CHAPTER 16
Oxfordshire
Michael focused his gaze at the hazy outline of Chatham Hall up ahead.
The estate was manicured with large oaks, willows, and oversized Greek sculptures of gods that dotted the landscape. Much of the land had been kept to its original state on the insistence of his twin brother.
It was here that young Geoffrey chased after wild rabbits when he wasn’t at Eton. Geoffrey had no real family to call his own; having lost his father at ten by thugs who ransacked his father’s carriage and took his life. His mother died from a fever when he was too young to have remembered her face. Chatham Hall had been his friend’s only true home, Michael thought with a sharp prick to his chest. The memory of that night flashed before him again, his fists bunching together: Didn’t mean for this….
What were you trying to tell me?
Gazing up toward the sky, the dark ominous clouds moved in again. A heavy storm would soon hit and he feared he’d be stranded at Chatham Hall for longer than necessary. He sighed heavily, his warm breath fusing outward.
A few more minutes and they would be home. With that thought, a sudden relief clutched him. Finally, he’d be able to breathe a little easier with Emma safe at home. With the prisoner hitched to them, he didn’t have a moment to spare on Emma, except a few glances or two between them.
There was no point in denying it. He cared for Emma and he was fully aware of the responsibility he had ahead of him. While she may have given herself to him freely, he couldn’t allow himself to have her and let her go—she was his responsibility now.
He caught himself grinning idiotically as thoughts of Emma paraded through his mind, pulling him in deep, like an alluring siren calling out to him.
The fact was, deep down, he didn’t know if could fully trust her again, at least not yet. But he couldn’t deny the lightness he felt in his heart, too, one that he couldn’t allow himself to get used to. For now, he had more important matters that needed his full attention, like the damn prisoner he was hauling across England.
With the pistol by his side and a knife tucked in his boot, he kept his eyes on the prisoner who had attempted to kill him nearly three days ago. Their captive sat hunched over on the horse, as if he’d given up after two failed attempts to escape earlier today.
As they neared the main house, he quickly assessed his surroundings. His gaze darted to each window, each door, quickly gathering the clues he needed. Nothing seemed amiss. In fact, everything seemed calm and as it should be. Good, a sense of relief washed over him.
He pulled up on the reins for his team of horses to slow to a trot and quietly drove the carriage to the nearby stable to avoid being seen. Soon, Brandon, his “watchdog” appeared dressed as a stable hand and walked up to him with purposeful steps.
“Michael?” Brandon said, holding a rake in his hand. “I didn’t expect you until tomorrow.”
Michael nodded, stepping off the driver’s seat and walking up to Brandon. “Thankfully the weather was forgiving. I hope your stay here has been uneventful?”
Brandon nodded and whispered, “Too quiet.”
Michael kept his eyes on the carriage door as they conversed. “Good to hear.” Brandon knew the protocol; after all he was Michael’s eyes and ears.
Brandon looked at the prisoner, barely sitting up on the horse. “Is he the one?”
Michael nodded and both men glowered at the prisoner.
“Looks like you took a nice beating,” Brandon said.
Michael looked down at his sore knuckles and raw hands. By now the bruise on his face should be nice and ripe. “Bastard tried to escape multiple times today.”
Brandon pointed to the cheek bone under his eye. “That looks like it hurts.”
“The pain’s subsided. Where is Roberts? I will need him to take charge of the prisoner and escort him to London.”
“The Runner is inside playing footman, a clumsy one at that, if you ask me. Your brother nearly tossed him out when he shattered the vase in the library yesterday.”
“Oh? What stopped him?”
“Said it was an accident. Roberts apologized, but he stood his ground and refused to be bullied. Quite a show, if you ask me. His lordship’s not happy about me showing up here unannounced either.”
“I hope he didn’t give you too much trouble?”
“I showed him the reference and he conceded, and the fact that he was in need of a stable hand might have aided in his decision to let me stay on.”
