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“Leave that to me. Perhaps my new scar will assist the telling.”
William had been working in his study, trying to get a few things done before they were to sail to Stonehaven, when Ailie arrived. Now that his workers were off for Hogmanay, the shipyard activity had ground to a halt, but the paperwork never ceased.
Ailie droned on, telling him some Banbury tale of how Robbie Powell had come to be shot the day before. William’s attention was waning, diverted by the numbers on the page before him.
“They are spies, I tell you!” Ailie shouted, her cheeks red with fury.
William dropped his quill and looked up. He had assumed Robbie’s misfortune was merely a chance encounter with a ruffian from one of the shorefront taverns, but his sister’s words said different. “Surely that cannot be. Those two are sons of Simon Powell of Powell and Sons Shipping, respectable shipmasters the both of them. Besides, I cannot countenance such behavior on the part of Ormond’s friends.”
Realizing he would accomplish no more work today, William set aside his ledgers and rose. “I can see there is nothing for it but for me to ask Ormond if he has an inkling of such being true.” He proceeded out of the room, saying over his shoulder. “I will see you at the noon meal.”
He found Hugh in the stables rubbing down the chestnut gelding he had ridden that morning. Sunlight drifted through the open shutters to fall upon the fresh hay.
His friend must have sensed his presence, for he glanced up. “Hello, William. What brings you to my favorite haunt?” Hugh returned his attention to the horse, moving to its right flank facing away from William.
“It’s my sister. Ailie has it in her head that the twin Powell brothers are government spies.”
Hugh’s dark head popped up from the other side of the horse. “What?”
“Aye, something to do with that dust up in Arbroath yesterday and Robbie’s getting shot. Ailie says ’tis all bound up with some work the two were doing for Lord Sidmouth. Spying on George Kinloch, to be precise.”
“The man from Dundee charged with sedition is here?”
“Was, according to Ailie. But aye, the very one. Know anything about it?”
“No.” Hugh put the horse back in its stall and wiped his hands on a cloth. “How about a brandy, old chum?”
“I’ve some good cognac waiting in my study,” Will offered. They began to walk back to the house together. “I was certain none of your friends would be spying for the Crown,” said Will, feeling much better about the whole thing. After all, he’d given Nash his blessing to court Ailie.
“Well, now. Speaking generally, William, that ain’t so.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“I suppose I have never told you.” Shaking his head, Hugh said, “Truth be told, there was never a reason to do so and, really, we don’t speak much of it.”
“What exactly are you muttering about?” William demanded, as they approached the front of the house.
“What I am trying to say, my friend, is that we have all been agents for the Crown at one time or another. I was a spy in Paris stealing the plans meant for Napoleon’s generals; Sir Martin was a spy in France during the war, working with me. And just two years ago, Prinny dispatched him to the Midlands for that rebellion in Pentridge. At the Prince Regent’s request, Nick chased a pirate all over the Caribbean, one I might add who held Tara captive for a time. Why, even their father Simon Powell was a spy for the government in the American War. Did you never know?”
Will paused, near speechless. “I had no idea.”
“So,” Hugh continued on, speaking as if it were no large matter, “while I know nothing of this business in Arbroath and, if it’s true, would chide them most soundly for assuming on your good graces, I would not be surprised. Like their older brothers and their father before them, I expect the Crown would feel free to call upon them whenever they are needed. The Powells have served the country well.”
“Good Lord. Government spies the lot of you and beneath my very roof. Tell me, while I was rotting in a French prison, were you in France?”
Hugh grinned. “Have you never heard of L’Engoulevent, the Nighthawk?”
Will raised a brow. “You?”
Hugh bowed. “À votre service.”
“You are a famous hero, Ormond. A glass of my best cognac is definitely in order.”
Hugh chuckled. “If it earns me some of your fine cognac, I accept the accolade.”
Ailie arrived in the dining room just as luncheon was being served. A quick glance around the table told her Robbie had elected to remain in his room. He was still dizzy when he’d tried to stand so it was not beyond reason for him to take the noon meal in his chamber.
Or, he might be hiding from her wrath.
