong.”

  Serena ignored her aunt’s words and continued to rummage around, looking for her scissors. “Aunt Philly, I need your help on two fronts. I can’t find a pair of scissors to cut my hair and I need you to prepare the necessary documents for me to board the prime minister’s corsair leaving on the high tide around midnight. Please make haste. You can chastise me when I return from Portugal. I’ll sit very still and listen to every word then, but now I must hurry so I can board the prime minister’s corsair before Richard.”

  Aunt Philly remained stoic on the far side of the room. “How did you know?”

  Serena shot her aunt a hard look. “I didn’t know for certain. Only had suspicions until now. Last summer, I found a piece of paper with Sir Perceval’s signature, not once but several times as though the prime minister was practicing his penmanship. A simple deduction.” Serena hugged her unconventional aunt. “You work for whom? Whitehall like Moreham? The Alien Office? The Privy Council?

  Aunt Philly ignored her questions. “I can gather the correct documents together.” Philly crossed the room to stand behind her. “As for your hair. Nettie can do the cutting. You’ll only make a muck of it. She’ll cut some of the length off, will leave enough for you to pull your hair back in a queue.