Checkmate, My Lord

chapter Fourteen


With one hand anchored on his hip and the other clutched around a near-empty glass, Sebastian paused in the midst of the sunken garden. Where was that blasted bench?

He squinted into the darkness, twisting this way, then that way. No bench. He took another lurching step, his powerful frame listing decidedly to the left. If only this bloody garden would stop moving.

The widow was to blame for his current predicament. Had she not harangued him with question after question, he was certain they would be more agreeably engaged. In his bed. Naked and sweaty.

Not in a garden cracking his shins on every earthenware container he owned.

He tipped back the rest of his brandy, and this time the amber liquid slid down his throat like liquid silk. His gaze settled on the second floor, on the long balcony framing two sets of double doors. To the right, the countess’s bedchamber sat in forbidding darkness, its occupant fast asleep, making Sebastian’s situation all the more laughable.

For nearly two hours, he had tried to find surcease from the image of the McCarthy girl lying in a vat of mud, her mouth agape and her eyes deadened.

He had seen death many times and in various forms. Men, women, sick, poor, elderly, young—no one was immune, all could be sacrificed. Children were the worst. Their innocence made them easy targets, their defenses laughable to predators.

Children were the worst.

Sebastian lifted his glass for another healthy swallow, only to be met with a single drop. He eased his arm back down, the empty glass dangling from his fingertips. Unbidden, his gaze rose to the countess’s chamber again. How he wished he could have confided in her. His jaw actually hurt from the strain of keeping his tongue behind his teeth.

One detailed explanation would have been enough to set her mind at ease until the Nexus located Ashcroft’s killer. One detailed explanation would have removed the wariness from her brown eyes and kept her in his bed. One explanation would have exposed an organization whose success depended entirely upon its anonymity.

He rubbed his aching temples, hating his role as chief of the Nexus in a way he never had before. He started to lift his glass again and remembered it was empty. Time for a refill.

Shuffling his feet, he made his way up the four steps that led down to his favorite section of the garden. Once there, he could see well enough that he didn’t have to walk like an old man anymore, although his balance continued to favor one side of his body.

He entered through his study door, banging his shoulder into the frame. Someone cursed at the opposite end of the room. Sebastian dropped into a crouch, away from the open door.

His rapid change in position made his head spin, and he took precious seconds to shake off his alcohol-induced fog. Once he regained a modicum of clarity, he peered hard into the gloom, searching for shifting shadows and subtle sprays of light. But all remained eerily still. Too still. The air became rife with the intruder’s fear.

Setting his glass down, Sebastian removed the long blade from a hidden sleeve inside his right boot. With more determination than finesse, he slid from one piece of furniture to the next, closing in on the intruder’s location.

Or at least, where he hoped the intruder was hiding. With nothing more than a sliver of moon riding high in the sky, he was operating on instinct alone. And his inner guide led him to the darkened corner behind his desk.

Keeping to the shadows, Sebastian peered around his desk and listened for the distinctive sounds of life—shuffling feet, shuddering breaths, shaking furniture—while searching the darkness for movement. Nothing. He mentally retraced his steps to the moment he entered the study.

Had he really heard a harsh exclamation? Or was it perhaps his own noisy entrance that he mistook for another? When the possibility gathered merit in his mind, a flush heated his already dampened skin. He straightened from his concealed position, disgusted by his overreaction.

And that’s when he caught a familiar scent. A scent that, only a few hours ago, had drenched his senses and made him yearn for a life not his own. A scent that was hers, and hers alone.

Catherine.

Lowering his blade, he sheathed the weapon and moved toward the gloom-filled corner. What had brought her to his study so late at night? Could she not banish the day’s events, same as he, and sought solace elsewhere? His heart slammed against the wall of his chest when he considered another more pleasant reason for coming here. Had she been looking for him? If so, why did she remain quiet?

Then he realized she might not have known it was him. He had stumbled into the room from the outside and then immediately ducked out of sight. Maybe she thought he was the intruder.

