by Gaelen Foley
“To limit the reach of Napoleon,” Nick chimed in, qualifying that accusation.
“The point is, they know how to do it. And now that the war’s over, and they’re all here in England together, how will they keep themselves busy, I ask you, sire? War is all they know. If they become restless, such coups are already part of their repertoire!”
“I suppose you’re right, we probably could, if we really wanted to,” Beau drawled. “What, make a virtual prisoner of His Royal Highness? Control key members of Parliament? Maybe we already do,” he taunted him.
“I say!” a leading Cabinet minister exclaimed. “Do you?”
“Of course not, Lord Eldon. We are loyal. That is the chief difference between us and Mr. Green and his shadowy friends.”
“I beg your pardon!” Green uttered, drawing himself up in withering indignation.
“As a great student of human nature—which I must be, as a proper spy—I have learned that we are all hypocrites in some way. People generally accuse others most vehemently of the very fault they themselves are secretly prone to. And so it is with Mr. Green.” Beau turned to the real traitor. “He accuses the Order of disloyalty. Of plotting to take over the country. This is absurd. If the Order had wanted to do so, it could’ve been accomplished decades ago, perhaps even centuries. But, you see, that would be going against everything we stand for, believe in. Not so with Mr. Green.”
“How dare you?” the angry MP cried.
“We have unearthed the truth about who’s really scheming to remake England, and it is not the Order, I can assure you.”
“What? Is this true?” The old ministers in the room began murmuring among themselves.
“What are you insinuating, sir?”
“That you are the traitor, Mr. Green.”
“That’s a lie!” he shouted. “I will not hear this nonsense. Sire, this is the sort of manipulative slander in which the Order specializes, and any evidence he might produce to support this fiction is likewise manufactured!”
“Beauchamp, what is going on?” Prinny spoke up with a curious frown.
“Your Royal Highness; ministers; my lords, it is time we ended this charade.”
Mr. Green was shaking his head at him but beginning to look nervous. “I have no idea what you can mean by all this.”
“Then I shall enlighten you. I’m afraid my friend Lord Forrester here is the ‘mercenary’ you and your coconspirators hired to assassinate Lord Liverpool.”
A gasp arose in the room.
“Who is alive and well,” Beau hastened to add. “Don’t be alarmed, gentlemen. The Prime Minister was never in any danger. For you see, Lord Forrester has been on a covert mission for months to draw out the traitors in our midst. We just didn’t expect to find a Member of Parliament among them.”
All the color washed out of Ezra Green’s face.
“Nothing to say for yourself, sir?”
“This is preposterous! Sheer, utter nonsense!” he sputtered, backing away with a look of panic. “You see, Your Highness? You see how these men are out of control? Honestly, Beauchamp, how dare you come before the Regent and make such wild, unfounded accusations? Not that anyone here believes you—”
“I do,” Nick offered.
“The word of a scapegrace and a libertine who has dallied with half your wives?” Green scoffed at the gentlemen, shaking his head. “I don’t know what game you are playing, Beauchamp, but you have no proof, and so I will see you in court for this unforgivable libel.”
“Hmm. Proof. Well.” He folded his arms across his chest, rather enjoying this. “Perhaps your colleague can help to jar your memory. Montgomery! Bring him in!”
The door opened, and Trevor stepped in, escorting their frightened prisoner into the room.
When Ezra Green and Charles Vincent saw each other, the recognition on both faces was unmistakable.
Green briefly looked like he might pass out.
“Remember now?” Beau inquired.
Green looked at Beau, his expression hardening into an icy mask of rage. “I’ve never seen this man before.”
“Of course you have. And he will admit it. Why should he not, when you were willing to let him hang alone for your conspiracy? The only question is, was it you or Professor Culvert who first hatched the plot to hire our ‘assassin’ here to kill the Prime Minister?” he asked with a casual gesture at Nick.
“Why would he want to kill Liverpool?” Prinny asked in astonishment.
