Chapter 1

The sun had yet to show its face as Jeb made his way through Hyde Park. The letter he’d received told him the exact spot he was to meet Her Majesty’s representative. Like so many times in the past, Jeb’s pulse quickened at the idea of a clandestine assignation.

He hadn’t considered ignoring the request. How could he? The missive was sealed with the official mark of the Queen. But neither did he intend to agree to whatever mission Her Majesty wanted to send him on.

He’d sacrificed enough during the war and had nearly been killed for it. Still, his curiosity was too great to ignore the message.

He crossed the arched walkway that spanned the Serpentine, its serene waters smooth as glass in the predawn hour, and leaned against the moss-covered balustrade.

“Good morning, Lieutenant Danvers,” a familiar voice said.

Jeb turned. “Major Dunworthy. What an unexpected . . . pleasure.”

Jeb’s former commanding officer and now special advisor to the Queen laughed as he stepped into view. “I wondered if you would come.”

“Curiosity got the better of me.”

“Does that mean you’re not serious about considering an assignment from Her Majesty?”

“That’s exactly what it means.” Jeb knew that for Dunworthy to want him on this mission, it had to involve risk and could get him killed. “I no longer have a death wish, Dunworthy. You’ll explain to Her Majesty that since I survived the war, I fancy living a little longer.”

“Of course, Lieutenant.” Dunworthy turned. “It was a pleasure seeing you.”

Jeb watched his former commanding officer take several steps away from him, then pause. He turned toward Jeb, his face showing his doubt as to whether or not he should attempt further persuasion.

Jeb knew it was unlikely that Dunworthy would give up so quickly or easily. He was a man accustomed to getting what he wanted. And it was obvious he wanted Jeb for something that was important. Jeb struck a cavalier pose, sighed, and lifted his chin. He would hear the man out.

“I remember you telling me once that your goal was to raise and breed horses.” Dunworthy’s voice remained conversational. “Have you begun your venture?”

Jeb hesitated. “I’m working on it.”

Jeb wasn’t about to tell Dunworthy that he didn’t have enough money to buy the quality stallions he needed. Nor did he have an estate—even a small tenant farm close to London—where he could pursue his dream.

“That’s too bad,” Dunworthy said. “I remember how good you were with horses. You have a fine gift.”

Dunworthy turned but didn’t move away.

“You wouldn’t reconsider Her Majesty’s offer if she included, say . . .” He turned back, as if wanting to see Jeb’s reaction. “A champion thoroughbred?”

It took some effort to stifle the scoffing noise that threatened to erupt from Jeb’s throat. “If Her Majesty did own such an animal, well then I would be quite interested indeed. But—”

“As it happens, she does,” Dunworthy interrupted. “Just gifted to Her Majesty’s stables by the royal family of India. A gray Arab, I’m told. Won every race at the Royal Calcutta last year. The raja was set to geld the brute, but the prince wouldn’t hear of it. Gave it to Herself just to save it. Just for you, one might even say.”

Jeb dug his toes into his boots as if that would help steady him. He couldn’t believe he was hearing Dunworthy correctly. “An Arabian? The Queen owns an Arabian? That Arabian?” He swallowed hard. Top-caliber stock was his goal, but the beast that had outstripped every Arabian at the Royal Calcutta? It was too much to dream of. “This mission must be quite important for Her Majesty to give up such a prime piece of horseflesh. Or that dangerous.”

“Perhaps both. Or maybe it’s the sensitivity of the matter, and she needs someone she can trust.”

“And she thinks she can trust me?”

“She wouldn’t have chosen you if you couldn’t be trusted.”

Jeb weighed the risks against the rewards, but all he could see was the boon it would be to have Her Majesty’s stallion to begin his horse-breeding business. It was exactly what he needed to assure his venture would be a success.

“Oh,” Dunworthy said. “I almost forgot. Her Majesty also mentioned a monetary reward if you successfully complete the mission.” Dunworthy delayed finishing his sentence to add impact. “I believe the amount she mentioned was ten thousand pounds. Perhaps that sum might assist you in building your stable.”

God’s teeth. Ten thousand pounds. It was a fortune. It was more than a fortune. It was—

“Perhaps,” Jeb answered. He struggled not to indicate how interested he was in Her Majesty’s offer. He took several steps toward Dunworthy, then stopped. “For curiosity’s sake, I’d like to hear exactly what Her Majesty would like me to do that is worth so much to her.”

