perfectly serious when I said it was fortuitous that you happened to be here this morning.’ The older man eyed him impatiently.
Darian studied the older man through narrowed lids, noting the hard glitter to Maystone’s eyes and the lines of strain etched beside his nose and mouth. Evidence that the other man’s mood was not as cheerfully relaxed as it had appeared to be when he had arrived? ‘What could you possibly have to discuss with me if not my visit this morning to Mar—Lady Beecham?’
Mariah was wondering the same thing, as she also wondered why Aubrey Maystone had called at her home at all; as a precaution, the two of them had never met at Aubrey’s offices in the Foreign Office or here in her home, but chose instead to pass information on to each other whenever Aubrey arranged for them to meet socially. The fact that Aubrey had chosen to call on her here this morning must mean that he had something of a serious nature to import.
Although that still did not explain why it was he wished Wolfingham to remain.
‘That will be all, thank you, Fuller.’ Mariah smiled at the butler once he had straightened from placing the tray bearing the tea and brandy on the low coffee table. ‘I am not at home to any more callers this morning,’ she added, waiting until her butler had left the room and closed the door behind him before turning back to Aubrey Maystone. ‘What—’
‘I shall begin this conversation,’ Maystone spoke firmly, ‘by first stating that it is necessary that I now inform both of you of the other’s involvement in certain matters of secrecy and delicacy to the Crown.’
Mariah was so stunned by Aubrey’s announcement that she instantly sank down weakly into one of the armchairs, before she even dared to look up and see that Wolfingham’s expression was one of equal shock—proof that he was just as stunned as she was at being so bluntly outed as an agent for the Crown, by the very man who acted as her—no, their?—spymaster?
Mariah was more than shocked; she was having great difficulty believing Aubrey Maystone’s announcement in regard to the haughtily disapproving and condescending Duke of Wolfingham.
The man Mariah knew society believed to be both sober and stern.
A man she personally knew to be arrogant and unpleasant, as well as insulting.
That same gentleman worked secretly, as she did, for the Crown?
It seemed barely possible it could be true, yet it must be so if Aubrey Maystone said that it was.
The puzzle was why Aubrey Maystone had now revealed something that had, in Mariah’s case, remained a secret to all but her daughter for seven years.
A sentiment, a confidence, that Wolfingham echoed, if the glittering green of his eyes was any indication. ‘What do you mean by talking so frankly, Maystone?’
‘Recent developments have made it necessary, Darian,’ the older man excused heavily as he gave a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘And I also suggest that the two of you get over your shock as quickly as possible, so that we might then proceed.’
Darian was shocked by Maystone’s unexpected announcement, too much so to be able to hide the emotion.
And it was a knowledge, in regard to Mariah Beecham, that instantly posed a dozen other questions in Darian’s mind.
Such as how long had Mariah been engaged in such dangerous and secret work for the Crown?
And why had she?
When did she?
Where?
And how?
It was perhaps the answer to that last question that interested Darian the most.
For surely there was only one way in which a woman in society might go about gaining secret information?
‘It would seem, Aubrey, that Wolfingham is too busy drawing his own conclusions as to the methods I might utilise—flirtation, teasing, seduction—in order to be able to garner that information, to be able to proceed at the moment,’ Mariah drawled coldly, for once Wolfingham’s thoughts having been crystal clear to her. Unpleasantly so!
He scowled. ‘I was merely—’
‘I am well aware of what you were merely thinking, Wolfingham,’ she snapped disgustedly.
His jaw tightened. ‘Do not presume to know the thoughts in my head, madam—’
‘Enough,’ the older man interrupted wearily. ‘We do not have time for petty arguments this morning.’
Those green eyes turned as hard as the emeralds they resembled as Wolfingham turned his attention back to the other man. ‘Then perhaps you might state what it is we do need to talk about so urgently that you have deliberately chosen to put both myself and Lady Beecham in a position of personal vulnerability?’
‘Only to each other.’
‘Exactly!’ Wolfingham scowled darkly.
Maystone grimaced. ‘It was necessary, Darian.’
‘As I said, I would be interested to know why.’
‘Plots and treason, Wolfingham,’ Maystone stated emphatically.
‘There is always talk of plots and treason,’ Wolfingham dismissed scathingly.
‘This time it is different.’ The older man frowned darkly. ‘Perhaps you will better understand the situation if I tell you that in the past week plots to assassinate the tsar and the Austrian emperor have been discovered and the assassins dealt with. That such a plot, despite all our efforts to make it otherwise, still exists in regard to our own Prince Regent.’
‘Good lord!’ Wolfingham slowly lowered his body down into one of the armchairs, his face pale.
Maystone nodded. ‘Five days ago two people, a tutor and a footman, attached to and working in the households of two prominent politicians, were taken in for questioning on the matter. My own private secretary was taken into custody late last night,’ Maystone continued grimly. ‘And he is even now being questioned as to the part he has played in the plot to assassinate the Regent himself.’
‘How is such a thing possible?’ Mariah breathed faintly, her hand shaking as she lifted it to her mouth.
Maystone gave Darian a telling glance. ‘I am sure you, at least, will better understand the seriousness of this threat if I say that your old friend Rousseau was involved?’
Both men were well aware that the Frenchman was no friend of Darian’s. Indeed, Rousseau was responsible for the bullet wound in Darian’s shoulder. As Darian was responsible for having brought the other man’s life to a swift and sudden end.
He gave a shake of his head. ‘He left England and returned to France almost a year ago.’
‘But not before he had set up a network of his own spies and assassins amongst the households of some of the leading members of the English government,’ Maystone rasped disgustedly. ‘All set in place and ready to act when or if Napoleon departed Elba and attempted to return to France as emperor, which, as we all know, he is currently doing.
