Behind the Mask (House of Lords) (40 page)

“So he’s willing to betray the Tuareg, now that everyone else is gone?”

“Yes,” Udad said simply. “I tell you what you want to know now.”

“All right, I’m listening,” Colin said, dropping down to sit on the cold stone floor. “Tell me more about Mr. Yates.”

It was nearly dawn when Colin at last returned to their room. Eleanor had not slept a wink, and had been pacing for the last half hour when the door finally opened and he came in. “At last!” she cried, rushing across the room to him, her fingers finding the lapels of his coat and clutching at them. “Is it true?”

He nodded grimly. “All of it, I’m afraid. Strathmore has betrayed us, and Udad was poisoned.”

“Were the others poisoned, too?”

“Yes. All by Strathmore, apparently.”

Eleanor gripped his lapels even more tightly, and his hands came about her waist as she swayed, feeling suddenly faint. “Have they found him?”

“Strathmore? No, nor are they like to, I think. Udad told us everything. Strathmore turned traitor while he was in Algeria, and has been working for the Serraray ever since. He’s in too deep to try to go back, but he does not have the forces left to continue with his plan, not now. He’ll flee somewhere where he can lick his wounds a little, and perhaps one day he will try again, but we are safe for now.”

“Thank God,” Eleanor said. “Is he all right?”

“Who?”

“Mr. Udad.”

“Oh,” Colin said, “Yes, he’ll be fine, thanks to Mr. Hollier.”

“Toby?” Eleanor stared up at him.

Colin nodded. “It was his quick thinking and Crawley’s that saved the man. Apparently Strathmore escaped through the Priest’s Passage, and when Hollier arrived home and learned that he had attacked the guard and stolen a horse he came right back through the tunnel and warned Crawley, who fortunately knew what to give Udad to counteract the poison.”

“Well, thank the Lord for Toby, then,” Eleanor said, and when Colin frowned she smiled a little. “And Mr. Crawley, of course. Oh, Colin, you don’t have to dislike Toby for my sake.”

“I don’t dislike him,” Colin said, “Tonight’s events have raised him considerably in my estimation. I may even recommend him for a position with the Foreign Office when this is all over.”

“Perhaps he can be your replacement,” Eleanor ventured.

His tone serious again, Colin said, “You know that I will never leave my work, Eleanor. Not until I must, at least.”

“No, of course not,” Eleanor said. “I am more than happy to go with you to Brussels, Colin. I could be happy wherever we are together, I think,” she added, blushing and looking away.

“Good,” he said rather uncomfortably, and then, as though he realized how precariously close they were coming to a moment of real tenderness, he kissed her and led her back to bed. She allowed herself to be led, to lose herself in the feel of his skin against hers, of the soft touch of his fingers against the smooth skin of her back. But later, when he was quite still beside her, his breathing even and deep, she pressed her lips to his shoulder and whispered, “I love you, Colin.”

TWENTY-THREE

September 5, 1834

By sunrise the clouds had dissipated and the sun shone brightly over the Park. Colin rose as the first fragile rays of light broke into the bedroom, dressing quietly and going downstairs to help Crawley organize the patrols that would scour the Park and the surrounding lands for Strathmore and his remaining henchman. As they walked through the stableyard, however, he repeated his prediction that they would not find the man.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Crawley said. “He does not have the manpower any longer, and by now he must suspect that we’re on to him.

Colin ran a hand over his face. “I still can’t believe—”

“Neither can I. I knew him in India before we were ever sent to Algeria, of course, but not well. Still, it’s difficult to imagine him killing Yates.”

Though he started to agree, Colin paused as he thought of what Strathmore had said as they rode behind the body into Porter-on-Bolling, that Yates would have been prepared to be tortured. Now that he looked back, Colin could hear the frustration and resignation in Strathmore’s tone. Had he killed Yates because the man refused to break?

Colin supposed that he would find himself replaying many of his conversations with Strathmore in his head when all this was over. If there was one thing that had been made clear to him by this escapade, it was that he was not at all suited to espionage. Much though he had chafed at his new role when it had first been thrust upon him, he saw now that he belonged in Brussels, where he could do meaningful work, work at which he excelled.

“You don’t think we’ll find him, do you?” Crawley asked, drawing him back to solid English soil.

“No,” Colin said decisively. “Though we know where to begin our search now.” Udad had told them about the little clearing in the woods on the other side of the northern hill where the group had been camping. It was entirely possible that after Udad’s capture they had picked up and moved in case he revealed the location of the camp, but at least now they had an idea of where to start looking for clues to Strathmore or the Tuareg’s whereabouts.

“There’s that at least,” Crawley said cheerily. Colin had to admit that when he had first met the man, he had put him down as a brute with few useful skills that did not involve his brawn. Though Crawley was not much taller than Colin himself, he had twice as much muscle, and Colin had sent him to join the princess’s party at Hafeley because he had assumed the man would be of little help at Sidney Park, where brawn would not be much of an asset.

