* * *
Her hosts had sat her nowhere near either Seb or Westbridge at dinner. As soon as the meal was over the men retired for port and cigars and had remained retired for over two hours now. Clarissa kept herself entertained by chatting to whichever ladies took her fancy until somebody suggested they all read aloud a play that one of them had brought with her. Most of the ladies, including Penny, clambered for a part, which left Clarissa at a bit of a loss. Obviously, she declined her proffered part. Trying to read alone was struggle enough, doing it in front of this gaggle of judgemental females would be a catastrophe. Instead, she took herself to the other end of the room where she could see down the hallway and pretended to read a book that someone else had left lying around while counting the seconds till the gentlemen reappeared. From the noisy laughter coming from the billiard room, that was likely to be some way off.
She was just about to call it a night when she saw a familiar shape moving on stealthy feet further down the hallway until he disappeared around the corner. The way Seb kept checking left and right piqued her interest. He was working.
Quietly and with the minimum of fuss, Clarissa slid the book to the arm of the chair and slipped casually from the room. The door to the billiard room was open a crack, so she quickly darted past in case she was seen and followed Seb around the corner. The hall beyond was empty, the lights dim. She checked the deserted ballroom and the small library, then stopped dead outside the only other door in this lesser-used wing—Penhurst’s study.
As it was a room she had never entered—why would she?—Clarissa pressed her ear to the wood to listen. If Seb had been invited by their host and she suddenly barged in, it would look very odd and probably compromise Seb’s mission. After a full minute of hearing nothing, she turned the handle and stepped inside.
The room was dark and a little ominous. The ancient wood panelling made the night blacker, while the ghostly shapes created by the weak moonlight added to the eerie feel. It smelled of too much stale tobacco and hard spirits, causing her nose to wrinkle at the acrid scent. The involuntary shiver made her wrap her arms around her middle and all at once Clarissa was scared.
‘Seb?’ She whispered his name, wondering where else he could possibly be, yet was still startled when his shadowy form emerged from his hiding place behind the curtain.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I could ask you the same thing.’ The fact that he, too, was whispering spoke volumes. ‘Why are you creeping about Penhurst’s study in the dark?’
He stared back blandly. It was all the confirmation she needed. ‘Youdosuspect Penhurst!’ Shocked, Clarissa leaned against a plinth, gripping the shamelessly naked statue of Aphrodite that stood upon it. ‘You lied to me!’
‘I didn’t lie.’ He raked a frustrated hand through his hair as she gaped at him for the falsehood. The only saving grace was that his expression was wretched. ‘All right, I did once or twice... I tried not to lie... I hated lying toyou... But you have to understand this is my job. I was sent here on a specific mission. An important mission. Out of necessity, the line between deception and truth has to be blurred.’
‘Oh, my goodness! Poor Penny...’
‘You cannot breathe a word of this to your friend.’ He rushed forward and his hands came to rest on her arms, his eyes more serious and steely than she had ever seen them. Leatham the fearless spy, not the man who couldn’t flirt.
‘But...’ His fingers came up and covered her lips and his tone was urgent. Determined. Almost ruthless.
‘There can be no buts. If my mission causes you a conflict of interest, then I will have you removed and returned to your sister’s tonight. Under guard. I’ve lost enough men to this murderous gang and I won’t willingly lose another.’ As if seeing his hands for the first time he suddenly let go of her and took a step back. ‘I’m sorry about your friend. I like Penny a great deal and I am certain she is innocent of any of this—but Penhurst reeks of guilt and it is my mission to prove it. These are not nice men, Gem. They are cutthroats and Penhurst is one of them. Our intelligence suggests he now runs the entire distribution network here in the south-east. And we are talking thousands of barrels of illegal French brandy. Thousands.’
‘Penhurst is a smuggler? You are sure of it? Is it such a dreadful crime to evade paying the duty?’
‘I’m afraid it gets worse. This gang are not your run-of-the-mill smugglers out to make fast money. The profit from their huge empire goes directly to the supporters of Napoleon. We believe they are trying to raise an army to continue what he started. An army destined for here. Anyone who supports it in any way is a traitor to the Crown.’
