My Lady, My Spy (Secrets and Seduction Book 4) (14 page)

Frederick stiffened. She’d been here? Why had no one told him? He shot his brother an accusatory gaze, but Robert seemed not to notice.

“Maybe she grew tired of waiting for you,” his brother said. “I believe that was the gist of her complaint at the ball as well.”

Frederick recalled Josephine’s criticism two nights ago that he hadn’t contacted her in days. He felt his face redden as he opened his mouth for a retort, but then Mr. Montlake pushed himself up from the seat next to him, interrupting him.

Devin Montlake shuffled some papers into a tidy stack. “I think the best way I can finish my preparations for tomorrow is to sleep for a few hours.”

“Certainly.” Frederick rose to his feet. “I’ll direct you to your room. I could do with some rest as well.”

Without saying another word to his brother, Frederick hurried from the study. After closing Mr. Montlake’s door, Frederick continued on to his own room. He looked around. If Josephine truly had stopped by with poultice supplies— yes. He saw her basket now, sitting on his mahogany dressing table.

He crossed the room, flipped open the basket’s lid, and found a cloth of robin’s-egg blue draped over the contents. He nudged it aside with his finger and found the fresh poultice supplies nestled beneath.

He held the cloth gently, unaccountably pleased to know she’d come by as she’d promised. But she hadn’t stayed, nor had she left a message. Why? Josephine did nothing without a reason.

Frederick rang for his valet.

When Herbert entered the room, Frederick gestured toward the basket. “Lady Harrington dropped off poultice supplies after all. Did you see her?”

Herbert looked surprised. “No, my lord. I’ll ask the other servants. One of them must have put the basket in here.”

“Please do, and find out if she left a message.”

Herbert left, but he wasn’t gone long.

“Did you learn anything?”

“Yes, sir. Lady Harrington was here earlier and met briefly with Lord Huntley. When he left, he asked one of the upstairs maids to leave the basket in your bedroom. She apologizes for not passing along the message that came with it.”

Frederick’s heart heaved. “A message?”

“Yes, sir. Lady Harrington said to tell you she was tired of waiting, and goodbye.”

Frederick stiffened. “That’s it? Nothing more?”

“Nothing more, sir. Perhaps Lord Huntley could provide a more detailed account.”

Frederick let out a grunt. “Perhaps.” A sense of overwhelming numbness consumed him. He turned his back on Herbert as he tried to process this information.

Goodbye? What did that mean?

A moment later, the sharp, fresh scent of crushed plants filled the room, piercing his momentarily dazed state. He glanced over his shoulder to see Herbert mashing the leaves for his poultice.

Frederick let out a heavy sigh and proceeded to shed his jacket and trousers. He wrapped himself in a robe and dropped into the chair next to the fireplace to let Herbert tend to his burns.

He willed his body to relax and let his valet’s careful ministrations soothe him. Once Frederick washed away the remnants of the old poultice, he examined his fingertips. The raised blisters were much smaller, but the skin around them was still tender.

“Your hand appears to be improving.” Herbert passed him a fresh cloth.

“Once I use up these supplies, I won’t need to replace them.” The thought left Frederick with a sharp pang of loss.

This wasn’t what he wanted. He’d been fooling himself— trying to convince himself he didn’t care about Josephine, even when a moment couldn’t pass without him thinking of her.

Goodbye. The word pierced him.

He was obsessed with the woman. The look of her, the smell of her, the taste of her. Her amazing blue eyes and her lustrous blond hair. He couldn’t get enough of her.

Herbert put the supplies back in the basket and left. As soon as the door closed, Frederick sprang from his chair and began pacing the room.

It was ridiculous to think he could simply shut Josephine out of his life and continue on as before. Being with her had changed him, and he didn’t want to go back to the way things had been before.

He stopped in front of the fireplace and braced the heels of his hands against the mantel, gazing down into the crackling flames.

He didn’t want to live without her.

He pushed himself upright and spun around to face the room.

Enough. He’d come to a decision.

He wanted Josephine.

A heavy weight lifted from his shoulders. He could breathe again— for the first time in days. He threw his shoulders back and straightened his spine.

All it took was to make the
right
decision.

The next question was, how would he and Josephine meld their lives together?

If he became the new spymaster, he would be in London most of the time. His life would be more orderly. More conducive to being a husband. That would help tremendously. And with the church register in hand, the biggest obstacle to becoming spymaster was gone. But when it came to the issues preventing him and Josephine from being together, one significant problem still remained.

His father’s secret.

In all good conscience, he couldn’t continue to conceal it from her. He refused to put her at risk while selfishly indulging in his desire to have her— not when he wanted more from her. Not when he wanted
everything
from her.

It was time to take a chance. Time to be as open with Josephine as she’d been with him.

It was time to tell her about his father’s treason.

§

The next morning, Frederick woke filled with renewed determination. In less than two hours, Antonia’s case would be heard, and the moment they left the courtroom, he’d deliver the church register to Queen Victoria. Once he’d washed his hands of that mess, he’d head directly to see Josephine. He’d tell her about the changes he planned to make in his life— changes he hoped would bring them closer together. And he’d tell her about his father.

Yes— that was a solid plan.

He went to the breakfast room, his mind buzzing with millions of possibilities for how events might transpire. As was his habit when preparing for any mission, he ran through every foreseeable scenario, searching for potential problems. This was a delicate situation. He didn’t want to manipulate Josephine, nor did he want to lose her.

Brisk footsteps approached the door of the breakfast room, and a moment later Robert appeared in the doorway. “We need to talk,” Robert said as he strode forward. He paused and stood with his hand resting on the back of a chair, but didn’t take a seat at the table. “I made a disturbing discovery last night.” Robert stopped speaking and dragged his hand through his hair, leaving deep furrows.

