Mary looked around the room before squeezing his forearm. "The scandal must be contained," she whispered. "I do not wish for Lady Sutherland to suffer the indignity of scandalous rumors being spread about how her husband breathed his last breath. It will crush her, Camden. Please see to it that a plausible cover story is used."
"Of course. I will go and tell Lady Sutherland myself. A meeting with an exotic imports dealer gone horribly wrong on the dangerous docks should suffice to silence any wagging tongues."
"Good, see to it. Now if you'll excuse me, I must return to my guests," Mary said as she stood.
Camden followed suit and bowed to his hostess. "Good evening, Lady Tisbury."
When Mary was fully engaged with her guests, Camden slipped out through the balcony doors and left the property by the garden's side gate. He hated this errand to Lady Sutherland, but it was his responsibility as spymaster to inform loved ones if there was a death. Henry had been his oldest childhood friend, and he would miss him terribly. Mary was correct—any possible scandal must be contained.
It didn't take long for Camden to reach the Sutherland townhouse. He lifted the knocker and let it bang once. It was late, but nothing could be done about that. His sorrowful errand could wait no longer.
The door opened. "Your Grace, are you expected?" the butler asked.
"No, Mr. Henley, but I must speak with Lady Sutherland immediately."
Henley moved aside to let the duke come inside. "Of course, Your Grace. Please come this way.
Henley led Camden through the quiet house to the small parlor in the rear. It was a favorite of Lady Sutherland and most nights would find her there. With a soft knock, the butler opened the door. "The Duke of Wetherby to see you, Lady Sutherland."
Lady Sutherland looked up from her book and rose from her seat on the sofa. She walked to Camden with outstretched hands. "Your Grace, how delightful to see you, but I'm afraid my husband is not at home this evening."
"Would you care for tea to be brought around?" Henley asked.
Camden shook his head. "No. I will not be staying long."
"Thank you, Henley. That will be all," Lady Sutherland said.
The butler nodded and quietly closed the door.
Camden took the lady's hand and led her back to the sofa. "Lady Sutherland, I'm afraid I don't come seeking your husband's company this evening. Unfortunately, I must be the bearer of some terrible news."
She paled. "Oh, please, no. Tell me that my husband is fine. I beg of you."
"I'm so sorry. I cannot. Henry is dead."
Camden's heart broke as he watched Lady Sutherland's blue eyes fill with tears and spill down her cheeks. The blond beauty was now a widow at the tender age of three and twenty.
"How?" She blurted out between sobs.
Camden hated seeing her so hurt and devastated. "I don't know everything, but it seems that Henry was at the docks to check on the latest shipment of antiques. Somehow, the deal went wrong, and he was murdered."
"But why was he there? Why not send his agent or his business manager?"
Camden gathered the near-hysterical Lady Sutherland into his arms. "I don't know. I promise you, though, that I will find out who has done this terrible deed and bring them to justice."
"And what of my son? He's barely three months old, and now he'll never know his father," she cried.
"I promise to keep Henry's memory alive for Thomas. You can count on it."
It was a long time before he could calm the grieving widow and convince her to try to get some sleep. Sleep for him would be impossible this wretched night. He was on a mission to find the killer of his most treasured friend.
Thoughts of Henry flooded his mind as he made his way back to his own townhouse. He had met Henry at school when they were boys, long before either of them came into their titles. With their wicked sense of humor and mischievous streak, the boys spent a good deal of time in the headmaster's office, but none could deny the charisma they both exuded. It was probably the main reason they had not been expelled from Eton. They had continued their deep friendship throughout their schooling and into adulthood.
Camden shook his head, dispelling his childhood memories. Memories would not bring Henry back. He had to be on the top of his game while investigating this crime, leaving no stone unturned. He was more determined than ever to find Henry's killer.
Chapter
3
HANNAH LOOKED AROUND THE ROOM as the last dance of the evening was announced. She'd been looking forward to dancing with the mysterious Duke of Wetherby, but it seemed he was nowhere to be found. Disappointment raced through her. She was intrigued by the handsome duke and had wanted to spend some time in his company. She saw her aunt by the balcony doors and walked toward her.
