Jenna Petersen - [Lady Spies] (3 page)

With a set jaw, Meredith took a glass of champagne from the nearest footman and headed for the terrace. She could only hope Emily had uncovered some clues that would disprove Tristan’s involvement in the robbery of the painting. And that those clues would tell Meredith if his reaction to her questions was due to some other melancholy, not the guilty conscience of a traitor to King and Country.

As she slipped into the cool air on the terrace, she prayed that would be true.

And knew, deep in her heart, that it was not.

B
efore she spoke a word, Emily’s face revealed everything Meredith needed to know. In her friend’s blue eyes there glittered the excitement of the hunt. For the first time in four years, Meredith dreaded that flash.

“You found the painting,” she whispered as she looked away from Emily’s excited expression through the ballroom window. In the distance, Tristan stood at the edge of the dance floor speaking to a man she couldn’t see clearly in the milling crowd.

“No,” Emily said. “I cannot yet be certain, but I don’t believe it’s here.”

Meredith’s body clenched with unwanted
happiness before she could control it. Tristan’s guilt hadn’t been proven absolutely. She flinched at the relief that flowed through her. Emotion had no place here. Not in her profession.

“What are you thinking?” Emily asked quietly.

Meredith broke her gaze away from Tristan’s solemn face to turn to Emily. Her friend’s eyes met hers with unwavering focus.

“What do you mean?” she asked with an innocent smile.

Emily arched an eyebrow and shook her head. “You are…there is something unusual in your demeanor. Did you have a chance to speak to Lord Carmichael?”

Meredith nodded as their short conversation played over in her head, tormenting her with the questions it stirred. “Yes. We spoke briefly.”

“Did he say or do something that troubled you?”

Meredith paused as she pondered the question. Obviously Emily saw some of the truth in her behavior, but she wasn’t sure how much more she could share. A fact that bothered her as much as Tristan’s conduct. Why did she want to hide important facts from her partner and best friend?

She cleared her throat. “His words themselves were above reproach,” she said with a shrug. “But his manner was questionable.”

Emily touched her arm. “And that concerns you.”

“More than it should.” Meredith sighed as she glanced into the ballroom again. Tristan was now out of her view, but certainly not out of her mind.

Emily hesitated before she said, “You want to believe he’s innocent.”

Meredith nodded. She would
not
lie.

“Yes, I admit I do. I should enter a case without any decision made about the character of my suspect, but I
know
Tristan.” She hesitated. Did she really know him anymore? “I hate to believe he could betray that which I hold dear.”

Emily sighed. “Then you shall not like this. As I was coming to meet you, I saw several people from Ana’s list.”

Meredith winced. Tristan had been keeping company with quite a few of The Society’s most dangerous suspects of late. To know that those same villains were inside his home at that very moment went right to her soul, where it sat heavy.

“And?” she asked. “Because by your tone, it’s clear there is more.”

Emily nodded with a grimace. “Tristan was engaged in intense conversation with Augustine Devlin.”

Meredith’s eyes widened until they hurt. Devlin. He was the second in command of a dangerous group of traitors. A man with his hands in so many schemes that he reeked of scandal and ruin.

Her agency and others like it had been pursuing
Devlin’s set for years, but had never been able to find sufficient evidence against them, or determine the identity of the leader of their gang. But they were very likely responsible for the deaths and injuries of many good men in duty to the King, both in the military and in the ranks of spies.

“You’re certain it was Devlin?” she asked, and couldn’t control the tremble in her voice.

“I think after pursuing him for so long that I know the bastard,” Emily said through gritted teeth. “Carmichael did not look pleased to be met by Devlin, but he didn’t seem surprised. And he didn’t snub the man.”

Meredith’s heart sank, but she straightened her shoulders nonetheless.

“Then there is no avoiding the truth I have been loath to believe,” she said. “I must move forward with the investigation in earnest. Tristan may truly be involved in plots that endanger our fellow countrymen. If that is so, he and his friends must be stopped before they can transfer whatever information may have been hidden in the painting.”

She rubbed her eyes. How had things come to this? If he was guilty, what had turned Tristan from an honorable man who once defended her life to a traitor?

Emily patted her arm in reassurance. “I am sorry, Merry. I know you didn’t want that to be true of a friend.”

