Regency High Society Vol 6: The Enigmatic Rake / The Lord And The Mystery Lady / The Wagering Widow / An Unconventional Widow. Anne O'Brien

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СКАЧАТЬ assassination. Against whom we are unsure. Or when. Or even the perpetrators. Yet the whispers continue. If it is against one of the royal family, it would not be in our interests. Think of the upheaval if it was a success, encouraging all the dissonant groups to rise against the Bourbons. Their popularity is on shaky ground as it is and they are hardly blessed with a handful of heirs to secure the throne into the future. After Louis XVIII, his brother Charles and his nephew, the Bourbon line stops. An assassination could be highly damaging to stability in France. We need to know more, Joshua. And prevent it coming to fruition, of course.’

      ‘I see.’

      ‘We need information that you would be in the perfect position to obtain with an entrée to all the best houses.’ A sly smile coloured Wycliffe’s face. ‘It could also be in your own interests, my lord.’

      A raised brow.

      ‘If you go to Paris, you will escape all the gossip here. When you return,’ Wycliffe snapped his fingers, ‘it will all have dissipated and the haut ton will have forgotten Marianne.’

      ‘And my wife? What are your plans for her?’

      ‘Leave her in London. We will continue our surveillance of her until we are certain that she is uninvolved—or until we have proof that she is in the pay of others.’

      ‘And if I object?’

      ‘Where government security and policies are concerned you have no right to object. You do not know Sarah Russell. You do not know that you can trust her. We need you and your expertise in Paris.’

      He did not like Wycliffe’s reply, but was forced to acknowledge the truth of the man’s assessment of French politics. Even as he damned the man’s callous disregard for any matter other than national security.

      ‘And the Countess of Wexford?’ he asked. ‘What are your plans for her?’

      ‘She is not your concern. Forget her. Will you go to Paris?’

      ‘I will consider it.’

      ‘Do so quickly, my lord. It is approaching the time of Carnival in Paris. When all the world and his wife celebrates.’ Wycliffe sniffed in distaste of such excess and the openings it provided for those who would destroy the restored government. ‘What better opportunity to carry out a coup d’état against the royal family when no one is prepared to consider anything other than his own pleasure?’

      Lord Joshua Faringdon made no response, but slammed out of the room, no more satisfied with the situation than when he had entered the premises half an hour previously.

      ‘Going somewhere?’ Lord Nicholas Faringdon refused the services of Millington and announced himself in Hanover Square that same afternoon. He found Joshua in the library, folding documents into a well-worn leather case.

      ‘To Paris.’ Joshua barely looked up, but Nicholas could see the hard-held temper on his face, in every line of his body. Every movement was an essay in simmering fury. A brief, authoritative note from Wycliffe had followed hard on his earlier visit to and conversation with that gentleman, delivered by hand. Lord Faringdon was expected in Paris within the week and should make contact with Sir Charles Stuart, British Ambassador to the Bourbon Court. Further instructions would follow. Thus Lord Faringdon was not in a mellow frame of mind.

      ‘Oh.’ In no way put out, intimately acquainted with his cousin’s moods, Nicholas helped himself to a glass of brandy and cast himself into a chair to await repercussions. ‘A sudden decision?’

      ‘Yes.’

      Nicholas crossed one booted leg over the other, a study in patience. ‘Is this in the way of a rout by overwhelming odds?’ he enquired, knowing that the outcome might be similar to that of applying a match to a trail of gunpowder.

      ‘No.’

      ‘So?’

      ‘If you must know—’ the leather satchel was flung onto the desk with little vestige of control ‘—it is a tactical retreat before superior forces.’

      Silence.

      Until Joshua faced his cousin, hands fisted on hips. ‘What is your next question? Are you perhaps going to ask me if I murdered my wife?’ he snarled. ‘You have been remarkably restrained with regard to the fraught topic of Marianne.’ It had been a long and frustrating day. He had not enjoyed the confrontation with Wycliffe or its outcome.

      ‘I have, haven’t I? But it was not my intent. Not unless I wanted a sharp left to the jaw.’ Nicholas raised his brows, waited a heartbeat. ‘But since you broached the issue… Did you? The gossips sound very sure.’

      ‘No. I did not.’ Joshua’s face was cold and bleak, in contrast to his eyes, which blazed with molten fire.

      ‘So where did the tale arise?’

      ‘A slighted woman, is my guess.’ He flung himself into a chair and picked up the glass that Nicholas had thoughtfully poured for him.

      ‘Ah. The Countess of Wexford? I thought as much. Beware a woman scorned, particularly one as self-seeking as the fair Countess. I doubt that she enjoyed being evicted from her role in this household.’

      ‘She had no role in this household.’

      ‘Well… I expect that she wished she had.’ Nicholas grinned in appreciation. ‘The lady has certainly sharpened her claws and is now intent on sinking them into your tender flesh. The scandal has taken the town by storm.’

      ‘As I know to my cost!’ Joshua put down the glass with a force that threatened the perfection of the faceted crystal. ‘But I am innocent of this, Nick. I did not murder my wife! Marianne…she is…was…!’ Aware of Wycliffe’s warning and the crevasse opening before the unwary, Joshua bit down on any further incriminating words.

      Nicholas choked on his brandy.

      ‘She’s what? I thought she was dead.’

      ‘Nothing! She is.’

      ‘Sher…perhaps you need to tell me just what is going on. Of course you did not murder your wife. No one with any sense believes that you did. But something is afoot. What is it?’

      Joshua gritted his teeth, the muscles of his jaw hardening. ‘That, Nick, is the whole problem. I must keep a still tongue in my head.’

      ‘Does Sarah know?’

      ‘No, she does not.’

      ‘Will you take her to Paris with you?’

      Oh, God! ‘Yes…no. I haven’t decided. It is none of your affair!’

      ‘I just thought…’

      ‘What did you just think?’ Joshua glared at him.

      ‘That it would be better for Sarah if you took her with you.’

      Joshua sighed. Of course he should take her with him. She would be devastated if he left her in London. He knew enough of Sarah’s state of mind to know that she would see it as a personal slight. But there was her safety to consider СКАЧАТЬ