Authors: Adrienne Basso
Intimate Betrayal (18 page)
“Then it is settled,” Mavis concluded with a sigh.
“Yes,” Alyssa agreed slowly, her mind still occupied with the problem of money. She thought about all the extra furniture nearly overflowing in the attic. “I have some ideas about how we can raise a bit of extra money before we leave.”
“Well, that’s enough planning for now,” Mavis admonished, not liking how tired Alyssa looked. “You lie down and take a nice long nap. I’ll wake you when dinner is ready.”
Alyssa was about to protest before realizing how drained she felt. Now, more than ever, it was important she take care of herself. There was a lot to be done. September would arrive all too soon and she needed to be prepared to leave Westgate Manor. Forever.
Chapter Twelve
Tristan strolled into the duke’s study, seating himself in front of the desk where Morgan was working. He made himself comfortable in the leather chair, and then casually propped his feet up on the desktop.
“Caroline wants to know if there will be room in your coach for us tonight. Grandmother has begged off from the evening’s festivities, and Caroline insists you and Madeline will need a chaperon to the opera.”
Morgan gave Tristan a disgruntled stare. “And just how does Caroline know I am taking Madeline to the opera this evening?”
Tristan stretched his arms up over his head and yawned. “They both attended Lady Jersey’s little soiree this afternoon. Although it would hardly take a genius to know you will be escorting Madeline. You have been practically glued to that woman’s side for the past few months.”
Morgan’s ears detected the hint of sarcasm in Tristan’s voice.
“You don’t approve, little brother?” Morgan asked, with a raised eyebrow.
“Don’t get your dander up, Morgan,” Tristan remarked. “I was merely making an observation. But since you have asked my opinion, well, it’s not exactly that I don’t approve, I simply don’t understand the attraction.”
“You don’t think Madeline Duponce is attractive?” Morgan smiled, a rare occurrence these days. “I never thought the day would come when you wouldn’t appreciate a beautiful woman. Has marriage changed you so much, Tris?”
Tristan shrugged. “Oh, I suppose Madeline is pretty enough,” he admitted. “God knows, my new brother-in-law, Gilbert, is still smitten with her, despite your monopolizing the fair mademoiselle’s company. But for all the time you spend with her, you don’t seem very happy, Morgan. I had always hoped if you finally settled on another woman it would bring you joy.”
“I have not settled on Madeline Duponce,” Morgan corrected his brother. “Let’s just say she amuses me for the moment.” Morgan was impressed with Tristan’s accurate perception of the situation, and he hoped it was not obvious to others. He truly had grown tired of the French woman’s company over the last few months, but it was vital to his mission for the War Ministry that Morgan stay as close as possible to Madeline Duponce and her brother Henri.
Morgan reached over to the sideboard and grabbed two glasses. He poured out a generous portion of port for both himself and his brother. Handing Tristan the glass, he neatly changed the subject.
“Tell me, when are you moving into that mausoleum of a house I gifted you with? I thought it was going to be ready in August.”
“So did I,” Tristan answered with a laugh, accepting the fact Morgan did not wish to discuss Madeline. He was still concerned about his brother, but he didn’t press it. He knew if Morgan wanted to confide in him he would do so when he was ready and not before. “The work on the house certainly has taken a damn long time thus far, and it is far from being finished. My admiration for Grandmother has increased a hundredfold these last few months. How she ever put up with Grandfather renovating Ramsgate Castle for twenty years is beyond comprehension. And they lived there for long periods while the work was done. It must have been maddening.”
Morgan laughingly agreed. “No wonder it is her coat of arms that is etched in stone above the main entrance.”
“We still retain hopes of taking up residence in Westgate Manor sometime before Christmas. Caroline wants to wait until everything is perfect before we move,” Tristan continued. “Although many people have already retired to their country houses, there is still enough social activity to keep Caroline content living in town.” His handsome face darkened with a frown. “I hope we are not becoming a nuisance, Morgan. We can always go stay with Caroline’s family if you want your privacy back.” The woeful expression on Tristan’s face told Morgan how little that idea appealed to him.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Tris. This is as much your home as it is mine. Truth be told, I am glad for the company, as is Grandmother. You know how much she enjoys being with Caroline.”