“Gladly,” Dunworthy said. “Would you care to walk a bit further?”

Jeb stepped toward Dunworthy, and together they walked down the path.

“Nearly two hundred years ago, a certain clan in Scotland—the MacFarlane clan—stole a crown that belonged to the King of England. Their laird removed the jewels and sent the empty crown back to His Majesty. England, of course, tried to retrieve the jewels but never got them back. The MacFarlane clan chieftain is now the Laird of Langholm. Rumor has it that the jewels were hidden in the walls of Langholm Castle, and they’ve never been found. Until recently, we think.” Dunworthy paused. “Yesterday Her Majesty received a package containing one of the jewels.”

“Only one?”

“Yes.”

“Was there a note attached?”

Dunworthy shook his head, then sat on the nearest bench. Jeb sat beside him.

“Who does Her Majesty think sent the jewel?”

Dunworthy released a heavy sigh. “Perhaps someone sympathetic to England. Or someone intending to destroy the Laird of Langholm. MacFarlane has his share of enemies. But the Queen does feel the package was addressed by a feminine hand.”

“And that is to be my mission? To discover who sent the jewel and why?”

“Yes.”

“Why me?”

“Because you are the most suited. Her Majesty discovered that your father and MacFarlane attended school together before he became laird. And your father was also acquainted with the woman MacFarlane married. Lady Constance, the daughter of the Earl of Cantington.”

“I’ve heard Father speak of Lord Cantington. And his daughter. There was somewhat of a scandal when she ran away with a Scot.”

Dunworthy rose and continued down the path. Jeb followed. “There is also one more point of which you should be aware.”

“And that is?”

“According to our sources, the forces surrounding MacFarlane have increased in recent months. You will most likely find Langholm Castle quite secure.”

“Does your source know why?”

“The most obvious reason is because MacFarlane knows that someone has found the jewels and he wants to prevent the culprit from escaping with them.”

“And another reason not so obvious?” Jeb added to Dunworthy’s statement.

Dunworthy shrugged his shoulders. “The possibilities are numerous.”

“You mean dangerous,” Jeb finished for Dunworthy.

“I didn’t say this mission was without danger.”

“You didn’t have to. I can’t recall an assignment I was sent on that didn’t involve risk. Some more than others.”

“Yes, you above all our agents discovered that firsthand.”

Jeb stopped on the path. He’d had firsthand experience, all right. Firsthand experience he’d fought long and hard to forget. Experience that still made the flesh on his back prickle just thinking of it.

He turned to overlook the fountains and cascading flower beds kept lush and beautiful by the Serpentine’s generous waters. The sun was nearly over the horizon, and it wouldn’t be long before the park would be inhabited by early-morning riders.

“So the question remains,” Dunworthy said from behind him. “How badly do you want the reward Her Majesty is willing to bestow?”

Jeb held his breath for several moments while he considered his decision. He’d survived the war—barely. When he’d returned, he’d vowed he wanted only one thing from life—to breed horses and never put his life at risk again. Except he didn’t have what he needed to live his dream.

But that may just have changed.

All he had to do was accept this one last assignment and he would have the most enviable stock among horse breeders. The gray Arabian was a gift too stunning to refuse.

“How quickly can you get me a map to Langholm Castle?”

“I brought it with me.”

Jeb turned and took the map from Dunworthy’s hand.

“How soon can you leave?”

“In a few days. I have an engagement to celebrate the christening of Lieutenant Hugh Wythers’ first child. I really must attend.”

“Ah yes. Another of your Traitor’s Club, I wager? Will the other members be there?”

“Yes.”

“Be sure not to mention that we spoke. Or what we spoke about. This is strictly confidential.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Jeb said with a wry smile. He turned away from his former commanding officer, then paused. As he turned back, Dunworthy’s hand fell lightly on his shoulder. It was out of character for the man, and Jeb did not mistake the gesture. “I’m grateful to you, sir. Truly.”

Dunworthy nodded and stood as if he had something further to say. But a moment later he merely lifted an eyebrow, turned on his heel, and left the park.

A knot formed in the pit of Jeb’s stomach. What he was about to do would affect the rest of his life. If the mission went well, he was poised to become a country squire. So why was every bone in his body telling him to head for the trees?