At The Duke's Pleasure Page 33

  Knowing that not to be the case, she had no difficulty turning her thoughts back to the matter at hand.

  She searched, opening and looking through another pair of drawers before she found what she was seeking. Oddly enough, the information was on a page of today’s Morning Chronicle, where Edward had scrawled a block of notations.

  August 3

  11:00

  Danberry Hall

  Wherever the devil that is, she thought, a scowl creasing her forehead.

  Just then a footfall came at the door.

  She glanced up and found Mr Hughes standing on the threshold, a look of astonishment on his face—as well as disapproval, if she didn’t miss her guess.

  “May I help you, Your Grace?” he said, striding into the room. “Was there something you required?” His tone bordered on the accusatory, as though she were doing something she shouldn’t. Which, of course, she was, depending on one’s point of view.

  Ignoring his remark, she gave him an imperious look, an expression more than worthy of the Duchess of Clybourne. “Have you heard of Danberry Hall?”

  Her question threw him off guard. “Well, yes, I think I have.”

  “Where is it located?”

  “South of Guildford in Surrey, I believe. An old estate that fell on hard times after the last earl passed away. Went to a cousin, though I don’t think he’s in residence very often.”

  “Thank you, Mr Hughes. You’ve been most helpful.” Placing the newspaper back inside the desk, she shut the drawer.

  He blinked with confusion. “You’re welcome, Your Grace.” Then he frowned. “A-About His Grace’s desk—”

  She strode toward him. “I suggest you lock it back up, assuming you have a key. If not, use this. It works astonishingly well.”

  With his mouth hanging open, she handed him the bent hairpin. Going out into the hall, she called for Croft and ordered the coach.

  “They’re in there right and tight, Yer Grace,” Edward’s lead man whispered in a voice too low to carry. “The boys er in position and ready at yer command.”

  “Excellent, Aggies,” he told the wiry, bald headed ex–Bow Street runner, who Edward had convinced some while ago to do a bit of business for the government instead. The whole team, in fact, were former runners with a knowledge of backdoor dealings and underworld activities. He’d seen their skills at work and knew he could trust them with his life.

  Edward checked his weapon, then secured the gun at his waist. He didn’t plan to fire the pistol, but there was no sense going inside unarmed.

  Glancing up, he surveyed his surroundings once more, the stone walls of Danberry Hall rising up like a looming grey shadow against the nearly moonless night sky. Insects hummed brightly in the moist summer air, frogs belching out deep-throated songs in the tall, unmown grass.

  “I’ll go first,” Edward said. “You and Brown come in behind.”

  Aggies grinned, then raised his head to give the signal—two owl’s hoots that let the others know the mission was in play.

  Edward moved toward the house with fast, purposeful strides. Rather than burst through a side door or window, which seemed unnecessarily troublesome and dramatic, he walked straight up to the front of the house and knocked, careful to keep to the concealing night shadows. After all, the courier from St. Giles Street was expected, so someone inside was certain to answer.

  A minute passed before he heard the metallic click of a lock being pulled aside and the creak of the old wooden door as it opened. “Haven’t I told you not to use this entrance,” came a censorious male voice. “And you’re late. Again. Do you have the items?”

  Edward gave a muffled assent and the door opened wider to admit him. He stepped inside. Low candlelight illuminated the worn interior of the once proud hall with its threadbare carpets and scuffed furnishings.

  The other man turned, his eyes rounding as he caught sight of Edward. “What are you…”

  “Not who you were expecting, eh, Dumont? So sorry to disappoint. I, on the other hand, am delighted, since I was hoping I’d find you here tonight. Seems I’m in luck. So, where’s your partner?”

  Recovering quickly, the Frenchman assumed a casual stance. “Partner? I don’t know what you mean. I am here alone.”

  “No, you aren’t. And you can drop the act, since we have your man in custody.”

  Dumont didn’t react, only a small twitch near his right eye betraying his true emotions.