Stopping a few feet away, he heard her faint rasping breaths. “Care to tell me why you’re lurking in the shadows, my dear?”

A cudgel sliced through the space between them, connecting with the side of Sebastian’s knee. He went down on all fours and had only enough time to raise his forearm to protect his head. But his assailant wasn’t interested in bashing his skull.

The cudgel rammed into his lower back. Pain, sharp and debilitating, shot up his spine, arching his vertebrae and throwing him off-balance. He crashed to the floor, incapacitated.

His assailant shuffled closer but was careful to stay out of reach. A low, raspy voice said, “Why, I’m waiting for you, my lord.”

Sebastian tried to scramble away, tried to get to his knife. But exhaustion, alcohol, and excruciating pain made him clumsy and slow. A boot slammed into his head, and Sebastian’s face crashed into the rough carpet. His last thought before the night claimed him was of her. Catherine. Or, more specifically, her scent.

***

August 14

Sebastian woke to low murmurings behind him.

Is he alive, Grayson?”

I believe so, my lord,” his butler said. “The doctor is on his way. I dared not move him with such a head injury.”

Sebastian recognized the other man as his former ward. He tried to push himself upright, but his arm would not move and his leg hurt like bloody hell. Then he recalled the brutal attack, and his jaw clenched, unable to believe he’d been caught so unawares.

Wise decision,” Danforth said. “Any idea who did this?”

None, sir.”

Have you noticed any unusual activity in the area?”

We did have a peculiar event occur yesterday,” Grayson said. “A local girl was killed. Lord Somerton and Mrs. Ashcroft found her in the woodland not far from here.”

How did she die?”

Strangulation,” Grayson said. “The poor thing was also enceinte.”

Opening his eyes, Sebastian saw nothing save the bottom of his bookshelf. The more conscious he became, the more aware of his body he became. His right arm was trapped beneath his weight and his neck ached from its twisted position.

Looks like he’s waking, sir.”

Chief.” Danforth shook his shoulder. “Can you hear me? Can you get up?”

Sebastian winced at the sudden jarring of his arm. “Yes and no,” he croaked. “My arm.”

The viscount eased him onto his back, taking care of Sebastian’s useless arm. Blood rushed into his fingertips, releasing angry needles of retribution into his flesh. He flexed his hand, the action clunky and awkward, until feeling returned. He nodded his thanks.

Grayson, can you fetch his lordship some water?”

Said water materialized in front of Danforth’s face. He accepted the butler’s offering with a wry look. “Thank you, old chap.” To Sebastian, he said, “I’m going to lift your head a little so you can drink. If I hurt you, grunt or something.”

The cool liquid soothed his parched throat, and Sebastian drank until Danforth forced him to pause for breath. His mouth must have been a big, open, yawning hole while he was unconscious. Not a pleasant image.

Is everyone else unharmed?” he asked, his thoughts going to Catherine.

Indeed, sir,” Grayson said.

Sebastian tried to sit up, but a sharp pain sliced through his lower back.

Careful,” Danforth warned. “You have a nasty bump on the head.”

Your hand,” Sebastian said, ignoring the viscount’s warning. Once he was upright, he probed the gash above his temple. Nasty, indeed. “What time is it?”

Danforth checked his timepiece. “A little past eight.”

Combing his fingers through his hair, Sebastian asked, “Where’s Mrs. Ashcroft?”

She left about an hour ago, my lord,” Grayson said. “She mentioned she knocked on your door to relay her plans for the day. When you did not answer, she thought you were overtired from the previous day’s events and insisted I leave you be. Your valet reported you missing not long ago.”

Danforth whistled low. “You have packed a good deal of activity in the last twenty-four hours. Did you see who assaulted you?”

No,” he said. “The study was dark, the attack swift.” Outside of his assailant’s raspy voice, all Sebastian recalled was Catherine’s distinctive scent. A pure feminine fragrance he would recognize anywhere. Even inebriated. Had she been meeting with his attacker, or had she been in his study minutes before? If so, why?

