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Daniel met the Foreign Office representatives in his drawing room again. They looked as grim as before. Perhaps more so. He heartily wished them away.
“It has come to our attention that a known subversive has had access to Lady Whitfield’s notebooks,” said the one who called himself Jake Wendell.
“A what?”
“A connection of a traitor to the crown,” said the man with blond side-whiskers. He might have been amending his comrade’s accusation, or simply elucidating. “Miss Penelope Pendleton.”
“This is a terrible breach of security,” said the other agent before Daniel could speak. “I don’t know whether you’re careless or stupid or something worse, but—”
Generations of noble ancestors reared up in Daniel and lent their hauteur to his icy “I beg your pardon?”
“This woman frequents your house,” continued Wendell, unaffected. “She is given free rein to examine your records. She has had the notebooks in her possession.”
The way he saidthis womanfilled Daniel with rage. “Have you been questioning my servants?”
“We question everybody,” the agent replied curtly.
“You need to be more careful who you associate with,” said the blond Foreign Office man.
Daniel wasn’t actually going to throttle a pair of government officials. He didn’t need Macklin’s hand on his arm to restrain him.
“Miss Pendleton was cleared of any involvement in the unfortunate events in Manchester,” said the earl.
“That what she told you?” answered Wendell.
“The Home Office did so.”
Wendell scoffed, but Daniel thought the side-whiskered agent looked a little uneasy.
“We demand that you hand over the notebooks and any other materials of your mother’s that you may possess,” said Wendell. “They must be moved to a secure location in London.”
“By you?”
“That is what we were sent to do.”
“Not collect butterflies?”
Daniel saw Macklin make an involuntary gesture and silently acknowledged that he shouldn’t have mentioned the butterflies. Revealing that they’d been watching him would no doubt heighten Wendell’s suspicions.
The man’s expression confirmed this.
“Possibly some arrangement could be made,” murmured Macklin.
“Nothing could be simpler,” said Wendell. “Give them to us now.”
“I’m not going to do that,” declared Daniel. “You may as well stop asking.” At Wendell’s scowl, he held up a hand. “You’ve set my back up, whether by design or accident, I don’t know. But I don’t like your attitude. And I won’t put my mother’s notebooks in the hands of two nameless men who march into my house without warning.”
“We brought a letter from Castlereagh!”
“Perhaps. I’ve never received one before, so I can’t identify his hand.”
“Are you suggesting that weforgedour credentials?” Wendell was the picture of outrage.
“You don’t enjoy being suspected?” Daniel was aware of Macklin’s steady gaze, but he couldn’t help the sarcasm. He’d rarely disliked anyone as much as he did these two.
“You will regret this,” the one with the side-whiskers began.
But his companion silenced him with a raised hand. “What do you propose to do?” he asked Daniel.
