Chapter Six

Marcus strode up the steps to the entrance of his club two at a time, only just giving the footman time to hastily open the door as he crossed through the marble arched doorway and entered the grand lobby. Glancing around, he couldn’t spy his quarry, Sir William, but the man had to be here.

It was the only place in London Marcus hadn’t yet checked, and he’d spent the better part of the early hours of the morning and the rest of the day trying to track down the elusive old man.

Walking past several acquaintances, Marcus nodded in acknowledgment, noting with interest some odd stares directed toward him. He paused briefly at the entry to the lounge area on his right and scanned the room. The establishment was marked by an air of refined elegance, with the fire burning diligently in the large hearth at the end of the room and several velveteen settees and sofas placed strategically throughout, with some tucked into corners to offer privacy, and others out in the open for those wishing to partake in some conversation with the other patrons, depending on one’s mood.

You had to give it to the club’s notorious owner, Sebastian Colver. The man knew how to do luxury and cater to the aristocracy, even though he’d grown up in the slums of the Rookeries. Colver had turned Club Tartus into the most exclusive establishment in London, where membership was vied for with fervor. There was never an empty glass to be seen and the table of refreshments was always kept replenished. The service, the ambiance, and the gaming was bar none, and there sitting unobtrusively in the far corner, reading The Times and sipping a glass of whisky was Sir William Buford. Finally.

A more unassuming man, there wasn’t. Nor one whose appearance was so deceptive. Sir William was dressed in navy blue trousers and a matching coat, his white hair brushed back, with an easy smile at the ready and the usual mischievous twinkle lurking in his pale blue eyes.

The man looked more like someone’s jovial grandfather who kept candy in his pockets to dish out to all, than one of the most powerful and arguably influential men in Europe. An elite spymaster for Her Majesty, he was one of the best-informed gentlemen on the continent—a fact Marcus was counting on. After all, if the man in charge of the War Office’s entire intelligence department didn’t know what Lady Kaitlyn Montrose was up to, then no one would.

Even the mere thought of the woman was enough to stir him. He shook his head in disgust; he was acting like a randy schoolboy.

It was at that moment Sir William spotted Marcus and waved him over.

“Marcus, my boy!” Sir William enthused as Marcus stalked across the oriental rug covering the parquetry flooring to where the man lounged, glad to be focused again on to his task.

Sir William stood and grasped Marcus’s hand with his own, pumping it up and down vigorously. “How are you? Do take a seat.” He motioned to the chair across from him.

Marcus waited for Sir William to sit back down before taking a seat on the upholstered armchair. “I’ve been looking for you for a good portion of the day.”

“Have you indeed?” Sir William replied with an indulgent smile. “I’ve been running from one end of town to the other with various meetings today, so it’s no wonder you haven’t been able to track me down. Not to worry, though, you’ve finally succeeded.” He smiled as he picked up his glass and took a sip. “Did you wish to discuss the little run-in you had last night, dear boy?”

Marcus raised an eyebrow. “You know of it already?”

“I’ve heard whispers.” Sir William winked before motioning over to one of the footmen. “A drink for you?”

Marcus nodded, and Sir William ordered him a whisky.

“How did you find out?” Marcus asked once the footman had scurried off to fetch him a drink.

Sir William chuckled. “Come, my boy, you know I can’t disclose my various sources. I wouldn’t be much of a Director of Intelligence for the War Office if I did.”

Marcus had to agree. One thing you could always depend upon with Sir William was his integrity and ability to keep secrets. “How is it that with both your own informants and mine, we still can’t find the Chameleon?” It was a question he’d asked himself often over the past few years, with the Chameleon seemingly a step ahead every time.

