Checkmate, My Lord (25 page)

“Off you go,” she said.

“Come on, Teddy,” Sophie said. “Let’s see who we can get to bob for oranges.”

“Oranges don’t float,” he protested.

“Precisely, you silly brownie!”

Catherine shook her head, enjoying Sophie’s boundless good cheer.

“She is a marvel,” Sebastian said.

“Yes.” Catherine peered up at him. “You’re very patient with her,
Bastian
.”

A tinge of color darkened his cheeks, and Catherine’s unsteady wall crumbled to the ground.

“Years ago, when my wards were young and grieving over the loss of their parents, I made many mistakes.” He met her gaze. “Not knowing if I would be alive or dead from one day to the next, I taught them skills that might one day save their lives, and I ensured they never had to be concerned about finances.”

“Where is the fault in your actions, sir?”

“I kept them at arm’s length, praising them rarely and hugging them never.” He released a shaky breath. “I told myself it was for their own good. So they would never feel the devastating loss of a guardian again.”

“In your own way, you were trying to protect them,” Catherine said. “No matter how hard we try to do right by our children, we will inevitably get it wrong at times. Take my current circumstances, for instance.”

As if they read each other’s mind, their gazes sought out Sophie.

“Yes, well,” he said. “I lied. To myself. You see, before joining the Alien Office, I wanted a wife and family. Desperately. But after my mentor’s and his wife’s brutal murders, I suppressed the need. Keeping the two young deBeaus at a distance was as much for my protection as theirs. In the end, I fell in love with the little terrors anyway. Too bad they will never know.”

“Pardon, m’lord. Ma’am.” A maid with cropped sable hair and a scarred left cheek held out a tray of oysters nestled in scallop shells. “Care for one?”

Sebastian stiffened. “No, thank you.”

“Are you sure, sir?” she asked. “I hear they’re a right treat.”

Catherine noticed Sebastian’s complexion turned a nasty shade of red. Thinking he was upset by the maid’s interruption, she said, “Thank you…”

“Belle, ma’am,” she said with a curtsy.

“Belle, I should like to try one.” She picked up a shell. “My mother is quite fond of these. Please see if she would like one.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She curtsied again. “Sir.”

The moment the maid turned away, Catherine saw Sebastian’s eyes narrow on the young woman’s back. “My housekeeper must have hired additional staff for today.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Besides Belle, I see two other unfamiliar maids and a couple new footmen.”

He sent her a sidelong glance. “Care to point them out?”

Feeling ill at ease with his request, Catherine located the older maid weaving through the guests. “The buxom maid striding by my mother.”

Steel-gray eyes followed her direction, his lips thinned. “Who else?”

“The distinguished footman with a queue helping Belle fill her tray with more delicacies.”

“Go on.”

“Near the bevy of young misses is a roguish footman with black-as-night hair eyeing Miranda Walker.” The gentleman glanced in their direction before turning back to his companion.

The earl nudged her in the opposite direction. “Any other foreign faces?”

“Only the tall maid, with the black hair and spectacles.”

Sebastian stopped and performed a surreptitious scan. “I don’t see a black-haired maid.”

Catherine followed his lead. “She looked to be taking care of refreshments and cleaning away dirty dishes. I do not see her now.” A thought struck her. “You don’t think those people work for Cochran, do you?”

“Doubtful, but I will look into it.” He resumed their stroll, halting a few feet behind the vicar and her mother. “You concentrate on making Sophie happy. I’ll look into the matter of the servants.”

“But—”

“Trust me,” he said. “I might be a failure in the area of finer feelings. But, when it comes to protecting those under my charge, I am unmatched.”

Emotion gripped her chest, and Catherine wanted nothing more than to kiss the man silly. She settled for a hand on his sleeve. “I have not found you lacking in either pursuit, my lord.” Something feral and very male entered his expression. Catherine swallowed and retreated with a pat to his arm. “Very well, my lord. See to the mysterious servants and I’ll take care of my daughter.”

His heavy-lidded gaze did not budge from her face for several heart-pounding seconds. Catherine began to fear he would do something embarrassing—and highly enjoyable—like kiss her.

Then he drew back a step and inclined his head. “Until later.”

