A Tip of the Cap (London League, Book 3)

by Rebecca Connolly

  It wasn’t enough.

  How he was able to focus on anything at all was beyond him. He felt renewed and rejuvenated, and somehow it had little to do with their relations and more to do with the depth of feeling he was experiencing. There was nothing he loved so much as holding her in his arms late at night and talking of trivial things. Of laughing with her in their most intimate times, teasing her until her body shook with silent laughter, and bringing that engaging blush to her skin with praises and flirtation. He loved how playful she could be in the daytime, even with him, and yet how tender by night.

  Though it would sound trite and contrived, he truly felt that Beth was everything. Absolutely everything. Everything he could want, everything he could ever need, and somehow everything he had never known he had wanted or needed. How could it be possible for one woman to be and possess so much?

  Which only made his current frustrations more unbearable, as he went through his recent correspondence from Fritz. Things were far worse than Malcolm had thought, and for the first time in several weeks, he felt the familiar pangs of needing to be in London.

  But while things with Beth were progressing in such monumental ways, he couldn’t even think of it. He couldn’t bear to miss a single moment with her.

  The League was in good hands with Fritz at their helm, and the Eagle was in frequent contact via letter, but he was used to being there to see to matters in person. Caroline had been used to him riding off at any time with little warning and no real promise of when he would return. Beth did not know about this part of his life, and in her current state…

  He couldn’t leave.

  He groaned and read over the most recent reports again, his recently lesser-used instincts coming to the forefront. Gent’s band of informants had continued to steal letters from their suspects, rushing them to the office, waiting while the letters were transcribed, and then going back out to ensure their appropriate deliveries. The children were thrilled at the additional work they were receiving, particularly as it gave them additional coin, but also for the excitement of it all. Apparently, young Daisy claimed that the only reason the older children had more was because she was smaller and couldn’t keep up the same pace.

  The contents of the letters, if taken at face value, held absolutely nothing of interest. They were poorly written, the grammar and word choices absolutely atrocious for anyone in the higher circles, and apparently the clerks were bored out of their minds with the tedium of transcription every other day.

  That was well, as the operatives had chosen not to inform them of the true purpose for their task.

  Rogue, for all his faults and maddening ways, had some skill as a decipherer, and Rook, for all his airs, had a keen mind that could detect patterns. The two of them went over the letters carefully, scouring their contents for any patterns and details of interest. Fritz joined them in this, having been involved in enough plots to encode his own messages with skill, and they had finally been able to discover the true messages within.

  Thus far, the plans within were all based in London and spoke of nothing relating to France at all. Among them were names of certain docks, ships, meeting locations, and, as they feared, the name Lord Wharton.

  Rogue’s true identity had been compromised, it seemed, and as such, Lord Wharton had disappeared from London entirely. Most presumed he had returned to his country manor to tend to his wife, but in truth, he was just as active as ever in his lower realms where no one ever knew who he was. He could intervene as he needed with the docks and ships, and he dedicated his efforts to that front.

  Impossibly, he had never been able to discover much of anything. Oh, the ships existed, and they were posted at the docks that correlated with the messages, but their shipments were perfectly legitimate and perfectly accountable. If something additional had been aboard or involved in any way, it was gone before Rogue and his dockside associates could discover it.

  This was not typical. Something was afoot that seemed more involved than anything they had dealt with previously. Their enemies were several steps ahead of them, despite their skills and previous victories. A growing sense of uneasiness filled Malcolm as he sat at Knightsgate, away from the action and the work.

  Fritz did not seem concerned in his reports, but Fritz had seen and done so much that Malcolm wondered if he felt concerned regarding their work at all anymore. He had pulled operatives from other departments and teams to aid them in collecting intelligence. Nearly all their assets had been called in to help, and Rogue was always being followed for his own protection.

  Rogue wasn’t keen on that, but as the men tailing him stayed out of his sight and did not hinder him, he kept his complaints to himself. Mostly.

  Eagle received the same reports as Malcolm, and the two of them corresponded over the contents, using only their trusted couriers to deliver the missives. It would follow that if Rogue had been compromised, there was a great risk of them all being compromised. If that were the case, the Shopkeepers would more than likely lean towards shutting down the League, giving their responsibilities to one of the other networks. They would all be reassigned, of course, but at what cost? Families would have to be uprooted, and identities changed, and while there was an entire department devoted to this very situation, though no one spoke of it, it would be an upheaval that would test the fabric of family in an unparalleled way.

  Look at what it had cost Amelia and her mother, though that had been a peculiar situation in and of itself. For their safety, they had been relocated and had their names changed, and the record of such actions had been destroyed without the contents relayed to Eagle when he had been safely permitted to come out of hiding. There had been no warm reunion for them. Amelia had only met her father last year, though she had not been pleased to do so, having no understanding of the situation. Now all was mended, and Eagle was making up for the time lost with compounded interest, but was the pain then truly absolved by the joy now?

  What had that disaster cost them?

  The idea of moving his family, being parted from them for their safety, of his children forgetting him, of leaving Beth… It left him feeling chilled and desolate.

