Regency Spymasters 01 - Spy Fall Page 6

  Mari regarded Rosie from over the rim of her glass. “What do you think of him?”

  “Tris? He’s lovely.”

  “But Elinor did not think so?”

  “Of course she did.” The words were emphatic. “No one can dislike Tris. But you see, Elinor was only fond of him. Laurent offered excitement and adventure. She went to Town, met and married him there, and moved to France all within a few weeks.”

  “Darling must have taken her rejection hard.”

  “Her defection disappointed him, of course, but they remained great friends.”

  “I imagine she missed you both terribly when she moved. Did you know any of her friends in France?”

  Rosie’s intelligent eyes narrowed. “What is your interest in Elinor?”

  “I have friends in Paris who seem to recall her.” A lie, but a serviceable one.

  “Let’s see, I don’t recall Ellie making mention of any French acquaintances. However, she often wrote of her lady’s maid with great fondness.” Her voice softened. “She attended Elinor during the birth, but I’ve no idea what became of her.”

  They were interrupted by the butler, who appeared to summon them to supper.

  Mari’s initial impressions of Viscount Darling were confirmed during the meal. He was a courteous friendly presence, taking care to engage with everyone, even Cosmo, who remained uncharacteristically silent and was almost churlish at times. Maxim and Marcel were now taking their meals at the cottage, ostensibly so they could continue working. But Mari suspected it was because while Mrs. Godfrey’s delicious food was to their liking, the formality surrounding meals at Langtry was not.

  Cosmo drank heavily during the meal, and although he said nothing overtly rude to Darling, his dislike of the viscount was obvious. Aldridge was another matter entirely. The marquess’s obvious warmth made it clear he had an abiding fondness for the man who’d been a regular presence at Langtry since boyhood.

  “Tell me,” Mari asked once the main course had been served, “did you all often find yourselves in trouble as children?”

  “Rosie rarely joined us. She was too busy searching for those fossils of hers.”

  “They found me very boring,” Rosie said cheerfully.

  “You have never been boring,” Cosmo said, draining another glass of wine.

  Darling exchanged a twinkling look with Cosmo. “But the two of us did manage to get into a few scrapes.”

  Cosmo sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “What Darling here is too polite to say is that he played the saint to my sinner.”

  “I fear that characterization is far too flattering to me and much too harsh to you.” The man practically glowed, yet there was a remoteness to his radiant male beauty. By contrast, Cosmo seemed darker, earthier, and more rugged. While Darling’s sunny nature brought to mind a cloudless spring day, Cosmo was an unpredictable summer storm, with all the wild roiling beauty found in thunderclouds and cracks of lightning. “You did pull me off that cliff.”

  Aldridge paused. “What cliff?”

  “I walked too close to the edge—”

  “In an attempt to impress Ellie,” Cosmo said.

  Darling nodded. “Only I slipped and would certainly have fallen to my death if Cosmo hadn’t pulled me up in time.”

  Aldridge glanced between the two men. “I’ve never heard that story. Cosmo, clearly you were to be commended.”

  Cosmo made a dismissive motion with his hand. “It was a momentary lapse.”

  Aldridge’s focus shifted to cutting his meat. “You did always have a bit of the devil in you.”

  “So Darling looked angelic in comparison.” Cosmo sat back in his chair, gesturing for Toby, the footman, to refill his glass. “Indeed, I was the one who dared Elinor to climb that tall tree in the back orchard. While Darling begged her not to, and then ran to get help when she couldn’t get down.”

  “But Ellie told me you are the one who climbed up to get her before help came,” Rosie said.

  Darling’s smile was gracious. “She constantly followed us, and Cosmo was always coming to her rescue.”

  “Not always,” Cosmo said.

  An uncomfortable silence blanketed the table, jarred only by the scraping of silverware against the plates. Aldridge remained focused on his meal, his movements stiff and precise.

  “What I mean to say,” Cosmo said, “is that you were the one to come to her rescue when it mattered.”