Catherine forced her gaze to sweep over her guests, rather than follow Sebastian’s progress. Had she done otherwise, she would not have been able to mask the yearning burning in her soul.

***

Arm in arm, Catherine and Sophie strolled down the path leading from the barn to the house. Dusk was on the horizon, signaling the end to a memorable day. Catherine glanced down at her daughter’s bent head. “What’s the matter, dear?”

She shrugged her narrow shoulders. “I wish Teddy didn’t have to do chores.”

“Me, too, sweetheart.” Catherine hugged her closer. “But that’s the deal he struck with Carson so he could spend time with you today. He made a choice, one he seemed more than content with.”

“I suppose so.”

They entered the house and made their way to the nursery. “It was kind of you to include him on your tour of Lord Somerton’s stables.”

“Bastian’s horses were grand, weren’t they, Mama?”

“Very grand.”

“Did you see me ride Cira?”

“Indeed, I did. You were quite accomplished, young lady.”

Sophie beamed. “I thought about asking Eloisa Walker, but she would have complained about the smell the whole time.”

“Then it is good you didn’t extend an invitation.”

“She might be miffed at me.”

Catherine held back a smile. “I’m sure you will have no problem coaxing her out of her pout.” She pushed open the nursery door and found Mrs. Clarke pacing inside.

The governess swung around, her eyes red-rimmed and her hair askew.

Oblivious, Sophie ran to her faux governess. “Mrs. Clarke, you should have joined us. So many lovely horses.”

The governess rested her hand on Sophie’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I missed your outing. Sounds like you had an exciting time.”

Sophie’s smile diminished. She reached up to trace a fingertip over Mrs. Clarke’s blotchy cheek. “Does your head still hurt?”

Fresh tears wobbled in the woman’s eyes. “Somewhat. Thank you for asking.” She grasped Sophie’s hand in both of hers, kissing her fingertip. “Now we must wash the barn from your body.”

Her daughter groaned.

“Perhaps we can hold off until tomorrow morning, Mrs. Clarke,” Catherine suggested.

Sophie turned wide, hopeful eyes on her governess.

Mrs. Clarke nodded. “As you wish, ma’am.” To Sophie she said, “I have your nightclothes laid out in the other room. Let us get you ready for bed.”

“Sophie,” Catherine said, “get started without Mrs. Clarke. I need to speak with her for a moment.”

Her daughter tore across the chamber and flung herself into Catherine’s arms. “Thank you for the best birthday ever.”

Tears stung the back of Catherine’s eyes. “You’re welcome, pumpkin.” She kissed her nose. “Now off with you.”

Sophie skipped from the room, leaving two teary-eyed women behind.

“Why are you here?” Catherine asked in a quiet voice.

“To watch over your daughter.”

“Yes.” Catherine clasped her hands together. “That’s why Cochran brought you here. What I want to know is why
you
are here.”

A haunted expression froze the governess’s features. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Catherine shuffled closer. “Don’t you?”

The governess shook her head, her lips firming to stop their trembling.

Closer still. “I recognize a mother’s fear,” Catherine pressed.

Mrs. Clarke’s eyes closed briefly. When they opened again, bleakness penetrated their depths. “Please don’t.”

“Why? There is no one to hear.”

A maniacal laugh burst from her lips. “There is
always
someone to hear, Mrs. Ashcroft. Never doubt it.” She threw off her grief as if it were a cumbersome mantle. “Now, if you will excuse me. I must attend your daughter.” With that pronouncement, the woman marched into the next chamber.

Catherine’s gaze cast about the nursery, recalling Sebastian’s warning never to underestimate her enemy. Feeling heartsick, she left her enemy behind to tend her daughter. Two doors from her bedchamber, she rounded the corner and came to an abrupt halt.

In the middle of the dimly lit corridor stood Silas, looking more tattered than normal, with his neckcloth missing and an unflattering amount of flesh showing. The area around his mouth glistened in a way that turned Catherine’s stomach, and she could see he was holding something behind his back.

“Have you anything for my master?”

Why was he asking now rather than waiting until her return later this evening? Much about Silas tonight seemed stranger than normal. Thank goodness, she and Sebastian had been able to sneak away for a little while to discuss their next steps while Bellamere’s stablemaster fielded Sophie’s and Teddy’s many questions. Recalling Sebastian’s instructions, she said, “This afternoon, I found what looked like a catalog of names and locations, but everything appeared to be in some type of code.”

