Seducing the Ruthless Rogue (18 page)

“I’ll leave the two of you to talk,” she said and left the two men behind.
 
Cassie went to her room and dumped the papers on her bed.
 
She quickly sorted them, pulling out her nearly illegible scribbled notes first, then the political pieces.
 
The remaining papers were in a state of pandemonium.
 
In hindsight she realized she should have numbered the pages.
 
Now it would take her forever to place them in the correct order.

A knock sounded at her door and she looked up to see Chang standing in the open doorway.
 

“Missy Cassie, Director McKenzie would like word with you.”

She followed Chang, shutting her bedroom door behind her.
 
“Director, Chang said you would like a word with me.”

“Yes.
 
I am going to Presley’s home.
 
I believe you wanted to accompany me and witness the downfall of his family,” he said, sarcasm lacing his voice.

“You make it sound as if I am being deliberately cruel and vindictive.”

“And you think you’re not?”

“I will accompany you, Director McKenzie, but because I believe they will have need of a female to seek comfort from.”

“And you think they will turn to you?”

“They might.”

“Come along then.
 
I have things to do,” he barked.

“My, you are in a bad mood, aren’t you?”

“The company I am in might have something to do with it.”

“And to think I was going to inquire about your injuries.”

“I would rather you not.”

“What are you going to tell Presley’s family?”

“The truth.
 
They may choose what they want people to know.”

“Do they have a brother?”

“Yes, younger.”

“And the family is destitute?”

“So it would seem.”

The carriage halted in front of a townhouse that looked genteel.
 
It would be considered shabby within the next few years if something was not done to the outside.
 
Cassie followed Mack up the walk to the house.
 
He knocked on the door and they waited.
 
The door opened and an attractive young woman, perhaps three or four years younger than Cassie opened the door.

“Yes?” she asked, her head cocked slightly.

“Is Viscount Presley at home?”

“May I ask who is calling?”
 
Mack withdrew a calling card and handed it to the young woman.
 
“Please wait here,” the girl said before closing the door.
 
It was not long before the girl returned.
 
“This way please,” the girl said and led them to a small, but quaint parlor.

“Director McKenzie,” a lovely auburn-haired woman held out her hand for Mack to take.
 
“My father-in-law is unwell and my husband has been called away on business.
 
Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Lady Presley,” he took her hand and bussed a kiss on her fingers.
 
“May I introduce Miss Graham?”

“It is a pleasure.”

“Ma’am.”

“Please, won’t you have a seat and make yourself comfortable.”

“I am fine, thank you,” Cassie said.

“These are my daughters, Whitney and Penelope, and my son, Samuel.”

Cassie took a moment to study this family that sat before her.
 
Penelope’s clothes were worn, and Samuel would soon need new ones for his strained at the seam.
 
Whitney and Lady Presley’s clothes appeared to be in much better shape than the others.
 
Other than their clothing, the two girls appeared to be identical, including their dark auburn hair.
 
The only thing that identified one from the other was their eye color.
 
Whitney’s was a lackluster brown while Penelope’s was a beautiful, emerald green.
 

“I am afraid we come bearing bad news,” Mack began.

“Oh?”

“Yes, it is about your husband.
 
I am afraid there was an accident, and he has passed away.”

Lady Presley fell into histrionics, and the two daughters tried to console her.
 
Poor Samuel looked slightly lost, not sure what he should do.
 

“How did it happen?” Penelope asked over the din.
 

“I would prefer not to tell you, Lady Penelope.”

“And I would prefer you would,” she continued.

“That does not sound as if it bodes well,” her sister chimed in.

“No, Lady Whitney, it does not.”

“I believe you should tell us,” the heir to Viscount Presley spoke up.
 
“Father has been acting differently as of late, and I have been concerned.”

“Perhaps then, you and I should have this conversation elsewhere,” Mack directed the statement to the young man.

“My sisters have a right to hear this as well.”

“As you wish.
 
Your father was involved in a plot to sell government information to a French spy.
 
Once he was found out, he shot himself, taking his own life rather than facing a trial,” Mack stated the facts of the situation.

“Bloody hell,” the future viscount said.
 
If possible, Lady Presley’s wailing grew louder.

“Why did he do it?” Penelope Presley inquired.
 
“Why did he feel the need to become involved in such a plot in the first place?”

“Money, or a lack of, Lady Penelope,” Mack answered.
 
“It appears that he lost quite a bit of money and was attempting to find some way of earning it back so that he could provide for your season and a dowry for each of you.”

“I told him I had no need of a season,” Penelope said softly, patting her mother’s back.

“No money for a season?” the daughter named Whitney looked at her sister.
 
“But we are ruined!
 
We will never marry well now!”
 
Again, loud moans and sobs could be heard from the settee where Lady Presley collapsed.
 

“I will ask grandfather for assistance,” Samuel Presley said.

“Father just died,” Penelope interjected, trying to be the voice of reason in a room gone mad.
 
“Regardless of how and why, there are certain things we must attend to.
 
Director McKenzie, thank you for personally coming.
 