Setting aside the disturbing questions, he asked, “When did you arrive?”

Only just.” Danforth handed him the rest of the water. In a level voice, he said, “I have news.”

The doctor picked that moment to arrive, and Sebastian spent the next hour enduring his less-than-gentle examination. After the doctor left and the drapes were drawn, Sebastian lowered himself into the chair behind his desk and tried to pretend his head was not splitting in two. “What do you have to report?”

Helsford’s informant made mention of a conversation between two gentlemen yesterday in St. Giles.” Danforth poured them both a drink before lowering himself into a chair. “Although both wore disguises, they could not completely ‘shuck off the stench of quality,’ or so his informant said.”

The rookeries are bulging at the seams, but they’re still a close-knit community and would be wary of strangers.” Sebastian pressed a hand against his throbbing thigh. “I take it the meeting had some significance to our present situation.”

The informant believes Lord Latymer was one of the gentlemen,” Danforth said. “He had the same unusual height, lean build, and straight black hair as the under-superintendent.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened at the mention of his former friend and superior at the Alien Office. Latymer had plotted with the French to kill him in order to cripple the Nexus in a desperate attempt to protect Napoleon. He still did not understand why Latymer would turn his back on his countrymen and on such a promising career within the Foreign Office.

Do we have his location?”

No,” Danforth said. “He put his training to good use and lost his tail within ten minutes.”

And the other gentleman?”

Identity unknown. We have only a description—English, blond, and a peculiar tendency toward violence. If not for Helsford’s informant, the barmaid he took a liking to would no doubt be dead now, or wishing for death.”

Sebastian gritted his teeth, sending an arrow of pain through his skull. Men who preyed upon those weaker than they sank below the level of vermin in his estimation. They were nothing more than scavengers, afraid of their own shadow, though always trying to convince the world they were gods.

Did the informant hear anything of note?”

The viscount’s gaze slid toward the door, his look pensive. When he turned back, he asked, “What do you know of your pretty neighbor?”

Dread slammed into Sebastian’s chest. “Little, besides the fact that she was Ashcroft’s wife and has a six-year-old daughter.” And she frees my soul with a single touch of her lips.

The men spoke in low tones, so the informant was unable to glean the entire conversation,” Danforth said. “However, the gentlemen spoke of ‘the widow’ several times and there appeared to be a sense of urgency in their conversation.”

Do you know how many widows there are in England?” Sebastian couldn’t keep the derision from his tone. The pressure inside his skull increased with each passing second, making it hard for him to concentrate and even harder to curb his impatience.

Quite a few, I imagine,” Danforth said, unperturbed. “But not so many associated with you.”

My name was mentioned?”

Danforth nodded, cocking his head to the side. “This is the second time Helsford’s informant has come to your rescue. Anything I should know?”

At a critical moment during their last mission, Sebastian had received an anonymous note of caution. If he hadn’t received the warning at the precise moment he had, Sebastian would have made a terrible mistake.

Your question is better put to Helsford,” Sebastian said. “I have no notion as to who the informant is or why the individual would want to help me.” He considered his next words carefully. “But I am starting to question Superintendent Reeves’s sudden interest in our agents and his decision to banish me to the country.”

You think Reeves is in league with Latymer?”

Sebastian shrugged. “Coincidences do occur, but I can’t ignore the logic linking the two men together.”

Might explain some of what Helsford deciphered from Ashcroft’s letters.”

How so?”

Ashcroft spoke of his suspicions about a double spy in the superintendent’s office,” Danforth said. “In the last letter of the second packet you delivered, Ashcroft believed he had isolated the traitor and that the man was a liaison to Latymer.”

Did he provide a name?”

Not in the letters we have.”

Sebastian eyed the viscount. “You think there are more?”

Possibly,” Danforth said. “Or the traitors learned what Ashcroft was up to and killed him before he had the chance to identify the double spy in a final letter.”

Or a combination of both.”

