“Then why are you here?” While she seemed tobe asking the question of him, she was once again looking at Esme.
“Mr. Stanwick has been assisting me in my search for the others who wished you harm. We believe we’ve come up with a plan for drawing them out, but we require your cooperation.”
“We’ll take tea in the garden to discuss it, shall we?”
Marcus was fascinated watching Esme’s interactions with a woman who ruled an empire. He doubted any lady of his acquaintance would be as relaxed as she poured tea for her sovereign or asked after her family. Because of her closer association with the Queen, Marcus remained an observer, allowing her to explain how they hoped to lure the conspirators into revealing themselves. Mary Talbot, the surrogate, would arrive, make a brief appearance without speaking with anyone other than her hosts, declare herself weary, and retire to the wing set aside for her and her ladies—the wives or daughters of peers who served in various positions to see to her comfort. John Brown would need to accompany Mary because no one would believe Victoria would go anywhere in Scotland without him. Using a secret passageway, Marcus and Esme would slip into the designated chamber. Marcus would escort Mary through the chamber to the outside where he, along with Brown, would escort her back to Balmoral. Meanwhile Esme would be waiting for the arrival of an evildoer. He and she had argued extensively aboutthat part of the plan, as he’d wanted to be the one waiting—but she’d insisted it was her duty. In the end he’d let her have her way.
As there was little for him to contribute now, he simply sat back, enjoyed his tea, and took pleasure in observing. The two women smiled, laughed, and seemed to truly care for one another. He supposed the two years that Esme had served the Queen in such a personal capacity had forged a bond between them.
An hour after they’d arrived, he and Esme were in the cab headed to Aberdeen. They were on a train back to London by nightfall.
Chapter 20
The following three weeks were the most wonderful of Esme’s life. During the day, she and Marcus spent a good bit of time with his sister working out the details of the ball that was to take place at her husband’s family estate. Esme helped to design the invitations and addressed them when they were delivered by the printer. As though she were a young debutante enjoying her first Season, she gossiped with Althea and Kathryn, who it was obvious had long been the best of friends.
“I have it on good authority,” Kathryn said, “that Chadbourne and Jocelyn are presently residing in different dwellings. I daresay you were fortunate that he tossed you over.”
Althea offered Esme a small smile. “I was once betrothed to the Earl of Chadbourne before Father’s downfall... The earl cast me aside. Jocelyn, a dear friend at the time, took my place.”
“She’s getting what she deserved,” Kathryn said.
“No one deserves to be unhappy.”
They spoke of who was courting whom, recent scandals, and the hopes of several unmarried misses. With the passing of each day, she caught a glimpse of what Marcus’s life would have been if his father hadn’t betrayed his country, precisely how he would have fit into it. The self-assurance with which he laid out their plans, the attention he gave to the details, the manner in which he instilled confidence in the others that they would meet with success. The way he strutted about. How comfortable he was speaking with a man who would one day be duke. It pained her heart to see how suitable he was for a world that had been stripped from him.
And every night when they returned to her residence, they retired to his room and made mad, passionate love. The attention he devoted to her was beyond anything she’d ever known. Or imagined. To give so much of himself to her, he had to care for her to some degree. She would tell herself it was only lust, but then she’d awaken to find him studying her as though he couldn’t get enough of watching her.
She halfway hoped that their mission failed, and he’d have no reason to leave her just yet. Then she’d be struck by the selfishness of such a thought. His future had been upended, and she wanted him to find happiness and purpose beyond retribution against those responsible for stealing everything from him and his family. Shewanted him to find love, to marry, to have dark-haired sons with his beautiful blue eyes. Sons who would grow up to be as bold and magnificent as he.
She visited her modiste and had a new gown sewn. He went to a tailor to have evening attire fitted to his specifications.
The invitations were dispatched, not through the post, but via liveried footmen who were sent out en masse to deliver each vellum card to every lord and lady in the whole of Britain. A note carefully inscribed in perfect penmanship accompanied each one:Her Majesty has deigned to honor us with her presence at the ball.
People would arrive the day of the ball, with accommodations provided so they could stay the night. The following morning would see them sent away after partaking of a hearty breakfast. A great deal of travel for so short a time. It would eliminate those with no interest in either a queen or the newfound son of a duke.
She and Marcus had arranged to arrive the day before it was acceptable for anyone else to make an appearance because they both wanted to explore the residence and grounds to ensure they knew their way around and would be comfortable carrying out their plans while keeping everyone safe.
As the coach in which they’d been traveling came to a stop in front of the massive manor, Esme glanced at Marcus and found him watching her. “You’ll soon be free,” she said softly.
“What of you?”
“I’ll move on to another mission, thank goodness. I’ve been getting rather bored with this one. There is always some sort of intrigue at court, some information that needs to be gathered about someone. And then there are those who break the law and must be apprehended, and sometimes Scotland Yard requires my services. You would be surprised by all that transpires about which no one will ever hear.”
“Will I ever know if tragedy befalls you?”
“By the time it does, if it ever does, you will have forgotten me.”
“You’re not one to be forgotten, Esme. But we get ahead of ourselves, I daresay. We need this little escapade to work first.”
“How right you are.”
The coach door opened, but before the footman could hand her down, Marcus grabbed her arm, halting her descent. She glanced back at him.
“I have something for you, to make this all the more believable.”
As she settled back on the squabs, she couldn’t imagine what it might be.
“We’ll need another minute,” he said to the footman before reaching for and closing the door to give them a bit more privacy.
