Kate Cross - Touch of Steel

“What observations did you make concerning Miss Brooks?” Dhanya asked.

Evie cast an apologetic glance at Claire. “I thought it sad that she seemed so surprised that I might be kind to her. It seemed to me that she hadn’t known much kindness in her life, or joy. She’d been an agent for almost half her life, and she knew no other way.”

Claire glanced away, but not before Alastair saw the sheen of tears in her eyes. It broke his heart. He had become an agent because he wanted to, but she hadn’t had much choice, not if she wanted to stay with the one person she had left—the person who should have protected her but who was little more than a child himself.

Two of the conclave members asked Evie their own questions—nothing of much import. Then she was dismissed. Luke was called next.

“Lord Huntley, you knew Miss Brooks from the time you spent under Company control. Can you describe the nature of your relationship, please?”

Alastair clenched his jaw, feeling the weight of Luke’s gaze upon him. He didn’t dare glance at his friend. Instead, he looked at Claire, whose attention was directed at him, not at Luke. There was something in her eyes—an emotion just for him—that eased the tension in his shoulders. If she didn’t care that they all knew about her and Luke, he wouldn’t care, either.

“We sometimes worked together,” Luke explained. “We were friends.”

“Is that all you were?” Ashford asked with a slight sneer.

Luke turned to the older man. “I don’t know about you, Ashford, but I regard friendship as a very intimate relationship. Friendship requires a degree of caring and respect. Claire Brooks was my friend.”

“Would you say you trusted her with your life?” Dhanya asked, cutting off whatever else Ashford might have to say.

“I would,” Luke replied. “And she saved it on at least one occasion. Claire was one of the few agents I met—Warden or Company or whatever—who genuinely believed she was doing something to make the world a better place.”

“Stick to answering the questions, Huntley,” Ashford commanded.

Luke glared at the old man, but it was Dhanya who answered. “Lord Huntley was called here to give testimony as to the measure of Miss Brooks’s character. His statement will go on record, and you, Lord Ashford, will remember that in this room, I decide what a witness can and cannot say.”

Alastair’s teeth clenched so tight, his head began to ache. Was any of this making any sort of difference to any of them? If they all thought as Ashford, they’d surely vote to keep her locked up.

His hand went to the packet in his coat. Those papers were probably the only chance Claire had of freedom. It was all up to him.

Luke was told he could leave the witness box. He shot Ashford a dark glance as he stood. Alastair might have smiled had he not been grinding his teeth in anxiety.

Dhanya’s gaze met his. The attention of the entire table turned toward him. “I call upon Alastair Payne, Lord Wolfred. Please stand, my lord.”

Alastair rose, aware of Claire’s gaze upon him, so full of hope. He could not fail her.

He wouldn’t.

When Alastair stood, Claire’s heart jumped into her throat. She hadn’t seen him for days, and he looked in sorry need of a bath, a bed and a clean change of clothes. Still, he was the most gorgeous, incredible man she’d ever laid eyes on. She knew his disheveled appearance was all because of her, and she loved him for it. Whatever the outcome of this trial, she would spend the rest of her days knowing that he had cared more than anyone in her life.

Then it struck her just how pathetically sad that was. A man who had known her but a handful of days had changed her life so incredibly much. She would never forget that.

The director questioned Alastair about the mission that had put the two of them together, and he answered honestly. He didn’t look at her as he spoke, however; he kept his gaze on the conclave. That was probably wise, but she could use a look from him—just a glance—to let her know nothing had changed between them.

She didn’t expect this trial to end in her favor, but it would be easier to accept that if she knew he was on her side.

“I have something to say to the conclave, if I may,” he said after telling them how she’d stopped Robert from killing him on the ship.

“What is it?” the director asked. Claire frowned. The woman looked as though she already knew the answer.

From inside his coat, Alastair withdrew a string-tied packet. “I would like to formally request that Claire Brooks be recruited into the Wardens of the Realm.”

A great uproar sounded at the table—mostly from the old man named Ashford and a couple of his cronies. Lady Wolfred scowled at them. “Oh, do shut up!”

The director banged the gavel at her right. “Order!” she cried. The men—the ones who hadn’t heeded his mother—quieted. “Continue, Lord Wolfred.”

Alastair cleared his throat. “Claire Brooks not only volunteered to help us locate the Doctor and Stanton Howard, but she aided in the capture of both and saved my life. She has proved herself a capable and worthy asset to this organization.” He held up the packet. “I have here papers signed by the director of the Company stating that he will relinquish all hold on Miss Brooks, as well as retract any orders to do her harm, if Robert Brooks is turned over to Company custody.”

Angry voices rose again. “Are you serious?” asked a man whose name Claire didn’t know. “This woman is hardly worth the information we can get out e c>Anof her brother!”

That might have stung had he not been correct. Claire turned her attention back to Alastair. What the hell was he doing?

“We’ve already gotten everything we can out of Robert Brooks,” Alastair informed them. “The information he’s given us is invaluable. Claire Brooks has given us intelligence that is almost as good, and she can continue to be of service to this organization. If we hand over Robert Brooks, alias Stanton Howard, into Company custody, not only is it a gesture of goodwill between our agencies, but the director has also agreed to share information on several mutual enemies. We’ve not had such an accord between our agencies since banding together to rid the Continent of Napoleon.”

“How do you know all of this?” Ashford demanded. “And how did such papers fall into your hands?”

Alastair straightened. “I met with the Company director myself in Paris two days ago.”

Claire’s heart seized as blood rushed to her feet. Alastair met with the director? In Paris? Dear God, that meant he had gone to Le Chat Froid—the Company watering hole in that city. For him to walk in there alone . . .

She stared at him. The damn fool had risked his life. For her. What kind of man took that sort of reckless, stupid chance?

A man in love. It hit her like a sack of bricks. Alastair Payne loved her.

“You what?” Ashford cried. “Behind our backs? I’ll have you taken into custody.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” the director informed him. “Lord Wolfred had my permission to go to Paris and meet with the Company’s leader. He is right that this is a tremendous opportunity to forge a little peace between our two agencies. Robert Brooks is of no more use to us. Claire Brooks is. And by combining our information with the Company’s, we could help to bring down several enemy operations in Europe. Britain has her share of enemies. It is a chance we cannot ignore.”

Ashford looked as though he might have a stroke. “And just who will take responsibility for this woman if we do accept her?”

“I will,” Alastair said. “I will accept full responsibility.” Now he looked at her. There was such determination in those gray eyes. Such love. Claire blinked back tears. Hell, she’d become a weeping idiot since meeting him.