"Lady Tisbury, have you seen His Grace?"
When Mary turned toward her, Hannah noticed her red-rimmed eyes and instantly became alarmed. "Is something wrong? Are you ill?"
Mary shook her head. "No. I'm fine. There's nothing for you to worry about, my dear. Perhaps I'm coming down with a bit of a cold, that's all."
Hannah had never seen her aunt so out of sorts and reached for her hand. "Let me escort you upstairs to your sitting room, where you can rest a bit. Shall I ring for some tea?"
Mary nodded, and Hannah led her out of the crowded ballroom. "That will be lovely, Hannah. Thank you," Mary said.
The two women climbed the stairs and walked down the wide corridor to Mary's suite of rooms. Once Mary was settled in a chair by the fire, Hannah said, "You rest now. I shall see to the tea immediately."
She rushed out of the room in search of her aunt's lady's maid, Bowden. She'd been Mary's maid for almost three decades, and Hannah knew she cared for her mistress deeply. Bowden would know exactly what her aunt needed.
Hannah found Bowden farther down the hallway.
"Miss Hannah, what is wrong? Why are you rushing about? Shouldn't you be in the ballroom enjoying the dancing?
"Bowden, I don't think my aunt is feeling well. I'm going to order her some tea, but I would feel better if someone stayed with her."
"I will see to her at once," Bowden said and hurried down the hall.
Hannah descended the stairs and found the butler in the foyer. "Mr. Watson, I'm afraid Lady Tisbury is not feeling well. Would you please have Mrs. Swain see to it that tea is delivered to her private sitting room?"
"Very good, Miss Richardson," Mr. Watson said as he turned and made his way to the kitchen.
Hannah walked back into the ballroom as the last notes of the final dance were being played. As the guests left, she said her goodbyes and made excuses for her aunt's absence. When the door closed on the last couple, Hannah hurried back upstairs to check on her aunt. It unsettled her to see her aunt unwell. She'd always thought of her as so strong and healthy, the invincible Lady Tisbury. It was unthinkable that anything could happen to her.
She didn't bother to knock and instead walked straight into her aunt's sitting room. Bowden had stoked the fire, and the room was toasty warm.
While they waited for the tea, Mary reached out and grasped Hannah's hand, squeezing it gently. "Thank you, Hannah, for being so thoughtful and saying goodbye to our guests. I fear I'm more tired than I realized. A cup of tea is just what I need tonight."
Hannah smiled. "I'm happy to help. I was worried for you when I saw you downstairs. You did not look well."
A light knock sounded on the door, and the tea tray was delivered by one of the maids. Bowden poured the tea and handed a cup to Mary. "Miss Richardson, will you be staying for tea as well?"
Hannah glanced at her aunt and saw the tiredness etched on her face and the dark circles forming under her eyes. "No, thank you, Bowden. I'll retire now that my aunt is being looked after." She kissed Mary's cheek. "Good evening, Aunt Mary. I wish you a restful night."
"Thank you, dear. Good
evening."
With her aunt safely in the hands of Bowden, Hannah left the sitting room and walked down the corridor to her own room. The maid, Muriel Grey, was waiting for her when she opened the door to her bedchamber.
"Miss Richardson, did you have a good time this evening?" Muriel asked.
"Muriel, you need not be so formal with me. Please, call me Hannah."
"I don't think I can. It would not be proper. Lady Tisbury prefers we are formal with her guests, and I would not want to disappoint her."
Hannah furrowed her brow as she looked at the young woman. "How about this? Would Miss Hannah suit your sensibilities?"
"Well, I don't know."
"Muriel, I do so want us to be friends while I'm in London. There's no need to be formal in my own bedchamber."
That coaxed a smile from Muriel. "Of course, that will be fine, Miss Ri…I mean, Miss Hannah."
"Good. I'm so pleased that's settled. To answer your question, I had a wonderful time this evening and met some new people as well."
