Balfour looked at her.
A cold blue eye locked on him, the other shrouded behind a black leather eye patch. She'd always been his most loyal dhampir agent—fanatically loyal, if he was being honest—but ever since Malloryn escaped her clutches in Russia and turned the tables on her, Jelena had thirsted for the duke's death with a vengeance.
"Patience," he murmured. "Malloryn must suffer."
"I can make him suffer. It will not be quick death."
Taking a step forward, he set his hand on her hair, gently stroking it. "He hurt you. I understand. But that sanctimonious prick has been a thorn in my side for years. I died at his hand." Balfour brushed fingertips across the corded scar across his throat, where Malloryn had cut him. "And I was reborn like a phoenix into this new life, this new body. But his death is mine. And mine alone. I owe him that. Mind you do not forget it." He grabbed a fistful of her silvery hair and forced her to look at him. "Do you understand?"
"Da, Master."
When he released his grip, Jelena bowed her head.
Footsteps echoed on the stone stairs.
Balfour patted her hair gently again, and then turned to greet his second-in-command.
"You're late." Jelena's insubordinance put a chill into his tone.
Dido swept into the tower, looking for all the world like a fairy-tale princess in her gold gown and heavy velvet cloak. Albeit one who could rip your throat out with her teeth if she willed it. "Malloryn had his little bitch at the ball. I had to extricate myself carefully, as she was watching both exits."
"Gemma Townsend?"
"Who else?"
"And?"
"It appears the duke has taken your bait." Dido tossed her glittering gold mask on the ash-scarred table in the center of the tower. "Townsend was shadowing Devoncourt, and Malloryn's attention was fully focused on his wife. He was practically panting over her."
Interesting.
From what he'd heard of the marriage, it had been an alliance and nothing else. The duke and duchess lived separate lives, and his spy in Malloryn's household reported that the duke despised her.
"Is his interest in Devoncourt or his wife?"
"Difficult to say." Dido tossed the cloak from her shoulders. "Perhaps he's interested in the wife because of Devoncourt's sudden attentions to her."
This was why he'd sent her.
Jelena wouldn't have noticed the difference. Nor would she have cared.
"Definitely a situation to watch." He couldn't dare hope Malloryn would fall for the girl. That would be a gift from the gods. "And how did your meeting go?"
A faint sneer graced Dido's lip. "He'll be difficult to control but he has the influence of his peers. They prefer him to the other candidate you proposed."
"Then remove Darlington from the equation and give Sir George my encouragement."
"He wants to know how you intend to bring the queen down."
Balfour paused. "My, my, he has grown big for his boots. Tell him that if he wants to know my final plans for the queen, then he needs to prove his loyalty. The latest shipment of explosives is due to arrive. Sir George owns three warehouses down by the docks. Tell him I'll be using those warehouses."
"I'll enjoy that," Dido said. "He thinks I'm beneath him because I'm a woman."
"Most of the older Echelon does." More fool them. Balfour had long since learned women could be the most dangerous of species. "Excellent. While Devoncourt and his wife divert Malloryn's attention, why don't we see if we can push forward with the Prometheus project?"
"And me?" Jelena demanded, like an overeager puppy.
"It's time to send Malloryn another message," he said, turning to her. "Would you like to spill some blood, my dearest?"
"Anything to report?"
Malloryn slung his coat off his shoulders and draped it over the back of his chair as Gemma followed him inside his study at Hardcastle Lane. He poured the pair of them a drink.
Gemma tossed her mask down on the desk. "She met with him again."
Malloryn froze, the brandy halfway to his lips as he tried to sort through the implications of her statement. "My wife?"
"With Devoncourt." Gemma slumped into the chair opposite him in a spill of bronze taffeta. "Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps she is working for Balfour. They seemed quite intimate as they withdrew to a small alcove. I couldn't get close enough to hear what they were saying, alas, but it was shortly after she returned from the gardens."
Where Adele had practically challenged him to seduce her.
Malloryn set the brandy down on his desk and tugged at his cravat to loosen it. Well. And here I thought matters were proceeding according to—if not quite the plan, then certainly proceeding.
A hundred questions circled through his mind, but what came out was, "Did he kiss her again?"
An uneasy expression crossed Gemma's face. "I don't know if it was precisely a kiss. Strands of ivy hung over the alcove and I couldn't get too close. But he grabbed her face and leaned in, and... something happened."
Son of a bitch. "Devoncourt's starting to irritate me."
"He may have just been whispering in her ear."
I may just strangle him with my bare hands.
"Don't even think about it. He's our only lead to the remnants of the SOG," Gemma pointed out, interpreting his expression accurately. Her blue eyes narrowed. "You're not actually jealous, are you?"
"Of course not." Malloryn threw back the entire glass of brandy. The burn of it cleared his mind. "But it's one thing to challenge me, quite another to try and blatantly seduce my wife in front of me."
"Oh, of course." Her eyes twinkled as she sipped at her glass. "We can't have that, can we? You only have yourself to blame. You told her—"
"I know what I told her. We have reached a new agreement."
"Oh?"
Malloryn set the glass down. "First one to submit."
Gemma burst into a laugh. "No wonder you've got your britches in a twist. My, my, all is not going according to plan?"