  “Had quite a lot to say, your man, once we managed to loosen his tongue,” Edward continued. “So, do you care to add your remarks now or would you rather wait until you can do it from prison?”

  Dumont’s brown eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and fear. Without warning, he shoved past Edward and bolted for the door. He made it outside, but was just as quickly marched back in, Aggies prodding him forward with a loaded pistol in hand.

  “Got us one of ’em, Your Grace.” The runner flashed a gap-toothed grin.

  “Back so soon, Dumont. Once again, where is your associate?”

  “I told you. I’m the only one here.”

  “How noble. I wouldn’t have thought it of you under the circumstances.”

  Striding deeper into the house, he looked into two rooms, both empty. Turning around, he raised his voice, calling out at large, “I know you’re here, so you might as well show yourself. I have men surrounding the house. There’s nowhere for you to go.”

  When no answer came, he called again. “I will search if you put me to the trouble. Come out now and save us both a lot of bother.”

  Long moments passed again, and just when Edward thought he and his men would have to comb the house, the soft tread of footsteps came from the landing above. “What is all this, Clybourne? Or are you often in the habit of invading private homes in the middle of the night?”

  “Only when I’m hunting for spies, Lady Stockton.”

  Philipa Stockton became visible as she moved out of the dim shadows and walked down the stairs. “Spies?” She laughed. “How absurd. And what are you doing to poor Dumont? He’s my houseguest and you should be more polite.”

  “Oh, you may be sure I’ll be especially polite when I’m questioning him. And you too, Lady Stockton. Or should I call you Wolf?”

  Her eyes widened, unable to hide her surprise.

  “Yes, I figured out the connection,” Edward told her. “Although the spelling threw me off until today when I realized I’d omitted the ‘e.’ Your maiden name is Wolfe, is it not? Philipa Wolfe, whose father owned Danberry Hall until he ruined himself with gaming and drink.”

  Her insouciant façade cracked, her lip curling along one edge. “Yes, that would be my father, who squeezed every last cent out of this place, and out of me as well when he married me off at sixteen to that reprobate Stockton. The only good thing my father ever did was to break his neck when his horse refused a jump.”

  She strolled deeper into the hallway. “But having a bad father and an even worse husband doesn’t make me a spy. Nor does the last name of Wolfe.”

  “Oh, but it does,” Edward stated. “Not only do we have the money and papers we retrieved from the courier, we have this house as a coded rendezvous point and you as the contact.”

  “I’m afraid you have the wrong person,” she defended. “As for the name Wolfe, it’s no more than an interesting coincidence. The items you mentioned are for Dumont. He’s the spy.” Her lovely eyes brimmed with sorrow and regret as they turned toward Dumont. “I’m sorry to give you up, Rene. I tried, but it’s no use. Surely you must see that?”

  She looked back at Edward, pleading. “Clybourne, you have to believe me when I tell you that he forced me to let him use this house. He blackmailed me and left me with no other choice.”

  “Why, you lying little bitch!” Dumont spat back, clearly enraged.

  “See how abusive he is? What else was I to do?”

  Edward gazed at her, studying her beautiful, supposedly innocent face, and knew why her schemes had
worked so well. She was a master at lies and guile and seduction.

  “I might be inclined to believe that,” Edward told her, “if not for the conversation I had with Lord Lymehurst today. I understand he caught you going through his office one night while he was supposed to be sleeping. Cut you off afterwards, I believe.”

  Philipa shrugged. “I was merely looking for pen and paper. He completely misunderstood.”

  “Did he? He knows now that he ought to have reported the incident, but he was too embarrassed at the time. In hindsight, he realizes how badly he erred, not only about his own judgment, but for his trust in you.”

  He fixed her with a hard stare. “How many men have you taken to your bed to get their secrets? How many lives have you cost with your lies? I’m certain once I have a chance to talk to more of your lovers, an interesting pattern will emerge. Particularly since so many of them have connections to the War Office.”

