Tasha Alexander - A Fatal Waltz

“Learn to live with it, Lady Ashton. It’s an emotion with which you will be spending a great deal of time in the future.”

Seeing no point in replying to this sort of inanity, I started back to the morning room. I stopped when I heard Lord Fortescue burst into laughter, and could not help looking back at him. He had put his hands on his wife’s shoulders and looked as if he were about to embrace her. Surprised and embarrassed, I turned away.

“Terrible man, Fortescue, don’t you think?” Mr. Harrison stepped out from behind one of the pillars supporting the vaulted ceiling of the corridor that surrounded the hall. “I can’t think of anyone worse.” I wanted to agree, but something in his eyes—a coldness that was frightening in its lack of ambiguity—made me hesitate. “It’s obvious that you don’t care for him.”

“I’m sure my feelings haven’t the slightest impact on him,” I said, quickening my pace. He caught up to me at once and put out a hand to stop me.

“He’s never going to get along with you if you stay with Hargreaves.”

“I’m well aware of his feelings on the subject. Fortunately, I’ve no desire to befriend him, and I certainly don’t need his approval—especially as it pertains to my marriage plans.”

“One of his daughters—Clara—has got it in her head that she should marry Hargreaves. They danced at a party some months ago, and she was enchanted by him. Hasn’t stopped talking about him since. Fortescue will make sure she gets what she wants.”

“I’m sure Mr. Hargreaves is perfectly capable of handling the situation. It is he, after all, who will decide whom he marries.”

“Forgive me, Lady Ashton. I only meant to warn you. If Fortescue decides to put a stop to your wedding—” He stepped closer to me and placed a gentle hand on my arm. “It’s not simply your wedding. He’s an unsteady man. He puts us all at risk.”

“I’ve not the slightest idea to what you are referring,” I said, feeling a familiar swell of curiosity.

“I suppose you wouldn’t, and that’s unfortunate. A woman of your intelligence—” He stopped and squinted as he looked at me, a deep crease forming between his eyebrows. “May I speak freely?”

“I hope you will,” I said.

“The manner in which you interact with Lord Fortescue has impressed me. You have the courage to push back when he tries to manipulate you. That takes a strength most men in England are lacking, and it makes me think you could assist me in a most vital matter.”

“How?”

He stepped closer to me and continued in a low, gravelly voice. “I should like to continue this conversation in private. Will you follow me?”

I walked with him to a small chamber that could only be reached through the billiard room and appeared to have been commandeered for political purposes. A heavy table that must have dated from the medieval period filled much of the space, neatly stacked piles of paper sitting at each place. A map of continental Europe was pinned to the wall, and the air hung heavy with the lingering odor of cigars.

“How much do you know about why Fortescue has gathered us here?” he asked after he’d pulled the door partially closed behind us.

“Virtually nothing,” I said.

“We haven’t much time, so I can’t give you full details at the moment. Fortescue is in possession of some papers that are crucial to my cause. I need you to engage him in conversation and keep him occupied long enough that I can locate them in his room.”

“What sort of papers?”

“Ah, I can’t share that,” he said. “They are highly sensitive and political in nature…” He let his voice trail to silence. I waited for a moment, but he said nothing further, preferring, I suppose, to leave the rest to my imagination.

“Won’t he notice if they are missing?” I asked.

“Eventually, yes. He keeps two copies of everything, storing the duplicates in a file somewhere in his dressing room, but they’re just records. He doesn’t use them, if that makes sense. The primary copy of the documents in question is in the sheath of papers he’s refused to part with since we arrived here.”

“And what is this cause you speak of?” I asked.

“To preserve the empire.”

“Isn’t that Lord Fortescue’s cause as well?”

“Theoretically, yes. But I can’t always agree with the strategies he uses to achieve that goal. There’s a threat that has materialized in the past few weeks—a threat more nefarious than any you can conceive—and Fortescue has refused out of hand to take action against it.”

“He must have his reasons,” I said.

“Tell me, Lady Ashton, do you trust Fortescue? Do you think he’s the best man to protect all that is dear to you? Have you faith in him?”

“Well.” I paused. “Faith, Mr. Harrison, is a strong word.” I tried to squelch my smile, but was unsuccessful.

“I’ve already complimented your intelligence. Can we agree that Lord Fortescue’s is lacking?”

“I’m no supporter of his,” I said.

“I suspected as much.” He leaned against the table. “Your fiancé’s work is dangerous. Fortescue’s policies make it even more so. I’m asking a very small thing of you. A simple after-dinner conversation.” Now he smiled. “Although I perhaps ought to acknowledge that the mere act of speaking to him is a dreadful chore.”

“Yes, it is.” Our eyes met, and I tried to hold back my laughter. It was more than a bit tempting to meddle with Lord Fortescue, particularly in a situation that didn’t seem like much of a risk. Providing a distraction would be easy enough, and even if the rest of the plan imploded, no one would connect me to it. Furthermore, if Mr. Harrison was correct, I’d be helping Colin. “I suppose there’s no harm in it. My part, at least. Any trouble you find is your own.”

“Of course,” he said. “You won’t regret it, Lady Ashton.”

“I don’t do things I’ll regret.”

“I guessed as much. I have a great admiration for people who act with decisive purpose.” He stared at me hard for a moment before continuing. “The timing of this is critical. I need the papers before the political discussions at this party begin in earnest.”

“Tonight, then?”

“Yes. I think, Lady Ashton, that you and I could be very useful to one another.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, but then he grew serious. “I’ll need at least half an hour, after dinner. I’ll watch for you to engage him, and once it appears he’s ensnared, I’ll leave the room. Understand?”

I nodded.

“I’m beginning to trust you,” he said.

“You would ask for my assistance without trusting me?”

“In my line of work, one is sometimes forced to make do with unfortunate circumstances. I’m sure your fiancé could enlighten you further.” He pushed his hands deep into his jacket pockets. “But I have to ask that you not tell him what we’re planning. Not quite yet.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Secrecy is essential. Telling one person, even someone you trust implicitly, can lead to unimagined troubles.”

“But—” I hesitated.

“He’ll know everything soon enough. I’m going to show him the papers in the morning. In fact”—he looked at me, a calculated smile on his weathered face—“why don’t you join us? I believe this will not be the last time we can be of use to one another. Come to the library after breakfast.”

“I look forward to it.” I stood in front of him, awkward, feeling as if we ought to do something to acknowledge our agreement. I held out my hand in the manner of a gentleman, assuming he would shake it. Instead, he raised it to his lips.

“Very good, Lady Ashton. Until then, we shall not speak any further on the subject. Come now. Pretend we’ve been discussing antiquities.”