Michael gave Brandon a pat on the back. “Good, I’m glad it worked out.”
“By the way…your family has a visitor.”
“Oh?” Michael said, meeting Brandon’s raised brows.
“It’s Lord Tomkin. He arrived an hour ago.”
Michael was on full alert as soon as he heard that name. Why the hell is he here? Before Michael could question him further, the carriage door swung open and Emma peeked out. Her chocolate colored eyes looked right at him and a faint smile pulled at the corners of her full lips. Michael’s heart lurched like an idiotic school boy and he promptly cursed himself for the fool he was. Good God, man, get a hold of yourself. She stepped out of the carriage and approached him. Michael met her half way.
“This is Brandon. He is here to look after my family,” Michael said. “Brandon, may I introduce Miss Willoughby.”
Walking up to them, Brandon politely tilted his head to her with, “Miss. I’d better take him to the stables before we are forced to explain ourselves.” He stepped on to the driver’s seat, sat down, and drove on.
She asked, “I thought Lord Tomkin assigned Mr. Roberts to your family?”
“He did,” Michael said. “Brandon is one of my men.”
Her brows rose. “I see that you take no chances in protecting your family.” Emma gazed at Brandon driving away. “Is Mr. Roberts aware you have one of your men here?”
“Roberts doesn’t know.”
“The Runner will not be very pleased when he discovers you kept Brandon’s true identity from him.”
Michael didn’t respond straightaway. “I trust Roberts. But after Geoffrey’s death, I had to take extra precautions. Surely, you can understand that?”
“Well, I heard Mr. Brandon mention Lord Tomkin is here. Perhaps it’s time we get some answers?”
When she moved to head for the front door, Michael said, “Wait. Before we go inside, I need you to do something for me.”
“Oh?” Emma’s eyes were filled with curiosity. “That depends….”
“Let me do the talking, at least initially.” There were several seconds of silence. Her brows lifted in surprise and her expression churned. He feared she’d fight him. He knew he’d be faced with questions from Tomkin but he needed to assess the situation first before he knew how much to reveal.
“Why?” Her curious gaze searched his face.
“Just trust me on this, please.” He couldn’t very well speak the truth since her relationship with Lord Tomkin was a complicated one. When she opened her mouth, he braced himself for a battle.
“You can’t tell me or you won’t?”
“I can’t because I’m not certain what this gut feeling is yet,” he confessed. “I need you to trust me on this, just this once.” More than anything, he hoped to God he was wrong about Tomkin. He’d been a mentor to Michael for nearly a decade and had guided him as a young recruit.
She bit her lips and her brows drew together.
“Please, my sweet.” He reached and hooked her unruly hair behind her ear. There was a look of defiance in her eyes and he knew she would never agree to it.
My sweet….
He hadn’t used those words since a year ago. A mix of wet leather, rain, and spice arrested her senses. For a man who’d been riding all day, there was a sense of sharp awareness and strength about him that was too arousing.
“Emma?” Michael said. “Will you do it?”
Of course she wanted to question him further but she was keenly aware that this wasn’t the best time to do so. By God, he’d better have a damn good reason for asking her to keep quiet, other than his unfounded reasons that Lord Tomkin was somehow involved.
“Just this once,” she agreed. “But you should know that I am not happy about this, not in the least.” She watched him, but Michael said nothing. Honestly, what else could he say?
When they quietly walked to the large double doors, it suddenly opened and she saw Mr. Roberts, a Runner from Bow Street, donned in a footman’s livery. He glared at them rather broodingly. My goodness, the man looked quite formidable indeed.
“What the hell are you doing here,” Roberts hissed. “You’re supposed to be in Tibet.”
“Slight change in plans.” Michael turned to Emma with, “You know Roberts.”
Emma recalled Tomkin speaking of this arrangement now. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Roberts, or should I be addressing you by a different name?”
“Just Roberts, Miss.”
“The livery suits you quite well,” Michael noted.
