My Scandalous Viscount (26 page)

But men who saw themselves as possessing superior intellect had, in Beau’s experience, a fatal tendency to overreach. Arrogance and hatred got them every time. Once again, they’d gone too far. Destroy the Order? No, Beau vowed. Chivalry and honor would not be killed so easily.

Except perhaps in Nick.

When they returned to the carriage, he asked the others to step out of the carriage so he could have a private word with his errant brother agent.

“Listen.” He stared hard into Nick’s dark eyes. “We got our man, but coward that he is, I fear he’s going to back out of his confession as soon as it’s official. There’s only one way this is going to work. We need your help.”

“Figures.”

“It’s time for you to choose which side you’re on, Nick. Here’s my offer. I won’t say anything to the outer world about this. The Elders can deal with you privately, later, as they see fit. I’m very sure you’ll end up in the dungeon either way. But if you want to restore what’s left of your honor, I’m giving you this chance. Come with me and we will make the claim that you were on a covert mission the whole time—as loyal as ever, an Order agent in good standing—sent to unearth this conspiracy.”

Nick stared at him incredulously. “You’re going to make
me
out as the hero? After what I’ve done?”

“Do you think I care who gets the credit?” Beau retorted. “Right now, my concern is for our brothers in the Tower. We need to present a united front now if we’re going to get through this attempt to destroy us. Otherwise”—he shrugged—“these bastards are going to have us for breakfast.”

Nick studied him with a dubious look. “So, you want to expose a conspiracy by telling more lies? I trust you see the irony.”

“Order doctrine says liars don’t deserve the truth,” he replied. “Besides, you’d only be playing a role. It isn’t as though you’re off the hook. But help me now, and I’ll help you to mitigate whatever punishment the Elders hand down to you. I’m willing to give you another chance to make up for what you’ve done because, frankly, I need your help. If there is any honor left in you, back me up in this.”

“Of course,” he murmured, looking stunned. “Of course I will.”

Beau was a little stunned himself, but he could see no other way. His best strategy to save the others and nail Green to the wall was to claim that Nick’s few months as a mercenary had all been a counterploy.

One that their enemies had obligingly walked into.

The Elders could sort out the dark truth later in dealing with Lord Forrester, but it was best if this was handled internally by the Order.

“I can’t believe you’re giving me another chance,” he said quietly, his gaze downcast.

“Neither can I. But you saved my life plenty of times. Don’t get me wrong, you’re a thoroughgoing bastard. But you’re still my brother.”

At Beau’s simple statement, Nick could no longer disguise his remorse behind bravado. He lifted his stricken gaze slowly to Beau’s. “I wouldn’t have done it, you know. Lord Liverpool, I mean. I hope you can believe that.”

“I know,” Beau said quietly.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” Nick forced out. “Just tell me what you want me to say.”

Beau cut the ropes around Nick’s wrists and filled him in on the details of his plan.

W
ith the strength of the information they now had on hand, Beau made the decision to appeal directly to the Regent. The mood inside the carriage was tense as they rushed to Carlton House.

When they reached the corner of Pall Mall, a short distance from the prince’s residence, Beau sent the gunsmith’s apprentice on his way. “There’s no reason to drag you any further into this than you already are. You did well. I’ll be sure to put in a good word with the Elders for you.”

If the Order survives.

“Good luck, sir.” Michael jumped out of the carriage and jogged off, but when Beau glanced at Carissa, she shook her head at him in warning.

“Don’t even think about trying to send me off, too.”

He smiled in spite of himself. “I wasn’t about to.”

A few moments later, they drove up to the gates of Carlton House. The guards admitted them on the Order’s credentials and looked at them with private admiration. But given the arrests of their brethren, they were parted from their weapons, and five palace guards escorted Beau, Nick, and Trevor inside, along with their prisoner and Carissa.

“We need to see His Royal Highness at once. This man has critical information for the prince.” Beau nodded at the waxworks man, who cowered from the soldiers.

“I’ll take you to the chamberlain, but I don’t know if you’ll get an audience,” the lieutenant confided. “His Royal Highness already has some important visitors, including one who doesn’t like you gentlemen very much, from what I hear.”

