“Is Lord Bathhurst privy to our comings and goings?” Colin asked.
“He knows the approximate dates of your arrivals,” Lord Weymouth told them. “Because he receives status reports and copies of the dispatches. He doesn’t know who you are or whether you act alone or as a group, and neither he nor I know exactly when one of you leaves.” He looked at each man in turn. “I didn’t know who you were until now. Shepherdston is very protective. He’s never volunteered the information and I’ve never required it. I trust Shepherdston to have the best men possible.” He looked up and smiled. “And I’m happy to confirm that he does.”
“If the only time the dispatches leave your possession is to go into Jarrod’s and Lord Bathhurst’s hands, we’ve found the source of the problem,” Jonathan concluded. “Since Jarrod is above reproach and the dispatches he has deciphered are extremely accurate, the only reason for the other deciphered messages not to be accurate is if the ciphers are making mistakes or not receiving the complete dispatches.”
“And since Colin and his colleague have provided the men in Abchurch Lane with the latest cipher tables, there should be no mistakes in the deciphering,” the Marquess of Courtland continued.
“So the other ciphers aren’t getting the complete dispatches.” Colin ran his fingers through his hair. “Because Lord Bathhurst’s representative is withholding information.”
“And Lord Bathhurst’s representative is?” Daniel prompted.
“His private secretary, Lord Espy,” Lord Weymouth confirmed.
“Espy!” Alex Courtland gasped. “Are you certain?”
“I wasn’t,” Daniel answered. “But now I’m almost positive. It certainly supports my theory.”
“What theory?” Lord Weymouth asked.
“The theory that you’re about to be blamed for the failure of our intelligence and for the assassination attempts—whether successful or unsuccessful—of some of our most prominent members of government, including your political rival and immediate superior, Lord Bathhurst.” Daniel sat down on his favorite leather chair and poured himself a cup of coffee from the silver pot on the tray at his elbow.
“Me?” Lord Weymouth was incredulous.
Daniel took a sip of coffee and nodded.
“Why?” Griffin demanded, propping his aching leg on the closest ottoman.
“Politics,” Lord Weymouth answered softly. “Lord Bathhurst and I have been political rivals for years. Unfortunately, the Prime Minister dislikes Lord Bathhurst and enjoys playing us off one another. Bathhurst is my superior at the War Office, but I have the ear of the Prime Minister and the Prince Regent. Successes credited to me reflect badly on Lord Bathhurst, and successes credited to him are often the result of my efforts. I report to Bathhurst, so the work I do behind the scenes makes him look very good, but he doesn’t like the fact that I am the force behind a great deal of his success. He undermines me every chance he gets in a game of political cat and mouse that does none of us any good. Unfortunately, what looks bad for me can be made to look very good for Lord Bathhurst because he’s able to change facts and shift the blame onto my shoulders.”
Griffin looked at his father. “Fortunately, you have very broad shoulders.”
“But if anything goes wrong with the intelligence we’ve collected or any of the men on the list we intercepted become victims of assassination or attempted assassination, your father must ultimately accept the blame,” Daniel added.
“And resign my post.” Griffin’s father closed his eyes and released a long, slow breath.
“Tell me this, Lord Weymouth,” Colin began, “would you happen to know if Lord Espy has a brother in the Navy?”
“Two, I think.” Lord Weymouth pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “One assigned to a ship out of Barbados and the other commands the HMS Colchester, a frigate that patrols—”
“The Dover coast,” Jonathan finished.
“Yes.” Lord Weymouth turned to look at Barclay. “Is that significant?”
“Very significant,” Daniel answered, relating the events that had transpired since he had left on his last mission—except, of course, his hasty wedding and the two days he’d spent with Miranda in the house on Curzon Street.
When he finished telling his tale, Lord Weymouth and the Free Fellows League devised a trap to catch a rat. Each of the Free Fellows had a role to play, but Daniel assumed the lion’s share of the trap because he was the man Espy had spent the past few days following.