Roberts yanked on his cravat. “I can’t fathom how anyone is expected to function normally in these ridiculous clothes.” Roberts stepped aside to let them in. “Lord Tomkin is here. I assume you’d like to speak with your superior before you settle in?”
Michael nodded and they quietly followed the Runner inside. They passed the stairwell with the rows of paintings that were most likely Michael’s ancestors. One particular painting of a young blond woman caught Emma’s attention, one that she hadn’t noticed before. She had Michael’s blue eyes but there was a sense of melancholy there. Emma pulled her gaze from the painting and followed the two men.
Mr. Roberts knocked twice and opened the parlor door. Upon seeing Emma and Michael at the threshold, the three men immediately rose to greet them. Inside the Earl of Chatham looked rather confounded at seeing her and Michael here again.
Tomkin, however, suddenly looked pale, as if he’d seen a ghost. Her composure melted away in seconds. She felt like a lost school girl who had finally found her way home. Mixed emotions ran havoc in her, in part, by her disappointment of the mission gone wrong and, in part, that she had disappointed him. Quickly, she gathered her strength and followed Michael into the parlor.
“Ah, I see my brother and his fiancée have joined us—again, and quite unexpectedly,” Lord Chatham intoned, standing. He walked up to her, kissed her hand, and gestured for her to sit next to Lord Tomkin. “Please do sit. I am ashamed to say I was not aware you were Lord Tomkin’s niece,” Lord Chatham said to her.
Emma said, “Please, there was no way you could have known, my lord. There is no harm done.”
“You are kind,” Lord Chatham said. “This is Lord Blackthorn, a friend of the family.” Once the introductions were made, Lord Chatham faced his twin brother. “I heard about Geoffrey. I am deeply sorry. He was like family to us and I know how close you two were.”
“He was,” Michael said.
“We all grieve his untimely death. In fact, mother is quite distraught with the news and has taken to bed. Kyra and her husband are with her now.”
“Yes, it is a tragedy,” Tomkin concurred.
“Indeed,” Lord Blackthorn chimed in. “He will be dearly missed by everyone.”
Tomkin sipped the tea from his porcelain cup and set it down on the saucer. “Chatham, I wonder if I might have a word with Michael and Emma in private?”
Lord Chatham blinked several times. “Of course. Take all the time you need. I will have tea and biscuits brought up in a few minutes.”
Lord Blackthorn and Lord Chatham both stood and quietly left the room. Once the room was cleared, Michael didn’t delay in addressing Tomkin. “What have you told my family exactly?”
“I think it is I who should be asking the questions here.” Tomkin paused and looked at Emma. “But I guess I do owe you an explanation.”
“Rightly so,” Michael said.
“I informed them he was killed in a robbery attempt on his way to the Home Office and they shot him when he fought back.”
Michael’s expression twisted into annoyance. “A robbery?”
“Would you rather I told your family he committed high treason and died of dishon—”
“Now, look here—”
“I think,” Emma chimed in, “we need to focus on this mission.” Emma saw Michael’s hands ball into fists.
Lord Tomkin cleared his throat and pulled his gaze away from Michael. “By and by, I hope you and Emma have a good explanation as to your presence here. You’re supposed to be on your way to Tibet.”
“We were until we were shot at and followed on the ship,” Michel said.
Emma sensed Michael’s tone was on edge. She feared when her superior realized what they had done, he’d refuse to allow her to be part of the mission and she’d be left to find her parents’ killer on her own.
“The missive…is it safe?” Tomkin asked.
Emma bit her lips. This is not good. She watched Michael, but his expression was stealth, his features cool and aloof. He didn’t speak straightaway either. She saw his sharp blue eyes not missing a beat. She hoped he’d find a diplomatic approach to address this issue.
“Yes, I suppose it is safe, after all, there wasn’t anything worth stealing,” Michael’s tone was filled with sarcasm and resentment.
Their superior shook his head. “I see you both have disobeyed my orders.”
