Realm 06 - A Touch of Love (41 page)

When Carter returned forty minutes later, Pennington had retreated to his room. “I thought it best if others did not know of my presence in Suffolk,” he admitted as he drew chairs about a small table. “Before coming here, I instructed Monroe to return to his duties.”

Swenton grumbled, “I am grateful for the reprise. Staring upon an empty farmhouse for hours takes its toll on my patience.”

Carter and Pennington exchanged a knowing glance. It had been over a year since the baron had last seen Lady Yardley’s twin sister, Satiné, and Swenton grew more withdrawn each day. Only Carter and Pennington recognized the baron’s unease. The others knew Swenton held a “lost love,” but none suspected the baron had developed an affection for the scandal-ridden Satiné Aldridge. Their acquaintance had been of short duration, but Pennington had made Carter aware of Swenton’s frequent secret correspondence with the woman. It was the reason Carter had earlier suggested a companion for Swenton’s “ill friend.”

“I thought it might do me well to make a list of what we know and what we have yet to discover,” Pennington suggested. “Would you mind serving as scribe, John?”

Swenton shrugged from his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. “Feed me, and give me drink, and I will obediently be your clerk.” His friend’s shoulders relaxed with the familiarity of the routine. He reached for the paper Pennington had placed upon the table. “I see you began without us,” he said with a taunt.

“Writing assists me in organizing my thoughts.” Pennington poured them each a drink. “I will not apologize for knowing my strengths and weaknesses.”

Carter read over Swenton’s shoulder. In addition to the questions Pennington had previously voiced, the Realm’s leader had added: Has Monroe forged other documents or letters in SC’s name? Is DM involved in the smuggling ring? Who are DM’s contacts in the Realm? In the Home Office? Are the attacks on Mrs. Warren related to those on SC? Does Simon Warren’s sudden appearance play into the attacks?

Swenton released a slow whistle. “Appears we have a multitude of questions to answer.”

Pennington moved his chair closer. “No time as productive as the present. I wish to know every detail, no matter how insignificant.”

Some five hours later, no conclusions had been reached, and Carter had, in truth, lost interest in the multiple conversations. Having taken a short respite to dine, they lounged lazily afterwards. Swenton had propped his feet upon Carter’s abandoned chair, while Pennington had partaken of an imported cheroot. Unable to tolerate the idea of how many facts he had ignored, Carter had lain across Pennington’s bed. His legs dangled over the edge, and he covered his eyes with his forearm. All the talk of Lucinda Warren had brought images he had spent a week suppressing, and Carter wanted nothing more than to sleep long enough to finish his dream of making love to the woman. Pennington had not asked of the lady’s connection to the events at Waterloo, and Carter had made a private promise not to implicate her further.

As he accepted his obsession with the woman, an exquisite image of Lucinda in passion filled his mind, and Carter felt the responsive tug in his groin. He wondered if Swenton entertained such moments in response to a memory of Miss Aldridge. It was certainly not a topic men readily discussed. The bizarre thought brought a smile of amusement to his lips. The world assumed men held all the answers when, in reality, there was no manual on how to attach a woman’s affections. The female population was a fickled sect. “Fickled enough to accept Dylan Monroe’s attentions over yours,” he grumbled silently. Recognition of the man’s influence over the woman Carter desired brought a curse to his lips. “Monroe!”

Pennington turned from the window. “What of Monroe?”

Carter pushed to a seated position to stall for he had not meant to bring his jealousy to the conversation. “I was…I was wondering how Monroe came to be so…so highly placed. It is not like you, Sir, to permit a man with ulterior motives so close to our operations.” Immediately, Carter wondered if he had said too much.

Although Pennington scowled, he did not appear offended. “Occasionally those who practice nefarious purposes manage to invade our inner structure. However, Monroe came to us via a recommendation from the Duke of Portland, and I had Monroe thoroughly investigated, and there were no questionable connections.”

Swenton asked, “Who is his family?”

Pennington ticked off the names of several minor aristocrats. “The Goodwins, the Woodvines, and the Dymonds.”

Swenton observed, “Those families only go back two or three generations.”

Pennington’s frown liens deepened. “Although we prefer those with strong ties to England’s history, deep ancestral lines are not a prerequisite for service.”

Carter asked, “Which Dymonds? Those in Staffordshire or Cornwall?”

Pennington responded, “Those in Cornwall, but I would suppose the Staffordshire branch on the same family tree.”

It was Carter’s turn to frown. “Cornwall is close to Devon, from where both the Warrens and Roderick Rightnour hail,” he said slowly as if tasting the words. “And the current head of the Dymond family in Staffordshire is Franklyn Dymond, the Earl of Whitrow, Hugh Dymond’s father.”

An icy eyebrow rose, and Swenton asked, “Hugh Dymond, as in Viscount Ransing?”

Carter watched as Pennington made the connection. “It cannot be. I specifically turned away Ransing’s overtures to join us.”

