The Englor Affair (4 page)

“I heard that.”

Of course he did. Dunston heard everything, Dunston saw everything and Dunston
knew
everything. One of these days, Simon was going to reprogram him.

“Whatever happened to you, Colonel?”

Simon reached for his other boot. Oh galaxy, something squishy wiggled between his toes. “I rescued Lady Eleanor Pimpernickle’s new puppy from the Serpentine in Hyde Park.”

“Ho there, out of the way, Si. What’s the hold up? It’s cold out here.” Roc jostled Simon aside and stepped onto the polished green marble foyer of Simon’s townhouse with sludgy, pond-mucked boots.

Simon let go of his own boot to keep from falling on his arse and caught his balance on the balustrade of the porch steps. “Roc…”

“Outside, Major Bennett. If you track up this mansion you
will
clean it.”

Roc’s shoulders slumped and his head drooped as he backed out of the foyer. He frowned at Simon, his tawny brows pulled together, looking for all the world like a petulant child.

Simon bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing. At least Dunston was an equal opportunity tyrant. “Dunston, send Henderson out after them.”

“Damned butler is worse that an IN drill sergeant,” Roc grumbled as he used his right boot to toe off his left.

“I can hear you from outside, Major,” Dunston said. “Henderson is on his way with some towels.”

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Roc’s mouth dropped open and a piece of brown pond scum slipped down the shoulder of his gray morning coat and went splat on the concrete steps.

Simon couldn’t hold it in. He chuckled and returned his attention to his other boot. It came off with a slurping sound and he held it upside down. A piece of brownish green slime and what looked like a couple of tadpoles fell onto the steps. The moldy smell intensified.
Ewww…
What was in that lake water? He wiped his dirty hand on his trousers and grinned up at Roc.

“Oh laugh it up. That’s the last time I let you talk me into playing the hero. Stupid dog was only taking a swim. Don’t know why the silly chit was shrieking like a harpy.

She shouldn’t have let go of his leash.”

“You wouldn’t be the least bit out of sorts if it were a pretty little lord.” Simon tugged off one stocking, then the other. Roc was all talk. He was always up for a good heroic adventure.

Thunder clapped, startling a hop out of both of them.

Roc frowned up at the sky. “Looks like we’ll be taking a lift to White’s.” He reached for his other boot. “I’m not walking bare arsed into the house, Si.”

“I doubt that will be necessary. And she did thank us.”

“She thanked
you
.” His Hessian came off and Roc started on his stockings. Glancing up at Simon, Roc fluttered his eyelashes. “Oh thank you, Your Highness,” he mocked in a high voice.

Simon threw his sock, hitting his friend in the chest with it.

“That is disgusting.” Dropping his own soaked stocking, Roc peeled Simon’s off himself with his finger and thumb. He looked up at Simon with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Oh shit.
Simon laughed and hightailed it into the townhouse. The beeswax and lemon scent of furniture polish washed over him before the putrid pond odor overpowered it. He dashed toward the stairs and nearly knocked the armful of towels out of his footman’s arms. “Sorry, Henderson.”

Henderson sputtered, “Colonel,” then there was a spat and a loud shriek.

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Simon turned around, his hand slipping on the polished banister. Thunder cracked outside, echoing in the marble and wood foyer.

The stocking Roc had intended to throw at Simon slid down Henderson’s face before falling to the marble foyer with a splatter.

Simon burst into laughter as Roc raced forward, apologizing profusely.
And Aldred
wonders why I have a hard time keeping servants since I moved out of military housing.

He was going to have to give Henderson a raise again.

As Simon stepped out of the shower, Roc entered the room, brushing a towel over his chestnut hair. They’d never been more than friends, nor did Simon want to be, but Simon still took the time to admire the view.

Roc wore black trousers, his shoes and an unbuttoned white shirt, with a snowy cravat hanging loose around his neck. Tossing his towel at the hamper next to the bathing room door, he picked up one end of his cravat and let it fall. “Can you tie this bloody thing or loan me your valet?”

Simon grabbed his own towel and began drying off. “Tell Dunston to send Adams up. I thought you were wearing your dress blues.”

