Chapter Twenty-Eight
The day after the unsuccessful Loverly townhouse search, Hawk stepped out of the carriage in front of the Home Office at 50 Queen Anne’s Gate. The summons from the Secretary had arrived at his London townhouse earlier that morning. His head butler sent the missive with one of the trusted footmen to Cam’s house. Still disappointed at not finding anything of import in Lord Loverly’s home, Hawk made his way up the stairs, into the building, and turned right toward the Home Secretary’s office.
“Lord Sidmouth requested my presence.” Hawk offered the information to the man sitting in front of the Home Secretary’s office.
“Yes, sir, Lord Hawkins. I believe his lordship was also expecting Lady Elizabeth Munro.”
“Is Sidmouth available?” There was no point in informing this man that Lady Elizabeth Munro no longer existed. He would explain it all to Sidmouth when granted an audience.
“Yes, my lord. Just let me tell him you have arrived.” The man hurried through the door and was gone a mere minute or two. “My Lord Secretary will see you now.”
Hawk entered the vast office just as Lord Sidmouth was replacing a pen in its holder. He looked up, offered no greeting, and sat back, resting his arms on the chair armrest. “Have a seat, Hawkins.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Sidmouth leaned forward. “Where is Lady Elizabeth Munro, whom you were ordered to bring to London two weeks ago?”
“Lady Elizabeth Munro is no more.”
Sidmouth’s brows rose to his hairline. “Is the woman dead, then?”
Did Hawk detect a bit of satisfaction in the man’s demeanor? Or was he looking for things that weren’t there? ’Twas best to stay on alert, since he had no idea who the villain was in this play.
“No. She is not dead. Lady Elizabeth Munro is now The Right Honorable, the Countess of Hawkins.”
No surprise showed on the Secretary’s face. He put his fingertips together and tapped his lips. “I see.”
Hawk said nothing, allowing Sidmouth to make the first move after his statement. He who speaks first loses.
“Why is Lady Hawkins not with you then, as ordered?”
“Someone in the Home Office wants my wife dead.”
“Indeed?” It was hard not to know if the man was shocked or not. Hawk looked for clues because if he couldn’t trust the Home Secretary, he would go straight to the Prime Minister with his information. Or to Prinny, if necessary.
Hawk leaned back and rested his booted foot on his knee. “I was already visiting my cousin at his estate when the missive from your office reached me. It had been delivered to my London townhouse and forwarded to Suffolk. However, before the correspondence even reached me, there was an attempt made on my countess’s life. The only people who knew my wife’s location were in the Home Office. Unless, that is, you made the announcement throughout London.”
The Secretary shook his head. “Only a select few were made aware of Lady Eliz—Lady Hawkins’s whereabouts.”
“Who?”
“Myself, my personal assistant, Mr. Allen, one or two others who had a need to know.”
Hawk stood, unable to pretend indifference any longer. Sidmouth leaned back and regarded him, his fingers now laced together on his middle. “When did you marry?”
“Three days ago, in London.”
“I see. Why has she not accompanied you here today, as ordered?”
“I repeat. Someone in this building wants to kill her. My wife will not leave the safety of where we are residing until the person who is tracking her has been identified and jailed.”
Sidmouth smirked. “From your wording, you are not residing at your own townhouse.”
Hawk did not comment. He would offer as little information that he could get away with until he learned who was threatening Lizzie.
“’Twas quite clever of the chit to marry you. It does give her a bit of leverage, does it not?”
Hawk’s jaw tightened, and he leaned over the desk, a mere few inches from the Secretary’s face. “That is my wife you are speaking of, My Lord Secretary. I don’t take slurs against her, or her motives, lightly. Be very very careful.”
Sidmouth waved his hand. “Sit down, Hawk. No one is disparaging the countess. However, if what you say is true, someone in my office is up to his neck in trouble.”
Hawk took a seat again. “Exactly. It is my theory that a member of the Home Office was the person who was working with Loverly. We always wondered how Loverly got the information he passed along. I know for a time you assumed it was a woman, but I am convinced your culprit is right here. He is afraid Lady Hawkins possesses damaging documents that were left by her father.”
“That is precisely why we wanted to speak with her. While I never did favor the rumor that she was the one working with her father, we continue to receive information that there was someone working with Loverly—not a woman as initially thought. When nothing turned up after we searched Loverly’s townhouse, the theory was his daughter had in her possession whatever documents named the mystery person.”
“My wife has nothing of importance and knows nothing damaging. She and I made a visit to Loverly’s townhouse the other evening, and we tore the place apart. We came up empty-handed.”
Sidmouth studied him for a few minutes. “I shall pretend I didn’t hear that. However, if someone in this office is guilty of treason and attempted murder, he will be exposed and brought to justice, I can assure you.” He gazed out the window at the typical gloomy London day. “I can understand your reluctance to bring your wife to us. How amenable would you be to me visiting with her, in your presence, where you are residing?”
“As you assumed, we are not staying at my house. It was too dangerous for her.” Hawk dragged his palm down his face. Did he trust the Secretary enough to allow him to come to Cam’s townhouse? Now he trusted no one.
“Suppose we meet in my townhouse? Today, mid-afternoon? You must come alone.”
Sidmouth nodded. “If that is the only way you will allow me access to the countess, then I will be by myself, at your townhouse this afternoon, at say, three o’clock?”
“We will be there.” Hawk pushed his chair back, stood, and turned. As he reached for the door latch, he looked over his shoulder at Sidmouth. “I assume I don’t have to remind you to tell no one about our meeting?”
Sidmouth dipped his head. “You have my word.”
“Very well. We will see you later.”