Beau gave the man a discreet nod of thanks for this warning, but mentally, he cursed. Apparently, Ezra Green had beaten them there. The schemer must have anticipated that Beau’s next move would be an attempt to appeal to the Regent personally. No matter. He was ready for him.

The only question was, how would Green react when he faced Charles Vincent’s accusations. Would he give himself away? Was this even going to work?

There was only one way to find out. Striding through the opulent halls of the Regent’s palace with their uniformed escorts, Beau and Trevor kept Nick between them though he was no longer bound; Nick, in turn, kept hold of Charles Vincent, who was.

The waxworks man had his wrists tied behind him. Trevor was keeping a close eye on him, while Beau walked beside Carissa.

As they strode down the interior colonnade approaching the large, glittering Throne Room where Prinny had been cornered by his royal responsibilities for once, they could already hear Ezra Green whining.

“Sire, the findings of my investigation are most dire! Something must be done! The Order has caused an incident the full ramifications of which we cannot yet know! Who knows what else they might have up their sleeves?”

“Yes, but to put them in the Tower? Seems rather extreme, what?”

“Your Highness—seventy dead! And every victim of this tragedy was either a representative of a foreign court or a member of some prominent European family! It is a black mark for all of England, what they’ve done. Moreover, they admit to it! The agents are all guilty, they said as much themselves! If they are not punished, the nations all these victims hail from will demand an explanation. If we do not make an example of these cold-blooded killers and subject them to the full fury of the law, then the Crown will be seen as endorsing their behavior. You, sire, could be personally blamed! Who knows what it could lead to? Trade tariffs, withdrawing of ambassadors—perhaps even to war!”

“Yes, but I’ve played cards with these men,” Prinny said in annoyance. “They are not, as you describe, cold-blooded killers, Mr. Green.”

“I am sure they would not show that face to you, Your Highness. And if I may be so bold, sire, one cannot afford to be blinded by personal feelings in such matters. Furthermore, if Your Highness will permit me to point out, if these men are proven felons, all their holdings revert to the Crown,” he finished with a humble bow.

Beau fumed in silence, but beside him, Carissa faltered. He glanced at her and saw that, hearing this, her face had gone white.

He steadied her with a hand on her elbow, but he had a fair idea of what she must be thinking. If Max, Rohan, and Jordan all were hanged, their homes and holdings forfeit to the sovereign, then Daphne, Kate, and Mara would be left widowed and penniless.

But he was not going to let any of that happen. The time to stop it was at hand.

He stepped away from his wife and approached the chamberlain; after a moment’s quiet conference, he procured the fellow’s nod. The chamberlain slipped in discreetly.

The name of Viscount Beauchamp was obviously not unknown to Prinny, for they were promptly admitted.

Just outside the open double doors, Beau turned to the others. “Carissa, stay out of trouble here. Trevor, bring Mr. Vincent in when I call for you. We’ll see how Green reacts when he’s faced with our witness.”

“Good luck,” Carissa murmured.

He held her gaze with muted adoration and gave her a nod. Then he glanced at Nick. “Ready?”

Nick nodded back.

The chamberlain announced them: “Viscount Beauchamp and Baron Forrester!”

They walked in, both of them on guard.

The Regent sat on a throne beneath a velvet-draped canopy at the head of the room. A number of ministerial types had apparently rushed to the scene to find out why four of the ton’s most notable peers had been thrown into the Tower.

“Ah, Lord Beauchamp,” the Regent addressed him. “It’s good you’ve come. Perhaps you can tell us the Order’s side of the story.”

“I would be honored, Your Royal Highness,” he replied, as he and Nick both made the proper bows.

Then he and Nick split up, walking cautiously around Ezra Green, flanking him on either side. Mr. Green turned nervously, trying to watch them both from where he stood in the center of the room.

“I heard some of what Mr. Green was saying, but I’m afraid he left out the most important part of the story.”

Green scoffed, but the Regent lifted his eyebrows.

“Oh? What’s that?”

“Although the seventy men who died in that explosion in Bavaria were indeed courtier friends of various princes, and aristocrats from great families, they also happened to be the remaining leaders of the Promethean cult. Yes, our agents stopped them by killing every last one of them. But our men should be thanked and congratulated, not imprisoned for doing their duty.”