“I was, but your footman got even for the stocking mishap and brought back evening wear when he went to retrieve them from my apartment.” Roc scoffed. “Who is Adams?”

Chuckling, Simon wrapped his towel around his hips. Henderson was a worthy opponent. Maybe he’d stick around longer than the others had. “Adams is my new valet.”

Roc’s mouth dropped open. “You’re jesting. What happened to Patterson?”

“Wycliffe clocked him with a water balloon and a bag of flour.” Simon retrieved his comb, nudging Roc out from in front of the mirror. “The two of you are going to have to stop assaulting my staff.”

“Don’t go blaming Wycliffe and me. As I remember it, you’re the one who made Tinkerton quit.” Roc turned and leaned against the bathroom vanity, watching Simon comb his hair.

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Simon groaned at the reminder. He hadn’t meant to dunk the under butler in the fishpond in back of the townhouse. It wasn’t like Simon knew that Cook had dropped her handkerchief in there on her morning walk. And really, Simon couldn’t be held accountable for the man looking like Wycliffe from behind.

A loud clap of thunder rattled the windows and immediately after rain pelted the townhouse. Roc winced. “Dust, can’t remember the last time we had one like this. Sure hope the leak in my roof was fixed. Damned military housing.”

“Why do you think I bought myself a townhouse? Marine housing implodes planets and no way in hell was I staying in the IN barracks.” Simon tossed his comb onto the counter and went to his dressing room.
Uniform or evening dress?

“You really should talk to your father about more funding for military living quarters.” Roc picked up Simon’s discarded comb and followed him into the dressing room.

“Talked to my uncle about it when I moved out of my apartment on base. He was going to draft a bill to present it to parliament.” Simon opened the closet and took out his IN dress blues. “The problem is, since we share the base with the IN, parliament wants the IN to help with the costs.” Turning toward Roc, he took his jacket and shirt off the hanger.

Roc dropped the comb on the chaise in front of the closet.

“That doesn’t belong there.” Simon laid his jacket and pants on the back of the chaise and put his shirt on. Once again he contemplated the Benson problem. Where was the man and why hadn’t he checked in?

Groaning, Roc snagged the comb off the chaise. He took it back to the washroom, then leaned against the doorframe. “Are you going to Gentleman Jackson’s tonight?”

“I hadn’t planned on it.” Simon began buttoning his shirt as he crossed to the dresser to retrieve underclothes. “Was going to go workout tomorrow evening after work. Why?”

He tossed his towel aside and pulled on his short drawers. “Don’t tell me you’re ready to step back into the boxing ring.”

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Roc snorted, rolled his right shoulder and clutched it with his left hand. “I should say not. My arm still hurts from pummeling Wycliffe.”

Last time they’d gone to Gentleman Jackson’s, Roc had challenged Wycliffe to a match and neither had fared well. Or perhaps both had? At any rate neither was fit for public viewing for several days, and they’d both cried off working out with Simon.

Simon retrieved his trousers from the chaise. “If I remember correctly, Wycliffe nailed you in that shoulder.”

“Colonel, there is a lieutenant here to see you. He says he has an urgent message for you,” Dunston said. “Shall I have him seen to your study?”

Simon stepped into his trousers and pulled them up in a hurry, nearly hopping toward the door. “Is he an Englor soldier or an IN soldier?” It could be either, but he hoped for the former.

“He is in an Englor Marine uniform, Colonel.”

Yes.
It was information he’d been waiting on.

Roc raised a brow. “Benson?”

He sure hoped so. Tucking in his shirt, Simon fastened his trousers. “Dunston, please make the lieutenant comfortable in my study. I’ll be right down.” Maybe Benson had found more information. Perhaps even some that would paint his mother in a better light, although he highly doubted it.

“When is the last time you heard from him?”

Simon grabbed his shoes from the closet and sat on the edge of the chaise to put them and his socks on. “It’s been several months since his last message.” And
that
message had been way too brief, containing only two letters,
IN
. Which could mean anything or nothing. Simon was an IN soldier as well as an Englor Marine. Their base was both IN and Englor Marine. The message was not the damning evidence Simon needed. He finished tying his shoes and stood. “You coming?”

