Read Nowhere Near Respectable Online
Authors: Mary Jo Putney
Nowhere Near Respectable (12 page)
Chapter 16
Kiri knotted her hand into a fist, as if she could hold on to the feel of his mouth. She was staring at the door when Kirkland returned. “Your carriage awaits, Lady Kiri.”
Feeling vastly tired, she collected her domino and followed him from the office. He led her to a side entrance where a carriage stood outside the door. On the box was one of Damian’s capable black-clad guards.
As Kirkland helped Kiri into the carriage, she said, “You don’t need to escort me personally, Lord Kirkland. I’m sure your driver can be relied on to get me home, and I imagine you have much to keep you busy at the club tonight.”
He swung into the carriage and took the facing seat. “I promised Miss Clarke-Townsend I’d personally bring you home.” And he was not a man to break his promises. “Do you want me present when you discuss what you’ll be doing with your family?”
“An ally?” she said wryly. “I’ll need one. I’ll speak to Adam at breakfast if he’s available. Your presence would add an air of gravitas to the discussion.”
“I’ll stop by then.”
As the carriage rattled into motion, she studied Kirkland in the dim light. He was a remarkably handsome man, and he had more interesting edges than she’d realized. Yet when he touched her, it was like being touched by—her brothers. It was Mackenzie who turned her brain to steaming gruel.
With a quiet sigh, she settled back into her leather seat. Life would be easy if she and Kirkland fell in love. He was wealthy, well born, and one of her brother’s best friends. A marriage between them would be welcomed by everyone.
There was something to be said for arranged marriages, she realized. Relying on attraction and love was much more untidy. It made women long for unsuitable men who had nothing to commend them but intelligence, humor, ravishing attractiveness. . . .
Getting a firm grip on her wandering mind, she asked, “Do you think we can stop the plotters before they assassinate members of the royal family? Most of the royal dukes are as useless as they are expensive, but Princess Charlotte offers hope for the future.”
“If she goes to Windsor, I think she’ll be safe,” Kirkland said. “Her father and uncles are in more danger because they are out and about Town. They’re also a stubborn lot and might refuse to believe they’re in danger. All we can do is our best. While this conspiracy is well organized, there can’t be a huge number of people involved.”
“I assume that you will be tracing the plotters by all possible means.” Kiri tried to make out Kirkland’s austere features. “How did you become involved in the spying trade? The challenge of matching wits? The desire to contribute?”
“All of those things, I suppose.” He sighed. “Someone needs to do this work.”
“But why you?”
After a long silence, he said, “Mostly it was an accident. Have you heard Ashton or another Westerfield student mention Wyndham?”
“The classmate lost when the Peace of Amiens ended? He haunts you all.”
Kirkland gave a faint, humorless smile. “He’s the ghost who may or may not be dead. Wyndham was exuberant and very likable. Wild, but no malice in him. Before going to France, he organized a reunion of Westerfield students for when he returned. After leaving Lady Agnes, we’d all gone in different directions, and we looked forward to getting together again. Students from the two classes following were also invited since the school was so small we all knew each other well.”
“But Wyndham never returned,” she said softly.
“France was in chaos when the truce ended.” He hesitated, and Kiri guessed that he was deciding how much to tell her.
He continued, “Because of my family shipping connections, I made inquiries to see if I could trace Wyndham in France. Though I wasn’t successful, I found other information that might interest the foreign office.”
“And one thing led to another,” Kiri murmured.
“After I passed on what I’d learned, I was told there would be much joy in Whitehall if I continued to provide information.” He shrugged, a movement more felt than seen in the darkness. “Of such chances are lives changed.”
“But you never learned Wyndham’s fate.”
“No.” After a long silence, he added, “Perhaps someday.”
Kiri heard in his voice that he didn’t believe he’d ever find out what happened to his friend. But he’d never give up.
She decided she would much rather have Kirkland as a friend than an enemy.
Kiri entered Ashton House on feather feet, glad the household slept, since she was too weary for explanations. But she’d promised to notify Sarah when she returned, so she tapped on her friend’s door.
Sarah flung open the door almost instantly. She was dressed for bed, but didn’t look as if she’d been sleeping. Expression relieved, she gestured for Kiri to enter. “Thank heaven you’re back! I’ve been kicking myself for leaving you behind.”
“Truly, there was no danger,” Kiri said as she closed the door behind her. “Lord Kirkland just wanted to know anything I’d observed useful about the kidnappers. Were you able to return Princess Charlotte without causing an uproar?”
Sarah nodded. “She has a clever private route in and out of Warwick House. Did you know that her windows look straight into Carlton House? Her father can glare right at her, if he bothers.”
“Even if she returned to her bed unnoticed, the kidnapping is going to change her life.” On the ride home, Kiri had thought about how much to tell Sarah. Enough to explain the kidnapping, but no more. “Kirkland has reason to believe the French were behind the attempt to capture the princess. And that they’ll try again.”
Sarah gasped. “How dreadful! Will she be removed to a safer place?”
“Probably. Windsor Castle, most likely. She should be safe there.”
“I hope so. Now that I’ve met her, I like her. Despite the horrible way she’s been caught between her parents and grandparents, she has a sweet nature and generous heart.”
“I hope she has a good head as well, since she may well become Queen of England someday.” Kiri smothered a yawn. “I’m for bed now.”
“So am I, now that you’re home safe.” Sarah wrinkled her nose. “I think that’s enough adventuring for me for quite some time to come.”