“Ha! What else should we expect him to say?” Green countered in contempt. “Of course he would defend them. He is one of them. But do not be fooled by his smooth talk, sire. Order agents are trained to lie expertly, as much as they are trained to kill. This is why the panel has ruled they prove such a threat!

“Of course they give lip service to loyalty,” he continued, “but what if that’s just one of their lies? Why, their old handler could barely control them, arrogant as they are! With their skills, their influence, their power, fortune, and access to secret government information, think of the threat they could pose to all of us if they were to unite with some unknown goal of their own! They could pose a threat to this government!”

Beau laughed aloud. Green’s face reddened as he whirled back to face the Regent. “It’s not as though this would be a new skill for them! They’ve done it before, sire! In Naples! Some of the German principalities!”

“To limit the reach of Napoleon,” Nick chimed in, qualifying that accusation.

“The point is, they know how to do it. And now that the war’s over, and they’re all here in England together, how will they keep themselves busy, I ask you, sire? War is all they know. If they become restless, such coups are already part of their repertoire!”

“I suppose you’re right, we probably could, if we really wanted to,” Beau drawled. “What, make a virtual prisoner of His Royal Highness? Control key members of Parliament? Maybe we already do,” he taunted him.

“I say!” a leading Cabinet minister exclaimed. “Do you?”

“Of course not, Lord Eldon. We are loyal. That is the chief difference between us and Mr. Green and his shadowy friends.”

“I beg your pardon!” Green uttered, drawing himself up in withering indignation.

“As a great student of human nature—which I must be, as a proper spy—I have learned that we are all hypocrites in some way. People generally accuse others most vehemently of the very fault they themselves are secretly prone to. And so it is with Mr. Green.” Beau turned to the real traitor. “He accuses the Order of disloyalty. Of plotting to take over the country. This is absurd. If the Order had wanted to do so, it could’ve been accomplished decades ago, perhaps even centuries. But, you see, that would be going against everything we stand for, believe in. Not so with Mr. Green.”

“How dare you?” the angry MP cried.

“We have unearthed the truth about who’s really scheming to remake England, and it is not the Order, I can assure you.”

“What? Is this true?” The old ministers in the room began murmuring among themselves.

“What are you insinuating, sir?”

“That you are the traitor, Mr. Green.”

“That’s a lie!” he shouted. “I will not hear this nonsense. Sire, this is the sort of manipulative slander in which the Order specializes, and any evidence he might produce to support this fiction is likewise manufactured!”

“Beauchamp, what is going on?” Prinny spoke up with a curious frown.

“Your Royal Highness; ministers; my lords, it is time we ended this charade.”

Mr. Green was shaking his head at him but beginning to look nervous. “I have no idea what you can mean by all this.”

“Then I shall enlighten you. I’m afraid my friend Lord Forrester here is the ‘mercenary’ you and your coconspirators hired to assassinate Lord Liverpool.”

A gasp arose in the room.

“Who is alive and well,” Beau hastened to add. “Don’t be alarmed, gentlemen. The Prime Minister was never in any danger. For you see, Lord Forrester has been on a covert mission for months to draw out the traitors in our midst. We just didn’t expect to find a Member of Parliament among them.”

All the color washed out of Ezra Green’s face.

“Nothing to say for yourself, sir?”

“This is preposterous! Sheer, utter nonsense!” he sputtered, backing away with a look of panic. “You see, Your Highness? You see how these men are out of control? Honestly, Beauchamp, how dare you come before the Regent and make such wild, unfounded accusations? Not that anyone here believes you—”

“I do,” Nick offered.

“The word of a scapegrace and a libertine who has dallied with half your wives?” Green scoffed at the gentlemen, shaking his head. “I don’t know what game you are playing, Beauchamp, but you have no proof, and so I will see you in court for this unforgivable libel.”

“Hmm. Proof. Well.” He folded his arms across his chest, rather enjoying this. “Perhaps your colleague can help to jar your memory. Montgomery! Bring him in!”

The door opened, and Trevor stepped in, escorting their frightened prisoner into the room.