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Rafe managed to lift his chin. “What? A damned blackmailer, like you?”
Wardale shrugged. “It works. I learned long ago that scruples are useless. No one with any real power bothers with them. And certainly not the upper class. Why should I hold myself to a higher standard? If you work for me, I’ll see that the prime minister accepts your little proposal. You’ll be able to create an elite group of agents and have a legacy of your own.” He then addressed Sylvia. “Yes, our friend here does a bit of gentlemanly spying. Quite tied up in Crown business, aren’t you, Davies? That’s what makes you so valuable to someone like me. I can’t resist having a man on the inside.”
Sylvia tensed, but Rafe kept his focus on Wardale. “If you are on such good terms with the PM, why do you need me at all?”
“Because his time in that position is limited,” he snapped. “And there is information even I am not granted access to. That is where you come in.”
“I will never agree to that.”
Wardale tilted his head in consideration. “What on earth are you trying to prove, and to whom? Men like your brother? They all think your mother was nothing but a common whore who swindled your idiot father into marriage. No matter what you do, your blood will never be as blue as theirs. That’s why I didn’t even bother trying to impress those people in the first place. They only react to threats, and the greatest threat of all is their social standing. As you no doubt saw earlier, they will pay nearlyanythingto keep it.”
“I understand what you’re getting at,” Rafe began through gritted teeth. “But that hardly makes it right. You shouldn’t have more power simply because you’ll stoop to any level necessary. We live in a society. We have laws. And there are certain lines that should never be crossed.”
Wardale turned to Sylvia, amused. “I imagine you have much to say about that, don’t you?”
“Don’t talk to her,” Rafe growled.
“If you’d like. And no, I don’t agree about not crossing certain lines. I think the worst thing a man can do is allow someone else to hold power over him. I learned that lesson very young. A pity you never did.”
“Say it plainly, Wardale.”
“When your brother told me you would do anything to gain his favor, I didn’t quite believe him. What sort of man still cares what hisbrotherthinks? I certainly never gave a damn about any of my siblings.”
“That isn’t true,” Rafe protested hotly, wincing even as he said the words.
“Poor little rich boy. It must have been a lonely childhood. Waiting for visits that never came. Big, joyous family Christmases. Birthdays where everyone fawned over their baby brother. Just how often do you think your father regretted marrying your mother? Gerard claims to have several letters on the very subject.”
Rafe took a heavy step forward, and Brodie immediately raised the gun higher. “I swear to God, if you—” But Sylvia grabbed his arm and pulled him back before he could go any further.
“Stop,” she hissed in his ear. “Don’t listen. He’s only trying to upset you.”
Rafe blinked, dazed by the force of his own anger.
Wardale gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I’ve always wanted to break a spy, but I didn’t think it would be quite so easy. You’re much softer than I imagined.” He then gestured to Sylvia. “Which I suppose explains this. I’ll admit, even I couldn’t foresee it. I thought for certain you were bedding Lady Taylor-Smyth. Not this plain little thing. Though I’m told she has her charms.”
Rafe inhaled slowly, this time forcing himself to control his anger before he dared to speak. “Say that again and see what happens to you.”
“Still, I wonder what on earth has drawn you to each other,” Wardale continued, entirely unconcerned. “The anarchist and the queen’s agent. Oh, did Miss Sparrow not tell you about her little flirtation with anarchy?” he asked as Rafe whipped his head toward Sylvia. She dropped his arm. Now it was her turn to avoid his gaze. Ananarchist?
“Seems like the kind of thing one would mention before getting married, especially when any association with a woman who believes the monarchy should be blown to bits wouldn’t exactly help your cause. But then, every sacrifice you have ever made for queen and country is worth less thandirtto people like her.”
Did she truly think that? Rafe’s jaw tightened at Sylvia’s silence. His career would be ruined. No one in government would ever trust him again. A hollow sliver began to open in his chest.
“Yes,” Wardale continued. “She wrote quite eloquently on the subject. Lots of railing against the hallowed institutions that you hold dear. But the most amusing bits by far were her thoughts on women’s labor. How the domestic sphere should be considered equally important as men’s work.” He paused to chuckle before addressing Sylvia directly. “It was your inability to compromise on this particular aspect that drove your lover away, wasn’t it? Dear Mr. Hughes told me all about it. How you actually expected him to participate indomestic activities.” He laughed again, louder. “No wonder he wouldn’t marry you. Imagine it, Davies. Darning socks and changing nappies. A world where cooking breakfast is as invaluable a service as enlisting in the Royal Navy or running a factory. Out of all your outrageous ideas that was the most implausible to him. Well, that and giving all women the vote,” Wardale added.
“So, it was Bernard who told you about me,” she muttered. The betrayal in her voice sank under Rafe’s skin, but again, she made no move to correct any of Wardale’s accusations.
The man nodded. “You will be flattered to know that he’s never forgotten you. I believe he even had you followed when you returned to London.”
Sylvia made a choking sound, as if the very idea repulsed her. “And I suppose you’re blackmailinghim, too?”
“Oh, naturally.” Wardale waved a hand. “He couldn’t pay my fee, and he doesn’t have enough power in government yet to make up for it. But that will no doubt change. Exceedingly average men like him always seem to succeed in spite of themselves. And, as I’m sure you know, the man can’t budget to save his life. But he mentioned he knew someone who had access to Lord Arlington’s household. I’ve been looking for evidence on the viscount for years, so we made a trade of sorts. He spoke very highly of your passionate nature, but the trouble is, my dear, that at the end of it all, a man may enjoy a revolutionary in his bed, but he wants a wife in his home.” Even in the moonlight, Sylvia looked ashen. “Though I don’t agree that you should have been arrested,” Wardale added. “That must have been an ugly business for you.”
Despite all Rafe had just heard, he still managed to be stunned.“What?”
“Ah, yet another stone unturned. Yes, our Miss Sparrow—though it’s actually Wilcox—was arrested during a raid on a bawdy house. Isn’t that right? Bernard said you were trying to unionize the tarts.” He laughed again. “That was what really did you in, wasn’t it? You had ruffled one too many feathers by that point, and not even Bernard could save you from that scandal, though he could have at least tried. If only he wasn’t so dependent on Daddy’s purse strings. As I recall, the newspapers had quite a time with that story. I believe my favorite headline wasLady Anarchist Lures Innocent Men to Her Cause.” He snorted. “Innocent indeed.”
As Sylvia looked around at all three of them, her eyes grew even wider. Rafe knew he should say something comforting, but he couldn’t find the words.
