“I did not know the diary was of any significance. The thought that I may have compromised any national secrets or anyone’s safety . . . I am heartily sorry.”
“You could not have known, and it is most fortunate that you made a copy of what was in the diary. That will save us much conjecturing about what secrets may have fallen into the hands of enemy spies.” He tapped the paper on which he had been writing. “Wait here. I believe my superior will want to speak to you.”
Nicholas sat, horrified at what he had possibly revealed to England’s enemies.
He felt his side, suspecting one of his ribs may have been cracked in the scuffle. His headache was severe, but there was little to no bleeding from the blows to his head. He opened his coat and saw a blood stain on his white shirt over his old bullet wound, where the thief had ground his heel in.
Anyone who knew Nicholas would have heard of his wounds received in battle and would have known of his shoulder wound and his broken leg, now healed. But they had also known of the diary. Who could it have been? Mr. Edgerton? Mr. Wilhern? Or one of the other gentlemen at the party?
Who of his acquaintance would betray their country?
A serious-looking gray-haired man entered the room. Nicholas stood quickly, which made him dizzy, but he managed to focus his eyes after a moment.
McDowell made the introductions. “Langdon, this is Colonel Thomas Stockton of the Foreign Office. Colonel, this is Lieutenant Nicholas Langdon.”
The colonel asked Nicholas to start from the beginning and tell him everything about the diary and what had happened. Nicholas went through the whole story again, adding more details this time of Mr. Beechum, the night of the party at the Wilherns’, and getting attacked in the street. Colonel Stockton listened mostly in silence, his penetrating eyes trained on Nicholas.
When Nicholas was finished, and after a few grunts, Colonel Stockton said, “I will require your services, Lieutenant Langdon, as an officer and a member of your social circle, to help us discover who stole the diary. It will require utmost discretion, as I’m sure you understand. This is a matter of great national importance.”
“Sir, I am eager to help in every way possible. My only problem is that I am supposed to be on my way back to my regiment in the Peninsula within the week.”
“We can write to your commanding officer and have your return delayed.” He waved his hand as if it were a simple process. “McDowell will look into the other men who might have overheard you speak of the diary. And if you could give us a list of every man in attendance at the party, that would also be appreciated. But I want you, Lieutenant Langdon, to personally investigate Mr. Edgerton and Mr. Wilhern. Find out whether they have family connections to France, any sort of motive for spying for the French, or any problems with debt that might make them willing to spy for our enemies for monetary gain.
“In the meantime, I ask that you go home and retrieve the copy you made of the diary. The sooner we have that, the sooner our expert decoders can go to work on deciphering it.”
“Of course.”
“I am placing my complete faith in you, Lieutenant. I need not emphasize how necessary are your loyalty and discretion.”
“Sir, you may depend on it. I consider my highest loyalty, next to God, to be to my king and my country. I shall be as discreet as the grave, you have my word as a gentleman.”
The colonel nodded, looking satisfied.
“But, sir, if I may ask . . .”
“Yes?”
“Who is Garrison Greenfield, and why was my servant not allowed to see him?”
“We wondered why your servant was looking for him and were planning to send someone to question your father about it. Mr. Greenfield was one of our men. In fact, he has been our most trusted agent, integral in discovering what was happening across enemy lines. He has been missing for months and presumed captured, or dead.”
Nicholas absorbed this information in silence.
“Now, I will send two of our men with you to fetch the copy you made of the diary.”
As Nicholas was escorted home in the company of two guards, his head was spinning more than ever. He had to find who had attacked him and why they had stolen the diary. He couldn’t bear to think that by allowing the diary to be stolen, he might have caused some secret of great national importance to be leaked to the enemy.
CHAPTER FOUR
Julia rode beside Phoebe and opposite Mr. and Mrs. Wilhern in their new carriage. The streets of London were crowded, as usual, as they made their way slowly to Mrs. Caldwells’ ball. Julia was only half listening to what Phoebe was saying as she prayed silently for her nerves to settle.
“. . . Nicholas Langdon, as a name, is rather plain. I would prefer him to have a more romantic-sounding name—something like Drake Westmoreland or Cameron Beauchamp or Nathaniel Torrington. What do you think, Julia?”
“His name hardly matters, Phoebe. Besides, ‘Nicholas Langdon’ is a perfectly respectable name.”