“Remember that little Italian girl we found in ’thirteen? The archbishop’s niece?”
“Just after you returned from Bengal,” Constance added. “You told me about her, Wyn. You and Leam found her working as a maid at a masquerade ball, though I still cannot imagine you dressing in costume.” She smiled.
“I didn’t. But Blackwood did, of course. Recall that one, old chap?”
Leam had never forgotten it. Not in the three years since then. It had been their first assignment in London after India. But that was not the reason that ball had never slipped from his memory.
“He intends to shut himself away this time, Colin.” Constance said quietly. “He thought he was doing so when he joined the Club and went to India upon your behest. But he has found out his mistake finally.”
“One final task, Leam.”
Leam’s gaze met Gray’s. “And after that?”
“I shall never ask again.”
Yale folded his arms. “What does our shadowy director wish this time?”
“He wants the two of you to meet with Seton. Two months ago our sailor friend sent word he had news that could not be imparted to a courier or by post. We haven’t heard from him since then, however, and suspect that at least you know where he is. Do you?”
Leam nodded. Men cut from entirely different cloth, Jinan Seton and Colin Gray had never gotten on particularly well. But the sailor kept Leam apprised of his ship’s location roughly every month. He knew where to find him.
“Is that all?”
“The director would also like confirmation of Seton’s resignation from the Club, from his own hand.”
“Then, no Scottish rebels or French spies after all?” Yale’s gaze shifted between Leam and Gray.
“Not at this time.”
“Then why did you mention them?” They’d known each other for years, but Leam did not entirely trust his old friend. Colin Gray possessed one purpose in life: to keep England safe. Leam did not fault him for it, but neither did he understand it. He felt no such staunch loyalty to anything. He only pretended it.
“I hoped you would bite at the bait. But clearly that is not to be.” Gray’s regard remained sober.
“Will you do this last favor?”
Jin’s ship was berthed in Bristol. Leam could make it there on horseback and still arrive at Alvamoor in time for Christmas. He would like to see the sailor once more before retreating to Scotland. And he owed it to Gray, the man who had come to his rescue when he’d needed it five years earlier.
He nodded.
“Good.” Gray strode toward the door. He paused there. “Keep yourself out of trouble, Yale.”
“Not a breath of scandal shall be linked to my name.”
The viscount looked as though he wished to smile. “I daresay.” He bowed to Constance. “My lady.” He departed.
Upon the hearth rug, Hermes shifted onto his side with a lazy sigh.
“What do you say, Con,” Yale quipped, assessing her from brow to toe. “Join me for a midnight stroll? With you on my arm I shall be in heaven.”
“Oh, Wyn. Go.”
Silvery eyes alight, the young man grinned, bowed, and followed Gray from the house.
Constance chuckled. “He is incorrigible.”
“He holds you in very high esteem.”
“He likes to pretend he does, but I have yet to encounter the girl who could—” Abruptly she turned from her contemplation of the door to Leam. “Are you truly going to Scotland? Permanently this time?”
“Aye.”
She tilted her golden head. “Can you be happy at Alvamoor?”
“It is my home, Constance.”
“Won’t she always be there, in a manner?”
“Better in the ground than in the house.”
She flinched, a delicate withdrawal of tapered shoulders. “Those words are not you.”
“They are as much me as aught else.” More so. Nothing remained of the foolish lad he had been six years ago.
“You have not forgiven her in all this time?”
“The righteous make far too much of forgiveness.”
She remained silent a moment. Then, “I am to dine with Papa this evening. He will no doubt read the paper while we eat and leave to me all the conversation.”
Leam smiled for her sake. She sought to divert him. Even as a mere slip of a girl she had. But she had been too late. “Give my best to His Grace.”
She lifted her cloak from a chair. “Why don’t you join us? Papa asked after his favorite nephew only this morning.”
“Thank you. I am otherwise engaged.” If he were to make it to Alvamoor by Christmas, he must move swiftly to meet Jinan on the coast. Yale, of course, would accompany him.
Her carriage stood at the curb, an elegant vehicle with the ducal crest covered. He handed her in.
She squeezed his fingers. “After the season I will come up to Alvamoor for the summer.”
“Fiona and Jamie will be in alt. As will I. Until then.” He reached to shut the door. Constance’s hand on his sleeve arrested him.
“Leam, have you considered marriage? Again?”
“No.” Never again.
She held his gaze. “Have a pleasant trip, darling,” she said softly. “Happy Christmas.” She drew her cloak close about her and sat back on the squabs.
The rumble of the carriage receded down the street. He pivoted about and for a long moment stared at the door to 14? Dover Street. For five years he had given his life to the king’s pleasure, behind that door with the raptor-shaped knocker, and in ballrooms, drawing rooms, and squalid alleyways throughout London. Throughout all of Britain. Commenced in desperation on an eastern-
sailing ship, his tenure as a member of the Falcon Club had distracted him. Aye, for a time, it had distracted.
He turned away and started up the street. Gas lamps and the tread of his boots marked his passage through the midnight gloom. He needed the scent of the north in his senses. The Lothians at midwinter called, vibrant skies crystal clear unless they were fraught with clouds or pouring buckets of rain or barrels of snow upon a man’s lands.
Christmas at Alvamoor. This year, the first in five, he would remain past Twelfth Night. He would remain indefinitely.
As he walked, the back of his neck prickled, and he knew he was watched. As with so much of late, he cared little.
Chapter 2
“Kitty, I do beg your pardon.” Lady Emily Vale dragged up the hood of her cloak to cover pale, short-cropped locks and a finely tapered jaw. “My parents’ home is not three miles distant, yet I am certain Pen cannot drive the carriage another yard in this blizzard.”
“Come now, Athena, it cannot be helped.”
“I meant to tell you, I have changed it to Marie Antoine.” Emily buttoned the throat of her cloak and pursed her lips. “Those ninnies in the Ladies Regiment ruined Athena for me. They hadn’t any interest whatsoever in literature or politics. All they knew of ancient Greece were gowns and headdresses.”
Kitty smiled. Through the carriage window and a curtain of snow she surveyed the excessively modest inn in