They planned to spring it as soon as Jarrod returned from his wedding trip and began preparations for his meetings with Wellington, Scovell, and Grant.
In the meantime, there was a personal matter to which Daniel needed to attend.
Miranda.
He’d hoped to escape the meeting without revealing his plans for the remainder of the afternoon, but Griff had read the morning paper and demanded to know Daniel’s intentions toward Miranda St. Germaine.
“What about Miranda?” Griff asked.
“What about Miranda?” Daniel answered.
“Alyssa and I are very fond of her,” Griffin told him. “I’ll take great exception with you if Alyssa and I are called upon to help pick up the pieces of Miranda’s shattered heart.”
“You need not concern yourself with Miranda’s heart,” Daniel said. “For it’s still intact. I’ve no intention of shattering it, now or ever.”
“You never intend to hurt her,” Griff reminded him. “But you do.”
“Not this time,” Daniel swore. “Miranda became my duchess the night of my mother’s gala.” He faced his colleagues and told them the truth. “I married Miranda in order to protect us both. To protect her from the guilty knowledge of my injury and to protect the League and all of us in it from those that might try to force Miranda to bear witness against me should I be caught smuggling.”
“Why would you think that necessary?” Alex wondered.
“Because Lord Espy saw me leave the party with her,” Daniel explained. “I was very foxed, but something about Espy’s demeanor struck me as odd. And I was afraid Miranda’s reputation would suffer because he saw us alone together.”
“Her reputation has suffered because of it,” Lord Weymouth pointed out. “Everyone in town who reads the Chronicle already assumes she’s your mistress or that you are her lover.” He looked at Daniel. “And those who don’t read the paper will have heard the gossip and assume the same. And you know what will happen. Miranda will be ostracized by polite society unless you protect her. And the only way you can protect her is to reveal your marriage as soon as possible.”
“So everyone can speculate whether or not she’s with child,” Daniel finished.
“Everyone’s already speculating,” Jonathan reminded him. “Only they’re speculating whether the child will be a bastard or a marquess.”
“I’m picking Miranda up as soon as we conclude this meeting.” Daniel revealed his plans for the afternoon, not because he wanted to but because his friends were as concerned about his bride and her reputation as he was, and the least he could do was to ease their minds. “We’re going to St. Michael’s to sign the parish register.”
“Have you a ring?” Colin asked, knowing that in the haste to get married, important details like a ring for the bride were often overlooked.
“Not in my possession.”
“Might I recommend Dalrymple’s Jewelers?” Lord Weymouth suggested.
“I appreciate your suggestion,” Daniel told him, “because I’ve seen Dalrymple’s exquisite work, but I think Miranda might prefer a family piece.”
Griffin and Lord Weymouth frowned simultaneously. It was well known among the Free Fellows that the Abernathy family betrothal ring that had belonged to Lord Weymouth’s grandmother and Griffin’s great-grandmother was a forty-carat canary diamond with matching rows of lesser diamonds surrounding it. It was worth a fortune, but Griff disparagingly referred to it as the bird’s egg. The current Lady Weymouth had
preferred something a good deal less gaudy, and her son, Griffin, had shared her opinion and purchased a gorgeous ring from Dalrymple’s when he’d proposed to Alyssa.
“I thought I’d give Miranda the Sussex Emerald and the band to match it,” Daniel said upon seeing father and son’s expressions.
Griff nodded approvingly. “She’ll love it. The bird’s egg can’t hold a candle to the Sussex Emerald. There’s nothing gaudy about it. It’s big and bold, but simple and elegant. It will suit Miranda perfectly.”
Lord Weymouth and the other Free Fellows agreed.
“Anything else?” Daniel couldn’t keep humor out of his voice when he realized his friends were assisting him in making the most important decisions of his life.