"Would you care to change now? Muriel asked.
"Yes, thank you. I'm ready to retire. It's been quite a night."
"Oh, how so?"
While Muriel took the pins out of her hair and helped Hannah out of her gown and into her night rail, Hannah told her about meeting the Duke of Wetherby and then about Aunt Mary being unwell.
"Oh dear, I do hope that Lady Tisbury is not terribly ill," Muriel said.
"So do I. Perhaps she only needs some rest. You know how she fusses over these dinners. I'm afraid it wears her out more than she cares to admit."
Muriel nodded as she finished braiding Hannah's hair. She walked to the four-posted bed and pulled the covers back. "Will there be anything else this evening?"
Hannah slipped into bed. "No, thank you, Muriel. That will be all."
"Very good, Miss Hannah. I shall see you in the morning." Muriel scooped up the silk dress and slippers on her way out, leaving Hannah to her thoughts.
A lone candle burned on the table next to the bed. In the quiet of the night, thoughts of the Duke Wetherby popped into Hannah's mind.
Where did he go? He promised me the last dance. But more importantly, why did he leave without saying goodbye?
Chapter
4
THE NEXT MORNING BROUGHT BRIGHT sunlight filtering through the lace curtains of Mary's bedchamber. She slowly opened her eyes and wished with all her heart that last night's terrible news had been a bad dream. Henry's death had hit her hard. Like Camden, Henry was like a son to her. She was determined to ferret out any and all information she could that would help Camden identify and catch the killer, but even with her vast network of connections, she couldn't do it alone. It was time to seek help and let her dearest friend, Charlotte, in on her long-held secret.
Bowden opened the bedchamber door carrying a tray of tea and biscuits. "Are you feeling well today, my lady?"
"Yes. Thank you, Bowden," Mary said as she climbed out of bed and slipped on a robe before sitting at the table.
Bowden poured Mary a cup of tea. "Will you be going out today, my lady?"
Mary took the offered cup and sipped. The hot liquid burned down the length of her throat. She relished the feeling, knowing that it made her feel alive. "Yes. I need to visit with Lady Hunt today."
"Very good. Would you care to wear the blue or gray day dress?"
"The gray one will be fine. Thank you, Bowden. I will need to make one more stop after Lady Hunt's, and the gray is more suitable for that errand."
Bowden busied herself setting out Mary's clothes while Mary drank her tea and ate a little breakfast. "You gave us a scare last evening," Bowden said.
"And for that I apologize. I forget sometimes that I'm not as young as I feel."
"You must let others help you sometimes," Bowden said.
"I will take your suggestion under advisement. For now, I'll like to get dressed."
Bowden nodded and finished setting out Mary's clothes.
It was nearly eleven o'clock when Mary knocked on her friend's door. She was quickly ushered into the front parlor by the Hunt's butler.
"I will inform Lady Hunt that you are here. She will be with you momentarily," he said.
"Thank you, Mr. Winston."
Within minutes, Lady Charlotte Hunt came into the room. She looked elegant in her cream-colored day dress. With her dark brunette hair swept up off her neck and only a few gray hairs showing, her looks belied her years. They had been friends since they were both blushing brides, and there wasn't much they did not know about one another. Mary knew Charlotte was trapped in a loveless marriage, but her friend bore it well, for Charlotte would never do anything that would harm her son, Dalton, the heir to the Hunt fortune. With Dalton recently married to Miss Georgette Condiff, and the joy of grandchildren to come kept Charlotte as content as she possibly could be under the circumstances.
"Mary, what a lovely surprise. I wasn't expecting you today. Have I managed to forget an appointment?"
Mary reached for Charlotte's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Not at all, but there is a matter of utmost importance that I must speak with you about."
Charlotte nodded. "Would you care to see the view overlooking the garden? It is quite lovely."
Mary understood Charlotte's hint for a more private setting. "I would love to, thank you. How are the roses coming along?"
