Lara Temple - Lord Crayle's Secret World

Michael could indulge him no longer.

‘It was bad enough being responsible for Letty and Christopher and Allie or for my men during battle, but at least they are their own masters in principle. I’ve done my share of being responsible for other people and a damn poor job of it too often. I have Lizzie and my father and more of my men than I care to count on my conscience and I don’t need any more opportunities to let people down, especially not those who are wholly dependent on me for their survival and wellbeing.’

Anderson gaped at him.

‘Good God, Michael, your father had a heart attack and overturned his curricle with Lizzie in it. If anything, it’s his fault that your sister broke her back in the accident. You weren’t even there!’

‘I might as well have been. He was so furious when I told him I was joining the army that if he could have disowned me he would have. He made it clear that if I left I wasn’t to come back. Don’t tell me the fact that he had a heart attack the next day was unrelated.’

‘It’s still not your fault. And as far as I can remember he’d already had one heart attack years earlier and the one that killed him in the end happened much later when you were already in Spain. Were you responsible for those two as well?’

Michael shrugged. Even with Anderson he had no intention of touching this particular wound. He had already said too much.

‘We are straying from the point, which is that there is no reason why you can’t deal with Miss Trevor. In fact, she might be just what you need.’

‘You make her sound like a medication, or a trip to Bath to take the waters.’ Anderson grimaced.

Michael laughed. ‘I hope it’s not as bad as that.’

‘Fine. At least tell me what she is like. Big and vulgar?’ Anderson asked despondently.

‘Not at all. I would wager she is a gentleman’s daughter, though I haven’t the faintest idea how she ended up on the wrong side of the Heath. I will leave the family history exploration to you. I have a feeling she will answer your questions more readily than mine since she and I did not exactly hit it off. As for size, she is a small thing, a couple inches shorter than Allie, I would say.’

He sipped his whisky, watching with amusement as a faint bloom of colour spread across Anderson’s cheeks at the mention of Alicia. He wished his friend had more stomach when it came to women so he could follow through on his obvious attraction. No wonder he was horrified at the prospect of being saddled with Miss Trevor. Michael wondered how he could make her sound more acceptable, then decided it was best for Anderson to be forewarned.

‘She is quite pretty which could be useful. Very direct—in fact, painfully direct. A bit of a shrew, I think, but clever and quick to grasp what is good for her. From her behaviour on the Heath she appears to have an inordinate amount of loyalty for her silent giant friend. I have no idea how they ended up working together in such dubious circumstances. Another piece of the puzzle for you to uncover...’

Anderson sighed. ‘I hate puzzles.’

Chapter Five

Sari stared at the neo-classical grey building with its simple entrance. There was no distinguishing plaque. Just a number—eleven—by the wooden door. She glanced up at George who stood beside her, hands on hips.

‘I’ll go in with you, Miss Sari.’

She patted his arm. ‘No, George. If this is the place, I’m going in alone. I won’t have you be late for work. It’s a long way back to Islington.’

George frowned down at her, wavering.

‘It’s all right, really it is,’ she said with much more confidence than she felt. ‘You can wait here and see me safely inside, but it is about time I stood on my own two feet.’

Without waiting for his response, she crossed the narrow empty street and pulled at the bell pull by the door. The door opened so promptly Sari took a step back in dismay.

A very tall, elderly man inspected her, not unkindly.

‘Ma’am?’

‘I...I was told to come... My name is Sari Trevor and...’

‘Ah, of course, Miss Trevor. Do come in.’ He stood back, indicating a long corridor. Sari glanced over her shoulder, sending George a quick smile before stepping inside with an assurance she was far from feeling.

‘My name is Penrose, ma’am. If there is anything you need, you have only to ask.’

‘I...thank you, Mr Penrose.’ Sari smiled nervously at this rather sweeping statement.

‘Here is Mr Anderson’s office.’ He knocked on the door and opened it. ‘Mr Anderson? It is Miss Trevor. And Lord Crayle asked to be informed if she arrived. I will go and fetch him.’

Even in the midst of her confusion, Sari noticed he said ‘if’ rather than ‘when’. Clearly the earl had not completely trusted her not to just disappear with his money. She took a deep breath and tried to focus on the man who had stood up from his desk. She had expected someone like the earl, but he was almost his antithesis. He was good-looking, but in a pleasant, unthreatening way, with kind blue eyes and very light brown hair. He did not look at all like a government agent.

‘Thank you for coming, Miss Trevor. Please sit down. Did you have any trouble finding us?’

‘I... No, we found it quite readily.’

‘Ah, good. Very good.’

He hesitated, and Sari realised in surprise that he seemed as nervous as she. Her own thumping heart calmed slightly and she smiled encouragingly.

‘It was a bit of a leap of faith. I was afraid I might arrive and there would be nothing here.’

He gave a short, surprised laugh, visibly relaxing, and sat down again.

‘A leap of faith indeed, then. Knowing Michael... Lord Crayle, I assume he was less than forthcoming with details?’

Sari smiled at the understatement. It was a relief that this man was so different from the earl.

‘He mentioned something vague about being agents for crown and country—’ she replied hesitantly and broke off as the door behind her opened and Lord Crayle stepped into the room. She straightened slightly and nodded at him.

‘Lord Crayle,’ she said properly.

A faint look of amusement glimmered in his eyes as he came to lounge against the bookcase by Anderson’s shoulder. Then the light from the window was behind him, encasing him like a dark monolith.

‘Miss Trevor,’ he responded with equal politeness.

Anderson cleared his throat and smiled.

‘Good. Well, let me be a bit more explicit. First, what do you know about the state of Continental Europe today?’

Sari gathered her thoughts. Growing up in politically sensitive parts of the Continent and the Levant had made her very politically aware and she hoped she was not too far out of touch with Europe’s rapidly changing landscape.

‘It seems rather chaotic to me at the moment. Napoleon is still causing trouble, even from St Helena. The Bourbons are struggling to make believe they control France. Metternich is playing the Prussians against the Russians. And Tsar Alexander is hoping to transform Russia into a linchpin of the Continent’s security through a Holy Alliance. And we in our turn have our finger in every pie, trying to make sure none of them succeeds in their attempts to run the show.’

Sari saw Anderson cast a quick glance at Michael but his friend’s gaze was on her, inscrutable.

‘That is a pleasantly concise and accurate summary of our murky political environment,’ Anderson said appreciatively. ‘Part of our role here is to help nip in the bud any attempts to foment trouble on British soil by any of these European powers. Now that it is no longer so clear who the enemy is, some of our statesmen are becoming easy prey to manipulation for one cause or another. Our role is to identify potential troublemakers and limit the damage.’