“I don’t want my parents involved. They’ve been through enough in this lifetime, and I will vouch for them that they have no interest in seeing the Queen harmed, so there is no need for you to suspect them or require their presence. I’ll convince them to take a journey to Europe for a few weeks. Regarding the task of arranging for a ball to be held at the estate—how long would that take?”
“Three weeks or so if we don’t want people suspicious that something is afoot. Invitations printed, sent out. Most are at their country estates now.” Althea looked at Marcus. “We’re in London because it’s where Ben is most comfortable, and the Trewlove family resides here. It would be odd not to have his brothers and sisters present. I’m rather certain you can count on their support.” Trewlove and five other children, bastards all, had been raised by Ettie Trewlove as though they were her own.
“Trewloves like nothing better than a goodfight. You’ll be close to having an army in Scotland,” Trewlove said.
“Then there’s Griff,” Althea said. “Does he know of your plans?”
“Not yet,” Marcus admitted. “The estate in Scotland was the key. If you objected then we’d have to come up with an alternative scheme, so we began with you.”
“Why don’t we send for him and Kathryn, and then we could discuss the details of this daring strategy? We’ll have dinner together, shall we? After so long, it would be lovely.”
Lovelywas not how he would have ever described dinners in the Duke of Wolfford’s household. Tension always radiated around the table, their father dominating conversations, their mother timidly seldom contributing to any discussion. Yet he had missed the sense of belonging. “I look forward to it.”
“Do you love her?” Althea asked.
Following dinner, Trewlove had poured each of the gentlemen a glass of scotch before taking Kathryn and Esme on a tour of his mother’s gardens, leaving Marcus with his two siblings on the terrace with the last of the sunlight slowly dwindling away. A courtesy no doubt to give them a chance to talk more privately. He hardly knew how to respond to Althea’s question, but he knew Griff was equally anxious for an answer. Since his arrival, he hadn’t snubbed Esme. However, hehadn’t been particularly warm toward her either. “She’s a remarkable woman.”
“That would be a yes then,” Griff stated succinctly, disappointment rife in his tone.
Marcus took a sip of his scotch rather than plow a fist into his brother’s handsome face. His feelings for Esme were complicated; she was complicated. “We already explained what her relationship with Father entailed. She wasn’t responsible for anything that happened to us.”
“I hate to admit it,” Althea said, “but I rather like her. She certainly knows her own mind and seems quite capable.”
“She is definitely that,” Marcus concurred.
He caught sight of Trewlove and the two women walking beneath the arched arbor. While they appeared to be taking a leisurely stroll, he noticed how Esme casually glanced around constantly. He very much doubted she was taking note of the assortment of blossoms. Like him, she was keeping an eye out for any indication of imminent danger and had probably already marked a path for a hasty exit if needed. She would have identified weaknesses and strengths in those with whom they’d shared a repast. She would be able to describe in exacting detail every servant they’d encountered. He wondered if she ever took a holiday, ever completely relaxed. Even in his arms, at first, she hadn’t let herself go. She needed to be in control, and so after their initial lovemaking, whenever they’d come together, he’d ensured she was in charge.
“He’s certainly watching her as though he’s a man in love,” Griff said.
“Bugger off,” Marcus growled.
“No longer heir to a dukedom might turn out to be to your advantage,” his brother mused. “You certainly couldn’t marry her if you were duke.”
He wasn’t certain she’d marry him in either case, that she would give up this perilous life for him, that he could live with the worry if she didn’t.
Chapter 18
Esme knew that the most efficient way to arrange what they needed to occur at the ball was to tell O of their plans because he could facilitate ensuring Victoria stayed at Balmoral until after the ball so people would believe that she might indeed attend. He could also coordinate Mary’s participation. While upon close inspection, she couldn’t pass for Victoria, Esme wanted her to only arrive at the residence wearing a veiled hat and declaring that a megrim required her to immediately retire to her assigned bedchamber.
But Esme didn’t want to involve O. Or anyone from the Home Office, for that matter. Since the night she’d taken the photographs in Podmore’s study, she couldn’t help but suspect there might be someone in their midst working against them—either innocently or intentionally. She had decided not to even tell Brewster the true plans. Hewould accompany them, of course, but he would do it with the understanding that they were there to protect the Queen should she attend the ball. She also didn’t want to inform O or the Home Office because she was quite sure they would argue with her on the merits of the plan. In all likelihood it wasn’t going to work but Marcus had the right of it: they needed to try something.
This Lucifer fellow was evasive and skilled at hiding his identity. She feared he wouldn’t hold on to his patience for much longer and would strike against the Crown when they were the least prepared. Why else have Podmore killed and then murder the man who had done the deed? After a year of being dormant, he was once again on the prowl. She didn’t think he was tying off loose ends because he was giving up on his goal, but rather he was preparing to finish it. He was good at covering his tracks. He worried her.
However, it was crucial that one more person be aware of the scheme as her approval was crucial. Hence, Esme and Marcus were presently on a train headed for Scotland.
“A shame we don’t have a private railway coach,” he said from his place beside her on the compartment bench. “The motion of the train could make for an interesting experience.”
“You are so terribly wicked.”
“Wouldn’t you like to give it a try?”
She would like to be bedded by him anytime anywhere. Not that she was going to confess all that when they weren’t alone. Strangers sat nearby.She’d caught a couple of the younger ladies eyeing Marcus, no doubt attracted to the handsome gent, and she suspected they were straining their ears to catch snatches of the conversation. “Do behave. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”
The railway would get them to Aberdeen more quickly and time was of the essence. The Queen’s and Mary’s cooperation needed to be confirmed before the invitations could be designed, printed, and delivered. No point in moving forward without the collaboration of the linchpin.
“You do realize that every man seated in this car has noticed you and is probably fantasizing about bedding you even as we speak,” he said.
“I should have dressed as an old woman then.”