  All traces of laughter melted off Darling’s face. “Would that I could have had more success in that endeavor. Alas, I reached Paris too late.”

  Darling was the man who had gone to Elinor’s rescue in Paris in Cosmo’s stead? Hiding her surprise, Mari centered her attention on her plate pushing peas onto her fork and bringing it to her mouth. Chewing slowly, she mulled over the revelation.

  Aldridge picked up his glass and swallowed. Replacing it on the table in a careful manner, he said, “You did all that you could, Tristan, and for that we are eternally grateful.”

  Cosmo raised his glass in ironic salute. “Eternally.”

  Darling did not respond to the mocking tone in Cosmo’s voice. “I’d have given anything for it to have turned out differently,” he said quietly.

  Aldridge laid a gentle hand on Darling’s arm. “Of course you would have.” He slipped a glance at his son. “We know you did what you could, isn’t that so, Cosmo?”

  “Of course. Especially in light of the fact I was too busy carousing with wenches to be of any use.”

  Aldridge’s already wan face paled further. “Cosmo.”

  “Both of us playing our parts to perfection, wouldn’t you say, Darling?”

  Aldridge’s chair scratched against the floor and he pushed to his feet, the movement a slow and burdened one. With an excruciatingly correct bow, he uttered, “If you will excuse me,” before making a dignified exit from the room.

  Watching the door close behind his father, Cosmo turned to Darling and Rosie. “Suppers at Langtry are quite different without Elinor.”

  The viscount cleared his throat. “Yes, I can see that.” He came to his feet. “I think I too shall retire early.”

  Rosie, who’d watched the exchange without uttering a word, also stood. “It’s time I made my way home. You can see me out.”

  After Darling escorted Rosie from the chamber, Mari said, “You certainly know how to clear out a room.”

  “I hope you are not sorry to miss dessert.” Cosmo gave her a toothy, lopsided grin. “After all, you were heavy enough when I carried you.”

  “Cochon.” He was in his cups, to be sure. She seized the opportunity to draw information from him. “Tell me, do you dislike Darling for any real reason? Or is it solely because he was available to rescue your sister when you were not?”

  Cosmo rubbed the top of his head, disheveling the chocolate waves of hair; a heavy curl fell over his high forehead, covering his dark brow. On any other drunkard, that hair would look a mess. On Cosmo Dunsmore, it enhanced his rakish charm. “It would be most ungraceful of me to dislike Darling because he tried to save Elinor when I couldn’t.”

  “It would also be understandable.”

  Cosmo tilted his head back, regarding her through half-closed, black, liquid eyes. “You think I am jealous of Darling because Aldridge holds him in high regard.”

  “It has occurred to me. Are you?”

  Propping his elbows on the table, Cosmo held his hands apart. “If I say no, you will not believe me. And if I say yes, that would not be the truth, either.”

  “What is the truth?”

  “I hardly know myself. I cannot fault his devotion to Elinor. It seemed sincere.”

  “And yet?”

  “There is something about him I cannot quite put my finger on.” He shook his head. “I know it makes no sense.”

  “What did Elinor think of him?”

  He shrugged his broad shoulders. “She was fond enough of him, I suppose.”

  “But not eno
ugh to marry him,” Mari said. “Perhaps she shared your opinion of the man.”

  He sat back in his chair, considering that. “My sister always did have good instincts.”

  “So what do you suppose it is about him?”

  “I cannot say. Perhaps I just cannot abide angels.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he flashed a wide, devilish grin. “Except for fallen angels, of course. Those I cannot seem to get enough of.”

  She suppressed a smile. “You are three sheets to the wind. You should get yourself to bed.”

  “Finally, the proposition I’ve been waiting for.”

  “Regrettably not.” She stood, taking his arm to help him to his feet. “I prefer the men I bed to have some recollection of the encounter.”

  He stumbled to his feet, his face nuzzling into her hair. The combined scents of cedar shaving soap, warm male, and wine filled her nostrils. “You would be very difficult to forget.” His large, warm body leaned heavily on hers, probably a bit more than necessary.