Tomkin’s contempt and patronizing tone sparked resentment in her. Wasn’t he at least content to see her unscathed? After being shot at twice, hijacked, and Michael nearly killed in the process, not to mention transporting a dangerous prisoner across England in a torrential storm and facing obstacles that had nearly done them in, she could not keep her silence any longer. “If you must know, we had no—”
“What Emma means,” Michael said, cutting her off, “is we had to secure the information we were carrying. We both agreed it would be a wise course of action for her to memorize the content so that it didn’t get into the wrong hands after we discovered we were being followed and shot at.”
“I see,” Tomkin said thoughtfully. “I did everything I could to make certain both of you wouldn’t be followed, but my efforts, it seems, have been fruitless. I have underestimated our enemy greatly indeed.”
“Yes, we all have,” Michael said. “Which begs the question, why were we ordered to deliver a blank missive half way around the world?”
Tomkin sighed and sat down on the couch again and Emma joined him. Michael kept his distance and leaned against the ivory-colored marble mantel above the fireplace, fire crackling in the hearth.
“The blank missive was a symbol. Samuel, the man you were supposed to deliver the missive to, would have understood what the letter meant. My seal would have authenticated who the message was from. And now you have both jeopardized the entire mission,” Tomkin said.
A sense of regret showered over Emma. She knew there had to be a good reason, but knowing that their action may have inadvertently hindered the mission made her more determined than before to get to the bottom of all this.
“Who is Samuel?” Michael said. “Why is he so important to this mission?”
For a moment, Emma sensed Lord Tomkin’s reluctance. In truth, their team knew Lord Tomkin provided the only information the team needed to complete the mission. Yet she could not deny the resentment she felt for her superior. He should have told them everything from the beginning.
Tomkin sighed. “Samuel is a friend. He worked for the Foreign Office. Emma’s father and Samuel were on a mission during the war. They were given a kill order to eliminate one of Napoleon’s sleeper spies residing here in London,” Tomkin paused, sighing as if the memory burdened him. “We didn’t know he had married an English woman and sired a son.” He shook his head. “No one knew about this boy, or that the French spy had given up on spying.”
“Don’t tell me,” Emma chimed in horrified.
“I will not burden you with the unnecessary details, but needless to say we believe the son is our target and is here in London. He must be nearly thirty-five now.” Tomkin paused, sighing as if frustrated. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead.
“What evidence do you have that it was him? You are aware we have many enemies who want nothing more than to see us burn in hell,” Michael said.
“There is more…,” Tomkin admitted. “When Emma’s parents were killed, there was a message, one that I didn’t want to tell you about Emma.” He sighed heavily as if recalling a painful memory. “At the time, I didn’t feel it would help you to move on with your life.”
“What did it say?” Emma asked. Her voice was at a tremor and her pulse quickened in anticipation.
“It said, ‘This is only the beginning. Your loved ones will pay for your sins.’”
Emma went weak in the knees and suddenly felt ill. Hot tears burned behind her eyes.
“There can be only one person responsible for your parents’ murder. It was the boy…well, he is a grown man now, and we think he attempted to murder Samuel three months before your parents were murdered.” Tomkin sighed again. “While he may have survived, Samuel was never the same after that, in fact he was broken by the experience. He left England to find solace and eventually ended up in Tibet. I told him to remain in India, that traveling to Tibet was dangerous. Perhaps he was looking for a refuge? But I told him I may need his help one day and he agreed that he would come back, if the time was right.”
“So then it would have been a gamble. He could have refused to help.”
“Perhaps, but I think seeing Emma would have helped to coax him to return since he knew your father well and he knew you too, Emma.”
“But I have no memories of Samuel.”
“Of course not, you were only four at the time you last saw him,” Lord Tomkin said. “Samuel has seen the man we are looking for. I had hoped Samuel’s presence in London would coax our target out of hiding.”
Emma fought the anger and sadness brewing inside of her.
