Amanda Scott (29 page)

“I don’t wish to discuss him, Meriel,” said Eliza quietly, turning away from her in the coach. “Auntie Wynne, did you not think that Sally Fane’s gown was quite the wickedest you have ever laid eyes upon?”

“I did,” said Lady Cadogan, and the moment was lost as she launched into a lecture on proper ball attire for young women in their first Seasons.

Since Eliza was generally one to fly into the boughs when reproached, her quiet reply startled her sister, but when Meriel mentioned the matter to Lady Cadogan in that lady’s dressing room after Eliza had been sent off to bed, her ladyship tended to shrug all concerns aside.

“He is a charming gentleman, that Mr. Carruthers,” she said, “and comes, if I don’t mistake the matter, from an excellent Somerset family. Eliza could do a deal worse. Certainly he is an improvement over that dunderheaded dragoon your brother encouraged to haunt the place. We see a deal less of him, thanks to Mr. Carruthers.”

Meriel opened her mouth to inform her aunt that a dunderheaded dragoon must at all times be preferable to a gentleman who had been known to make his living through housebreaking, but she found she was quite unable to say such a thing to her. Instead, she determined to go to the source of the problem, especially since Sir Antony continued to refuse to interfere in Mr. Carruthers’ affairs.

Accordingly, the following morning when Marwyn stepped into the morning room and informed Meriel, who was sitting there quite alone, that Mr. Carruthers was below, she said calmly, “Pray tell Mr. Carruthers that I will be down immediately, Marwyn.”

“Very well, m’lady, and if you can tell me where Lady Cadogan may be found, I shall send one of the footmen at once to inform her of the gentleman’s presence in the house.”

“That will not be necessary, Marwyn. Nor are you to inform his lordship, if you please.”

“His lordship, m’lady, has gone to White’s.”

“Good, I mean to speak privately with Mr. Carruthers on a matter of importance, Marwyn, so I desire you to tell no one else that he is here—particularly not the Lady Eliza.”

Understanding dawned in the butler’s eyes. “Very good, ma’am.”

She found Carruthers lounging against the chimneypiece in the drawing room. He straightened, stepping forward to greet her with his usual cheerful impudence.

“Mr. Carruthers,” she said, cutting him off without apology, “I have no very good idea how many minutes we may have before we are interrupted, so pray let me say what I have to say without interruption.”

His eyes twinkled, but he made her a little bow and said, “You wish to know if my intentions toward your sister are honorable, ma’am? They are, but would it not be more proper for your brother to be conducting this interview?”

“Perhaps, but I have not told my brother all I know of you, sir,” she said frankly. “Surely you cannot imagine that I will continue to allow you to pursue my sister as you have been doing.”

“I have mended my ways, my lady, I promise you. You see before you an honest man.”

“That’s as may be, sir, but your past cannot be condoned. I should prefer for my own reasons not to have to divulge your secret, but rather than allow my sister to believe herself in love with you, I must do so.”

He frowned. “I see. I had hoped your silence thus far meant you’d not speak of past indiscretions.”

“Mr. Carruthers, you are not a fool. My sister is the daughter of an earl. Surely you cannot think I would permit her to marry a thief. Every feeling must be revolted.”

“I am not a thief, Lady Meriel.”

“Very pretty, sir. The downcast eye is particularly appealing. I should recommend that you try that manner with my brother, once I have told him how I made your acquaintance. He will be prodigiously amused, I make no doubt.”

“’Twould be better at this present if you say nothing about that meeting, ma’am,” Mr. Carruthers said quietly, all trace of amusement now gone from his countenance. “Perhaps you had better sit down, that we may converse quietly.”

His quiet manner aroused her curiosity, and she moved to obey him, saying only, “Do you mean to threaten me, sir? I promise it will do you no good.”

“I am not such a fool as that, Lady Meriel. I have long since taken your measure, and I am convinced that nothing but the truth will do for you.” He sat beside her on the glove-leather sofa, leaning back a little into one corner.

She turned to face him, folding her hands in her lap. “Well, then, sir, let us have the truth if you please.”