With a shrug of one shoulder, she answered, “If he has done what he is accused of, he is no friend.”

Emily nodded, but she didn’t seem sure of Meredith’s resolve. “I overheard some talk. Apparently the Carmichael family departs London early next week. Tristan and his mother are bound for their country estate, where they host an annual party. The gathering will last a fortnight. Afterward, they often retire to Bath or other outside destinations. I don’t know when he’ll return to London.”

Meredith’s lips thinned. “I must ensure that I follow them to Carmichael. If the painting isn’t in town, it is likely there. The country may even be where the transfer will take place.”

Emily nodded. “I agree. Did Lord Carmichael mention the party to you?”

She shook her head. “No, and I don’t think I could approach him again without rousing his mistrust since we haven’t spoken for so long. But Lady Carmichael is here and may be my best chance to obtain an invitation.”

Wrinkling her brow, Emily looked at her carefully. “Should I attend with you?”

“Attend the party in Carmichael?” Meredith asked. When Emily nodded, she drew back in surprise. “Why in the world would I want that? You’ll be needed here to search the house once the family has left town. And Ana will want your
assistance to decipher any information I send from the field.”

“Yes, yes.” Emily waved her off. “But I’m worried about you. I’ve never seen you so grim when starting a case. Your expression is positively tortured. Perhaps it would be better if I were there to help.”

“No!” Meredith turned her back on her friend in preparation to go inside. Emily’s astute observations set her on her heels with surprise. Her friend so easily put words to her own doubts and worries about her involvement in this investigation. “Don’t be ridiculous. I know my duty.”

“But do you know your heart?” Emily called after her.

Meredith froze, clenching her fists at her sides as she turned on her friend. Slowly, she shook her head. “My heart has nothing to do with this, Emily. Nothing at all. Excuse me, I must see Lady Carmichael.”

But as she fled the terrace, she couldn’t ignore that the heart she claimed was not part of her investigation was pounding so loudly she could scarcely hear over it.

Constance Archer, Dowager Marchioness of Carmichael, was much the same as Meredith remembered her. Tristan had inherited his dark hair and piercing eyes from her ladyship. But unlike her son, Lady Carmichael was quick to laugh and
seemed to enjoy the pressing demands the party made on her time and company. As Meredith crossed the room, she saw the Marchioness surrounded by a crowd of young women and their mothers. All seemed enthralled by whatever tale the lady was sharing with them.

Meredith could see why. Lady Carmichael’s face was animated as she shared her story. Her eyes were bright and her hands fluttered like a hummingbird to accentuate her words. Unlike Tristan, there was no sense of melancholy about her or weight of secrets around her neck.

Meredith set her shoulders back in preparation. Garnering an invitation to a party from a woman who likely didn’t remember her would be a challenge. She couldn’t forget herself or what was at stake. If she lost track of Tristan for an entire fortnight, he could rid himself of the painting before she was able to intercept him. Her chance to prove his innocence—or guilt—would be lost.

She slipped through the enraptured group of women carefully, keeping her eyes focused on Tristan’s mother as she edged near. Before she could think of a way to interrupt, her ladyship’s eyes fell on her and she gasped as her hands came up to cover her cheeks.

“Oh my! Lady Northam, is that you?” she said with a wide, welcoming smile that tugged at Meredith’s heart. “My dear, my dear, how long has it been?”

Meredith pushed away unexpected delight that she had been remembered. “Lady Carmichael, how kind of you to recall me. It has been far too many years since I’ve had the pleasure of your company.”

Lady Carmichael nodded with a wide grin, then shook her head. “Oh, I’m forgetting myself. I’m sure you know these ladies.”

Meredith looked around the group. To her surprise, she knew them all. She’d met them at many a party and laughed at their frivolity. They were the debutantes of the current Season, with their mamas in tow. In fact,
all
of them were debutantes.

She arched an eyebrow as she looked from the crowd of young women to Lady Carmichael. Her ladyship’s daughters were grown and married, so she wouldn’t know the young women through their social acquaintance with her children. Why was she surrounded by them at present?

Unless…

Tristan. She found him in the crowd with one quick pass of her gaze. He was unmarried. Evidently, Lady Carmichael was playing matchmaker.