“I promise to be out of your hair fairly soon. Mr. Walsh has already left Westgate Manor and Lady Alyssa is overseeing the final work.”
Morgan felt his heart lurch at the mention of Alyssa’s name. A day seldom passed that he did not think about her. At first he had tried to convince himself that the need he felt for her was merely physical, but no other woman had sparked his interest, either in or out of bed.
He told himself the feeling would pass with time, but time moved very slowly. He missed Alyssa’s animated conversation and her spirited attitude toward life. At times he was actually disappointed she had not written to inform him she was carrying his child. It was a selfish, almost cruel thought, but it would have provided him a legitimate excuse for reentering her life.
“How is Miss Carrington faring these days?” Morgan inquired in a casual voice.
“I wish I knew,” Tris answered, taking a sip of the excellent wine. “The last few times I have called at Westgate she has been indisposed. If I didn’t know better, I would say Miss Carrington was avoiding me.”
Morgan scoffed at the idea. That certainly did not sound like the Alyssa he knew. She never ran from anyone. Except him.
“I very much doubt that,” Morgan said in a knowledgeable tone.
“Yes, well, you are probably right. Most likely she has fallen victim to my deadly charms and after finding herself hopelessly in love with me, cannot face me since I am now a married man, forever beyond her reach.”
“I do not find that amusing, Tristan.”
“For God’s sake, Morgan, calm down. I was only jesting.” Tristan was surprised at the dark scowl on Morgan’s face. He looked positively menacing.
Morgan ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath. “Sorry, Tris. I’m afraid I’ve been a bit touchy lately.”
This was interesting, Tristan decided, alert to Morgan’s possessive attitude toward Alyssa Carrington. He tried testing Morgan further.
“You know, I often wondered why Lady Alyssa never married. She is a most pleasant person, intelligent, charming, amusing. Properly gowned, she would be quite stunning.” He eyed Morgan carefully, not at all disappointed with his brother’s reaction.
“She is very beautiful,” Morgan whispered, an almost dreamlike expression crossing his features as he remembered the first time he had seen Alyssa naked. She had been so lovely, so open, so giving of herself. Morgan admitted to himself how much he missed her, especially after spending so much time in the company of Madeline Duponce, who was vain, selfish, and demanding.
Morgan became aware of Tristan’s scrutiny and immediately put his guard up. “With the unusual way she was raised, I imagine there weren’t many opportunities for Miss Carrington to meet eligible men.”
“Yes, I’m sure you are right,” Tristan agreed, not missing a detail of the wistful expression in Morgan’s voice and eyes when he spoke of Alyssa Carrington. However, he was willing to let the matter drop. For now. Tristan had every intention of finding out how the prim Miss Carrington was able to so deeply affect his stoic brother. It was a mystery that demanded to be solved.
The large grandfather clock in the hall struck six o‘clock. “I’m sorry to cut you short,” Morgan apologized to Tristan, relieved to have an excuse to end their discussion. “I have a meeting to attend at six-thirty and I don’t want to be late. I will be ready to leave for the theater tonight at eight o’clock, if you and Caroline decide you want to join me.” With a brief nod of farewell to his brother, Morgan hurriedly left the study.
Morgan sat across from Lord Castlereagh carefully reviewing the latest dispatches. The information he had left in both his London house and at Ramsgate Castle had slowly made its way into French hands. Although his private beach at Ramsgate Castle was seldom used anymore by the French couriers, any information the duke was given by the War Ministry had been discovered and passed on to the French. The Falcon was doing a very thorough job.
Morgan had been led on a merry chase all summer and was frustrated by the fact that he was no closer to revealing the Falcon’s identity than when he first began. He was convinced that Henri Duponce was spying for the French, and it was also likely his sister Madeline was involved, which was why Morgan kept in close contact with the pair. He was also fairly certain that Henri was not the Falcon, merely an accomplice. So far neither the duke nor the agents assigned to the mission had been able to catch the spies in the act, or produce anything but circumstantial evidence.
“This is a brief list of the latest stolen information that was to be sent across the Channel,” Lord Castlereagh began without ceremony. “We managed to intercept the courier on his way to France this time, but it took a while to decipher the code. I believe the majority of the information came from you. Can you verify it?”