As Hawk made his way downstairs to the waiting carriage, he hoped he hadn’t just made a major blunder. If Sidmouth was not the honorable man he’d always thought him to be, he was putting Lizzie’s life in danger. His lips tightened. Not while he was in charge.
…
Lizzie paced the carpet in the bedchamber she and Hawk had been sharing in Cam’s townhouse, counting her steps as she walked one way, then the other. It had been more than two hours since Hawk had left for his meeting at the Home Office.
She raced to the window at the sound of carriage wheels in front of the house. Cam’s coach came to a stop, and Hawk stepped out. Lizzie hurried from the room and down the stairs to greet him.
His bright smile assured her there were no men from Scotland Yard behind him to take her to jail. She returned his smile and took his extended hand. “I ordered tea a few minutes ago. Would you care for some?” It amazed her how an Englishwoman’s first thought in any situation was tea.
“Yes. Tea sounds like a good idea. Also have Cook send in some food, as well.” After giving instructions to the butler, Hawk wrapped his arm around her waist and led her to the library.
They settled on the sofa in front of the window. “What happened?” She could no longer wait to hear about the meeting. Her heart had been lodged in her throat since he’d left. When she’d disappeared two years ago, never had she thought she’d be back in London, so close to the Home Office.
Hawk linked their fingers together. “We have a meeting this afternoon with the Home Secretary.”
She chewed her lip as she studied him. “Is that good news, or bad news?”
“Neither.” He looked up as a footman entered with tea service.
“My lord, Cook heard your carriage drive up and had already added sandwiches to the tray.”
“Thank you.”
They waited while the footman placed the tea things on a table in front of the sofa. Despite her eagerness to learn what had happened, she poured tea, arranged sandwiches, biscuits, and a lemon tart on a plate, and handed it to Hawk. She was happy with just tea since it was unlikely her knotted stomach could handle food.
“It is neither good nor bad news because the Home Secretary knows we’ve given your father’s townhouse a thorough going-over and found nothing.”
Lizzie placed her teacup on the table and sat back against the sofa. “Then why is he coming here?”
“He isn’t. I still trust no one with your safety, so I told him we would meet at three this afternoon at our townhouse. We will leave here the way we arrived, dressed as servants, and enter our townhouse through the back door. It won’t be quite as safe in the daylight, but those who would recognize us rarely pay attention to servants scurrying along the pavement.”
“Did he indicate why he wanted to meet with me?”
Hawk swallowed a gulp of tea and shook his head. “No. But I am quite sure he wants to merely ask you the very same questions I have already asked at Wycliff Manor, and then again on the road to London.”
Lizzie stood and gripped her middle. “Will this ever end?” She walked across the room and studied the gardener busy pulling dead flowers. Before she drew another breath, Hawk was behind her, the warmth from his body, and the scent of sandalwood, comforting her.
He rested his hands on her shoulders and drew her against his chest. “We need the Home Office’s help to locate the person ordering the attacks on you. Believe me when I tell you they are as anxious to expose this person as we are.”
She turned. “Then they believe I know nothing, but someone thinks I do?”
“Yes.”
She nodded. “That is a small relief.”
…
At precisely three o’clock, Home Secretary Sidmouth arrived at Hawk’s townhouse. Most likely because of the uncertainty in their lives since their marriage, she still did not think of it as her home yet.
Earlier, when they had arrived from Cam’s house, the daylight pouring through the tall windows allowed her to see the space better than when they’d arrived from Hawkins Manor. She made several mental notes of what she would change if their life ever assumed some normalcy.
Arthur, Hawk’s butler, announced the arrival of Lord Sidmouth in his very well-polished voice, then stepped aside to allow the Home Secretary to enter. The thought flitted through her mind that she would also need to be introduced to the household staff sometime soon.
The Home Secretary immediately walked to Lizzie and bowed. “My lady, it is a pleasure to see you once again. I wish you happy on your recent marriage.”
Since it would be considered rude to express her true feelings about seeing him again, Lizzie merely smiled and held out her hand for him to take. “Welcome to our home, my lord.”
There, she said it. Our home. Maybe she would start to feel as if it truly was soon.
She waved in the direction of the drawing room. “May I offer you refreshments, my lord?”
“No. I do not require any. And I think this will not take long.”
Once they were all settled, Sidmouth directed his attention to Lizzie. “My lady, I would ask a favor of you.”
She was certain surprise showed on her face, since she could not imagine what he would require of her. “If I am able, my lord.” She cast a sideways glance at Hawk, who regarded her with raised eyebrows, telling her he was unaware of what the Home Secretary was about to ask.
“His lordship brought to my attention that there has been an attempt on your life.”
“Three, actually,” Hawk said as he took Lizzie’s hand in his. “Two more after the one I told you happened at Wycliff Manor.”
Sidmouth nodded. “Your husband has presented a theory that I am unable to dismiss. He believes someone in my office was the person working with your father. The guilt and distress that conclusion causes me does not eradicate my responsibility to uncover this criminal and see justice done. I also agree with Lord Hawkins that this is the same person who has caused the attempts on your life.”
Hawk ran his thumb over her knuckles as they continued to study the Home Secretary.
The man stood and linked his fingers behind his back. “That is where the favor comes in.” He turned his attention to Lizzie. “Even though you have found nothing at your father’s townhouse that might incriminate this individual, I would like to put forth, among a few high-ranking people at the Home Office, the false rumor that you do, indeed, possess information, and you are setting up a meeting with me to hand the papers over.”
His face as white as new snow and his jaw muscles working, Hawk jumped from his seat and loomed over the Home Secretary’s startled, upturned face. “No. Absolutely not. Never. I will not allow her to do that. You must be demented.” He lunged toward the man and pointed his finger in his face. “Am I making myself clear?”