The Nobleman and the Spy (11 page)

Men like Gilley knew about men like Reese, but the gentlemen who worked as attachés for government would never take part in the grubby Special Services unit.

They were gentlemen who wouldn"t lie and who would certainly never kill during peacetime.

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“You could have requested the material through that office, your contact, you know. I imagine you"re allowed all sorts of access to sensitive material.” Gilley was turning into a regular bureaucrat.

“Dealing with you is less of a headache.” Reese stood. He held out a hand to the other man. “Thank you.”

Gilley hesitated before shaking Reese"s hand. Neither of them was wearing gloves, and Reese noticed Gilley"s hand was clammy. Did he regret allowing Reese entrance into his office?

Reese picked up the leather file from the edge of the desk. He held it up for a moment. “I"ll bring this back soon.”

Gilley pulled out a fine handkerchief and began to polish his monocle. He gave Reese a gracious nod, as he did when he occasionally attempted to push Reese back into his proper place on the social ladder. As the grandnephew of an earl, Gilley was superior to Reese, though now, in their work, they were more equal despite Gilley"s fastidiousness.

Gilley casually examined his monocle and said, “I trust you.”

No, you don’t
. But Reese wouldn"t argue the point. It suddenly occurred to him that Gilley was frightened of him. The man knew his reputation, after all. Reese considered telling him he no longer took any job that required excessive violence.

Except that he supposed fear made Gilley promptly give in to his requests for information, so he didn"t say anything.

He remembered the name from the night before. “Tell me. What do you know of Volkovsky?”

Gilley fitted his monocle back in place, frowning. “Vladamir Mikailovich Volkovsky. A dangerous pest who"s shown up here in London, so yes, I"ve heard of him. A wild-eyed young fool who"s devoted to the cause of revolution in Russia. Used to work with the
Kolokol
gang and Bakunin, but perhaps he was too fiery a fellow even for them.”

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Bonnie Dee & Summer Devon

Reese waited, but Gilley didn"t explain, so he was forced to ask, “And they are?”

“I"m surprised you don"t know them.” Gilley smirked. He obviously enjoyed Reese"s ignorance. Reese shifted from foot to foot, and Gilley hurried on. “
Kolokol
is a newspaper printed here in London, or it was, at any rate. Means „the bell," I think.

Bakunin"s the lad in charge of it. All about overthrowing the evil tyrants, etcetera, etcetera. Using any means possible.”

“In Russia?”

“Where else? But Volkovsky is in London, so he"s considered a local nuisance.

He"s one of
my
nuisances, in fact. I keep an eye on him and his friends these days.”

Reese thanked him again and spared him another shake of the hand. They nodded farewells, and Reese took a hack back to the hotel, hoping Karl and his crew hadn"t gone out. He was in luck. One of the desk clerks he"d paid to spy for him told him the gentlemen of the foreign party were all ensconced in the suite.

Reese returned to his duties as an observer, lounging far down the hall from Karl"s suite of rooms. He managed to avoid the erbgraf and still watch the group"s activities. When they emerged from the suite, he waited for the other shadow to follow, but he did not appear. He seemed to have vanished again.

Reese followed them down the stairs a minute later, and from a distance, he could see how Karl scanned the hotel lobby—looking for him, he was sure, because he swore he could feel the magnetic pull.

Karl and two of the others went to the hotel"s foyer. From his seat behind a potted palm, Reese watched as Karl sat and ordered from the waiter. As he and his three companions waited, Karl threw back his head and laughed at something one of his underlings said. White teeth, golden skin gleamed against the well-tailored black suit. Even with his rough-hewn peasant build, he was the epitome of wealth.

More than money—he embodied life.

That thought made Reese wince. Christ, he was lost. A sentimental idiot who was allowing a satisfying, lusty interlude to evolve into something more in his mind.

