Gillian was still trying to understand how Percy, Aunt Isadora and Uncle Whitney had been snared into such a nefarious business. She still did not believe Percy possessed the intellect to mastermind such a scheme. Aunt Isadora was more concerned with the proper drape of her gowns over her bosom while her uncle was a simple man who enjoyed life. Whether in London or here at Whitings, Uncle was a good man who spent his afternoons at White’s with his friends reliving their glory days, taking his seat in Parliament, and squiring his wife around Town when Aunt Isadora wheedled.
That is it!
She jumped up from her chair and rushed to Moreham. “We have been looking at this all wrong.”
Moreham frowned down at her. “What do you mean?”
“These men are not here to steal secrets. They are here to replace the old guard in Parliament with men who are in sympathy for the French,” she insisted.
Cross muttered behind her. “Could she be right? Has this all been a ruse to change the balance of power?”
“It all makes sense now.” Uncle Whitney lurched to his feet and joined them by the window. “My heir is a mere boy barely twenty years. The lad is an easy-going sort who will fall in line with anyone who panders to his vanity. He is a veritable dandy.”
“Gillian, wake up Philly. She must be apprised of our conversation.”
Gillian left the men talking.
She rushed into Philly’s room to find the lady in question sitting up in bed reading.
“Philly, why are you still awake?”
“Couldn’t sleep until you and the others were back. I’ve been waiting to hear footsteps. Haven’t you learned by now…I know all?” Philly threw off the bedcovers to reveal her nightrail and wool stockings.
“We are down in the library with Uncle. You must come at once.”
Philly rose from the bed, grabbed her dressing gown then joined her by the door. Gillian followed the lady down the stairs into the library. The men were standing by the windows just as she had left them.
“Whitney, Moreham, Cross.” Philly addressed the men.
The gentlemen bowed to Philly. No one commented on her state of undress.
“Well, what happened at the abbey?” Philly asked Moreham.
Moreham recounted the events of the night. Philly remained quiet, asking no questions until he stated Gillian’s theory.
“That is quite an assumption, young lady. It seems Moreham was wise to bring you into his business, after all. His calculating nature working with your keen analytical mind has made short work of your first assignment.”
Philly turned to Whitney. “Well, Whitney, what do you think? Does this theory of salting the seats of Parliament with French sympathizers have any merit?”
“Oh, Philly, I wish I could say no emphatically, but the more we discuss the men involved the more likely Gillian’s theory is correct.”
“Cross go to the stable and wake my coachman. Sylvia and I will return to Town at once.” Philly waved her arm in the direction of the French windows. The earl didn’t say a word as he quickly walked over to the French windows and disappeared into the garden.
Gillian worried about what Aunt Isadora would say when she learned Philly and Lady Sylvia were on their way to London. She had to ask. “Won’t your departure tip our hand?”
Philly shook her head. “Oh no, dear, just say we were received word that Sylvia’s sister Euphonia has taken a turn for the worse. She does so all the time. Everyone knows Euphonia is prone to sickness. No one will take note of our absence. As far as everyone outside of this room will be concerned, Sylvia and I are two old ladies who are far too outspoken, and our departure will be regarded as good riddance.”
The spymaster turned to Gillian’s uncle then took his hand.
Philly’s voice softened. “Whitney, you must carry on with the house party. Be the gracious host, I know you to be. Trust the others to devise a plan.” Philly sighed. “Don’t blame yourself. I wish I could tell you this was the only plot against the Crown, but it is one of several in full assault. We are at war, you know. Since the beginning of time, most have believed a war is restricted to battlefields with formations of soldiers, but unfortunately, that is untrue.” Philly shook her head. “The stories I could tell you…oh well for another time. Maybe when we are older and grayer?”
Gillian realized Philly’s esteem for her uncle had been right under her nose and she had never noticed.
“Now, I must change.” Philly smiled at Gillian’s uncle and leaned forward to kiss his cheek.
Philly turned away from Whitney to face Moreham. “I would consider it a personal favor if you would keep this old reprobate alive as well. I don’t know who would keep Isadora in line if he weren’t around.”
Philly took Uncle’s hand and they moved toward the door. “Now, Your Grace, if you would be so kind as to escort me to my room. I will rouse Sylvia from her sleep. We will be on the road within the hour. Let us leave these two to their machinations.”
Moreham remained silent until they were once more alone.
“Well done, wife. You have the good sense to see beyond the obvious. I must agree with Philly. Our union has been most beneficial for the Crown.”
Moreham’s words inflamed Gillian’s temper. “Our marriage’s success remains a question. I married you to be able to investigate at your side in order to clear my uncle’s name. All we have done so far is ascertain my uncle is about to be killed and accused of multiple murders.”
“Not very romantic when you think about it, is it?”
Gillian fought the need to roll her eyes at the insufferable man before heading for the doors. “We should return to our bedchamber. How Aunt Isadora has slept