Morgan nodded his head after he finished reading the dispatches. “These were in my London house,” he said, reading the first page and tossing it on the desk in disgust. “The other two were in my study at Ramsgate Castle. One of which was locked in a very intricate hiding place, I might add. They certainly have me well covered. No piece of information I have hidden has gone undetected.”
“And the fourth?” Lord Castlereagh questioned, handing Morgan a final paper.
“The fourth?” Morgan echoed, a puzzled expression on his face. He read the paper carefully.
“I realize that page contains information older than the others, but we had a devil of a time breaking the code. Don’t you recognize it?”
“I do,” Morgan said slowly, realization beginning to dawn. “These particular papers were never in either of my homes, Lord Castlereagh.”
“Where exactly were they kept?”
“In a place I thought they would be safe,” Morgan said, a genuine smile etching his handsome face. The information he held in his hands had been hidden in an old desk in the library at Westgate Manor. He had not laid eyes on it since it was placed there nearly five months ago. “I believe, Lord Castlereagh, this is the break we have been waiting for. It seems the Falcon has finally made a mistake. And one that shall cost him dearly.”
“Tris . . . Tristan,” Morgan bellowed loudly. He stood outside Tristan and Caroline’s closed bedroom door, pounding continuously. “Tris, I must see you right away. Meet me in my study in five minutes,” he commanded, walking away before his brother had a chance to argue.
“Merciful heavens, Morgan,” the dowager duchess scolded her grandson, stepping into the hall to see what all the commotion was about. “Why are you standing there shouting like a fishmonger?”
“Sorry, madam,” Morgan apologized with grin. “I was trying to get Tristan to come out of his bedchamber. It is imperative that I speak with him immediately.”
“I do believe that Tristan is busy, Morgan. He and Caroline are . . . are . . . resting before their evening out tonight,” the duchess announced.
“Resting, ha,” Morgan drawled. “Tristan and Caroline are always ‘resting.’ Morning, noon, and night they are ‘resting.’ I know they are newly married, but I have something of grave importance to discuss with Tris. I promise I shall not detain him long. Then he can return to his ‘resting.’ ” Morgan gave the duchess a roguish grin. “Why Grandmother, I do believe you are blushing.”
“I most certainly am not,” the dowager duchess replied in her most regal tone. Her cheeks flushed, and the duke’s grin broadened. “You are just impossible at times, Morgan.”
Morgan went over and gave the dowager duchess a kiss on her cheek. He was feeling better than he had in months, delighted over the turn of events his meeting with Lord Castlereagh had produced. He needed information that only Tristan could provide, and was unwilling to wait another minute to question his brother. “Do tell them to hurry, Grandmother. If Tristan isn’t out of there in ten minutes, I shall be forced to go in after him.”
“You will do no such thing,” the duchess replied in a shocked voice, the twinkle in her eye betraying her true feelings. “Now run along, Morgan. I am sure your brother will attend you as soon as possible.” She shoved him, none too gently, toward the staircase.
A rather disgruntled Tristan appeared in Morgan’s study 20 minutes later. He had not bothered to finish dressing and wore no neckcloth or coat, only a cambric shirt with the collar open, breeches, and boots. He was clearly displeased with his brother’s untimely interruption.
“What the devil is so important it could not wait until this evening, Morgan?” Tristan demanded the minute he walked into the room.
“Calm down, Tris,” Morgan spoke quietly. “I apologize for disturbing you, but it is very important. To start with, I must know the whereabouts of Henry Walsh. I need to contact him immediately.” Morgan grinned. “And by the way, your breeches are unbuttoned.”
Tristan gave his brother a chilling stare, and then calmly fastened his partially buttoned pants. “You did interrupt me in the middle of something rather pressing, Morgan,” he told him. “I doubt Caroline will ever forgive you.”
“I am sure she will endeavor to try,” Morgan interjected smoothly. He continued with his requests, ignoring his brother’s scowl. “I will also need a complete list of all the workmen you employed at Westgate Manor. Also the suppliers. I realize you will not have everything that I require, which is the reason I must speak with Mr. Walsh. I know you must have some records; I want to see all of them straightaway. I also need to know who visited the house with you and Caroline. Basically I want a list of anyone who has stepped foot on the grounds of Westgate Manor in the last five months.”
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