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Feelings he"d buried after his last affair were starting to come to the surface again, and Reese was a man who detested strong passions. He"d been raised to use caution and good judgment and to always keep his emotions firmly corralled. Well, at least he"d lasted most of a day and had even managed to think of other matters in the last twelve hours. Granted, most of them were related to Karl.

“Damn,” he muttered to himself and rose to his feet. If he could just talk to him, perhaps the strange itch to be near him would be satisfied and he could think more clearly. They"d stay in public. That would prevent him from lunging at Karl and dragging him to the floor and tasting that soft, full mouth.

He moved past the plant, the column, the fountain, and walked toward Karl.

Karl looked up as he approached. He rested his hands on the table, leaned back in the chair, and smiled. His focus was so clearly on Reese that the others sitting with him twisted around to see what had captured his attention.

Moth, meet the flame.

What did it mean that all the stereotypes floating through his mind when it came to Karl ended with Reese"s destruction?

He looked into the handsome face that was lit with pleasure. Some compensation to know the flame welcomed him, Reese the Moth thought.

“Please, take a seat, Mr. Reed,” Karl said. “Join us. Your arm is better today, I hope?”

Reese nodded. “It"s fine.”

He took the chair next to Cohen, the only one who put his back to the wall.

Herr Smelter spoke in German. “We are not done with our business, Hochgeboren.” The doctor with the pudgy, strong hands smiled at Karl as he added,

“We are not certain about that guest list Lord Merridew presented. I have my suspicions about some of the party.”

Cohen looked at Reese and started to say something, but Karl gave a tiny headshake. Interesting that he didn"t want anyone else at the table to know Reese 74

Bonnie Dee & Summer Devon

understood them. Was he playing a game with his followers, or trying to win Reese"s trust?

Karl turned his attention back to the doctor. He raised his eyebrows and looked entirely like the haughty aristocrat. “It is not up to me to tell my uncle who he may or may not invite to his own house,” he answered, also in German.

The doctor"s smiling expression didn"t change, though Reese thought perhaps he flinched ever so slightly. He cleared his throat. “Your father has given us very specific instructions about which people you should be seen with and which you must avoid in your capacity as representative of the count"s interests. Your Excellency must be guided in his wisdom. He does understand these matters.”

“Yes,” Cohen muttered. “The count knows his English politics.”

Karl raised a cup of tea and drank. Reese could tell he held back a strong response. With his boundless enthusiasm and open nature, Karl didn"t seem the type able to restrain himself, but apparently he could.

At last he spoke. “If there is a name on the guest list you believe I must avoid, then I will beg off with a sore throat. That must satisfy you.”

A party hosted by Karl"s uncle, Lord Arthur Merridew. Reese"s instincts prickled. The man who"d approached the watcher in the fog had mentioned just such a thing.

The doctor heaved a sigh that shook his plump frame. Obviously he wasn"t satisfied. “No, you cannot abstain from the event. That will not do.”

“Yes,” Cohen said in English. “That
will
do, Your Excellency.”

A silence fell over the table, and Cohen watched Reese with those deep-set, knowing eyes. Reese wondered what the count"s man had been able to discover about him since they"d last met.

It might be harder for Cohen to dig up any information about Mr. Reed because Reese had impulsively used a new name close to his own. Usually he went by Peter Banks or Godfrey Baker, two identities the captain had forged for him.

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He had the papers for those names, but not for Jonathan Reed. As for Jonathan Reese, the greengrocer"s son and ex-soldier, brother of the late Susan Michaels, that man barely existed anymore. Perhaps Gilley would miss him if Mr.

Reese vanished entirely, but more likely the bureaucrat would breathe a sigh of relief.

Reese boldly stared back at Cohen but wasn"t concentrating on the man. He was thinking about the end of Jonathan Reese with detached interest. Even
he
wouldn"t miss that man much.

“I"m glad to see you again, Mr. Reed. I wasn"t sure if we would. I had thought you were registered at this hotel,” Cohen said in heavily accented English. “But they have no record of a Mr. Reed.” He glanced at Karl. “There is a man named Baker who might fit such a man as this Mr. Reed.”

