AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Breanna gazed up at Royce, her smile returning as she recalled the other pivotal event that had recurred on the day her grandfather gifted them with their coins.
“I can't attest to how special we were, but we were certainly resourceful,” she confided. “Do you know what we'd done just minutes before Grandfather gave us the coins? We'd made a pact. We vowed that whenever one of us got into trouble—the kind of trouble that would go away by our switching places—we'd do so.”
Royce chuckled. “And did you ever carry out that pact?”
“Oh, several times.” Breanna's eyes twinkled. “Beginning that very night. It was Grandfather's birthday We'd sneaked outside to play. My dress was covered with mud. My father would have beaten me senseless. Stacie was wearing the identical frock. She played me to perfection.”
“And you? Did you pretend to be her?”
“Yes. I loved every minute of it. It was the first time I ever spoke my mind without fear of punishment” Breanna laughed softly. “And that wasn't the only time we switched places. We did it again this past summer— every day for weeks. It was during the time when
Damen and Stacie were falling in love. My father wanted it to be me Damen was courting. And so it was.”
Now Royce was grinning. “It was really Anastasia?”
“Absolutely.” An exaggerated sigh. “Keeping my cousin's hair intact was the hardest part. Stacie can't go five minutes without sending, first strands, then tresses, toppling down. She's hopeless. Still, to be with Damen, she managed.”
“I'm sure she did. I wish I'd been here to see it.” Abruptly, Royce's amusement vanished. “I wish I'd been here to see everything. I'd have broken your father's jaw for ever laying a hand on you. And I'd have put a bullet through that son of a bitch he hired to kill Anastasia.” Royce's gaze hardened. “I'll get my chance yet.”
Fear knotted Breanna's stomach—the same fear that paralyzed her every time he made that claim. Reflexively, her fingers gripped his coat. “I saw several reports arrive for you today,” she said, reverting back to the topic they tried so hard to avoid. “Did your contacts provide any answers?”
Royce's arms dropped to his sides, and he raked a frustrated hand through his hair. “Yes and no. This process is so damned tedious. Remember there were two hundred fifty people at your party, two hundred forty-nine of whom are innocent. I've eliminated over half that number.”
“All from the information your snitches provided?”
“That and my own knowledge of the guests.” Royce rubbed his palms together, explaining the basis for his reasoning. “For example, one hundred four of the party goers were women. That leaves one hundred forty-six. Of those, over half have the wrong build— they're either short, brawny, or just plain fat. That brings us down to sixty-three. Here's where the reports come in. From what I'm reading, a good percentage of the men have alibis, either for the times when one of the murders occurred or for the night last summer when Anastasia was almost shot. Every few hours more information arrives, and I update my facts. Right now, I've narrowed the search down to thirty-four.''
“You're amazing.” Breanna shook her head in wonder. “Is this the kind of work you did in the military?”
“Yes. Whitehall relied upon what they called my deductive skills. During the war with Napoleon, I went back and forth from London to the Continent, depending on where I was most needed. The War Department knew I was good at reasoning out the enemy's strategy. I'd compile all the facts, consider the personalities involved, and make a prediction as to their intentions. My projections were usually right.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. You're brilliant.” Breanna inclined her head quizzically. “What happened when the war ended? How did you decide to keep doing this?”
“Fate decided for me. Near the end of my service, I was approached by a general I'd worked with during my months in France. As a commander, he was admirable. I had great respect for him. As a man, he was inflexible and overbearing. When he sought my help, he was worried sick about his son, a junior officer who'd disappeared during battle and whose body was never recovered. I went about trying to find the boy. I analyzed the circumstances, talked to his associates, and figured out what I'd suspected from the start: that the general's son was a deserter. Not because he wasn't loyal to England, but because he didn't have the strength to stand up to his father.”
“His father wanted him to follow in his footsteps, to pursue a career in the military,” Breanna guessed.
“Right. And he had no stomach for it.”
“I don't need to ask why you felt committed to the situation.”
“No, you don't. The similarity to my own upbringing was definitely there— with some important differences. The general wasn't cruel, whereas my father was. This man truly loved his son. By the time he came to me, he would have willingly accepted his son's decision, just so he could have him home, alive and well. That worked in my favor. When I tracked down the boy, he was frequenting a seedy brothel on the outskirts of Paris. He refused to go home, said it would kill his father to hear he'd deserted his country. So, we reached an agreement. We never revealed what had really happened. Instead, our story was that he'd been captured by the French, but had escaped and was trying to make his way back to England when I found him. This spared his father embarrassment and him imprisonment. In return, I insisted he announce to his father that he didn't want to stay in the army, and then resign his commission.”
“Did your plan work?”
“Beautifully. Everyone was happy.”
“Including you.” Breanna caressed his jaw. “You're a fraud, my love. You claim to be hard and removed, but I know it made you feel wonderful to give that boy something you never had.” Her gaze was rife with compassion. “I'd have felt the same way.”
“Yes, you would have.” Royce kissed her fingertips. “In any case, word of mouth took over after that.”
A smile. “In other words, the general raved to everyone about your brilliant rescue of his son, and suddenly scores of influential people had someone they needed you to find.”
“Scores?” Royce chuckled. “That's a bit of an exaggeration. But, yes, it happened something like that.”
A sudden thought struck Breanna. “You've never failed, have you?”
“Never.”
