Page 4 of Tempting the Marquess

Eyebrows raised, William settled himself into a truly uncomfortable wooden chair. The coordinator could be damned bloody aggravating, but he was arguably the most dangerous man in England. White wasn’t his real name, just a shortened version of Whitehall. Nobody knew his real history, but those who reported to him did know he was tenacious, cunning, unapologetically ruthless, and spoken of in hushed terms by even the hardiest politicians and generals. The fact that his attention was diverted right now could only mean one thing: trouble.

“Your ghostly pallor and rather wrinkled clothing indicate several all-night vigils. Anything wrong in particular?”

“Apart from the damned Corsican returning to Paris and rallying thousands to his cause? Nothing. My apologies for delaying your evening, I’m sure you’re eager to get to Almack’s.”

“That goes without saying,” William replied guardedly. White both distracted and irritable did not bode well. “Are you itching for a young bride yourself, or is it a regal chaperone who has caught your eye? Either way, I’d recommend first combing what remains of your hair, and second hiring a valet to assist with your wardrobe. Bit of color, a touch of silk, and your cause would be helped noend.”

White’s lips twitched until he remembered he had no sense of humor, and his usual bland expression returned. “Lady Samantha Buchanan, the Earl of Claremont’s daughter. How well do you knowher?”

“Not very.” William shrugged. “The Claremonts often left her in my foster mother’s care as a child, but I was away at Eton then Cambridge, so I only saw her occasionally before she got forcibly sent north to some cheap and obscure school. Both Lady Samantha and Lady Westleigh were devastated, but neither had a say in the matter.”

“What do you recall about thechit?”

“Hmmm. Sweet-tempered, a bit clumsy. Curly hair. Undersized. Enjoyed dolls and pony rides, but I believe the same could be said for most young girls.”

“Nothingelse?”

“No scars, tattoos or known criminal associates I can remember, although she did try to befriend a stray cat once,” William finished, his own level of irritation rising. What the hell was all this about?

“So it’s been over ten years since you last sawher?”

“You areclever.”

“So they say,” the older man mused.

William refrained from hurling an inkpot. Just. “Perhaps we could get to the urgent matter? I have no desire to duel with a patroness, or Lady Westleigh, if I’mlate.”

Steepling his fingers, White sat back in his chair. “Lady Samantha is part of it. I’ve been debating whether to involve you, due to the foster family connection, but it might well be the perfect cover. The central issue is her father. We strongly suspect, albeit without much solid evidence, that the Earl of Claremont is not only a supporter of Napoleon, but actively working on his behalf here in England to destabilize parliament and encourage invasion.”

Christ. Aunt Jane’s dissolute younger brother a traitor? The idea was so preposterous, he could barely form the words to respond. “What? But he’s a foolish drunk…”

“A drunk, yes. Foolish? I’m not sosure.”

“I see,” William said, chills icing his neck. “So how exactly do I fit intothis?”

“There is a chance Lady Samantha could be aware of, or worse, be involved in her father’s activities...” Holding up a hand at William’s exclamation, he continued, “...or she may be an innocent bystander. Starting tonight, I need you to spend as much time with her as possible. Use whatever means necessary to gather information and report back tome.”

“No. Absolutelynot.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m a codebreaker and translator, not a damned interrogator. And you are asking me to behave very dishonorably toward my foster mother’s niece, a countrified chit only twenty yearsold.”

“Quite,” said White, without a hint of regret in his voice. “Of course, if you felt you couldn’t complete the task, I would understand. But I’d be forced to give it to someone else. Someone whose methods wouldn’t be as, ah, courteous as yours.”

Silently, William wished him straight to hell. The coordinator asked too much and bloody well knew it, yet how could he refuse the task knowing who was available and might be called on? The thought of one of those jaded, deadly operatives threatening or even cold-bloodedly ruining a probably-innocent young lady in their information quest was enough to turn his stomach.

“Very well,” he replied curtly, standing and sketching a bow. “I’ll doit.”

“Excellent. I’ll expect your first report within theweek.”

As he departed, William’s fingers itched to slam the door. This was insanity. The thought of spying on any young lady in the guise of courting her was abhorrent enough. But a young lady loved by the Westleighs, his own foster family?

Exhaling heavily, he paused in an abandoned corridor and let his head rest briefly against the cool, pale stonewall.

Buck up, man.

Yes, at first glance there seemed no way this could end well, but he had to pull himself together. This was for king and country. To halt the advance of Napoleon, the greatest threat in centuries. And a Hastings never shirked his duty, no matter how terrible the circumstances.