Her mind scrabbled to take it all in. Question after question popped into her thoughts like champagne bubbles, each bursting and drifting away as another more pressing one hurried behind so quickly that her lips failed to form a single word. It was all so surreal, yet the more she thought about it, also alarmingly possible. Penhurst was a monster with the morals of an alley cat. Cold, spiteful, selfish and thoroughly debauched. Clarissa had never liked him. If she was being brutally honest with herself, she hated him and all his odious friends. Always had. Was that hatred clouding her judgement? Was he capable of being in league with smugglers to feather his own nest? He was certainly greedy. He had spent Penny’s dowry like water and quickly, too. Yet there had been a significant uplift in his fortunes since. These frequent, decadent house parties were merely the tip of the iceberg as far as his spending was concerned. This house and their Mayfair town house were now stuffed to the rafters with the latest furnishings, tawdry new gilt had been applied to every frame and chair leg. Penhurst’s wardrobe alone must have cost a king’s ransom. Even the bronze Aphrodite, bared bosoms jutting on her silly plinth, was a flagrant ostentation. So many things were falling into place because they suddenly made perfect sense.
Penhurst had a fortune and, unless he had made some very clever investments with Penny’s dowry, there was no other explanation for its sudden appearance. But was he capable of treason? Was he that greedy? That wicked? Was there the slimmest chance Seb was completely wrong? Deep in her bones she feared she knew the answer.
‘I won’t say anything.’ Not yet at least. Defending a traitor was indefensible no matter who he was married to. There would be no need for guards to ensure her silence, her fear for her friend was enough. Penny didn’t need to know about these outrageous allegations while Seb and the British government had no evidence to prove it. She could protect her from that at least. When the time came,ifthe time came, Clarissa would bend over backwards to save her friend. How? She didn’t yet know, but she would find a way to protect Penny even if all she could do was give her enough warning to hide in exile before the scandal blew wide open.
Poor Penny.
The initial chill upon entering the room permeated her entire body, she felt dangerously light-headed and nauseous, and found herself rushing to the window to open it, leaning heavily on the sill as she gulped in cleansing breaths. Seb had known this all along and used her to infiltrate Penhurst’s circle. More things slotted into place as she remembered they had renewed their acquaintance when Penhurst had introduced them after he in turn had been introduced to the mysterious lord fresh from the Antipodes by the Earl of Upminster. A man who was so high up in the Foreign Office he had the ear of the King. Everyone knew that.
Seb had confessed to being a spy and admitted he was seeking high-ranking aristocrats involved in the crime—but all along he had known who the aristocrat was and she had helped to thrust him into Penhurst’s circle, unwittingly putting her dearest friend’s very existence in jeopardy as a result. Knowing he was forbidden to tell her more than his mission allowed didn’t make his betrayal any easier to bear. Because right now she did feel betrayed, and frightened. So very frightened. ‘What happens next?’
He came to stand beside her and, to his credit, looked as wretched about the whole sorry situation as she felt. ‘At the moment all we have are well-grounded suspicions. It is my job to find enough evidence to arrest him and, by default, every minion who works under him.’
‘And if you get enough evidence?’
He stared down at the floor for a few moments, then his dark eyes slowly rose to meet hers. Unwavering but unapologetic. ‘That is for the law to decide. I just catch them.’
For years, Clarissa had wished for a way for Penny to be free of her husband, but not like this. The danger, the scandal, the ramifications of treason did not bear thinking about. Like all traitors, Penhurst would hang. ‘What about Penny?’
‘I will do whatever I can to protect her if she is innocent.’ His eyes dipped back to the floor and she realised he had no choice. For King and country he would have to do whatever was necessary.
‘Then I will help you.’ Because somebody needed to be wholly on Penny’s side and Clarissa would do whatever was necessary for her friend, as well. She could do that better working with the King’s Elite than banished to her sister’s under house arrest.
Her answer surprised him and for the longest time he searched her face. ‘You have done enough. All I require now is your silence. It is better if I do this next part alone...’