  “Clearly, you’re not too foxed to turn a situation to your advantage.”

  He chuckled, placing an arm around her shoulders as they moved toward the door. “Angel?”

  “Mm?” She curved an arm around his waist to help him walk, the contact making her supremely conscious of the solid contours of his rugged body. Desire contracted low in her belly. It really had been too long since she’d gone to bed with a man.

  “Three sheets to the wind,” he mused. “That’s an awfully English expression for a French mademoiselle to use.”

  She cursed to herself for the slipup. “My mother used the term quite often when my father would stumble in after an evening overindulging,” she said, lying.

  Clearly he wasn’t drunk enough. Not nearly.

  That evening, Mari waited until long after the clattering in the kitchen died away and the soft tread of feet on the staircase to the servants’ attic quarters ceased. Pulling her chamber door open, she slipped into the hallway without making a noise. She moved with purpose, confident everyone was asleep, even Cosmo, who normally kept late hours.

  Hopefully, his inebriated state would keep him out of her way while she did a comprehensive search of Aldridge’s study. It occurred to her she hadn’t seen Cosmo truly drunk like this since the morning she’d first come to Langtry.

  Arriving at the library door, she pushed it open and slipped inside. She started with the desk again, this time going through all the drawers and checking every part of it for a hidden compartment. Nothing. She moved to the chess table, examining it from all angles, before moving to the bookshelves. Pulling open the Gothic-arched glass doors, she ran her hands along the books, scanning for any volumes that seemed unusual or out of place. She moved quickly, with complete concentration.

  Nothing. She released a frustrated breath. She’d search the rest of the house over the next few evenings. If those endeavors turned up nothing, the only place left to search would be Aldridge’s own bedchamber, which would require a great deal of finesse, particularly since the older man rarely left the property. But she would find a way; she had no choice.

  Giving a quick look around the room to ensure that everything was as she had found it, Mari pulled open the door. She paused and listened until she was certain the house remained quiet. No sound or movement breached the silence. Good. She stepped out and closed the door behind her. With careful haste, she went back to her chamber, her mind working, plotting how to get into Aldridge’s private quarters without being detected.

  As soon as Mari closed the door to the study, Cosmo stepped out from the small chamber hidden behind the bookshelves, which led to a system of tunnels the original owners of the house had built to protect their smuggling efforts more than a century ago. He hadn’t been in the tunnels since he and Elinor were children. The dust he brushed off his dressing gown suggested that no one else had either.

  But his mind was busy elsewhere, racing with the truth of what he’d just witnessed. Mari had searched his father’s study with the quick efficiency of an expert who’d performed the same task many times before. And she’d moved like a shadow, without making a sound, as though she’d been trained to it.

  He couldn’t discount the most obvious conclusion—Mari Lamarre wasn’t just an aeronaut in search of a benefactor. She was, in all likelihood, a French spy. If that were true, what did she hope to find? Perhaps she was after crown secrets. Aldridge had held some of the highest positions in government. As a member of the Lords, he remained privy to the nation’s greatest secrets. And, although England and France were officially at peace thanks to the treaty that Aldridge himself had helped negotiate a few months ago, tensions between the two countries remained high.

  He wondered if Mari possessed specific intelligence that Aldridge kept something of importance here at Langtry, something the French coveted. Langtry’s coastal location made the situation more dire. Once she found what she sought, Mari could immediately set sail for France with it, not only putting England at risk, but also destroying his father’s reputation. Her bloody frog cohorts could be floating offshore even now, waiting for a signal.

  Chills shivered down his spine. Until this evening, figuring out her game had been a harmless amusement, but this was no lark. The parachutist was up to something that could have serious repercussions for the country, as well as for Aldridge. He had to stop her. He had to protect his father at all costs.

  It was time to call for reinforcements.

  Chapter Six

  Marcel surprised Mari the following day by making an unexpected appearance in the main house.