  Malcolm hated not knowing what their enemies were about or what risks faced his men. That had only caused them pain and trouble in the past. Losing Trace the way they had still haunted them all, and until they had answers as to what happened there, the guilt would always weigh on him.

  He couldn’t lose another operative because of their inept work.

  They hadn’t known it was inept at the time, of course, but they should have. They knew it now, but could they actually do anything about it? He shook his head and went back to the letter from Fritz, noting the postscript this time. Apparently, Lady Lavinia had been inquiring about Malcolm and when he would be returning to London.

  Fritz had quite a lot to say about that, which somewhat took away from the idea of a postscript, and his attempts at humor did not translate for Malcolm.

  He groaned and folded the letter, putting it into his desk with the others. He had quite enough to worry and think about without adding the obsessive nature of Lady Lavinia into the mix!

  Malcolm sat back, rubbing his hands over his face, trying to force back the unease the reports had given him. There was nothing he could do about it here. He had been ordered to remain while his wife needed him, and everything was being handled. Frankly, he had most likely only been informed out of consideration, not because they expected him to do anything or act upon the information.

  It probably would have been better if he knew nothing at all. But then, being let out would have driven him mad. Fritz undoubtedly knew that.

  “Malcolm?”

  He turned in surprise to the doorway where Beth stood, her brow furrowed, her eyes distant. She wore a yellow day dress this afternoon, looking so like she had before the accident, except for the vacancy of her eyes, he would have forgotten all about it. She was the ray of sunshine he needed at this moment, and his chest c
onstricted almost painfully at the sight of her.

  “Did I fall asleep?” she asked wryly.

  Malcolm chuckled and leaned against his desk. “You did. You always do.”

  Beth groaned, grinning ruefully. “I can’t keep doing that.”

  “I don’t see why not,” he mused, reaching out an arm and taking her hand.

  She gave him a look that almost made him think she could see him, aside from the fact that her eyes were attempting to focus on something just to his left instead of on him. “You don’t see why not?”

  He shook his head, knowing she couldn’t see it. “No, I do not.”

  Beth’s brow furrowed, and she tried to tug her hand out of his hold, but he only pulled her in, settling her squarely between his legs. “You must help me learn how to navigate this house without sight, Malcolm. Lying up there in bed is proving to be very dangerous for me.”

  “I find it very convenient,” he replied in a low voice, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to her neck.

  She gave a little half moan, and let her head fall back. “Do you want a wife or an invalid, my lord?”

  “You don’t seem very much like an invalid to me,” he said, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “In fact, you seem quite robust.”

  Beth clamped down on her lips as her cheeks flamed red. “I’m assuming you can see this blush.”

  He stroked a flushed cheek with a laugh. “I can, and I find it quite charming.”

  She sighed in irritation and nudged him with an elbow. “Malcolm.” Her legs shifted restlessly between his. “I’m serious. I love what we have, what… we’ve found, but I want to do things again!”

  Until that moment, Malcolm wasn’t entirely sure he had fully grasped this situation for what it was to Beth. He had been thinking of himself yet again, the convenience of having an obliging wife at hand to indulge in. He’d been tending to her as if she was an invalid. What woman would not wish to be waited on hand and foot by a man willing to think of nothing but her comfort and pleasure?

  But Beth was hardly any other woman, and being laid up in bed without sight had to be an insufferable torment. Finding her way around the room shouldn’t be an accomplishment for her. Eating a full meal without assistance ought to be her accomplishment. Beating the children at games, provided it was properly supervised and not particularly long, ought to be her accomplishment. Resuming her duties as Lady Montgomery ought to be her accomplishment. Not this. She was meant for so much more, whether she could see or not.

  He shook his head and rose quickly. “Of course, you do, Beth, and you should. I’ll help you in any way that I can.” He tilted his head at her, looking her over as if suddenly realizing what it meant that she was before him. “How did you come down?”

  She smiled at him now, or rather in his direction. “Mrs. Rawlins came to see to me. She brought Annie with her, and the two of them helped me change, and it was almost like before. It was so lovely, Malcolm, and they were so sweet. Then Mrs. Rawlins helped me down the stairs. She’s quite good at it, actually. Did you know she has a niece that’s blind? She lived with her niece for several years, so I think she could help me.”

  Malcolm stared at his wife in astonishment, thrilled to hear her say so much at once. She had lost her chattering nature since her accident, and only now did he realize that he had missed it. “I am sure she would be a valuable asset to you,” he managed, smiling with more emotion than he meant to. He came to her, placing his hands on her arms, and kissed her brow. “I’m only sorry to have had my morning duties passed on to someone else. I love doing that.”

  Beth tilted her head up to give him a look. “You can’t be there all the time, Malcolm. I won’t be able to do everything I should if you are always about. You have things to do, and I have things to do, and we have servants to help us.”

  He rubbed her arms gently. “I know, love. I just didn’t think… Well, you didn’t want them involved before, what with…” He trailed off helplessly.

  Comprehension dawned, and she smiled ruefully. “I can’t afford pride in my circumstances, can I? Everybody in the house, and probably most of the people in the neighborhood, know of my situation.” She ran a hand up his arm and felt for his face, laying her hand along his cheek. “I can’t commandeer my husband for every little thing.”