“When did Hugh Dymond seek admittance to the Home Office?” A cold shiver ran down Carter’s spine. He prayed he had not underestimated Law’s former enemy. If so, Carter’s family was in danger.

“Then we are agreed?” Pennington asked. They had spent several frantic hours planning what action to take. “I will ask Monroe to escort me to London. Once there, I will observe him more closely and set about finding our answers regarding the depth of the man’s deception. Swenton will travel to Oxford and make contact with Ward Dartmour. They will oversee the investigation into Cyrus Woodstone’s most recent dealings, and you will explore Viscount Ransing’s involvement in this twisted web.”

It had taken all of Carter’s well-honed patience to sit through the procedural meeting. His emotions screamed for his immediate withdrawal to Derbyshire to ensure his family’s safety. “Agreed,” he said through tight lips.

A light tap on the door interrupted Carter’s dark thoughts. Swenton opened the door to a sour-faced Symington Henderson. “I beg your pardon, Sirs,” he said in obvious nervousness. “I bring poor tidings. Mr. Monroe is no where to be found.”

Before Pennington could respond, Carter had taken up his jacket and his hat. “You three may make the best of this madness; I am to Blake’s Run.” He took several tentative steps, uncertain how his actions would translate on paper. Would the Selection Committee think his choice the sign of a weak leader?

From beside him, Swenton whispered, “Your duty is to home first.”

With a curt nod, Carter raced from the inn to the stables; within minutes he pressed Prime to a gallop.

Despite the danger on the road, he had ridden throughout the night, attempting to stretch Prime’s stamina to its limit, but with dawn’s appearance, Carter had quickly come to the conclusion he could not knowingly cripple his favorite stallion; so he had reluctantly turned Prime toward a place, which would welcome him, at any hour: the circle before Linton Park. Carter slid to the ground as Lord Worthing’s grooms rushed forward. “Thank you, Prime,” he whispered as he stroked the lather from the animal’s neck.

“Sir Carter.” The head groomsman acknowledged.

“I apologize for the interruption of your duties,” he said as he walked briskly toward the main entrance. The man trailed behind him. “I will require a fresh horse immediately. Once Prime recovers, someone must take the animal to Blake’s Run.” He pressed a coin into the man’s hand. “I will speak to Lord Worthing briefly and then be on my way.”

The groom shook his head in the negative. “Lord Worthing departed late yesterday, Sir.”

Carter frowned. He had not time for a social call, but he could not simply order the Earl of Linworth’s staff about without some sort of explanation. Fortunately, the main door swung wide, and Eleanor Kerrington, Lady Worthing, motioned him into the house. “Other than the servants, few are awake at this hour.” As if she had been expecting him, she slid her arm through his. “Come join me in the morning room.”

He had no time for a leisurely breakfast. “You must forgive me, Lady Worthing, but time cannot be spared. I would not have called at Linton Park if I had not required a fresh horse.”

The viscountess ignored his protest, and so Carter had walked with her to where breakfast awaited. It was difficult for a gentleman to refuse a lady, even when his mind screamed for his abrupt withdrawal. “Ah, I am an indulgent mother, Sir Carter. My darling Amelia is producing her first teeth, and so I mean to introduce her to something more substantial than gruel.” She gestured to where Worthing’s daughter rested in a small cradle.

Despite the adorable countenance of Amelia Kerrington staring up at him, Carter’s frustration rose quickly. “Please, Lady Worthing…” he pleaded.

Once they entered the room, Kerrington’s lady excused her servants and closed the door. “Tell me how goes the investigation?” Her eyes spoke of her own anxiousness, and Carter knew instant regret of not recognizing the lady’s ploy.

“Which investigation?” he asked. He could not imagine Kerrington sharing Realm business with his wife, but the viscountess had been present at more than one Realm rescue, including her own. She would hold some knowledge of her husband’s role in the organization.

Her countenance scrunched up in dissatisfaction. “Your brother sent word to Linton Park yesterday afternoon. He sought James’s assistance with a disappearance.”

Carter’s heart slammed hard against his chest. “What sort of disappearance? A kidnapping?” Could Ransing have executed another form of revenge? Since he had made the connection between Dylan Monroe and the Dymond family, Carter had expected the worst. “What has occurred? Is it Lady Hellsman?” Law would be devastated.

“No. It was my brother’s former friend, Mrs. Warren.” A punch in his gut would have been kinder. “I thought you brought a message from my husband.”

Carter forced himself to concentrate on her words. “Kerrington is with Law?”

“Of course. James left immediately upon receiving the message.”

Instinctively, he presented her a bow of respect. “I must depart,” he said distractedly. “Please forgive my lack of manners, Lady Worthing.” With that, Carter was striding toward where the groom held a waiting horse. He had promised Simon he would protect Lucinda Warren with his life, and once again, he had been found wanting.