  “Our friend has sent word,” he said with quiet urgency when Mari greeted him in the front hall. Outside, a roll of thunder rippled through the skies, threatening an afternoon storm. “He wants a meeting.”

  She pulled him into a small feminine sitting room and closed the door. “Now? It is not possible.” Outside, the skies erupted. Rain splattered against the window. “How can he want me to come to Town now?”

  “Not London. He travels here in a sennight.”

  Alarm filtered through her. “He comes here? To Langtry?”

  “Non. To the village. You are to meet him at the tavern Monday next.”

  She released a breath. “When exactly?”

  “He will send word. And he wants you to go alone.”

  “Very well.” She didn’t like it. If their friend planned to make a trip to Dorset for the purpose of an emergency meeting, something must be wrong. “Anything new on who Aldridge’s go-between could be?”

  Marcel shook his head. “Nothing. Perhaps notre ami brings news of it.”

  “Perhaps.” But she didn’t think it likely.

  “Did you learn anything of interest yesterday?”

  She thought back to her conversation with Rosie Chalcroft. “The sister, Elinor Dunsmore—Elinor Laurent—had a lady’s maid who attended her in Paris. We must find her.”

  “Is the wench important?”

  “I am not certain, but it is a possibility we must explore.”

  He shrugged. “As you like.”

  Together they walked to the front door. She watched him run across the grass to the barn in the pelting rain. Lightning cracked against the sky, and she shivered against the unsettled feeling engulfing her, a sense that something wasn’t quite right.

  Perhaps another chat with Mrs. Godfrey would prove helpful. She headed for the kitchen to ask for a cup of tea. Greater knowledge of Langtry and its residents might eventually allow her to piece seemingly unrelated bits of information together into something comprehensible.

  “There you are, Miss Lamarre.” Aldridge appeared in the doorway of his study as she passed. “May I tempt you with a game of chess?”

  Mari glanced beyond him to the rain battering the windows. “I suppose this weather provides me with an excuse to escape work.”

  “Indeed.” Stepping aside, he allowed her to pass and they settled at the chess table. “I’ll ring for tea.”


  Given the chill of the day and the gloomy weather beyond the windowpane, it seemed like an excellent idea. They were silent while setting up the ornately carved ivory pieces on the board.

  “You’ve been quite busy since Tristan’s departure,” he said.

  “There is much work to be done before the exhibition.” As far as Aldridge knew, for the past three days since the viscount had left Langtry, she’d been readying her parachute for a test jump. In the evenings, though, once the household was abed, she’d undertaken an extensive search of the entire house, except for the marquess’s private chambers. Yet she remained determined to breach his enclave, more convinced than ever that the document she sought could be found there, if it existed at all.

  “Will you take the first move?” she asked.

  While he contemplated the board, she couldn’t help admiring his gray-streaked dark hair and sharp profile, which revealed no softening of the chin. It was easy to see what an attractive man he must have been in his youth, one who could have had his way with half the ladies of the ton. Yet, in that, as in everything, Aldridge maintained the highest reputation. All accounts held that he’d been faithful to Cosmo’s mother during their marriage and exceedingly discreet about his affairs since her death.

  On paper, and indeed, from everything she’d seen of him herself, Aldridge gave the appearance of intelligence, decency, and honor. Yet her information suggested that the marquess was a dangerous man, particularly to her family.

  “Your move,” he said.

  “Your chess set is most impressive.”

  “It is French. I ordered it before the revolution.”

  She moved her knight. “That explains why you still retain a king and queen.”

  Aldridge smiled, a wry curve so like his son’s. “Indeed. As I understand it, all of the French chess sets are kingless since the revolution.”

  “We are very serious about this point,” she said with mock gravity. “Our government made a gift of exquisite ivory Dieppe chess pieces to the American Thomas Jefferson. However, the kings were missing because we were loath to offend a man who’d worked so diligently to rid the colonies of royalty.”