There is that.” Danforth angled his neck one way then the other. “Who else at the Foreign Office knew of Reeves’s request?”

No one, as far as I know. Reeves gave me his word that he would be the only other official to see the list of operatives.”

Damn me.” Danforth bolted back a drink.

Indeed,” Sebastian said, rubbing his temple. “Find Latymer and expand your investigation to include Reeves. Be careful, Danforth. Reeves is a spy among spies, dangerous and cunning.”

Yes, sir.” The viscount flicked something off his coat sleeve. “Does it not disturb you?”

A great many things disturb me,” Sebastian said. “What exactly are you referring to?”

Knowing powerful people are plotting your death.”

Of course it does.” Sebastian started to lift his own spirits to his lips and then recalled his inability to subdue his enemy last night, with Catherine in the house. He set the drink aside. “But it’s a circumstance I’ve operated under since becoming chief more than a decade ago.”

Allow me to send for a few guards. As a precaution.”

The viscount, along with Cora and Helsford, had argued long and hard against Sebastian’s refusal to bring guards to Bellamere, but Sebastian wanted to spend his time in the country in relative peace and isolation.

He hadn’t counted on Bellamere being in disarray, and he certainly hadn’t counted on Catherine.

No,” Sebastian said. “The addition of guards would alert anyone who might be watching that I suspect something’s amiss. Get me something to work with—find Latymer, identify his companion, and increase your efforts where Reeves is concerned. Rule nothing out.”

Sebastian thought back to the afternoon when he saw a blond-haired man leaving Winter’s Hollow. A friend of Ashcroft’s—John Chambers—or so Catherine had said. But something in her tone, possibly the slight hesitation before she answered, made him question the veracity of her answer. What possible reason would she have for lying to him?

Do me a favor,” Sebastian said. “See if you can track down any information on a John Chambers.”

Where does he fit into all this?”

Unknown, at the moment. He might be somehow acquainted with Ashcroft.”

Anything else?”

Sebastian rubbed his forehead and squeezed the bridge of his nose, not liking what he was about to do but knowing he would do it anyway. “Yes.” He clasped his hands together on his desk. “Find out if Mrs. Ashcroft met with anyone while in London and see if you can identify the gentleman who paid her a visit three days ago.”

John Chambers, I take it?” Danforth asked.

Yes.” Sebastian sagged back in his chair, feeling more tired than he could ever remember being. If he could just close his eyes for a few minutes, perhaps the pain in his head would ease. “Notify me once you’ve learned more.”

Somerton, about you and Mrs. Ashcroft—”

Don’t.”

Danforth’s lips thinned.

Leaning forward, Sebastian said, “Your concern is appreciated. Let us continue to act, rather than react.” He considered Danforth’s tendency for rash action. “Keep a level head about this.”

The viscount nodded, recalling an instant when he hadn’t followed orders and had placed his loved ones in danger. “What if the trail leads back to Ashcroft’s widow?”

Tell me, but leave her to me.” Sparks of white light flashed across his vision, and Sebastian fought to clear them away.

Danforth stood. “I’ll report back once I have more information.” He strode toward the door, but his steps slowed until he finally stopped.

Sebastian knew what the viscount was about before he ever turned around. Danforth never backed down from a fight, especially when the skirmish involved someone he cared for.

Listen, about the widow—”

Save it, Danforth. I will keep my wits about me. Now, be gone.” Sebastian fought to keep his eyelids open. “And do be careful. I have no wish to feel your sister’s wrath.”

Danforth stood his ground, revealing a hint of his legendary stubbornness. “Grayson mentioned a dead girl at your doorstep.”

A domestic issue, nothing more,” Sebastian lied. “Besides, she was hardly found at my doorstep.”

The viscount snorted. “I have never known you to be so blind to your surroundings.”

Sebastian pressed a hand against his roiling stomach and shook his head in a vain attempt to focus his blurred vision. “Mind who you are speaking to, Danforth…” His eyes rolled back in his head and he pitched forward.