CHAPTER 21
Never in his life had he been so recklessly drunk.
Michael looked at the decorative clock on the marble mantle above the fireplace again. Half past eight in the evening—I’m bloody late.
When he awoke in Emma’s bedchamber an hour ago, he had a pounding headache and the room had spun like the devil. It took another hour or so for the dizziness to dissipate, but the damn headache unfortunately would not relent. Knowing he already missed breakfast and lunch with his family, he would not dare miss dinner.
He’d called for a valet to assist him in dressing for dinner. When the young man showed up at the door, he informed Michael that her ladyship expected the family to observe full mourning in the light of Geoffrey’s death. Once his valet tied his cravat to perfection, Michael dismissed him.
Slowly pulling his sore arms through the mourning coat sleeves, he winced. Every muscle in his body ached from the brawl with William. He was certain his brother was in no better condition than he. But it had been years since they drank together. It felt like old times.
Emma materialized in his mind. In many ways, she had forced him to face his demons and he was grateful for that. Very grateful, actually. An amalgam of conflicting emotions suddenly stormed through him. God, he wished he could trust her. But how could he when there were unanswered questions? Was she ordered to keep an eye on him? Was she somehow involved with Tomkin in treasonous acts? It stung him to even consider the possibility. He shook his head. No, she could not have a hand in betraying everyone, most of all him.
When they had met at Bond Street a year ago, she had taken his breath away with her smile. He had planned to propose to her, and when she failed to show that night at the cottage, it nearly broke him in half. He’d been so angry with her and hurt. At first, he wanted to go straight to her townhouse and demand answers, but his ego ultimately would not allow for another blow to his pride. Whatever her reasons were for not showing up that night didn’t seem to matter as much as it did. And while he still didn’t like the idea of getting involved with Geoffrey, she had a valid reason to do so. He had no right to judge her. After all, he’d done far worse on his past missions, hadn’t he?
There was part of him that desperately wanted to take her away from all this, to protect her, but she had informed him quite firmly that she didn’t need his protection. When all this was over, he needed to settle the matter with her once and for all.
He looked at the reflection in the long oval mirror in the corner of the room with mixed emotions. Somehow he could not escape the full blow of Geoffrey’s death now. It had been easier to forget during the mission. The events leading up to his friend’s murder flashed in his mind: What were you trying to tell me?
With no answer in sight, he forced the image back into the deep recesses of his mind and focused on the task at hand. No doubt Emma would be there for dinner. Bloody fool. It would help his situation considerably if he remembered what he’d blabbed about this morning in her bedroom.
Exiting his room, he walked down the stairs and made his way to the parlor. The shutters were closed to keep out the chilly February weather and the room felt toasty from the fire in the hearth. Instantly, he was aware of Emma’s absence. His mother, who was sitting next to Kyra on the couch, saw him and smiled affectionately. Kyra, however, looked as though she’d been sobbing.
William stood by the mantle as if he didn’t have the strength to stand on his own two feet. No doubt his brother was suffering the effects of the fall and the blow he took to his face. In fact, the bruise looked quite ripe and painful.
“I consider myself to be a proficient boxer, but obviously my lessons haven’t done me justice.” William sipped his brandy.
Michael grinned as he approached. “Hand-to-hand combat is less about brute force and more about knowing your opponent’s weakness. Not punching your way through the muck in blind madness. Still, you did well defending yourself, for an old sod.”
“Old sod?” William narrowed his eyes. “I beg to differ. Besides, you’re no young buck yourself.”
Michael smiled and looked at Kyra “I see Kyra is taking the news quite hard.”
“She’ll never admit it, but I think she fancied Geoffrey as a girl.” William looked at Kyra. “Give her time.”
Just then Kyra stood and strode over to them, dabbing an eye with her handkerchief. “What happened to your faces? It looks quite painful.”
“We had a little accident,” William chimed in.
“Accident? Do you mean beating each other to a pulp?” Kyra frowned.
Michael ignored her observation. “How are you feeling?”
Her lips quivered. “I will be fine,” she informed them.
For another several minutes, Michael patiently listened to his siblings as they conversed about Geoffrey’s last visits to Chatham Hall. She dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief again while William continued to tell stories of their friend and his many visits to Chatham Hall. It made Michael sick with regret. Geoffrey had said nothing of his visits to him because he knew Michael had no wish to discuss his family, not even with his best friend.
“Do you remember that awful looking tree, Michael? The one that looked as though it had been hit by lightning?”