A strong and equally surprising blast of jealousy smashed through Meredith before she pushed it aside with violence.

“Of course, my lady.” She gave a nod to the women. “Good evening to you all.”

The women nodded politely and said their hel
los. Meredith refocused her attention on Lady Carmichael. “I am sorry I haven’t spoken to you in so long, my lady. I suppose it has been since the death of my husband.”

“And that was many years ago, was it not?” Lady Carmichael asked. “It seems we have been two lonely ships. We have passed each other, but never on the same course.”

Meredith nodded. “Indeed. How pleased I am that we navigated to each other tonight.”

Her ladyship sighed quietly. “I’ve told Tristan many a time how I wondered about you these past few years.”

Meredith wondered how Tristan felt about that statement, since it was he who had desired the distance between them, but she smiled, and it wasn’t an expression she had to force. Her memories of Lady Carmichael were all fond. The woman had been nothing but kind to her during her visits. Almost motherly in her care.

“I have fared very well, ma’am,” she said.

“I’m glad to hear of it.”

Meredith cocked her head. Lady Carmichael was staring at her with an odd expression. Like she was being sized up. And suddenly she realized…she was. The lady’s matchmaking had apparently stretched to her as well, despite her six and twenty years and status as a widow. The thought was quite shocking, but Meredith recovered herself as well as she could.

Like it or not, she could use Lady Carmichael’s desire to see her son married against her…and against Tristan. The idea left a sour taste in Merry’s mouth, but she swallowed it.

“I enjoyed a very brief but pleasant conversation with your son earlier in the evening,” she said with a shy dip of her head that so went against her personality. Even when she was out in Society, she had never been good at flirtatious games. She preferred to be straightforward. Something she could rarely be in her role of spy. “He is looking very well. As handsome as I remembered him to be so many years ago.”

Lady Carmichael’s eyes lit with interest and she stepped closer, effectively closing out the conversation she’d been having with the other women. She took Meredith’s arm and led her away without a backward glance.

“How nice,” she said as they took a slow turn around the perimeter of the room, Lady Carmichael deftly guiding them through the crowd. “You two were friendly as children, were you not? He has often spoken of his carefree days at your uncle and aunt’s home.” A shadow momentarily passed over the older woman’s care-lined face. “He laughed easier then.”

Meredith tilted her head. So her ladyship sensed the trouble in her son as well. How much did the woman know about his dealings? Lady Carmichael could be a valuable source of information, if
only Meredith could get that precious invitation to Carmichael.

“I believe we all laugh easier as children,” she said. “There are no responsibilities, no cares to weigh us down. Now that your son is Marquis, I suppose business keeps him from enjoying too many nights such as this one.”

Her ladyship shrugged. “Even when he is out in company, he hardly allows a smile to pass over his lips. I try to encourage him with events like this.”

Meredith nodded. Tristan had always been serious and quiet. It did not surprise her that he didn’t care for such events. Still, she had to prod on. “Perhaps he does not care for London Society, my lady?”

The trick was to slowly guide the conversation toward the country party. Then she could maneuver her way into the invitation. But it was like piloting some great ship. It took care and slow determination.

Lady Carmichael laughed. “He cares little for country Society either,” she said. “Even our annual Carmichael gathering brings him little joy.”

“Do you have an annual gathering in Carmichael?” Meredith asked with pretended surprise. “How lovely. I hear the countryside there is beautiful. I’m sure it will do him good. I certainly love the country air.” She held her breath as she watched Lady Carmichael from the corner of her gaze.

Her ladyship snapped her gaze to Meredith’s
face and her green eyes twinkled. “You are welcome to join us, my dear. We depart Monday next. After so long, it would be a pleasure to renew our acquaintance.”

Meredith stifled a burst of triumphant glee. She forced an unsure expression as she lifted a gloved fingertip to her lips. “Monday next? I’m not certain. You know I’m involved in the Sisters of the Heart Society for Widows and Orphans.”

Lady Carmichael nodded. “You do excellent work. But our gathering is only for a fortnight. I’m sure you could be spared from your good works for such a short time.”

She paused as if considering the offer a bit more, then nodded. “I suppose you’re right. If I am to censure your son, even in jest, for his overly serious manner, I cannot live my own life by work alone. I think I
shall
join you.”