Roc nodded. “You bet. This concerns me too.”

It did indeed. It concerned all of Englor if Simon’s suspicions were correct.

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When they entered the study, the gangly blond lieutenant stood and saluted. His hair and uniform were wet from the rain, but Simon recognized him as the messenger assigned to pick up Benson’s messages every week.

“Colonel Hollister, Major Bennett.” Boyd was fresh out of the IN, starting his first year with the Englor Marines.

“Lieutenant Boyd.” Simon motioned the younger man toward the fireplace to the right of his desk. “Dunston, leave the room please and secure it, until I call your name again. Boyd, stand in front of the fire and get warm.”

“Yes, Colonel.” The study door clicked shut.

Roc took a seat in the chair in front of Simon’s desk, his cravat still untied. “Where is the message, Lieutenant?”

“There has been no recent news. Our go-between hasn’t heard from Lieutenant Benson in over three months.”

Damn.
Something wasn’t right. And why hadn’t Benson sent any other messages?

What had happened to Benson? He’d been instructed to check in every two weeks, whether he had information or not. Simon glanced past the lieutenant at Roc.

Roc met his gaze and frowned, obviously coming to the same conclusion as Simon.

Damn it.
What if they’d been found out? This situation was getting more and more complicated. What if Benson were being held captive…or worse?

Simon crossed to the bar and poured himself a scotch. First, he needed to send someone to locate Lieutenant Benson. “Lieutenant Boyd, how’d you get here?”

“I walked, sir.”

Thunder echoed through the study, followed by a loud crack of lightning. Simon and Boyd both started. Roc mumbled, “Damn,” under his breath and stood. He walked to the window and pulled the curtain aside, peering out. “It’s really storming out there.”

Simon tossed back the rest of his scotch and set the tumbler on the bar. “Dunston?”

“Yes, Colonel?”

“Please have a lift brought around to take Lieutenant Boyd back to the base.”

Boyd rubbed his hands together in front of the fire. “Thank you, sir.”

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“Colonel, the lift is on its way,” Dunston announced.

Simon nodded and crossed to his desk. “When you get back to base, change into a dry uniform, Lieutenant. You’re dismissed.”

Boyd saluted before leaving the room.

“Stardust and imploding planets.” Simon dropped into his chair, leaned back and put his hands over his face. “Dunston, secure the room again.” Interlacing his fingers, he put his hands behind his head and stared up at the wood-paneled ceiling.

“Any idea what Benson meant by IN?”

“I have no idea.” Did he want Simon to go to the IN for help?

Roc shrugged. “Do you still have the message before last?”

“Yes.” He had all the messages memorized.

“Tell me what it said again.”

“Benson overheard his fellow valet telling someone that he thought he had their man set up to get the cloning technology once he married into the family. He said the royal bitch, which we have deduced to be my mother, only knew that she would get the money when she gave him the schematics.”

“Right. What schematics? And why would she need money?”

“Gambling debts would be my guess. My father refuses to support her gaming.”

Simon closed his eyes and shook his head. “And I wish I knew what schematics. I haven’t been able to find out. I’ve been discreetly asking around to see if the IN or the Englor Marines have developed a new ship or weapon or…anything.” Maybe they needed to take their Marine commander, General Davidson, out for drinks and see if they could get him to talk.

Simon sat up and scanned his thumb on the desk scanner, opened his top drawer and pulled out Benson’s last note.

Roc frowned. “I haven’t heard anything either. Admittedly, I haven’t devoted much time to it. I’ve been hoping Benson would come through with more information.”

“You and me both.” Silently, Simon read the next line.
The valet said that Azrael has
no idea I am here but I think he might suspect us. And remember, we always have her
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child to use if we have to.
“Who is Azrael?” he wondered aloud. Did the note mean Azrael’s child or the queen’s? Simon couldn’t imagine what anyone could have on him.

The only possibility would be his being gay, but it would be very hard to prove.

“I suspect we’ll have an easier time figuring out what cloning technology and schematics they’re talking about.” Roc shrugged and let go of the curtain. “Azrael is an angel, isn’t he?”