Tomkin sighed heavy, as if he recalled memories he didn’t wish to unleash. “With Geoffrey killed, all connection to the murderer is lost. No one knows who he is, and although I’ve heard he walks amongst the lords, my attempt to discover his identity has failed.”
Emma noticed Tomkin observing Michael for several seconds.
“Despite everything, I thought it would serve Geoffrey’s memory well if I delivered the message personally and paid my respects to your family. I don’t want to taint their memory of him. Despite what you might think, there is no reason for them to know any of this.”
“Thank you,” Michael said.
“Tell me, have you learned anything new thus far? Were you able to identify the person who shot at you both?”
“He was killed before we could question him.”
“I see,” Tomkin said, rubbing his chin. “So there were two?”
Michael nodded.
“What about the other shooter, did you get a good look at him?”
Michael looked on and shook his head. “He got away before I could.”
Suddenly she felt the tension in the pit of her stomach. If she were blind to the situation, Emma would have believed everything Michael had said.
“I see,” Tomkin said nodding. “I’ve stayed longer than necessary. I think it is time for me to depart.” He stood. “Despite everything, I’m glad to see both of you safe. Roberts has done a superb job looking after your family. I think it’s best for you two to remain here, for now.”
There was nothing more she’d like to do than to stay here with Michael, but knowing the ultimate outcome, it would not serve anyone for her to stay here with his family and keep up with lies. “On the contrary, I’d like to go back to London with you.” She felt Michael’s eyes on her, but she didn’t look at him. “There is no reason for me to stay here.”
“You would?” Tomkin asked.
Michael’s suspicion was on full alert now. Emma wanted to leave. Was he wrong about her intentions? Of course he had no legal right to order her to stay with him. Not unless she was carrying his child, but he was not about to bring that up with Tomkin present.
What was this gut feeling that kept tugging at him? He’d hope to God, he was wrong about Tomkin. He’d been a mentor and his superior for nearly a decade. The consequences of accusing someone like him of crimes he wasn’t guilty of would be a crime in itself.
“As much as I’d like you to come with me, Emma, I need you here—for now. I’ve already inquired about the English woman who married the French sleeper spy. It seems she was an only child and both her parents died just after their daughter married the spy at Gretna Green. I checked her family records and she does have an aunt on her father’s side still living in Marseille. I’ve made arrangements to travel there, and with a little luck she may help us solve this case.” Tomkin put on his top hat and yanked his gloves on. “I will write as soon as I discover anything of use.”
After Tomkin departed, Emma was shown to the guest room. Blackthorn, Roberts and Michael gathered in the library. Michael informed the duo of the events that had transpired before arriving at Chatham Hall, but he kept his own doubts about Tomkin to himself for the time being.
“I don’t have long,” Roberts said. “The butler will notice I’m missing.”
Blackthorn watched Michael. “Come, what are you not telling us? Do you suspect we have a traitor amongst us?”
Michel disclosed the information he just learned from Tomkin to the two of them.
Blackthorn leaned back on the couch, sipping brandy. “There are talks of Napoleon’s escape in the streets. Do you think he may have recruited a sympathizer in London?”
“I’m sure the former dictator would like nothing more than to have his throne back,” Roberts said.
“My distant cousin in France informs me there may still be Napoleon sympathizers and former spies embedded in English Society. Napoleon was questioned and he insists this is ludicrous and that all of his “soldiers” bled for their cause and died at the hands of the greedy English.” Blackthorn paused, watching the two men.
Michael said, “I’m sure that’s what he’d say. For now, Emma and I will remain here.”
Roberts stood. “If we’re done, I’ll go check on the prisoner before I return to my duties.” When Michael nodded, Roberts took his leave.
Blackthorn set his glass down. “So tell me,” he said. “Have you forgiven Emma?”
Michael shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “There is nothing to forgive.”