Sir William exhaled sharply, clearly sharing in the same frustration at the failure. “In all of the decades I’ve been doing this work, I’ve never faced such a difficult foe. I sometimes wonder if the Chameleon is a ghost. He’s so easily able to infiltrate a place and then disappear into the ether, almost as if he never was there. Well, apart from the dead corpses he inevitably leaves behind.” Sir William’s face hardened while his fingers clenched tightly around his glass. “But the fiend cannot remain hidden forever. Eventually, he will make a mistake, and that’s when we shall pounce. So, have faith, dear boy, have faith! We shall find him, and he will face justice for all of his atrocities.”

“I intend for him to. Which is why,” Marcus said, leaning forward, “I need to know what the devil Kaitlyn Montrose is up to. I can only assume she’s chasing after the Chameleon, too. Why else would she take the journal?”

Shock replaced the merriment in Sir William’s eyes. “It was Lady Kaitlyn you fought last night?”

Marcus arched an eyebrow. “I thought you said you knew about my little run-in, as you called it.”

“I assumed you’d fought the person who took the journal, though I didn’t know your assailant was Lady Kaitlyn,” Sir William confessed.

“The information you were given was not particularly detailed.”

Sir William shook his head. “It was only whispers. But it was Lady Kaitlyn you fought? Are you certain?”

The man appeared slightly confounded, though not surprised. “It was definitely her,” Marcus confirmed, a picture of the woman herself, and those glorious emerald eyes of hers, vivid in his mind.

“I do so admire a resourceful woman,” Sir William said. “And let us face it, Victor trained her to be formidable. You must have annoyed her greatly.”

The waiter returned and deftly deposited a neat glass of whisky on the table beside Marcus, before departing as swiftly as he arrived. Marcus leaned forward and picked up the glass. “What do you mean, annoyed her? If anyone was annoyed after last night, it was I. She’s the one who got Elizabeth’s journal.” And kneed him in the bollocks for the pleasure of it.

“No offense, dear boy, but you do tend to upset people with your forthright manner, calling a spade a spade as you are wont to do. But if you didn’t annoy her, why else would you have been named?” His voice trailed off as he rubbed the whiskers of his beard in thought. “Unless she’s using the announcement as leverage with you.”

“Announcement?” Marcus didn’t like the sound of this. “What announcement?”

Sir William blinked, an expression of incredulity in his gaze. “Don’t tell me you haven’t heard yet? Surely, you’ve noticed the odd stares directed toward you today.”

He had, though he’d been too intent on finding Sir William to pay the glances much thought. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“Probably not, though I think I’m in for a treat.” Sir William chuckled, causing many of the other patrons to eye them curiously. “Tell me, my boy, have you heard of The Bachelor Bounty Gazette?”

“Hasn’t everyone?” Marcus replied, a sinking feeling slowly dropping into his stomach. “It’s the publication that socially ruins whomever it critiques, detailing their sins and secrets. Laying a man’s life bare, warts and all, for Society to consume like a veritable scarab beetle. That gazette?”

“Yes, the very one!” Sir William clapped his hand on his leg. “My wife and daughters can’t get enough of the thing. They send a footman out on the first of the month to line up and get three copies of the latest edition, so they can each have one to read.”

“It’s a trashy gossip rag at best,” Marcus stated. “I’ve never bothered to read it.”

“Oh, but you should. You’d be surprised at how accurate the intelligence it details is.” Sir William’s laughter had subsided, but his voice was still filled with mirth. “It contains a wealth of factual information and tantalizing truths that sends whomever it critiques into hiding. It has fast become the most popular publication in London.”

“And what does it have to do with me?” he all but ground out, guessing he knew exactly what it had to do with him, but wanting Sir William to verify the fact before Marcus decided to go to war against Lady Kaitlyn Montrose. God help them both.

“I rather thought it obvious,” Sir William replied. “You see, a special flyer was printed by the Gazette this morning, distributed far and wide across London, announcing to one and all that one more bachelor would be critiqued in next month’s edition. You.”