“Speak to Aunt Lavinia first,” Jonathan advised. “It might be best to clear the way and move her into the dowager house before you take Miranda to Sussex House and present her as your duchess.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Change everything, except your loves.”
—Voltaire, 1694–1778
Daniel took his cousin’s advice and paid a call on his mother.
He entered her sitting room and greeted her without preamble as soon as Weldon announced him.
“Mother, I’ve come to collect the Sussex Emerald and the accompanying pieces, and to let you know that I’m meeting Miranda St. Germaine”—he looked at the clock on the mantel—“in a little less than an hour.”
“Good afternoon, Daniel,” she said, ignoring his abrupt announcement. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“I know you saw the item in the Chronicle this morning, and I know that you’ve already paid Miranda a call, so if you would be so kind as to retrieve the ring from your safe, I would be most grateful.”
“So,” the duchess heaved a sigh as she looked up at her son. “It’s finally come to this. My son, the Duke of Sussex, intends to offer marriage to a young woman in order to avoid scandal …”
“I don’t intend anything of the kind,” Daniel contradicted.
“Then what do you call it?” For the second time that day, the duchess forgot her years of training otherwise and indulged a frown.
“I call it presenting Miranda with the wedding and betrothal rings I should have given her when I married her. Three nights ago after your gala.”
“What?”
“The gossipmonger writing for the Chronicle has his facts all wrong.” Daniel smiled at his mother. “Miranda and I were married before we honeymooned at her house on Curzon Street.”
“How could you …” she began.
“By special license,” he replied. “It’s all quite legal. Bishop Manwaring married us at St. Michael’s.”
“That’s ridiculous! I saw the girl this morning, and she didn’t so much as hint at being married to you. In fact, she did quite the opposite.”
Daniel narrowed his gaze. “The girl has a name, madam. It’s Miranda, and when you speak it, do so with kindness. For she deserves no less. Especially from you.”
“If she were your wife …”
“She is my wife.”
The duchess glanced at her son. “If she is your wife, why didn’t she say so?”
“And endure having you call her a liar?”
“All she had to do to prove me wrong was show me the marriage lines,” the duchess insisted.
“She couldn’t prove it,” he said. “Because she gave me the only proof we have, to keep or destroy as I will.”
“That was rather stupid of her.” The duchess was surprised. She’d always believed Miranda was smarter than that. Smart enough and ruthless enough to set her cap for a duke and not to settle for anything less. The duchess didn’t see it as fortune hunting so much as fortune saving, for Miranda was extremely wealthy in her own right and had been besieged by men looking to secure that fortune for their own from the day she inherited. The duchess knew Miranda was infatuated with Daniel, but she’d believed it was because Daniel was one of the only young, handsome, marriageable men in London who outranked her and were strong enough and rich enough to stand up to her. Not to mention tall enough. Daniel, the Marquess of Shepherdston, and the Austrian archduke who had chased her the previous season were the only three such men the duchess could name. Miranda’s choices for a husband were limited by her position in society. For the Marchioness St. Germaine, marriage to anyone other than another marquess or a duke would be marrying beneath her, and although the duchess hated to admit it, she admired the girl for not being foolish enough to give a lesser-ranking husband control of her fortune. “She should have kept the marriage lines to force your hand in case you decided not to acknowledge the marriage.” She looked at Daniel. “I would have.”
Daniel swore, then raked his fingers through his hair and gave his mother a pitying look. “That’s the difference between you and Miranda. Miranda doesn’t have to prove anything. To you or to anyone else. You would use everything in your power to make me stay. She loves me enough not to. She set me free and allowed me to choose.”
“And you chose her.”
“Yes, I did,” Daniel said. “And I’m fortunate that she chose me as well. We chose each other long before either of us realized it.”
“This hasty, clandestine marriage will have everyone in the ton counting on his or her fingers to see if she presents you with an heir,” his mother warned.