  Her face drained of colour.

  “Secrets have been going astray for quite some time,” Edward continued. “We assumed there was a leak high up in the government. We just didn’t realize how many someone’s it was and that they didn’t even realize they were passing information. Very clever, Lady Stockton. A location here, a name there, who would ever connect all the small bits into a larger whole?”

  Abruptly, her façade fell away. “It was a good plan,” she admitted, a look of pride on her face.

  “You did it for the money, I presume?”

  “Of course. I care nothing for this war. It’s all a great lot of nonsense thought up by men who like to squabble and fight. What do I care who wins or loses?” She set her fisted hands at her waist. “What does matter to me, though, is maintaining the style of life to which I am accustomed. The miserly widow’s portion Stockton left me barely covers my basic necessities. Other women may be willing to accept reduced circumstances, but I’m not among them.”

  “Another woman would have remarried,” Edward observed.

  “Remarry! Why would I want to enslave myself again when I’d just managed to throw off the first set of shackles? Thank you, but I have no interest in marriage.”

  “Just in bedding men for their secrets?”

  She cast him a look of derision. “You don’t actually think I wanted to sleep with those men, do you?” Her pretty mouth curled in distaste. “Particularly Lymehurst. You may tell him that for me. He’s a dreadful lover.” Glancing away, she sighed. “No, out of them all, your brother’s the only one who—”

  “Who what?” Edward asked, his voice softening. “Who mattered? I believe you on that score, since Jack didn’t have any secrets worth stealing, did he?” He studied her for a long moment, almost feeling sorry for her. Then his sympathy fell away. “Who is responsible for Lord Everett’s murder? Was he your lover too?”

  She arched a dark eyebrow. “On occasion, but if you’re looking for his killer, you have him already.” Lifting a finger, she pointed at Dumont. “How did Everett look again, Rene, when you stuck the knife through his heart? Stunned was the way you described him, if I remember correctly. Everett always did have a rather overinflated opinion of his own worth. He never imagined he might one day become expendable.”

  Dumont’s lips rolled up over his teeth. “As do you, Madame. You would do well to watch your back from now on.” Realizing he was well and truly caught, he struggled inside Aggies’s hold. But his efforts were useless, especially when two more of Edward’s men arrived to assist.

  “Take him away,” Edward ordered. “Make sure he’s well-guarded until we get him in a cell.”

  “What about that one?” Aggies asked, nodding toward Philipa.

  Edward turned a look her way. “Oh, I believe I can handle Lady Stockton. You’re not going to be a problem, are you?”

  She gave a faint smile and shrugged. “What would be the use?”

  The matter settled, Aggies and one of the men led Dumont away, French curses rolling volubly from the émigré’s tongue.

  “Is there anything you would like to take with you?” Edward asked Philipa.

  “A few clothes, some books, a toothbrush perhaps. What else does one require in prison?” she questioned with a self-deprecating smile.

  Edward told the remaining man to go upstairs and gather Philipa’s belongings. Once he’d departed, they stood for a couple of minutes in silence.

  “Would you care for a seat?” Edward asked, indicating a nearby chair.

  She shook her head, her hands folded at her waist. “No. Although I ought to thank you for not rushing me off straightaway. It’s most kind of you to allow me to take a few belongings.”

  “I can’t see the harm. You are a woman, after all, even if you’re—”

  “So this is your dull business meeting, is it?” declared a lilting voice from just inside the doorway.

  Edward’s heart leapt, his gaze flying forward as shock shot all the way to his toes. “Claire!”

  “Seems a rather small gathering with just the two of you. But then I’m sure you planned it that way. So, are you on your way upstairs or have you only just come back down?”

  Lines dug gouges on his brow, his gut tightening with a slick twist. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in London!”

  Her mouth firmed into an angry slash, blue eyes flashing like lightning, as she strode farther into the room. “So are you, Your Grace.”

  A new thought occurred to him. “How in Hades did you even know where to find me?”