I know you could have sent someone else.”

“We will leave you to your grieving,” he said and turned, taking Cassie’s arm as he passed and guided her out of the room then out of the house.

“Why did you come, Miss…” Whitney broke off, a calculating look in her eyes.

“Graham,” Cassie said.
 
“I thought perhaps you might need a woman to lean on, but I see you have your mother.”

“Yes.”

“I am sorry for your loss.”

“Tell me, Miss Graham, do you still have your father?”

“Whitney, that is enough,” Penelope said over the wailing of her mother.

“Should you need anything, please send word to the War Office,” Mack instructed.

“Lady Presley is not doing well at all,” Cassie commented to Mack after they left the house.

“Lady Presley is given to histrionics.
 
I would have expected nothing less from her.”

“That is a callous remark, Director,” Cassie said, removing her arm from his grip.

“And it is not callous to want to witness the downfall of a family because the father committed a crime against your family?”

Cassie cut her eyes away from him, not wanting to get into an argument with him.

“I think I should take you home, Miss Graham.”

“Yes,” she agreed.
 

Neither one spoke on the journey back to her house.
 
When the hack pulled to a stop, Mack slowly exited then assisted her down.

“You should really see about those cuts,” she suggested then spun around and walked up the three steps to her door.
 
When she reached the top, she turned and looked Mack directly in the eyes.
 
“Director McKenzie, thank you for helping retrieve my father; however, since this all began with him in your care, I think it is safe to say Chang and I can sufficiently watch over him from now on.
 
I wish you well in your continuation of overseeing the wars we are engaged in, but after today, I expect to never see you again.
 
Good day, Director,” she opened the door and slipped inside before he could interject anything.

***

Outside, Mack stared at the door and ran his fingers through his short, dark hair, causing it to stand on end.
 
“What the bloody hell just happened?” he muttered to himself, his brogue thick.

“She is an independent miss, ain’t she, sir?” the jarvey driver queried.

“She is something,” he replied.
 
“Take me to the Horseguards,” he directed the man before climbing back into the rented coach.
 
Once inside, he relaxed against the squabs.
 
He took note of the throbbing in his arm and the stinging across his stomach, thinking perhaps he should have them tended to as Miss Graham had suggested.
 
He allowed himself to replay the events in the park.
 
How the Frenchman had somehow managed to get the upper hand.
 
And then, before anyone knew what was happening, there had been Miss Graham, sneaking up behind the man and disabling him.
 
When he had seen her, he did not know whether to congratulate her for a job well done or yell at her for risking her life.
 
Instead, he had done neither because she had run across the park, ignoring the dead body and all the chaos, to greet her father.

Mack did not know if Cass…Miss Graham was the thing of dreams or nightmares, but he did know he did not need her in his life.
 
He had two wars to oversee and a host of agents to prepare and deploy.
 
He was a busy man and did not have time for an irritating woman such as Cassiopeia Graham.

Chapter 10

Cassie spent the next few days with her father, catching up and seeing to his general well-being.
 
Both she and Chang were delighted to have him back with them.
 
Several men delivered his plans, sketches, and notes.
 
They also brought with them the gadgetry he had been working on.
 
He worked in a small shed behind the house, and when Cassie saw the men bring the materials, she knew he was lost to her once more.
 
At least now he would be home every night, and she could see that he was properly cared for.

Cassie wondered how Lady Thompson was getting on, and decided to pay the woman and her sweet child a visit.
 
After informing her father and Chang what her plans were, she walked to search out a hack.
 
Today as she walked, she felt as if someone was watching her.
 
Several times she paused, searching behind her for anything suspicious but saw nothing.
 
She continued on, watching the people around her shuffle about their daily routines.
 
Cassie reached the hack stand and secured a carriage.

As she traveled across London, she let her mind drift.
 
Life was so much more peaceful now that Director McKenzie was out of their lives.
 
As they passed a public square, a large mob was gathering.
 
Ever curious and in search of a story, Cassie knocked on the roof of the hack.

“Aye, miss?” the driver called down.

“Stop for a moment.”
 
As he did, she took out her pocket journal and pencil from her reticule.
 
She left the coach with instructions for the driver to wait.
 
The man speaking was the same as last week.
 
He spoke again of starving children and machines taking the place of men in the workforce.
 
This time he made accusations towards some particular members of Parliament.
 
She furiously scribbled down information as he spoke, not wanting to miss anything.

“Now what have we got here?” a familiar Scottish brogue purred in her ear.
 

Cassie yelped, garnering stares from some of the people standing at the back of the gathered assembly.
 
“What are you doing?” she hissed.

“I’m going to my office.
 
I think the better question is what are
you
doing?” he asked and reached for her journal.
 
Before she could stuff it back in her reticule, Mack took it from her.
 
“What is this?” he asked looking at the scratch marks on the paper.
 
“What language is this?”

“My own,” she said, lifting her chin in defiance.

“Somehow I doubt that,” he chuckled and gave her back the undecipherable journal.
 
“Now, what are you really doing here, Miss Graham?”