It took several moments for Sir William’s words to fully sink in and confirm his suspicions. He’d been listed to be critiqued in a gossip rag? “Bloody hell! You can’t be serious? My mother and sister will be tarnished by such speculation. Not to mention they’ll worry their heads off.” And whenever his mother was worried, that of course meant a visit from her, which was always an uncomfortable event since Nathaniel’s death.

“The countess and Lady Isabelle seem far too sensible to worry their heads off over anything. How are they both?”

Marcus shrugged, his chest feeling suddenly tight. “Fine, I assume. I haven’t seen them in a few weeks.”

Sir William was quiet for a moment, his smile replaced with a frown. “They don’t blame you for his death, you know.” He sighed. “None of us do.”

“I do,” Marcus growled in a low voice. “If it wasn’t for me, Nathaniel never would’ve gotten involved in our world of intrigue and he’d still be alive. Which is why I must find the true traitor and exonerate my brother’s name. Being named as a scoundrel is not going to help that cause, only hinder it.”

“I’m sure there’s a good reason for it,” Sir William said, his mood lightening as he smiled. “Which no doubt you’ll find out.”

“You seem to be enjoying this entirely too much.” Marcus raked a hand through his chestnut hair. “Lady Kaitlyn is behind the Gazette, is she?” It was to be war with the lady, then. He didn’t know why he was anticipating it. “And considering I haven’t seduced any virgins or broken any poor damsel’s hearts, there’d be no reason to list me, unless for another purpose, which clearly Lady Kaitlyn has.”

“You were always quick on the money, dear boy.” Sir William sighed. “And, yes, she’s one of several partners in the endeavor. Her particular contribution is using her network of informants to dig up all of the dirt on the men they expose,” Sir William said. “Normally, I’d not disclose that considering her involvement in the thing is so fraught with issues if it was ever exposed. Though I trust you will tell no one else of what you’ve learned, at least not until you speak with her first and ascertain what it is she seeks by having you listed.”

“Speak to her?” Marcus scoffed. “I’ll be doing more than simply speaking to her. And what the bloody hell is she doing listing me, in any event? She knows better than anyone I can’t have my work for the government exposed.”

“No. Such a thing would not be good for the War Office,” Sir William agreed. “We can’t have the department exposed if any of your escapades are detailed for one and all to read.”

“Your concern for my reputation is touching,” Marcus noted drily.

Sir William smiled. “Queen and country first, my boy. You know that.” He took another sip of his drink. “But I doubt we have anything to worry about, though perhaps you had best speak with her and see what it is she is after. And I would try to tone down your slightly abrupt demeanor… You could even try some charm on the lady and see how that goes.” Sir William did not look at all confident with his suggestion. “Actually, maybe ask Cantfield for some tips first before trying that…”

Marcus merely grunted. He never bothered to subscribe to charm when it came to women. He’d done that with Elizabeth and look where it had gotten him. “I’d wager Lady Kaitlyn is not a woman charm will work on.”

“I don’t know about that.” Sir William shrugged. “Most women respond to charm, in some way or another.”

“This woman scales balconies with a rope, wears trousers, and quite happily fights someone my size,” Marcus said, feeling the need to remind Sir William. “She’s not a normal woman. She likes to play with fire.”

“Yes, indeed she does. Having all but waved a red flag in your face naming you,” the old man conceded. “But, in the end, like I’ve said, I’d be surprised if she intends to compromise you.”

“You’re giving her far too much leeway.” Marcus smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “And regardless of what she intends, she’s gone too far, a fact I will be making abundantly clear to the lady tonight at Darrow’s ball when I hunt her down.”

“I imagine she’ll be hunting you down, too, my boy.” Sir William sighed. “Just don’t start sparring with her in the ballroom. Then there would be some tantalizing tidbits for the masses.”

Spar with her? He didn’t dare touch her again, not after his body’s reaction. No. Marcus wouldn’t spar with the lady, but he’d certainly point out to her the error of her ways. He was a gentleman, after all.