Roswell couldn’t help but ask, “Are you obeying orders by pursuing my sister?”
“Your sister is a beautiful young woman, but I have no intention of pursuing her,” Mr. Barnard said. “I am just honoring my debt to Fredrick and ensuring she is protected.”
“I can protect my own sister,” Roswell asserted.
“Can you?” Mr. Barnard asked. “After all, someone snuck up on you in Vauxhall Gardens and almost abducted Miss Bolingbroke right out from under your nose.”
Roswell clenched his jaw. “How kind of you to remind me of that.” He reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved the book. “Why is this book so important to you?”
“It is believed that it holds the coordinates to the base camps, including Wellington’s location,” Mr. Barnard replied. “It needs to be destroyed at once.”
There was another question that was nagging him. “How exactly did you know where Lord Oxley stored the book?” Roswell questioned.
“I have been watching Lord Oxley since I arrived in Town. He isn’t exactly the most discreet of lords, but I couldn’t risk getting caught retrieving the book myself,” Mr. Barnard admitted.
Placing the book down on the table, Roswell knew that Mr. Barnard wasn’t wrong about Lord Oxley. But he refused to willingly hand over the book to Mr. Barnard. “Once I verify your information is correct, I shall destroy it.”
“And I am just supposed to trust you?” Mr. Barnard asked.
“Trust goes both ways,” Roswell replied.
Mr. Barnard shoved back his chair and rose. “Just see that it is done. You are playing with people’s lives here,” he declared before walking off.
Turning in his seat, Roswell watched Mr. Barnard’s retreating figure and asked, “Do you believe him?”
“I think we have no choice but to go along as if we did, but remain extra vigilant,” Caleb replied as he took a sip of the tankard.
Roswell nodded his agreement. This changed nothing for him since he still didn’t like Mr. Barnard, but it would be best if they at least kept up the appearance of working with him. “You are right.”
“Of course I am,” Caleb replied, looking down at the tankard with a disgusted look on his face. “Although, I was wrong about this drink. It is unpalatable.” He pushed the tankard away from him. “We need to get to the truth about my father before it is too late.”
Rising, Roswell said, “We have work to do.”
After a delightful nap, Anette had just descended the stairs when she heard loud banging noises coming from her father’s study. She wondered what he was doing in there. Frankly, she was surprised that he was home in the afternoon since he usually was at the House of Lords at this hour.
She hurried down the corridor and stepped into the study. Books were strewn out across the floor and she watched as her father hurled another one against the wall.
“Whatever are you doing, Father?” Anette asked.
Her father turned to face her and she could immediately sense something was wrong. His eyes held a weariness to them that she had never seen before.
“Nothing,” his curt reply came. “You may leave now.”
Ignoring his request, she asked, “Why, pray tell, are you tossing books around?”
“If you must know, I am looking for something,” he replied as he reached for another book on the shelf. He perused it before he tossed the book over his shoulder. It landed with a thud on the floorboards.
She lifted her brow. “I take it that you haven’t been successful.”
“It is of the utmost importance that I find it, and I fear that I have misplaced it.”
Stepping further into the room, she asked, “May I help you look for it?”
“No, that isn’t necessary,” her father replied. “I just need you to leave and not step foot out of this townhouse.”
“I have time…”
He cut her off. “Leave it, Anette.” His voice was hard and he had never spoken to her so harshly before. It was unnerving.