“Let them count,” Daniel told her. “It makes no difference. Miranda was an innocent until I took her to bed. And I took her to bed after we spoke our vows. If she presents me with a child, I’ll be the happiest man on earth. Whether it’s nine months or nine years from now, I’ll welcome my daughter or son with open arms and give thanks for the miracle. And I’ll expect you to do the same.”
The duchess stared at him open-mouthed. “You love her.”
“Of course I love her,” Daniel said simply. “I’ve always loved her.”
“And she loves you,” the duchess continued. “Enough to want you to have the kind of wife who would be an asset to you and make you happy. She told me so this morning.”
“That’s what I want for her as well,” he said. “And I pray that I will be that kind of husband.” He stared down at his mother, meeting her gaze with an almost identical one of his own. “You’ve loved me and protected me all of my life, Maman. Don’t stand in my way now. I don’t care how you do it, but please, find it in your heart to welcome Miranda and wish us happy.”
The duchess got up from her chair and rang the bell for Weldon.
The butler must have been waiting close by, for he hurried into the sitting room immediately.
“Weldon, we’re about to welcome a new duchess into the family,” the dowager duchess announced when her butler entered. “Please bring us the Sussex family jewel box. His Grace requires the emerald.”
Weldon returned minutes later with the heavy oak cask that contained a fortune in priceless jewels handed down through the years, and handed it to Daniel along with the key.
Daniel opened the box, then looked at his mother. “I don’t want your personal jewelry,” he said. “Only the family pieces.”
“That cask only contains family pieces,” she told him. “My personal jewels are kept in a separate one.” She peeked around Daniel to make sure everything was in order. “The Sussex Emerald is in a box beneath the third tray of rings.”
Daniel lifted the trays of rings and set them aside, then removed a small black velvet box from the compartment beneath it. He opened it to reveal the magnificent emerald ring and its matching band.
“Thank you for these, Maman.” He studied the flawless emerald betrothal ring for a moment, then closed the box and slipped it into his coat pocket.
“No need to thank me, son. The rings were never mine. They always belonged to you.” She managed a smile. “They’ll suit the new duchess much better than they ever suited me.”
“Then I thank you for taking very good care of them for her.” He leaned down to kiss his mother on the forehead,
then straightened and started toward the door.
The duchess’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “Daniel?”
The note in her tone of voice stopped him. “Yes?”
“I’ll make arrangements to move out of Sussex House and into the dowager house.”
“There’s no need, Mother. I don’t intend to push you out of Sussex House. If we choose to live here, Miranda will simply move into my wing. You may remain in your apartments for the rest of your natural life.”
“Tell me you aren’t going to invite Marianna St. Germaine to move in with us from Upper Brook Street,” the duchess pleaded dramatically.
He smiled. His mother was nothing if not predictable. “I hadn’t considered it. But it might be nice for my children to have both their grandmothers in residence …”
Weldon coughed.
“And Sussex House is certainly big enough for all of us,” Daniel continued. “It was good of you to suggest it, Maman. Lady St. Germaine is welcome to a set of apartments or an entire wing of the house if she wants it. And the two of you need never see each other. Except at meal times. Or when you cross paths in the nursery.”
“I’ve no intention of becoming a grandmother or sharing grandchildren with Marianna,” the duchess informed him. “I’m too young.”
“You’ve nothing to say in the matter,” Daniel told her. “It’s up to Miranda and me to decide. And make no mistake, Maman, I intend to fill this old house with the sounds of love, and laughter, and children.” He gazed at his mother. “And I hope you’ll choose to be a part of it.”
“Daniel …”
“Think about it.” He kissed her again, this time on her cheek. “I love you, Maman. And I love Miranda. You are both duchesses of Sussex, and you are both my family.”
* * *
Miranda was waiting for him in the Blue Salon when Daniel’s coach rolled up in front of her town house on Upper Brook Street. She held her hands tightly clenched in her lap, partly out of nerves at seeing him again and partly to keep from losing the signet ring she’d returned to the third finger of her left hand.