  “I think you probably could,” he murmured, turning to kiss her palm.

  Beth rolled her eyes. “Well, yes, I could, but it doesn’t follow that I should.” She slid her hand around to the back of his neck and tugged, and he followed, kissing her gently, but thoroughly.

  “I’ll still commandeer you for other things,” she whispered, grinning up at him.

  He chuckled, touching his brow to hers. “I should hope so.” The weight of his previous tasks suddenly returned, and he sighed heavily, pulling Beth into a tight embrace and burying his face into her shoulder.

  “What’s wrong, Malcolm?” Beth murmured as she wrapped her arms around him.

  He shook his head against her. “I just need to hold you for a moment. Is that all right?”

  Beth’s hold on him increased, and she nuzzled against him. “Yes. Please. Thank you.”

  Malcolm laughed and kissed her shoulder lightly. “Impertinent.”

  “Probably,” she agreed. “But I love when you hold me. I think I always will.”

  Her honesty struck him, and he had to fight for a swallow. For a man who was known for his reticence, he found himself completely unmanned by Beth’s open nature. It prompted him to respond in kind, to be vulnerable with her, to reveal more of himself than he might otherwise have done.

  “I can promise you this, Beth,” he replied, grateful for once that she couldn’t see his face. “I will always want to hold you. Be willing to hold you. Want to be near you. I’ll never mind waiting on you hand and foot, because I will be with you. In truth, I am your servant. If you send for me, no matter the reason, I will come.”

  Beth sighed heavily and buried her face into his chest.

  He ran a hand over her hair, smiling a little at the tremor he felt run through her.

  She sniffled a little, then lifted her head. “I don’t think you should talk like that, or you might make me fall in love with you, and you swore this was not to be a marriage of affection.”

  Malcolm paused at that. Could she be in love with him? Her words were teasing, but he heard the wavering tone. It was an intriguing thought, and his mind seized upon it.

  Hang what he once had wanted, what he once had thought! He wanted Beth to love him. And if he could manage it, he wanted to love her, too.

  He almost laughed at the sudden shift in his perspective, in his nature, and cupped her cheeks gently. “I don’t know about you,” he whispered, kissing her softly, “but I believe we may forget about that particular point.” He leaned down to capture her lips again, slowly and with great tenderness. “I think we have gone far beyond it. I believe this is, in fact, a marriage of affection.”

  Beth’s eyes were closed, but her throat worked on a swallow. “Oh dear,” she murmured, her fingers latching onto the lapels of his coat. “My dear Lord Montgomery, whatever shall we do about that?”

  He grazed his nose across hers, grinning to himself. “Don’t worry, my lady. I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

  She nodded, sighing a little. “I knew you would. But in the meantime…”

  He understood her meaning and kissed her again.

  Chapter Eighteen

  There was a huge commotion with a great deal of screaming and shouting, and her husband was in the midst of it. Or perhaps he was causing it. Beth couldn’t quite make it out.

  When the day had dawned brilliant and bright, Malcolm had declared a holiday from classes and insisted that they all spend the day outside. Mrs. Rawlins had ordered a picnic for them, and Mrs. Franklin enjoyed a rare day to herself. The children had been beside themselves to have an entire day with Malcolm and Bitsy and had promised to behave with absolute perfection, as
Archer and Jane proudly proclaimed. She could only imagine how earnest the younger two had looked.

  It truly was astonishing that she could manage this at all, but the last few days had been amazing for her and for Malcolm. Especially with Malcolm.

  They’d fallen into a pattern over the last several days, one where he would go down to the study and see to his duties, then come back up and help her dress, escort her downstairs, and the two of them would go from room to room while Beth found her bearings in each. Yesterday, the weather had been fine, so Malcolm had taken her outside for the first time, and it had absolutely delighted her.

  In turn, it had delighted him and the children. They had been frantic to show her everything she had missed, forgetting briefly that she couldn’t see, and then scrambling to describe things to her. Beth had taken it all in stride, and once the children had gone back to their lessons, she’d asked Malcolm to walk her around the garden.

  He’d done it, slowly and carefully, describing how things looked now, seeming so pleased when she remembered something or when she instinctively turned on the path without his guidance. She was improving every day, everything was exciting and refreshing and new, and she was all smiles and determination.

  Malcolm had showered her with praises, and she was convinced it was his strength that was carrying her through this trial.

  Today, they’d begun with a long walk, which had felt heavenly to Beth. She’d been out walking every day, either with Malcolm or with Lily, and her strength was rapidly increasing. Mrs. Rawlins took time away from her busy schedule to familiarize Beth with the house in her current state, and she and Malcolm helped her daily to find accommodations.

  It was strenuous and tedious, but absolutely necessary. She could not yet manage the stairs by herself, but she was close.

  Being outdoors, however, was the closest thing to freedom she had felt in ages. Oh, she knew full well it was a hazardous thing for her, given the challenges with terrain and orientation, and she would never think of venturing out alone. But the sun on her face, the grass beneath her feet, the wind in her hair… It all felt incredibly perfect.