Chapter 31
An hour later Lord Shalcross and his wife sat down to an early luncheon with Michael, Iris, and Winthrop in Damien’s private room.
“I have decided upon a plan for the five of us during the night,” he said as soon as everyone was seated.
This announcement did not appear to surprise anyone at the table, with the exception of Emily. When and where had her husband devised this plan? He had been more than attentive to her in their bridal bed. She couldn’t have put two words together during the attention he paid to her. He must have been plotting over breakfast while she slept.
“It is a simple plan of action,” he began, “but its simplicity does not make it any less dangerous. We all know Michael is an experienced horseman. He also has an ability to live on his own resources if necessary.”
Emily glanced at her brother’s grinning face. “What are you asking him to do?”
“To ride to as many of the villages where revolts are to take place as he can and sound a warning.”
“He could get killed,” Emily exclaimed.
“It’s better than dying of boredom,” Michael replied.
“Why should anyone take a rascal’s word on a matter so grave?” she asked.
Damien glanced at Michael. “He’ll carry papers from the Home Office. By virtue of a signature and royal seal, he’ll be fed, his horse will be exchanged for another, and he’ll be praised for his intervention. It’s not as if he’s the only former soldier who is supporting England.”
Emily frowned. She had a feeling that this had been prearranged long before breakfast. “What about Iris and Winthrop?” she asked, noting Damien looked uncomfortable at the question.
“Iris and Winthrop have a different assignment.”
“Assignment?” Emily said, her voice rising. “Does Iris know about this?”
Iris paled. “This is the first I’ve heard of it, and I’m hoping I misunderstood what his lordship just said. You aren’t asking me to be a spy, are you? Because, honestly, I don’t even know how to use a pair of field glasses.”
“What do you expect her to do?” Emily demanded. It was one thing to have married Damien in the name of duty. She was not convinced that her timid maid needed to be sacrificed as well.
“Iris and Winthrop are to be employed as temporary servants at Viscount Deptford’s party,” Damien said. “They’ll hold positions beneath their current ones. As guests, you and I can only witness so much. They can be the eyes and ears inside the castle.”
“It won’t appear suspicious, the pair of them suddenly in service at the castle?” Emily said.
Damien shook his head. “It’s not uncommon to hire temporary help when one is hosting a large affair.”
Iris gave Emily a helpless look.
“I don’t know if I approve of this, my lord,” Emily said. “You’ll have to give us more details before we agree.”
? ? ?
To be involved in an espionage plot to protect her country was an honor to which, honestly, Iris Brookshire had never aspired. What lady’s maid had the time to indulge in political intrigue when her mistress had just become a countess? What sensible woman would choose the uncertainty of spying over the security of domestic service? Still, Iris understood the hierarchy of obligation. Never mind what happened in London; it was her primary obligation to help her mistress establish a house worthy of her title and wealth.
That the unremarkable Miss Rowland, despite her efforts, had not hooked Mr. Jackson as a husband but instead had landed an earl of infamous lineage was a coup that would be lauded in domestic gossip for years to come. Iris now worked for a countess who would start her own aristocratic dynasty. It was a privilege to serve as a lady’s maid in a prestigious house.
Iris, had not, however, envisioned herself becoming an espionage agent alongside a conceited-looking valet as a condition of her promotion. “I do not know the first thing about being a spy,” she protested again to Emily and the earl over her cake plate.
“You’re an expert at it,” Michael said as he poured her a splash of brandy. “Think of all the schemes you and Emily have enacted over the past five years.”
Iris made a face as her first sip of brandy went down. “All those schemes failed, by the way.”
“The last one didn’t,” Michael said pragmatically, popping a sliver of cake into his mouth. He swallowed before adding, “Emily has leg-shackled a husband.”
“Must you use that vulgar expression?” Emily said, frowning at him.
“Shalcross doesn’t mind,” Michael said.
Damien stared at his brandy. “Yes, I do. I prefer to think that she will be shackled to me, if there is any shackling to be done.”
“That is completely off the subject,” Emily murmured into her glass. “I don’t like the idea of my maid exposing herself to danger with only your valet to guard her. That is not to demean you, Winthrop.”
“I’m not keen on the idea myself,” Michael admitted, with a quick look at Iris.
She did not return his look. There was another benefit to Emily having married an aristocrat who’d live far from Hatherwood. Iris could hope she might find her own husband one day in the earl’s employment.
“Of all the plots we pulled off,” she said aloud, “I never imagined I’d be involved in treason. My French is barely passable.”
She noticed Winthrop put his hand to his mouth as if covering a smile. Smug thing. “We are not at war with France anymore, Miss Brookshire. You won’t be required to speak that language during our work together. Although, if it makes you feel more at ease, I can provide you with a list of common phrases to memorize.”
He had cunning eyes behind those spectacles, she realized, shrewd and an inscrutable shade of brown. He appeared to think so highly of himself that Iris decided she would not get along with him at all. Not a humble bone in either his or the earl’s lithesome bodies. “I’m sure I won’t need a list of common words, sir,” she said. “Simple phrases I know well enough.”
“You misunderstand me, miss.” he said, setting down his drink. “I have no doubt you are more than competent to pass as a chambermaid. After all, you serve in a higher role as lady’s maid and confidante.”
She glanced away, catching Michael’s eye. The big cad was grinning, as if he knew Winthrop was overstepping his bounds. She supposed, however, the valet had meant to mollify her by his last statement. It was a polite attempt to smooth her feathers. She would accept it for now, to show her manners, but she had a sense the pair of them would not see eye to eye on other issues.
At least it would separate her from Mr. Rowland. He’d be looking for a wife of his own soon enough, and Iris did not have the heart to witness that courtship. He would not have to go to outrageous lengths to attract a young lady. The village girls always knew when Michael had come home. His wandering challenged them.
“You shall have to travel as man and wife,” the earl said unexpectedly.
“Man and wife?” Iris and Winthrop said in horrified synchrony.
“Well, you do not remotely resemble each other. It would be difficult to deceive anyone into thinking you’re brother and sister,” the earl said, sipping his Madeira.
“This is going to be awkward,” Iris said, “living and travel arrangements, I mean.” Her voice quivered. “I do have standards to maintain.”
“You don’t have to worry about Winthrop,” the earl assured her. “He is a professional. He will find a way to convince everyone that you are living in connubial bliss together without taking the smallest liberty.”
Iris stared across the table. “I’m not sure I can do a believable job of this. It isn’t in me.”
“Oh, Iris,” Emily said. “You’ve done more unconventional things for me.”
“That was different.”
“How?” Emily asked with a faint smile.
“You were the one whose reputation was at risk. Now I shall be the lone agent.”
Winthrop stared at her. “I will be your partner, Miss Brookshire. You can trust me all the way.”
“I trust him,” Damien added in his valet’s defense.
Emily lifted her brow. “All the way?”
“Well, yes. You and I are trusting each other all the way, aren’t we?”
“That is not the same thing,” Michael observed. “You and Emily are actually married. Trust is implicit in a marriage. It is not in a deception.”
Winthrop rose from his chair. “I would like to speak with Miss Brookshire in private about our mission. It’s essential to show her the layout of the castle, the guest list, and to warn her of the dangers we might encounter. While the viscount’s demise might be the primary intention, the rebels will presumably not hesitate to eliminate any obstacle that threatens the plot. We need an agent who understands discretion. Miss Brookshire, I think you are ideal for the job.”