“How many traitors are on the list?”

Her heart froze in her chest. They had not discussed numbers. “I didn’t count them.”

His head tilted to the side and he seemed to be playing with something in his teeth. “What is your best guess, madam?”

What would be a believable number? One that wouldn’t be laughable or too extraordinary, but large enough to give Cochran pause? She released a slow breath. “If I had to guess, I would say between twenty and twenty-five.”

He stared at her, unblinking, for several bone-racking seconds. “When can you make delivery?”

“Within the next couple days, I suspect.”

“Not sooner?”

“I don’t see how,” she said. “The list is in his lordship’s bedchamber. It’s difficult to copy something so well hidden when I’m rarely left alone.”

“Then do not copy it. Bring the original.”

The longer they spoke, the more agitated he became. In a level voice, she said, “Mr. Cochran’s instructions were quite clear, sir. I am not to arouse Lord Somerton’s suspicions. If I take the list and he’s still cataloging agents, he will warn every member of the Nexus.”

As if Silas weren’t peculiar-looking enough, his right eye twitched when angered.

“Are we finished here, Mr. Silas?”

The twitching grew worse. He nodded but did not move out of her path. And his hand remained half hidden behind his back.

Catherine lifted her chin and strode forward. “Good night, Mr. Silas.”

His arm swung out, and Catherine saw something large and cudgel-like in his hand. She gasped, ducking beneath the cover of her arms, and waited.

Nothing happened.

Then came a disgusting sucking noise. Easing up from her crouched position, she saw the sound was coming from Silas’s mouth. He was ripping chunks of meat off a large bone with his jagged teeth. Juices from the succulent piece dripped down his chin and landed on his bare chest.

Bile shot into the back of her throat.

“Your reflexes are much better than his lordship’s.” He cocked his head to the side. “And you did not wail like the Irish girl.”

She pressed her back against the wall. “You’re the one?”

It was then Silas did something even more terrifying. He smiled. An awful smile, filled with bits of meat and rotting teeth.
Evil
.

“His lordship interrupted my search.”

“What were you looking for?”

“The same as you, madam.”

“What of Meghan McCarthy?”

“She had become burdensome to my master.” He jerked his head toward the empty corridor. “His lordship awaits.”

The conversation concluded, and Catherine was glad of it. Once she had scooted clear of her gaoler, she ran the short distance and slammed her door shut. She knew he would follow, knew he would eventually bed down outside her door. The hour she sought her bed might change from night to night, but Silas’s constant guard never faltered.

They had killed Meghan. Did that mean Cochran was the father? It must, but how? He had only arrived a few days ago. Had he been watching her for much longer? Or waiting for Jeffrey to make an appearance? Had he been the one to kill Jeffrey, too? Perhaps his letters were warning Sebastian of Cochran’s perfidy. Good Lord, could this situation get any more complicated and dangerous?

She reviewed her brief conversation with Silas. Had the seed she’d planted taken root? Had it burrowed deep into Silas’s fertile mind? Could he even now be making his way to Bellamere to steal the nonexistent list of agents? She fought to control her fear for Sebastian. Would he be ready for Cochran’s miscreant?

The thought of something happening to Sebastian scorched her soul. So many depended upon him, and England’s safety revolved around his continued leadership of a little-known group of spies. Moreover, she would miss him.

She drew in a deep breath and transformed her fear into faith. He was England’s greatest spymaster, a man sworn to protect his countrymen and one who’d promised to keep her and Sophie safe. A villainous official and a puny footpad would be no match for Sebastian’s lethal mind.

Squaring her shoulders, she clicked the fragile door lock in place, knowing it provided minimal protection. She strode to her dressing table and peered in the looking glass at her hair. The wind had not been kind.

She located the painted porcelain dish, which held her stash of pins. And that’s when she noticed the letter. Her name was not written on the front, nor did it contain an address. But the missive sat propped between a bottle of lotion and a tin of powder. She glanced around the chamber. The room was quiet, almost as if it held its breath, waiting for her to assuage her curiosity.