  “I broke into your desk. It proved most illuminating.”

  Lady Stockton gave a delicate snort of amusement.

  Edward’s jaw went slack. “You did what!”

  “It seemed only appropriate considering your lies,” Claire retorted. “How dare you! And to think I believed you when you assured me she wasn’t your mistress.”

  “Oh dear,” Lady Stockton remarked, finally entering the conversation. “So she thinks we’re having a tryst?” Eyes dancing, she began to laugh. “Dear girl, you are badly misled. Actually he’s here to—”

  “Be quiet!” Claire told her before rounding again on Edward. “And you, I don’t ever want to speak to you again. When you return to London, I’ll be gone. You may forward the divorce papers to me at Marsden Manor, since I’m going home to Mama.”

  Incredulous anger burned through his veins, a panic unlike any he’d ever known hitting him like a roundhouse punch. In the blink of an eye, his entire life had been turned upside down. “Your only home is with me,” he said through clenched teeth. “And you aren’t going anywhere.”

  She set her fists on her hips. “Oh yes, I am.”

  He was glaring back, a rejoinder on his tongue, when Philipa Stockton suddenly lunged at him. Before he could prevent it, she reached down and snatched the pistol from where he’d secured it at his waist.

  Claire let out a squeak. “Oh my God, is that a gun?”

  Having forgotten all about Philipa in his argument with Claire, he whirled around to face Lady Stockton. “Put that down. It will do you no good.”

  “I think it will,” Philipa stated, stepping back to aim the loaded weapon directly at his chest. “I think this will do me a world of good. You’re not taking me to gaol, Clybourne.”

  “Gaol?” Claire said in obvious confusion.

  “That’s right, Duchess. Your husband is here to arrest me for espionage, not to conduct an affair. You should have a better opinion of him, you know, since he’s as loyal as a hound. Anyone with eyes can see he’s besotted with you.”

  “I’m also tenacious,” Edward said, wondering how he could get the gun out of Philipa’s grasp. “You won’t get away, you know.”

  “Oh, but I will. I have a store of hidden cash, enough to find my way to France and then on to who knows where. America, perhaps? I hear people can get lost there quite easily. I understand one can even establish a new life with no questions asked.”

  “You’ll be found,” he told her. “Your crimes are such that they’l
l never stop looking.”

  “They will if I’m half a world away. Now stand aside, so I can leave.”

  He shook his head. “No. Now give me the gun. It’ll go easier on you if you do.”

  “Never!”

  A creak sounded from above, the man he’d sent to pack Lady Stockton’s belongings creeping down the staircase, his own gun drawn.

  Philipa turned at the disturbance. As she did, Edward sprang forward and grabbed for the weapon in Philipa’s hand. But she fought him off, displaying a surprising amount of strength. They wrestled for long moments, the gun firing out into the room.

  With that single bullet expended, the battle was done. Wrenching the smoking weapon from her grasp, he turned her over to the runner, who received her with an iron grip. “Lock her up tight,” Edward told him. “And be sure not to listen to a word she says.”

  “No!” Philipa cried, tears streaming over her cheeks as she was led from the house. “No, please!”

  But he was deaf to her pleas. He had other more important matters on his mind. “Claire,” he said, turning to find his wife. “Let’s go home now. Let’s be together where we can talk.”

  Rather than agreeing, she just stared, her face oddly devoid of colour, her lips pale as winter frost. “Edward, I…”

  Terror rippled over him, raising gooseflesh on his skin. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  She met his gaze, her blue eyes glassy. “I…I think I’ve been shot.”

  Rushing forward, he caught her just as she crumpled to the floor, her cloak falling back to reveal the wide red bloodstain spreading wetly over her chest.

  Cradling her to him, he gave a hoarse shout.

  Chapter 28

  I love you, Claire.

  Don’t leave me. Don’t you dare.

  You’re going to be all right, do you hear?

  I can’t live without you. Please, sweetheart, please don’t die.