“Why, indeed. Because he is a secret revolutionary, following in the footsteps of his mentor, Your Highness. With one bullet, he could kill two birds with one stone. Not only could he get rid of a man he and his cohorts see as a tyrant, but he could have had the Order condemned in the process by pinning the assassination on us through Forrester. Fortunately for us all, and for Lord Liverpool, it was an Order operation all along.”
Ezra Green’s jaw dropped.
Beau flashed a smile—and set him off.
“To hell with all of you!” Green snarled, bending to whip out a small pistol he had concealed in his boot. “Death to tyrants!”
Beau was already in motion, leaping through the air as Green took aim at the large, easy target of the startled Regent. Beau tackled him to the ground as the gun went off. Around the opulent chamber, the ministers cried out in shock, and Beau was dimly aware of Carissa rushing in at the sound of the shot while he struggled to subdue Green.
He knocked him out cold with a punch in the face that, for him, was downright cathartic. Damn, but he’d been wanting to do that for weeks.
Then, chest heaving, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure Prinny was all right.
He drew in his breath at what he saw.
Nick was bleeding. While Beau had tackled the gunman, Nick had rushed to shield the prince. The bullet meant for George had ended up in the midsection of their would-be mercenary.
Nick fell to the floor.
Trevor abandoned Charles Vincent to the custody of the palace guards who had come storming in. He flew to Nick’s side, sliding across the polished floor onto his knees beside him. “You foolhardy—”
“Uh, shut up. Had to do it. He’ll be King.” Blood was flowing out from between Nick’s fingers as he clutched his wound. “Trev,” he rasped, “can you forgive me?”
“Hell, no, if you go dying on us now,” Trevor retorted, choked with emotion. “Don’t even try it, or I’m comin’ down to the underworld to kick your arse.”
Nick smiled weakly at the jest but closed his eyes. “Like to see you try.”
Carissa looked on, stricken, as Beau joined the other two, shouting for a surgeon. She knew this was her beloved husband’s worst nightmare, seeing his best friend bleeding his life out right before his eyes. Please, God, let him live. Nick might be a bounder, but Beau did not deserve this. Don’t make him lose another friend.
The politicians in the room were all shouting at each other, while the Prince Regent looked horrified and shaken.
The palace guards took both Ezra Green and Charles Vincent into custody, while the royal physicians sped Nick away to try to save his life. Trevor accompanied him, but Beau turned, impassioned, to the Regent, and, to Carissa’s shock, her husband let the sovereign have it.
“Do you see now? Can you see that we are loyal?” he cried, taking a step toward him, enough to alarm the soldiers, who came closer. “Confiscate our homes?” he wrenched out. “He just took a bullet for you! You don’t even know, sire, you don’t even know how many have died for your sake—for England’s! They’d give their lives without a second thought—and you throw them in the Tower? Well, damn you, sir. Damn you, I say. When will it ever be enough?”
The Regent stood with a look of such offended wrath on his ruddy face at being addressed in this manner, that Carissa feared her husband had just signed all the agents’ execution papers, including his own.
She ran to him, taking his arm, seeking to quiet him. “Forgive my husband, Your Royal Highness, ple
ase!” she pleaded, heart pounding in dread. “Lord Beauchamp would never presume to rebuke you. He is overset to see his friend fallen.”
Beau pulled his arm free of her grasp. “Rubbish. I meant every word.” And he held the royal stare without averting his eyes, without bowing, without backing down, his chin high.
He stared at the monarch, man to man, until finally, it was the prince who faltered slightly. “And what would you have Us do?”
“Show some damned backbone,” he replied. Then he bowed his head, though his eyes still blazed. “Your Royal Highness,” he added obediently—through gritted teeth.
Carissa stared at him in disbelief. Now, for certain, he would hang. He had not just yelled at the future king.
He had cursed at him, too. She was beside herself.
We’re doomed.
The Regent turned slowly to the Captain of the Guard and gave his judgment: “Release Our agents from the Tower.”