“I can’t help but wonder, if I had sent Strathmore to Hafeley instead,” Colin began, giving voice to his thoughts, “would any of this have happened?”

“He would have found a way,” Crawley insisted. “He always found a way to get what he wanted, and I’ll wager it’ll be the same now. If he doesn’t want to be found, no amount of searching will do us any good.”

“Still,” Colin said, “I think it’s best to send the men out, just to be sure. Perhaps we will find the Tuareg.”

When they reached the makeshift barracks Colin gave the soldiers a description of their quarry, though most of them had met Strathmore. Then he turned to Crawley, who said, “We are also looking for his last accomplice. He is an Algerian, a Tuareg, which means that he’ll be wearing a blue headscarf, which may make him easier to spot.”

The soldiers listened intently and then split into their patrols. Crawley led one group west toward the Broads while Colin took another north over the hill. Colonel Taylor was to stay behind and secure the house.

When they reached the place Udad had told them about it was exactly as Colin had expected—everything had been cleared away long before, probably immediately after they realized Udad had been captured. He scoured the whole clearing but found nothing more than a single piece of white cloth with some black Arabic writing printed across it. Colin put it in his pocket, making a mental note to ask Crawley about it later.

As the patrol got back on their horses, Colin cast a look down the valley and out into the Broads. Faraway across the flat riverlands he could see smoke rising from the chimney of the Gulleston house, and a sudden thought struck him.

“Go on ahead,” he called to the leader of the patrol. “Ride the east rim of the valley and then report back to the house. I’ll meet you there.”

Then, before they could ask any questions, he spurred his horse and rode off towards the flats.

Eleanor went to her mother as soon as she could be reasonably sure Lady Sidney was awake. She found her still abed, but with her breakfast arrayed on a tray before her.

“There’s too much chaos in the dining room with all these guests,” her mother explained as Eleanor came in.

Smiling, Eleanor said, “I understand. I would escape, too, if I could. But you deserve a few moments’ peace before the whirlwind begins again.”

Her mother nodded and nibbled her toast. “What do you have planned for today?”

“Right now I’m taking Mabon out for a ride,” Eleanor said. “He’s been languishing in the stables far too long.”

Looking shocked, her mother asked, “Are you certain that’s safe?”

“That’s what I came to talk to you about, actually.” Eleanor gave her mother the condensed version of the night’s events, and when she had finished her mother smiled and squeezed her hand.

“I am so relieved, Eleanor. I have been so fearful this whole week. But to think that that nice young man was a traitor all the time! How awful.”

“I think Colin was very shocked,” Eleanor said. “But the good news is that it’s over now, and we—and more importantly, the princess—are safe. You don’t have anything more to worry about.”

“And I know that I have you to thank for it, Eleanor. You have been a dutiful daughter, my dear. When you return from your ride, perhaps we can spend some time with Lord and Lady Townsley. They are your new family, after all.”

Her new family. As Eleanor went down the stairs and out into the stableyard, she wondered at that. In the space of a few days she had gone from being the glue holding her own family together to someone else’s wife. Soon, she knew, she would be someone else’s wife in a foreign country, where no one knew her as the sister of Viscount Sidney, as the daughter of a good, decent man. She would be known only as Lady Pierce, her every move made to support Colin’s work.

She knew, of course, that his duties were important. But as she and Mabon trotted out of the stableyard, she could not help but remember what he had said the night before, that he could never leave his work. It was what defined him, she knew. It had been too much to hope for, that she might be able to comfort herself during her separation from her family with the knowledge that they might return some day soon. And really, she reminded herself, she would have to leave Sidney Park and her family anyway. If they were to stay in England, they would surely live at Townsley or in London. It was thinking of her life in Town that made Eleanor realize that it was not really Sidney Park or her mother and siblings that she was reluctant to leave. It was her work in London, the preparations for the school. It was what defined
her
.

Well, she promised herself, she would find something else in Brussels. There were other ways to be happy.

Refusing to think any longer of the troubling choices—or lack thereof—that she faced, she let Mabon have his head, galloping across the flats towards the south, her hair flying in the breeze. She gave herself over to the joy of her freedom, to the exquisite thrill that filled her body as the horse’s hooves pounded over the ground.

It was only as she neared Havenhall that she realized what she meant to do. She felt a momentary twinge of fear as she rode through the gates, but she was resolved.

She found Toby in the yard behind the house, one end of a long lead in his hand as he worked a stunning chestnut mare through her paces. Toby had always had a way with horses. Even Mabon seemed overjoyed to see him, prancing merrily as they neared.

“He’s excited to see you,” Eleanor laughed as she leaped out of the saddle.

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with Lianne here,” Toby said, bringing the chestnut in.

“She’s lovely,” Eleanor said, reaching out to run her hand along the mare’s neck. “When you’re ready to breed her, I’m sure Mabon would be happy to oblige.”

Toby smiled at that. He led the chestnut out of the paddock and back towards the stables, which were by no means as large as those at Sidney Park, but were beautifully kept all the same. Eleanor followed him, looping Mabon’s reins loosely over the post.