Frederick tensed. Last night when he’d gone upstairs, he’d left Robert and Antonia alone with the church register. Had they made some new discovery?

Robert took a step toward the door as he beckoned Frederick. “Come to my study,” he said curtly.

Frederick tossed his napkin on the table and followed his brother. Upon entering the study, Robert turned back to brush past him and locked the door behind them. He paused, met Frederick’s gaze, opened his mouth— but then stopped. “It’s better if I show you,” he muttered.

Frederick was surprised when his brother turned away, crossed to a bookcase, and began fiddling with something at the top of one shelf. With a click, the bookcase shifted ever so slightly. Robert gave it a yank, and the entire structure swung into the room.

“The staircase?” Frederick asked, stunned. Years ago, their younger sister Emily had discovered the disused hidden staircase and become fascinated with it, forever sneaking up and down the stairs so she could creep up on Father and surprise him. Their parents had finally blocked off the end leading to an upstairs bedroom by putting the bedstead in front of the concealed door. After Father’s suicide here in the study, Mother had closed off the entire room. Frederick hadn’t thought about the dark, narrow staircase in years.

Robert gestured toward a lamp on the table. “Bring that.”

His curiosity piqued, Frederick did as directed. He turned back to find Robert applying something, probably oil, to the door’s interior latch.

Robert glanced up at him. “Last night while I was searching for a place to hide the church register overnight, I realized this was the perfect spot.” He gestured farther into the darkened space. “I was right. In all the years since Father’s death, we never found what he hid here.”

Frederick moved closer and spotted two bags— one of which was tipped over. Bundles of pound notes spilled around it onto the floor.

Frederick’s breath caught in his throat. “The missing money?” He could hardly believe they’d found it in their own house— hidden here all along.

“This changes everything for us.” Robert’s voice seemed filled with hope. “I can finally compensate all the people Father swindled.”

With a jolt, Frederick realized Robert was referring to his goal of secretly returning all the money people had invested— and lost— in Father’s scheme. Frederick had always written off this particular obsession of Robert’s as being nothing more than a way for him to salve his conscience. Seeing the relief on Robert’s face made Frederick wonder if the need went deeper.

Frederick had never been particularly concerned about the investors’ losses. They’d hoped to profit through no real work of their own by taking a shortcut. Frederick had never concerned himself with their financial ruin. They’d speculated on a decision by the House of Lords, and they’d lost. Things like that happened every day.

“Don’t worry,” Robert continued. “I’ll make sure they don’t know where the money came from. Since starting down this path a few years ago, I’ve grown adept at convincing people of their own good fortune.”

Frederick let out a heavy sigh. “This doesn’t resolve the key issue. With the evidence regarding the treason still missing, our family will never be safe. The Queen will never stop searching for her proof. Even now, the seal could have a catastrophic effect if it fell into the wrong hands.”

A satisfied smile slid over Robert’s face. “In that case, you’ll be pleased to learn I found this as well.”

As his brother picked up a small box, Frederick’s heart gave a thud. “Is that what I think it is?” But it was. It had to be. He didn’t need Robert’s confirmation to know what his brother held.

“I’m giving it to you,” Robert said, handing him the box. He stepped back, distancing himself from the object. “You’re better suited to deal with it than I am. I’m confident you’ll examine all the risks and choose the wisest path.”

Frederick’s hands were steady as he opened the box and peered inside. “You found it,” he said, his voice barely audible.

“You decide what to do with it. I’ll support whatever choice you make.”

Frederick stared down at the Great Seal of the Realm. Or, at least, its exact duplicate. This wasn’t the real one. This was the one his father had forged, using it to swindle so many people. Frederick always clung to the hope that his father’s business partners had been the true criminals, but seeing the forged seal in his own house dashed those childish dreams. His father had been the true criminal all along.

Forging the Great Seal of the Realm was an act of treason. When Father’s railroad swindle initially came to light, experts examined all the pertinent legal documents. Queen Victoria knew she hadn’t applied her seal to them. She’d immediately realized they’d been forged. Father and his business associates had immediately fallen under suspicion. According to the facts Frederick had pieced together, Father had been on the verge of arrest when he’d committed suicide.

He stared down at the seal, weighing heavy in his hand. The decision regarding what he should do with it weighed even heavier in his heart.

Frederick considered his options. He didn’t want to rush his decision. Too much was at stake. Between Lord Cary’s retirement, his own possible promotion to the role of spymaster, his debacle concerning the church register, and the complications in his personal life, there was much to consider.

He was too close to this, he suddenly realized. He needed to discuss it with someone impartial. Someone who understood the ramifications.

He knew just the man. Lord Cary.

He tightened his grip on the box and then handed it back to his brother. Robert accepted it reluctantly, his face revealing his confusion.

Frederick held up a hand in a placating gesture. “I need to speak with someone about the situation and get his advice. Keep the box here for the time being. I’ll seek him out after we leave court today. He’ll be able to help me look at this clearly and determine the best course of action.”

Robert was still for a moment, staring down at the box in his hand. “Do you believe in fate?” he finally asked. “Destiny?”

It struck Frederick as an oddly philosophical question, but then again, this was an unusual situation. “I believe people determine their own destinies. Fate is an excuse weak men use to explain away their own shortcomings.”

Robert shook his head. “I used to agree with you, but from the moment I first noticed Antonia the night of the ball, even before we spoke, I sensed fate had brought her to me. I brushed it aside, but after she stole the book, I attributed that odd sensation to the theft. Now— what if this all happened for a reason? What if she came into my life to finally compel me to confront my past? She’s been the driving force behind everything that’s happened over the past few days. She made me care— made me become involved in something real. And now, if not for the fact that she wanted to hide that book, I never would have opened the door to the staircase and found this box.”