“Ah, but I must disagree, my friend,” Lord Blackthorn put his brandy glass on the table in front of him. “I know you will tell me this isn’t any of my business—”
“You’re quite right. It’s none of your business.”
“I think with all the years we spent together in the bloody war and me saving your damned arse on multiple accounts, I think you can indulge me a little.”
“I fear your memory has suffered greatly from the traumas of war, my man,” Michael said. “It was I who saved your arse, if I recall, but do go on….”
“She’s good for you,” Blackthorn said. “Don’t let her go without fighting for her again. Believe me, it’s a rare thing to find someone who adores you for who you are and not your influence.”
“Influence?” Michael said. “I’m a second son of an earl, no title and no influence.”
“You and your brother were born ten minutes apart and you could have easily been the next Earl of Chatham. Besides that isn’t my point. Just promise me. Don’t let her go without a fight.”
“Are you certain this isn’t about Miss Deveraux, your former fiancée?”
“No. That vixen made her choice when she ran off with that old goat.”
Michael recalled Blackthorn had just recently gained his title when his brother passed away six months ago. Before then, he’d been engaged to Miss Elizabeth Deveraux, but she’d jilted him and eloped with a man with a lofty title and land. She didn’t even have the gumption to tell him in person.
Michael thought he knew Emma by now, but after her request to leave with Tomkin, he wasn’t certain of her true intentions. “I’ll consider it. Now, can we drop—?”
Roberts came rushing into the room huffing and puffing. Both men turned to face the Runner. There was a dab of blood on his white sleeve, which set Michael’s pulse on a wild run. Something is wrong.
“You’d better come with me.”
The three men rushed to the stables as quickly as they could while trying to avoid any unnecessary attention. Once they arrived in the last stable, they saw the prisoner’s blank eyes staring at a fixed point above them. His shirt was soaked with blood from the gash torn across his throat.
“I found him like this. There are multiple stab wounds on his back,” Roberts said. “The blood is still fresh. I told Brandon to divert the staff and check on your family. From the looks of things, I’d say it happened within 30 minutes.”
Michael’s blood boiled with cool rage. He could not pull his gaze away from the rotten prisoner he’d hauled across England. Damn it.
Blackthorn must have read Michael’s mind when he said, “I’ll go check on everyone.”
“We need to interview the staff,” Michael said. “And I think it would be prudent to put more men to secure the house.”
The Runner replied, “I’d like nothing more than to post dozens of men here, but that would be nearly impossible without giving us away, and we are short on men as it is. Each family has two men at their post.”
“What did Brandon have to say about this?” Michael questioned.
“Brandon?” the Runner looked perplexed. “He wasn’t here when I found the body. You think he had something to do with this?”
Of course, Roberts didn’t know that Brandon was one of his men. Brandon and Row were his ears and eyes and no one knew of them or their true purpose. “Brandon is one of my men,” Michael confessed. “I ordered him to watch over my family.”
The Runner’s mouth twisted in contempt. “You should have trusted me,” he blurted out, angrily. “It would have better served our purpose if you had told me who he was.”
“I’m sorry,” Michael agreed. “But, after Geoffrey was killed, I had to take extra precautions. Surely you can understand that.”
Roberts said nothing.
Michael added, “It was a mistake I don’t intend to repeat.”
Roberts nodded and looked around the perimeter. “I think additional men are needed. I know someone. He is an excellent marksman. I can have him set up camp near the house to guard the perimeter.”
“Good,” Michael said. “There is a small cottage nearby. I will speak with the family. We need to remove the body. I don’t want my family to find out what transpired here today.” Fury burned in his chest while he looked at the corpse, the blood that was now thick like a frozen river. It had taken three days to transport the prisoner here, risking his life and Emma’s.
As the two men looked at the corpse again, a few seconds of silence filled the night.
Michael knew whoever did this had one goal in mind: to silence the prisoner. That knowledge sent a hot, urgent pulse running through his veins. Where the bloody hell are you hiding?
“I fear our time’s running out.”