Charlotte linked arms with Mary, and the two women strolled toward the back of the townhouse. "They are quite lovely, although nothing to rival your gardens, of that I'm quite sure." When they reached her private sitting room, the butler was nearby. "Mr. Winston, would you ask Mrs. Spaulding to send around a pot of tea and some of her delicious lemon cakes?"
The butler nodded. "Very good, Lady Hunt."
Charlotte closed the door. "Mary, please, take a seat. You're looking quite pale today. Is something wrong?"
Mary nodded, but said no more.
"Once the tea arrives, no one will disturb us here," Charlotte said.
Mary sat at the round table near the window. The view of the garden was quite lovely indeed. "That's good because what I have to tell you must not be repeated outside these four walls."
Charlotte furrowed her brow. "Mary, that sounds ominous. Are you well?"
"Yes, no need to concern yourself with my health. I am quite well, but I have a story to tell you, and I dearly hope that you will not be angry with me when I'm finished."
Charlotte shook her head. "I have not found any reason to be angry with you for more than twenty-five years. I sincerely doubt today will be any different."
Mary opened her mouth to speak, but was silenced by a knock on the door.
"Yes, enter," Charlotte said.
A housemaid came in with a tea tray and tiny lemon cakes. "Mrs. Spaulding says if you wish for more cakes, please ring the bell," the young woman said.
"Thank you, Betsy. That will be all."
"Yes, Lady Hunt," Betsy said as she closed the door behind her.
Charlotte poured the tea and handed Mary a cup. "Now, please tell me what has brought you here today so out of sorts."
Mary took a sip of tea before she began her tale. "My dear Charlotte, you are my oldest and dearest friend. We have been through much in our years together, but there is something that I have kept secret from you. Something vitally important that I was not at liberty to share."
Charlotte grasped Mary's hand, squeezing it gently. "Mary, whatever it is, please continue with your story. There is no need to be reluctant in the telling. I will be forever your friend, no matter what news you bring."
Mary nodded. "Thank you, Charlotte. Your support means the world to me. My secret goes back more than twenty-five years. After Colby was born, I was approached by a man asking me to do a great favor in service of our country."
"What man? What kind of favor?" Charlotte asked, a look of concern passing over her face.
"As it turns out, he was from the Home Office, and he explained that there was a great need for someone with influence in the ton to help root out plots against the Crown. Even though France and England were not at war at the time, threats were still abundant. They needed someone who could pass information along without raising suspicion. It seemed I was the perfect candidate because of my position as a well-respected woman in Society. You know how easily gossip travels at dinners and balls, so I purposely began to cultivate friendships that I would normally shun. No one was too minor to overlook, at least according to the Home Office."
Charlotte eye's widened. "My goodness. I had no idea you were involved in the spying business."
"That was the point, of course. The invitations I received, the dinners I held and, of course, the annual ball, all allowed me to speak with many different people. No one was the wiser when I passed along information to the agents. Over the years, I've grown fond of many of the Crown's best spies, and that is what brings me here today."
Charlotte's hand rested against her breast. "Oh my, Mary. You have certainly given me a shock, but I must say I am so proud of you. It could not have been easy for you to have such a great responsibility upon your shoulders. Has Albert been involved?"
Mary furrowed her brow and reached for her tea. She took several sips before she answered Charlotte's question. She swallowed hard before continuing. "No. I'm afraid not. Unfortunately, the down side of this great responsibility is that I have learned information over the years that I wished I hadn't known. One of those things involved Albert. Let me say that without my intervention, Albert would have led a very different life. However, my knowledge of what he did meant I could not ever be a wife to him in the traditional sense again. It rocked me to my core to know that he was untrustworthy and I nearly separated from him, but the Home Office asked me not to go through with it. In the end, it was better for my position—and of course, for my son—if I continued to live with him, but things have never been the same between us since. That is the real reason Colby is an only child. I would have dearly loved to have more children, but that was not to be. I could not bring myself to lie in the marriage bed with Albert again, so I had to give up my dream of having a daughter."
Dare to Love a Spy (Book 3, Age of Innocence) Page 2