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Chapter1
Haversham House, London –March1817
“Stay away from LadyStaveley.”
Marcus Gray, the Marquess of Haversham, blinked into the darkness that was his study. The silhouette of a man with a pipe, sitting in Marc’s chair sent a chill down his spine. He knew that voice, even if it had been a number of years since he’d heard it. And truth be told, he could go the rest of his life without ever hearing itagain.
Marc heaved an irritated sigh. “How the devil didyouget in here?” But before Under Secretary Galloway could reply to that, Marc bellowed for his butler, “Simmons!”
“Now, my lord,” Galloway began, “don’t take out your frustration on poor Simmons. He couldn’t really refuse me,youknow?”
Simmons, his longtime butler, appeared in the threshold a moment later, unable to meet Marc’s gaze directly. “My lord, Iamsorry.He—”
“—is a sad excuse for human excrement, and it will take you forever to air out the place once he’s gone. Don’t allow him entry again.” Marc turned on his heel and started down the corridor, stoppingonlywhen…
“St. George is in England.” Galloway’s voice drifted down the hallway after Marc, swirling around him like an asp poised to strike.St. George. Just hearing that name made Marc’s stomach roil and bile rise up in histhroat.
Bloody St. George. Damn it all. Damn the man straight to the bowels of hell. Marc never thought he’d hear that name again for as long as he lived, and it was a crushing disappointment to know the blackguard was still alive. Andnowon English soil. Though snakes in human form did generally tend to find slippery ways of staying alive, so he shouldn’t be surprised to learn that St. George had managed just that. “You should really have someone do something about that, then,” Marc replied and would have continued on his way if Galloway hadn’t followed him into thecorridor.
“Why do you think I’mhere? I promise it’s not to revel in yourcharm.”
A snort escaped Marc. There was no love lost between him and the Under Secretary. There never had been. But certainly the jackass didn’t mean to bring Marc into the situation, not after what had happened to Maxime. “I don’t work for the Home Office any longer.” And he hadn’t for nearly adecade.
“Agents neverreallyretire,” Gallowayreplied.
“I beg to differ.” Marc turned around to face the man. “Do you recall what I said to you that day in Whitehall?” The day Marc had officially resigned was one he’d never forget, and he doubted Galloway had forgotten that particular encounter or the punch to the jaw Marc had delivered a momentlater.
A ghost of a smile, the first one in many years Marc would guess, tipped the edges of Galloway’s lips. “You told me to jump in theThames.”
Indeed, though he’d also laced that message with a few colorful expletives. Still it was the gist of what he’d said, so Marc agreed with a nod. “And I find those very words on the tip of my tongue once more. Do showyourselfout.”
“I can’t believe you don’t want to help bring him tojustice.”
St. George didn’t need to be brought tojustice. He needed to be put down like a rabid dog, and he should have been put down years ago. But with the ineptitude or self-serving nature of Thomas Galloway leading the way…Well, Marc had no confidence that outcome would ever come to pass. And he had no intention of fighting a lost battle or for a lost cause. And certainly not for Galloway, who couldn’t betrusted.
He shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe Sidmouth has kept you on after all theseyears.”
Galloway shrugged slightly. “Home Secretaries come and they go, serving at the whim of whomever is in power at the moment. ButIam the constant, Marc, always keeping the office running as itshould.”
“Lining your pockets, you mean.” The duplicitousblackguard.
At that, the Under Secretary laughed. “I do not recall hearingyourname spoken of in reverence these many years. Your reputation is as dark as iteverwas. “
Which was precisely how Marc preferred it. There was a safetyinthat.
“And that well-earned reputation of yours is exactly what England has use for. There is a group of conspirators in Bishopsgate. We believe St. George is among theirnumbers,and—”
“I no longer take assignments from the HomeOffice.”
The Under Secretary heaved a beleaguered sigh. “Come now, Marc. We both know you’ll agree in the end. Save us both this little back and forth, will you? Time is of theessence.”
If Galloway thought Marc had any intention of changing his mind, he didn’t know him nearly as well as he thought he did. “Get the hell out of my house.” Damn it all, he hated the edge he heard in his own voice. He generally prided himself on sounding aloof, or at the very least bored, but seeing Galloway stirred up all sorts of things Marc would rather not remember. “If you come back, I’ll kill you where youstand.”
Galloway’s brow creased in irritation. “If you’re not going to help, then can I at least get your word that you’ll not be a hindrance to theoperation?”
Whatever the devil that meant. In more than a decade, Marc hadn’t interfered with anything having to do with the Home Office. He hadn’t cared enough to do so. Any loyalty to King and Country had long been beaten out of him years ago. “I have no intention of going anywhere near St. George oryoufor thatmatter.”
“That’s all well and good,” the Under Secretary began, “but I’ll need you to keep your distance from LadyStaveley.”