“What?” she breathed, glancing over.
Beau lifted his head again.
“Well, don’t dawdle, man! You have your orders!”
“Your Highness—” One of the ministers from the Treasury attempted to belay him.
“Do not question me!” George bellowed, sounding almost like a king. “Beauchamp’s right. I should have never let the matter go this far.” He fluffed out the tails of his coat and took his throne once more. “Demmed impertinent, though, I say! You get away with that once with me, sir. Once!” He held up a chubby, jeweled finger. “For your friend’s sake. But don’t worry about him,” the Regent muttered. “Lord Forrester does not have Our permission to die.”
“Thank you, Your Royal Highness. Thank you.” Beau closed his eyes as Carissa slipped her arms around him. He leaned his head against hers and let out a long, shaky exhalation.
Chapter 26
“Well, I stand corrected,” Beau announced, as they walked out of Carlton House, his arm casually draped around her shoulders. “You, my little lady of information, are a better spy than some of the agents I’ve known.”
Carissa beamed at him. “Really?”
“It’s true. We owe you a huge debt of gratitude. You did the right thing. I’m man enough to admit it. If you had not come through with that crucial piece of information, who knows where we’d be?”
“Does that mean you forgive me for disobeying you, then?”
“Of course. But it wasn’t because of your heroics today.” He stopped and turned to face her, taking her gently by the shoulders. “You were already forgiven when we parted ways, my darling. Didn’t you hear me say so?”
“Maybe not. I was too busy feeling awful.” She searched his blue eyes. “What I didn’t hear you say,” she ventured, then lost her nerve.
“Yes?” he prompted tenderly.
“Well—when I told you I love you, Beau, you didn’t say it back.”
“Cowardice.”
She searched his face uncertainly, her heart still feeling bruised and vulnerable.
He tilted his head, staring wistfully into her eyes. “I do love you, Carissa.”
“You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to—”
“But I do.” He captured her chin on his fingertips and lifted her head, forcing her to meet his stormy gaze. He took her hand and placed it on his heart. “This is yours, my love. When you said you loved me that first time, I was just . . . taken aback by everything that had just occurred with Benton. Under the circumstances, I wasn’t sure how to react. I wasn’t even sure you weren’t just saying that to manipulate me, so I wouldn’t be angry at you. Trying to wrap me around your finger.”
She shook her head. “I said it because it’s the truth. I’m always going to tell you the truth now, Beau, however hard it might be. I’ve learned my lesson, believe me. I’m not going to let any more secrets come between us. You have my word on that. If you’ll give me another chance, I’ll show you that I can be honest with you from now on. I would never risk losing you again.”
“Sweeting, you’ve got all the chances you need, and I hope you’ll give me the same, because I’m probably going to need them.”
“Of course,” she whispered gently, a lump in her throat. Then she stepped closer, hugging him. He wrapped his arms around her. She laid her head on his chest. “After all, that’s what love’s about, isn’t it?” she asked softly. “Forgiving each other. Finding the courage to trust.”
He kissed her head and nodded as he held her. Then he lapsed into a thoughtful silence for a moment. “You know, I bear some responsibility, too, for choosing not to bring up your, er, situation after our wedding night,” he said discreetly as they stood, embracing tenderly, in an empty, gleaming corridor of the Regent’s palace.
She looked up at him.
He gave her a distracted half smile, lost in his thoughts. “I thought I was only being kind, doing you a favor by not bringing it up. But, in another sense, it was my way of keeping a safe distance between us.” He shook his head. “Perhaps I was afraid of getting too close, afraid of what you could do to me if I really let you in. But I don’t want that anymore,” he whispered. “I’m done holding back. I want to see where this love can take us.”
The first place it would take them, to the surprise of neither, was home and straight to bed to make up properly. One kiss decided the matter.
They stared into each other’s eyes in mutual understanding, then left the Regent’s palace and rushed home in pulse-pounding eagerness to reaffirm their bond.