“I doubt you will find it much more appealing than what you already believe of me, but I assure you that what I have done in the past, I did for a good cause.” He paused, then took the plunge. “I was involved in what might tactfully be called ‘intelligence gathering’ for the British War Ministry.”

Meriel stared at him, somehow not as surprised as she might have been. Was it possible that Carruthers might provide the answer to her problem? Carefully hiding her excitement, she said calmly, “Am I to understand that you are a spy, sir?”

“You take the news mighty well, ma’am. There are those who would not be so calm, I assure you. I worked in France for a new department of the British War Ministry, which was organized by Quartermaster General Brownrigg, who got the notion from Napoleon himself. General Brownrigg organized what he called the Depot of Military Knowledge, which was to have separate branches to look into troop movements, keep track of past and present operations, maintain a library, and collect maps. During the peace, it occurred to the head of the operations department that it would be easy for gentlemen of the so-called upper classes to travel about in France and acquire information. I was one of those whom he approached, and I agreed to help.”

“And was Sir Antony one of those whom you expected to have information?” There was scorn in her tone. “Surely you did not think to acquire knowledge of French troop movements from an Englishman, Mr. Carruthers.”

He smiled at her. “No, certainly not, but I knew, for one of our agents had discovered the fact, that Sir Antony had been assaulted on board the packet ship after having come from Wales, where he had been present at a gathering my own chief attended. I thought perhaps—”

“Can you tell me the name of your superior, Mr. Carruthers?” Meriel interrupted with a new surge of excitement. She was certain she knew already what he would say.

He regarded her speculatively for a rather long moment before saying, “No harm in that, I suppose, now that the whole department has been completely disbanded. They’ve moved a procurement officer into poor George’s office now, I hear.”

“George Murray?”

He nodded. “Do you know him? Poor fellow’s been posted back to the Third Foot, and last I heard, was on his way to the Continent. And General Brownrigg’s in Surrey with York, trying to determine the best course to follow now. He’s had too much else dumped on his plate to worry about his intelligence depot. Too bad. The notion was a good one, but for now it’s been dished.”

Realizing that he would be of little use to her, she returned to another line of thought. “I interrupted you a moment ago, sir. Did you mean to say that Sir Antony was also involved with this mysterious intelligence depot?”

“I was going to tell you no such thing, and what I have said about my own activities, I trust will go no further. You must realize that while I might think the gathering of intelligence against an enemy is a good thing, there are many more good folk who disagree with me. And we weren’t even at war when I was in France, ma’am. That makes it all the worse. I’d most likely be socially ruined if my activities were to become public knowledge. Somehow we have come over the years to look upon spying as a despicable act—cheating, in fact.”

“Yes, sir, I have heard all that before, but there must be times when it is necessary to have at least a notion of what the enemy intends to do, even during a so-called period of peace.”

“You have a head on your shoulders, and no mistake, my lady,” he said approvingly, “but you cannot change what everyone else thinks overnight, and I for one will thank you not to attempt it. My family, though it will shock you to hear it, is quite respectable—”

“Somerset,” Meriel murmured. “My Aunt Cadogan knows them, I believe.”

He grinned. “I know. And please believe me when I tell you that my father, for one, would be very much shocked to learn that I have been engaged in trying to keep one step ahead of Boney and his lot. He thinks the French are no-account sneaking creatures, but he would not let that keep him from castigating my actions, believe me. Furthermore, both my parents and my sisters would suffer socially. Do you understand what I am telling you?”

“Better than you know, sir,” she told him slowly. Then, gathering her wits, she straightened and smiled at him. “I will tell my aunt and my sister that you are here, and you need not fear I shall betray your secret, for I will not.”

When she rose, he stood beside her, taking her hand and bestowing a light kiss upon it. “You will not regret your decision, Lady Meriel. I am utterly out of the business now, of course, but perhaps one day it will become more respectable. Who can say?”

Her smile this time was brief, and she quickly took her leave of him. After telling Marwyn that he might now inform Lady Cadogan and Eliza that a visitor awaited them below, she hurried up to her bedchamber to think.