That was fairly good work, Reese thought. Cohen had discovered where he was staying and his fake identity.

“No, they wouldn"t know me,” Reese agreed. “Did you hear about Baker from the thin red-haired clerk at the front desk? He seems a greedy type, willing to take bribes for information.”

Reese wanted to laugh at Cohen"s scowl of surprise. Why not as much as admit he"d registered under a false name? He hadn"t known how much he appreciated the direct approach and was relieved Cohen wasn"t hiding his distrust. Reese had no intention of giving in to Cohen"s prying, but he liked this better than less direct methods of interrogation. “Have you had the hotel"s scones? They are some of the best London has to offer, Mr. Cohen.”

“You are truly English?”

Reese nodded and signaled a waiter. “A plate of scones, please.”

After the waiter left, Cohen continued firing questions at him.

“How long have you been staying at Claridge"s?”

“A few days.”

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“What were you doing yesterday afternoon when you managed to save the erbgraf?”

“Crossing the street.”

“Heading where?”

“I was simply walking. Like the erbgraf, I enjoy an afternoon walk, rain or shine.” Reese settled back in the chair and crossed his arms, comfortable. He didn"t mind bluntly deflecting Cohen"s questions or even answering some. It was a refreshing change to sit out in the open…well, as open as he could get.

At last Karl laughed and interrupted. “Cohen, enough. Mr. Reed obviously doesn"t wish us to know his business.” He smiled at Reese. “Though really, you should realize we know how to keep secrets, Mr. Reed.” God, he gave such a knowing smile as he said those words. Karl"s lascivious leer made Reed"s heart beat faster and his cock stir. Did anyone else at the table notice the heat in Karl"s eyes?

They didn"t seem to.

“Your Excellency, once again, I am afraid you are too quick to trust,” Herr Doktor Smelter said in German. “We know nothing about this stranger. And you spent too much time alone with him yesterday. I beg you not to allow yourself to be too softhearted with any Englishman.”

Cohen snorted and picked up his cup.

“We are having a cup of tea, Herr Smelter.” Karl spoke in English and was once again the haughty aristocrat. “I am not selling family secrets. Furthermore, even if Mr. Reed knew where the skeletons were buried, there"s precious little he could do with them.”

Smelter recoiled, and another man, Villiars, protested that surely none of them had such worries. Interesting. It was one thing for Cohen to be blunt, but they didn"t like it when Karl took the same route.

“I"m glad you"re not worried about me,” Reese said. “I assure you, I have no interest in politics or intrigue.” He smiled at Cohen and realized that even though he was not used to speaking so much or interacting openly with his fellow humans, The Nobleman and the Spy

77

he felt surprisingly fluent, almost giddy or drunk, on all the words. “I would like to visit your charming Neuschlosswold some day, but only as a tourist.”

“In which other capacity could you possibly visit?” asked Cohen, who seemed incapable of giving up his useless questioning.

“As a rowdy? Lunatic? Pilgrim?” Reese suggested. Really, he was enjoying himself too much.

Karl watched him with approving laughter in his eyes. They were sharing this strange joke. The looks they exchanged felt almost as intimate as lying side by side had been the day before.

“My friend,” Karl said, “after breakfast I planned to take a trip to my alma mater, Oxford, for a nostalgic tour. Would you care to accompany me?”

He absolutely would. Touring the grounds with Karl, listening to him tell tales of his university years, and learning more about him as a youth sounded exactly like what Reese would like to do with his afternoon. Certainly better than trailing after him like a shadow. Except he"d vowed to keep his distance from the man, and really, it was easier to look for Karl"s other spies from a distance.

“Alas, I"m afraid I have other plans today, but I appreciate the offer.”

Karl inclined his head. “Pity. But I will find another way we might meet again.”

Cohen cleared his throat. “I know you objected to our communication with Lord Merridew, Your Excellency, but perhaps…” He allowed his voice to trail off, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a smile.