Two hours later, the sound of the musical automaton clock awakened them.
Beau groaned and buried his face in the pillow. “Oh, why did I ever give you that thing? It never shuts up.”
Laughing softly, Carissa ran a caress down the supple curve of his bare back. “Because you love me,” she purred, thoroughly sated by his lovemaking.
He turned his head on the pillow and gazed at her, his blue eyes shining softly. “Yes, I do.”
“I love hearing you say it.”
“I love you,” he repeated.
She smiled with a glow from her very heart and kissed him. “I love you, too.”
He captured her fingers, curling his own around them. He pulled her hand wearily to his lips and brushed her knuckles with a kiss. Then he sighed, rested their hands against the pillow, and closed his eyes. “I’m so glad all that’s over.”
“Me, too,” she whispered, stroking his golden hair and savoring in awe the memory of how brilliant he had been today. How he had looked the future King of England in the eyes and given him what-for.
The way he had taken Ezra Green apart using Green’s own favorite weapon—words—though Beau was no lawyer but a warrior, a man of action.
As for Nick, it seemed that Order agents were remarkably hard to kill, especially when the weapon that Green had shot him with was a small-caliber pistol that gave up power for ease of concealment.
Deadly enough at point-blank range, Beau had told her, the pocket pistol could have killed Beau when he had tackled Green if Green had been aiming for him.
Instead, the Radical had opted to target the prince, who had been sitting some fifteen feet away. As a result, the royal surgeons did not have to dig deep to retrieve the small, flattened ball from the hard muscle layer of Nick’s abdomen. Thankfully, the bullet had not pierced any internal organs. He’d make a full recovery, and would have, as Beau put it, another scar to brag about.
Meanwhile, Lord Rotherstone and the others had been freed from the Tower. They had sent word that Beau and Carissa should meet them later at the secure estate where the wives were waiting.
No doubt they were still angry about their unjust arrest. Ezra Green and Charles Vincent had been taken into custody, and the Regent sent out soldiers to detain Professor Culvert and his circle of devotees.
The Prime Minister was advised of the thwarted assassination plot against him; ironically, his wrath at this was sure to bring about a fierce new reactionary crackdown on all the Radicals in England t
hat was the very opposite of what Culvert had hoped to achieve. A good number of the conspirators behind the plot were already being arrested.
The only real hitch in how it all worked out was that they had been unable to hide the commotion from the professional snoops: the newspaper reporters.
Usually, Beau had told her, they were able to keep all news pertaining to the Order out of the papers. But thanks to the very public manner in which Ezra Green had chosen to have the returning agents arrested at the docks, the better to disgrace them, there had been many witnesses, and now all London was abuzz. In short, the true purpose of the Inferno Club had been exposed.
Now the Order was going to have no choice but to talk to the reporters.
Poor Vickers and the rest of the staff had already chased away a dozen journalists lurking outside their house. So much for avoiding scandal, Carissa thought wryly. Instead of alarming her, however, she found it rather amusing. Beau, on the other hand, was extremely annoyed.
“We should escape tonight to the country house with the others,” he remarked.
“Maybe it’s for the best that the big secret about the Inferno Club is finally going to come out. Maybe you’ll finally get the credit you deserve.”
“Ugh,” Beau replied. “Virgil must be turning in his grave.”
“No. I’m sure he’d be very proud of the way you’ve handled this. I know I am.” She rested her arm across his back and patted him in affection.
“Well, what do you know?” he retorted in a cheeky drawl. “You’re in love.”
She let out an indignant huff, but, of course, the rogue was perfectly correct in his teasing. “So, what if I am?” She leaned down and bit him lightly on his shoulder.
“Hey!” He lifted his head from the pillow in surprise. “You bit me!”
“Serves you right.” She grabbed his shoulder and rolled him onto his back. “Look at you. All tousled and inviting. You’ll be lucky if I don’t eat you all up in one bite.”
“I rather like the sound of that,” he purred, as she knelt astride him.