Casting her mind back over the strange interview she had just taken part in, she realized that Carruthers had never actually said that Sir Antony was not part of the new intelligence department. Certainly Sir Antony was a frequent traveler in France. He had said as much himself. Therefore, would he not have been precisely the sort of gentleman to appeal to George Murray for his purpose? And for that matter, had she not seen Mr. Murray and Sir Antony in company with one another? The only thing which made her think perhaps Sir Antony had not been one of Murray’s minions was the fact that Murray had given her his letter to the priest. Surely, if Sir Antony had been his agent, he’d have entrusted the letter to him.

She had come full circle. It would be pointless to give the letter to Mr. Carruthers, for he had said he was no longer part of the intelligence department. Indeed, he had said the department no longer existed. Did that mean that no one would be interested in the information Père Leclerc had provided? Surely that could not be the case. But she resisted the temptation to put the problem before Carruthers or to ask his advice. In the first place, she could not imagine taking advice from one whom, despite his confession, she still thought of as an impudent ne’er-do-well. His attitude was capricious, and although she readily saw that such an attitude must have served him well in his late profession, she simply could not imagine throwing her problems into his lap.

Thoughtfully she considered her brother. Jocelyn was resourceful, there could be no doubt of that. He had survived in a far wilder, more dangerous country than France for seven years. But he was still her brother, and she could not think he would look upon the matter constructively. He would be more likely to rip up at her for her actions in not having taken the letter to him when her suspicions were first aroused. Nor could she imagine his doing anything more than flinging it upon the nearest fire. His sympathies, for the most part, were more likely to be with the French than with the English.

Her thoughts kept returning to Sir Antony. She remembered how capably he had handled every mishap during their journey, how tolerantly he had looked upon the most outrageous of her behavior. Even the fact that she carried a pistol had not overly distressed him. She simply had not been thinking clearly when she had assumed that he would respond as other men would to what she had done. He was not like other men. With a smile she recalled dining with him on shipboard and vagabondizing with him in Paris. Then, with warmth flooding her cheeks, she remembered their more recent and most improper interlude in Hyde Park. He would scarcely dare to chide her for the impropriety of her actions. Indeed, only when she had attempted to act alone in a way that might endanger her safety had he ever been vexed with her. She bit her lower lip at this thought, realizing that she wanted more than anything else to avoid vexing him again. She could not deceive herself into believing that the information she held was not valuable. Even the fact that she had delayed acting for this long might prove disastrous. She could not know. But the more she came to think, the more certain she was that Sir Antony was the man to deal with her problem.

Fetching her standish from the shelf it occupied in her wardrobe, she placed it upon the little table in the window embrasure and wrote a graceful note requesting that Sir Antony call upon her in Berkeley Square that very afternoon, as she had something of a private and most urgent nature to impart to him. That, she thought, underscoring “private and most urgent” with two bold black lines, would keep him from bringing anyone else with him. Having dispatched a liveried footman to deliver this message, her next matter of business was to ensure that her family would be otherwise engaged when he arrived.

Since Lady Cadogan had already expressed the intention of taking Eliza to her dressmaker for a final fitting of the gown she meant to wear to the upcoming Traherne House ball, those two ladies presented no problem. And they would not expect her to accompany them, because Meriel had already convinced Lady Cadogan that the exquisite lace-trimmed lavender ball dress she had had made up in Paris would do excellently well for the occasion.

Getting rid of Davy and Gwenyth was nearly as easy, for she simply told Mr. Scott that she thought a visit to see the beasts at the Exeter Exchange in his company would be very educational, and that admirable young man agreed with her wholeheartedly. Thus it was that she saw them off soon after her aunt and Eliza had driven away in Lady Cadogan’s elegant barouche. Turning to Marwyn in the hall, she said calmly, “Is my brother expected soon?”

“Not before dinner, m’lady. He means to dine at home this evening, however. Shall I tell him you wish to speak with him upon his return?”

“Oh, no,” she returned airily. “’Tis merely that we have seen little of him these days, and I wondered.”