Authors: The Charmer
Simon came back to take a turn holding up the mantel, giving
"God forbid. Bloody boring, the House." Collis tried for an easy grin. "At any rate, I may be your heir,
Simon snorted at this.
Collis blew out a breath. "Then who?
But
The Royal Four was a secret cadre of the four most influential men in the land, traditionally selected for their intelligence, their ethics, and their unwavering loyalty to
Until he'd begun training with the Liars, Collis had not even known his uncle had belonged to that intimidating crew and that he had stepped down to take over the Liar's Club upon the retirement of Simon Raines. Collis still didn't know who the new Cobra was, nor who the other three were.
The idea that those mysterious watchdogs of the kingdom might have their eyes on him made him uneasy. After all, even the monarch was not able to ignore the power of the Four. Look at what had happened to King George! Certifiably mad, locked away for the rest of his natural life while his son ruled the land as Regent.
Collis let out a gust of air. "I see. Well, it appears I will take that mission after all."
Collis flinched at that, although he fancied he hid it well. He was getting bloody good at hiding.
"I tell you, last night was an accident!"
"I wasn't referring to your rivalry with Miss Lacey. Quite the opposite, in fact. If not for vying with Miss Lacey, you wouldn't have come as far as you have."
He pierced Collis with that damned unnerving silver stare. "A Liar needs passion—an obsession for espionage, if you will. So far, I have only seen that passion directed toward another student."
Collis blinked. "Passion for Rose? Are you mad?"
passionate
."
Rose made her way into the spymaster's study. Although she knew where the room was, she'd never been in it before. It was an undeniably masculine room, as richly elegant as its occupant. She gave a silent whistle.
Posh
.
"The Wentworth file," his lordship had said. "On top of the pile on my desk."
The room was dark with the draperies drawn against the day's glare, doubtless to protect the carpet from fading. The desk was not to be missed, being large enough to double as a bed should the house ever run out of rooms. As if that were a possibility.
Even as she reached the desk and stretched out her hand to take the top file from the stack there, her toe hit the leg of the desk and she stumbled. She caught herself, but the files slithered apart, some going over the side of the desk and landing on the floor.
"Bloody rotten hell," she hissed. With a sigh, she knelt to the floor and gathered up the files.
She'd have to peek now, to find the right one. The names were written only on the documents inside. Quickly, for surely his lordship was waiting on her, she untwisted the short bit of string that looped the first file closed around a disk sewn on the front like a button. "Name, name, blast it, where's the name?"
She peered at the first page.
Jackham
. Oh, my. She'd heard tales about him. He'd run the business side of the club for years before betraying the Liars to the French. He was dead now, found floating in the
Curiosity made her fingers itch to take the page from the file, but she sternly repressed it. Clara had said to watch her step, and she would watch it.
She reached to open the next file.
Porter
. Another name with a tale attached. Poor Ren Porter, beaten nearly to death by Lady Winchell's thugs, suspected of being nigh crazed by the permanent damage done to his body and mind. The last Rose heard, he'd disappeared, possibly wandering mad through
Secret, these are secret, you nosy creature
! Oh, but what she wouldn't do to be spymaster and have all this lovely information at her fingertips!
She heard voices raised down the hall. She'd best get out there before Collis ruined his chances forever. She didn't for a moment believe he didn't care. She'd been beside him in class after class, session after session. He wanted to be a Liar nearly as bad as she did. If anything, he needed the Liars
more
.
Hurry. She grabbed the next file and fumbled at the string, then pulled the top sheet out a few inches.
W—
This was it. Wentworth. She stuffed the sheet back in, shoved the stack back into a pile more or less resembling the one it had been in, and scrambled for the door.
"Collis Tremayne, just shut it until I get back out there!" she muttered to herself as she made for the front hall.
Rustling skirts behind Collis and
Rose stepped forward to hand a leather-clad dossier to
"The target's household has been informed of the mission, but not of your identities. All they know is that they are to go about their business as if they had nothing to hide, but to do all possible to keep anyone from finding the object."
"The targets are?"
"A family long friendly to the Liars. That is all you need to know."
Need to know
. Collis really hated that expression. "And the object of this assignment is?"
The file felt altogether light to Collis. Wasn't that just like the Liars? "Sending us out with two clues and a handshake? Is that handicap quite fair, do you think?"
Simon stepped forward. "Be off and don't come back to the club until you've gained your objective. Get in, get the evidence, and get out—
together
."
Collis swallowed hard, turned to Rose and shot her a rueful grin. "Looks like we have a mission to plan."
Simon cleared his throat. "Aren't you two forgetting something?"
Rose sighed. "Yes, sir. We have some cleaning to do back at the Academy."
Collis snorted. "Apple polisher," he muttered to Rose.
He felt her heel come down on his instep, and he grinned. Then she grabbed his hand and tugged him into the hallway. "Say goodbye to the nice spymasters," she hissed at him.
Collis blinked, then sent a casual wave back to the two men in the parlor. "Goodbye, Simon. See you at dinner,
With Collis in tow, Rose kept going until they were at the door and out of sight of Sir Simon and Lord Etheridge. Then she plunked both fists on her hips. "Are you trying to get us thrown out of the Liars?"
"Ease those reins, Briar Rose. It's only
Rose took her shawl from the Sergeant with a
thank you
. Collis took his hat and gloves with a grin and a punch in the arm for the dapper military man, who sighed deeply at such irreverence. Rose couldn't agree more. She tilted her head. "I despair," she murmured to the Sergeant, who was no taller than she.
"Yes, miss," he replied. "I fear it is contagious."
From his great height, Collis apparently caught on that he was being disparaged. "Ho there!"
"Never mind, Collis," Rose said. "Now, what to do first…"
"Plan," Collis said decisively.
Rose folded her arms. "Clean."
Collis matched her stance. "
Plan
," he said more firmly.
Rose narrowed her eyes. "I get the feeling that this is going to be a very long mission."
Behind them, in the doorway of the parlor, Simon and
"Do you believe they'll ever be able to work together?" Simon asked.
Rose managed to keep her seething temper contained all the way back to the school. Collis had stood his ground like a bloomin' mule, insisting that they plan the mission until Rose had simply turned and left him behind. Once she was back at the
The cellar was a stew of char, musty straw, and water. Quickly taking command of her fellow students, Rose worked hard at setting it to rights.
The job of clearing the destruction of the arena was overwhelming. Rose rolled up her sleeves and hiked the skirts of her oldest dress to tuck into her waist, then she and the other students dug in. There was simply so much!
After two exhausting hours, there was still a pile of wreckage in the middle of the floor and the water-soaked straw and canvas mess that used to be the mat was only partially lifted.
Rose was doggedly mopping a corner of the arena where the lowest level of the uneven floor had collected the most water. This corner had held the rack of dummies that she had just carried out to be carted outside of
Collis strode into the mucky arena in his pristine suit of clothing and with his kingly air and took over. Perhaps Rose ought to have been irritated by his easy assumption of authority, but she was just so bloody glad to have his help that she didn't care a whit.
Within moments, he had the male students organized into a line that went up the winding cellar steps and the shattered wreckage of the chandelier was hoisted bit by bit, hand to hand, clear to the alley behind the school in a matter of minutes.
She watched him with reluctant admiration as he directed the younger men. He didn't simply hand out commands, but he tossed his jacket and waistcoat aside and dirtied his elegant shirt carrying the sooty, charred, soaked debris tucked into the crook of his bad arm. It didn't take long before he was as dirty as the rest of them.