For Kiri, the adventure was just beginning.
Mac artfully arranged the two bodies in the back alley, doing his best to make the larger man look like the late Damian Mackenzie. Then he walked the short distance along the alley to the gate that led into his house’s walled back garden.
The main connection between house and garden was a pair of French doors in the center of the building, but there was also an unobtrusive entrance near the right corner of the back wall. It opened into a room originally intended for tools and storage. Because it could be entered from either house or garden, Mac had installed very good locks on both doors and turned the room into his headquarters for nefarious activities.
Mac had enjoyed watching his actress mother change her appearance, and his favorite game as a boy was disguising himself to look like someone else. Perhaps it had been a way to escape his own less than satisfactory identity.
Though he’d grown more comfortable in his own skin, his work with Kirkland sometimes required that he look like a laborer or sailor or coachman if he wanted to move about London without being recognized. He had clothing and accessories to change his appearance anywhere from a fop to a ragpicker.
It would be convenient if he were average height and build. But he’d learned a few tricks to make his height and build less noticeable. One was donning a padded vest that made him look shorter and bulkier. His hair was an unmemorable shade of medium brown. It would do for tonight, but he collected a pouch of dye so he could make the color darker and duller.
Then he covered his brown eye with a patch. Eye patches were common and drew little attention, and the patch obscured his distinctively different eyes. The uncovered eye was changeable, shifting from blue to gray and even green depending on what he was wearing. It was a useful trait for a chameleon.
He put on coaching garments since they were comfortably worn and good enough quality to show that he was a respectable man of his trade. The boots were also comfortable, but he’d had the soles shaped in a way that subtly altered his walk.
Like all his coats, the multi-caped coaching garment had plenty of pockets inside and out. He added a wad of banknotes to the fifty guineas repaid by Lady Kiri. Though he had a bank account in a false name that he could access if necessary, nothing beat cash for bribes or buying his way out of trouble.
After stashing several weapons around his person and packing a bag with other essentials, he was ready to go. He had several false identities at hand, and he decided on Daniels, a name enough like Damian’s to be easy to answer to.
As he locked the door and the gate behind him, he wondered if Lady Kiri Lawford would be able to identify him. Probably, since he hadn’t drenched himself in cologne to change the way he smelled.
His thoughts were wry as he made his way through the darkness. Though his mission was to protect the royal family, if he had to choose between saving Princess Charlotte and saving Kiri Lawford—king, princess, and country could go hang.
“My lord. You must come quickly.” The black-garbed footman was pale as he addressed Kirkland. “There are two dead men behind the building, and I think they came out of the club.”
“Damnation!” Kirkland pushed away from his desk and stood. After taking Lady Kiri home, he’d returned to the club office to wait for someone to find the bodies. He recognized the footman as a regular employee called Borden. “How did you find them?”
“I was taking a quick break from the ballroom. I thought the back alley would be a good place to relax for a few minutes.” Borden drew a shuddering breath. “I found . . . them.”
“Not very relaxing.” Kirkland strode down the hall beside the footman. “Have you notified Mackenzie? If the bodies belong to regulars, he will recognize them.”
“Sir . . .” The footman was so pale he seemed on the verge of fainting. “I’m afraid . . . Mr. Mackenzie . . .” He swallowed hard. “I thought it best to check the office, and found you.”
“Come along, then,” Kirkland said briskly. He saw no traces of blood to reveal where the two men had died. Mac had done a good job of cleaning the corridor.
Borden had left a lantern by the back door, and he lifted it to light their way into the back alley. The bodies were only a few feet away. One clasped a gun; the other had dropped a weapon by his side.
“It looks like they killed each other,” Kirkland said. “Maybe they had an argument over cards and decided to settle it directly rather than a formal duel. Any idea who they might be?”
“Sir . . . ,” Borden whispered. “Look closer at the big one.”
Kirkland obeyed, trying to act exactly as he would if this scene was unexpected. He stepped closer to the large man with the ruined face, whose head was turned away from them. The fellow had brown hair similar in length and color to Mac’s.
Borden lowered the lantern, and the light picked up a flash of gold on the dead man’s left hand. Kirkland looked, and his heart clenched with shock. “Dear God!”
No.
It wasn’t possible. He’d
seen
Mac alive and well less than an hour ago!
It wasn’t possible. He’d
seen
Mac alive and well less than an hour ago!
Stomach knotted, he knelt by the body. The pistol gripped by the dead hand looked like Mac’s, and the engraved ring . . .
He lifted the limp hand to study the family crest engraved into the gold. The design showed the Masterson arms, with a black onyx bar slashing diagonally across. It was the bar sinister, the traditional mark of illegitimacy.
“This is Mackenzie’s ring,” he said, his throat tight. “It was a gift from his brother, Lord Masterson.” Mac had enjoyed the blatant proclamation of his bastardy, since it came from Will Masterson. They’d both laughed over the ring.
“I . . . I was hoping I was wrong,” Borden said, his voice on the edge of tears. “Mr. Mackenzie—he saved my life, sir. I was in trouble and on the edge of being shipped to Botany Bay when he took me in and gave me a job. I can’t believe he’s dead.”
Borden’s words cleared Kirkland’s paralysis. Of course Mac would have known his ring was perfect identification. That harrowing instant when Kirkland believed his friend really was dead had also produced a damned convincing reaction.
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