Ahh, yes. It had been so long ago that he’d nearly forgot. It was a place he and Geoffrey often visited, a place to hide, especially when his father was ready to thrash Michael for missing his lessons. “How do you know about that?” Michael suspected she may have followed them when she’d been young.
“Never mind how I know. What’s important is that Geoffrey had been like family and now…now—.” Her words died off.
“I am sorry, darling,” Michael said softly.
The footman came over and offered them some refreshments. Everyone refused.
Kyra continued. “Anyway, I walked there today…to the meadow this afternoon and—”
“Meadow?” Michael repeated, as if he just remembered something important.
“Yes,” she snapped. “Weren’t you listening to anything I have said?”
Just then, Geoffrey’s haunting words came back: Meadow…tree…. How could he have forgotten? Bloody idiot. “Forgive me, darling. I have to check on something.”
She watched him. Her expression filled with growing concern. “You really do behave quite strangely at times. They’ll be serving dinner soon and you’ve already missed breakfast and lunch with Mother.” Kyra suspiciously gazed at Michael, her lips pulling into a thin line.
“I know, but this is very important. I will return shortly.” With that he stormed out of the parlor. Damn, why didn’t I connect the dots sooner?
Making his way down the hall toward the back of the house, he headed to the stable. If he understood Geoffrey’s meaning, his friend must have left a clue for him.
* * *
Emma was standing by the base of the stairs to join Michael’s family in the parlor when she saw Michael storm down the hallway toward the back of the house. He seemed so preoccupied in his quest that he failed to see her. She contemplated whether she should follow him, but before she could Kyra peaked out from the parlor, waving her to join the family.
“Where is he off to?” Emma asked.
Kyra shrugged. “He just said he had something important to check on.”
“Check on what?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea. If you ask me, he’s been acting awfully strange since he came home. Come. I think your company might help to ease Mother’s disposition.” With that Kyra pulled Emma inside the parlor and closed the door.
What are you up to, Michael?
* * *
In the meadow, about half a mile from Chatham Hall, Michael tossed the shovel aside and dropped to his knees beside an overgrown oak tree. Geoffrey had buried the wooden box here soon after his father passed away.
Wiping the sweat off his forehead, he reached into the hole he’d just dug and felt nothing but dirt crumble between his fingers. He looked around the base of the tree with its roots protruding from the ground. The earth had been turned over suggesting that Geoffrey had buried something here recently. Had he mistaken Geoffrey’s meaning? No, this is the spot. It has to be here.
Looking into the hole he just dug up, he reached in again and grabbed a fistful of dirt and tossed it. He did this several times until he felt something hard. Smiling, he seized the box and pulled it out. Placing it on the soft earth, he stared at it, suddenly troubled by the realization that that there may be evidence inside that could incriminate his childhood friend.
Oh hell. No, he would never believe that Geoffrey could harm an innocent soul. Or commit high treason. Taking a deep breath, he opened the box. On top of stacks of letters sat Geoffrey’s parents’ rings. Picking them up, he dropped the rings inside his coat pocket and pulled out the stacks of letters from his parents and relatives. On the bottom of the pile, he saw another set of letters tightly held together with a black ribbon. No addresses. No names. Quickly untying it, he unfolded the letters and read the contents:
Michael,
If you’re reading this, then it means that I have faced my maker. I have left you a few remaining correspondence with H from Foreign Office as evidence to attest to my innocence. I cannot say more. Find H and everything will be revealed to you. Take care of E for me. Goodbye my friend.
C
C,
Meeting time confirmed for tomorrow.
H
C,
I will need to take an alternate route as I don’t want to arouse suspicion. I shall be thirty minutes late from our agreed time. Same location. Same date.
H
C,
There is a mole. Confirmed by Foreign Office. Have two suspects, one of which is Lord Tomkin. We have evidence suggesting he isn’t working alone. Someone very close to him may be assisting him. Your order, for now, is to keep an eye on him. Take caution my friend.
H
Michael surmised H stood for Lord Hansford. Emma had said they spoke before Geoffrey was killed. He ran his hand down his face. While Geoffrey’s innocence was apparent now, the evidence pointed to Emma as the possible accomplice. Could she have been assigned to him as he had thought earlier? Perhaps even to prevent him from finding Geoffrey’s killer?
Or she could be completely innocent.
How could he ignore the past? Tomkin, his mentor and superior, was painted a traitor and Emma could be his accomplice. A deep sense of betrayal throbbed into his veins. He shook his head and fisted his hands. Oh, Emma….
He slammed his fist into the earth. What the bloody hell was he going to do now?
This was complicated.
He had only one option. To confront her.