“I’m extremely happy. You?”
Strange to realize in spite of everything a part of him was happy, the part that spent time in Esme’s company—when they weren’t confronting brutes who wished him harm. But even then, having her near, fighting in his corner, brought him joy because she guaranteed he wouldn’t be defeated. “Anxious to put the past behind me, and that involves finding those with whom Father conspired.”
“You’re still searching then?”
“Yes, and that’s what bring me—us—here.” He glanced at Esme. “Would you like to tell them or shall I?”
“Tell us what?” Althea demanded.
Beside him, Esme scooted forward slightly. “My relationship with your father... was, well, actually quite platonic. I work for the Home Office, you see, and my purpose in spending time with the duke was to gather information, and I believe he kept company with me in order to provide an excuse for being away from home a good bit of the time.”
She briefly explained how she’d become aware of his being involved in the plot and then consequently used her wiles to keep him near. Marcus watched as Althea’s eyes widened in disbelief. It was a remarkable tale, and if necessary, he would convince his sister of the truth of it. But when Esme was finished, Althea merely slumped against the back of the settee and sat there in silence for several minutes as though absorbing everything. Finally, she looked at him. “You believe all this?”
“I have no reason to doubt it. And it makes sense. In addition, we’ve had encounters with ruffians and others which lead us to think we’re close to ascertaining who is behind the plot. But we want to hasten the discovery. That desire has brought us to your door.”
Althea sat up as though he’d yanked on strings attached to her, and he could sense an excitement about her. “You want us to help? Whatever you need, brother.”
It occurred to him that her eagerness indicated she’d felt slighted by not being included before now, and while he hesitated to involve her at thispoint, he hoped the risk would prove to be minimal. “We want to make use of your husband’s Scottish country estate—for you to host a ball there. Invite every noble. As they’re no doubt still curious about the newest lord among them, a vast majority is bound to come.”
Several months earlier, in March, Trewlove had been introduced to Society as the rightful Glasford heir. Shortly afterward he’d married Althea, and they’d spent some of their time in Scotland because Trewlove’s parents—the Duke and Duchess of Glasford—rarely visited London or entertained and they’d all wanted the opportunity to get to know each other better since it had taken the older couple more than thirty years to find their lost son.
“How will this help you?” Althea asked.
“The Queen is in Scotland. We’ll let it be known that she intends to make an appearance at the ball and will stay that night at the Glasford property.” Esme shifted her attention to Trewlove. “I can’t imagine a Scottish manor house that has been in your family for generations doesn’t have a few secret corridors that were used long ago when the English unexpectedly came to call.”
Trewlove took a sip of his scotch before replying, “My father shared a few hidden passages with me.”
“It would be helpful if there was access to one in the bedchamber in which the Queen would sleep so we could quietly secrete her away before any harm befalls her.”
“If like Father,” Marcus said, “the others involved are noblemen, it is quite likely they’d see this affair as the perfect opportunity to finish off what they’d begun. We assume they’d postpone any attempt to kill her until everyone was abed so they could slip in, do the deed, and escape without being caught. But we’ll be waiting for them.”
“Will you just be hiding in the room?”
“Eventually. But we also need to be able to roam freely about in case we hear any snippets of conversation that could lead us to the culprits before the Queen’s arrival. No one will find my presence strange. You’d want your family, including Griff and Kathryn, to be there. As for Esme, she’ll pretend to be a servant. She won’t have quite the freedom to move about as I will, but she has the skills to make the most of it.”
“You don’t think that if she’s spotted people are going to find it odd that the woman they knew as Father’s mistress is hanging about?”
“You almost didn’t recognize me,” Esme said, “and you have more reason than most to have remembered what I look like. At the affairs I attended with your father, I was usually masked. He did take me to the opera and theater a couple of times, but we always arrived after the curtain had been raised and sat at the back of his box. And I watched the performance through rather large opera glasses, so my face was partially concealed. While it was common knowledge he’d taken a mistress, very few actually saw me to the extent they could identify me. And it has beenmore than a year since anyone has seen the flamboyant redhead. I’m not saying I won’t be recognized but I do think the possibility of it is quite slim. I won’t be wearing the red hairpiece and will be rather demure in my clothing and bearing. Unnoticeable really.”
“What if all this is for naught and nothing comes of it?” Althea asked.
“Then we’ve enjoyed a ball and each other’s company,” Marcus said.
“But if the Queen is killed,” Trewlove said, “it will be believed that this little affair was arranged for that purpose and any number of us will be hanged.”
“What I am about to tell you,” Esme said in a low voice, “very few people know, but Marcus has assured me you will hold this confidence. There is a woman who impersonates Victoria from time to time, on the rare occasion when there is perceived danger. Few can tell the two apart. She will be the one who will actually attend your affair.”
“She would put her life at risk?” Althea asked incredulously.
“It is her job, as it is mine. For queen and country.”
For the first time it seemed it was possible that Esme had won Althea over because his sister said not a word but merely studied the elegant and confident woman at his side. While everything within him had stiffened at the reminder that Esme wouldn’t put her own safety first.
He almost stood up and announced, “Forget it.We don’t need to know who was involved in the plot. I don’t give a bloody damn who Father was working with. Devil take family honor. I will restore my name in other ways.”
But he knew that even if he gave up, Esme wouldn’t. She was charged with protecting the Queen. She would see to the task at the expense of her own life, with or without him. He wasn’t going to leave her to go it alone.
Finally, Althea looked at her husband. “What are your thoughts?”
