Chapter Fifteen

“Lady Montrose did not feel like some Shakespeare tonight?” The Duchess of Calder snapped open her fan with precision, before deftly beginning to fan herself in an effort to cool down in the overcrowded grand salon of the Lyceum Theatre.

“No, she’s not a fan of the theater,” Kat confirmed. “Or of crowds.”

“Nor of having to monitor you in such a throng, I’d wager,” the duchess pronounced, before turning her sharp gaze to Etta. “Don’t just stand there, Miss Merriweather! Fetch me a glass of water, and do hurry up, gal. It’s stifling in here and I am parched.”

“Yes, of course, Your Grace!” Etta rushed out, before swinging around and pushing through the crowd toward the refreshment table as if she was being chased by farmers with pitchforks. Which probably was rather close to describing the duchess, Kat thought with a smile.

“And what are you smiling about?” The duchess turned back to assess Kat, thumping her cane on the ground. “Hoping the Earl of Westwood will be in attendance?”

Kat narrowed her eyes on the woman. How had the dragon known that? “You’ve always had very good sources when it comes to information.”

The duchess merely raised her brow as she glanced across at the crowd. “And this surprises you? Good gracious, girl, I didn’t come to be feared by everyone in this room without knowing all of their little secrets. So, go on then, go off and find him.”

“Aren’t you meant to be my chaperone?” The woman was encouraging her to find Marcus? Had she lost her senses?

“You’re six-and-twenty, Lady Kaitlyn, hence firmly on the shelf,” came the lady’s biting reply. “If you don’t have a bit of fun now, you never will.”

As trained as Kat was, she couldn’t help her jaw from dropping open. The staid, completely proper arbitrator of what was suitable behavior in Society was telling her to go and have fun with Marcus? “Are you serious?”

“Oh, good gracious, child,” she chided. “I was young once, too. Now go. This conversation is boring me greatly, and I shall shortly have to put up with Miss Merriweather’s timidity when she returns. Unless Cantfield attends too, then I can have him entertain her, and be left in peace to do what I do best.”

“Terrorize everyone?” Kat couldn’t help herself from saying.

But rather than take offence, the duchess smiled. Or at least Kat thought the upturning of her lips was what could be classed as a smile from the woman. “You’re finally starting to understand me, I think. Good. Now off you go.” She shooed her into the crowd with her fan, which Kat allowed, somewhat stunned by such a development.

Who would have thought the Dragon Duchess would prove to be the most wonderful chaperone someone like Kat could have asked for?

Now all she had to do was find Marcus. Kat paused for a moment as she scanned the gathered crowd. The theater was one of London’s largest, spanning over three levels and seating over two thousand people. And, unfortunately, it appeared to be a full house, which made spotting Marcus a great deal harder, though he usually towered over everyone, so she should be able to see his head above others. He obviously hadn’t arrived yet. So much for arranging to accidentally bump into each other before the play started.

Not that she really needed to do so now, as the duchess had happily sent her off to do what she wished.

The salon area on the second level was only open to patrons who held permanent boxes within the theater, but even so, the room was an absolute crush and though normally Kat disliked crowds, tonight she was glad to be surrounded in seeming anonymity.

She sensed Etta approaching before she saw her.

“Oh my goodness, that woman is a nightmare. Livie’s godmother or not!” Etta declared in a whisper as she came to a halt beside Kat, a glass of water in her hand. “I don’t know how Livie can say she’s sweet underneath all of her verbal brutality.”

“Actually, I don’t mind her.” Kat shrugged.

“Not you, too?” Etta all but whined. “By the way, you look stunning tonight.”

Kat looked down at the deep emerald gown she was wearing. Madame Arnout had indeed done a marvelous job on the creation, seamlessly combining a fitted bodice covered with thousands of crystal beads, to fit perfectly over a matching custom designed detachable skirt with a sewn in bustle, as the woman had fashioned all of Kat’s new outfits. “Madame Arnout is a genius.”

“She is. Have you tried them out yet?” Etta glanced curiously at the skirt of Kat’s dress, which she knew was one of the special detachable ones.

“Not in the real world, at least not yet, anyhow,” Kat replied. “But I’ve experimented in my bedchamber and the speed that the skirt detaches and allows my legs the freedom to move about unobstructed is nothing short of marvelous. It takes but a few seconds to unsnap the fasteners with one hand.”

“That is marvelous. You’re wearing trousers underneath though, aren’t you? Just in case you need to kick anyone?” Etta appeared slightly troubled at the thought.

The comment reminded Kat of her conversation with Victor when she mentioned them to him on that fateful day of his death. It was a bittersweet memory. “Of course.”

“I do hope you don’t have much need to remove your skirt,” Etta said, the normally frivolous expression in the brown depths of her eyes replaced by a solemn seriousness. “Now tell me, have you heard anything further from Mr. Fullbrink yet? And what of the earl?”

Kat had given her a brief overview of the investigation in the carriage before they’d been cut short by picking up the duchess on their way to the theater. Though in her retelling of events, she’d been careful to leave out the kissing she’d been doing with Marcus in the carriage. Even just thinking about it, Kat felt an unfamiliar warmth creep up her face.

“Are you blushing, Kaitlyn Montrose?” Etta exclaimed. “You are blushing! What on earth happened between you and the Earl of Westwood today?”

Kat cleared her throat. “Nothing.”

Etta laughed. “You little liar!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” With a snap of her wrist, Kat flicked open her fan and began to wave it in front of her face. The theater was suddenly hot. “Don’t you have a drink to deliver?”

“Did he kiss you again?” Etta asked, ignoring her. “Though I must say, he doesn’t strike me as a libertine… He’s fairly stiff and correct in his manners I would have said, but he is very handsome. Mind you, he is friends with Cantfield, who is a terrible flirt, so perhaps he’s more of a ladies man than I’m attributing to him. Oh, you simply must tell me what happened, I cannot stand the suspense!”

Kaitlyn rubbed her temples. Goodness, how was she going to divert Etta’s nattering over the subject? “Why is it you don’t like Cantfield? I thought you were partial to dark haired men who look like fallen angels.”

Etta instantly tensed up. “He was rude while we danced the other night.”

“What exactly did he do to make you so outraged?”

Etta’s normally expressive eyes shuttered over as she looked out across the crowd. “What didn’t he say. Firstly, he said I had a fine figure. Secondly, he maligned the Gazette, and thirdly, he criticized my political writings!”

“He knows you write as Mr. Henry T. Barton?” No one apart from Livie and her knew Etta was one of her father’s celebrated political commentators that regularly featured in his newspaper. Not even Etta’s father knew Mr. Barton was in fact his own daughter.

“No, of course not.” Etta shook her head rather too vehemently as some of the curls slipped from her chignon. “He was talking about the feud that plays out on the pages between Mr. Barton and that pompous idiot, Mr. Ignatius Reginald. Cantfield was extolling the virtues of Mr. Reginald’s political ideals, calling Mr. Barton a naive dreamer for his, or rather my, opinions, though he didn’t know he was criticizing me. Even though he was! So, you see, he’s an absolute bounder. I think he should be critiqued in the Gazette.”

Kat raised a brow. “You wish to vilify him in the Gazette for saying you have a fine figure and disagreeing with your political writings, even though he didn’t know he was criticizing you?”

“He also maligned the Gazette,” Etta added, her eyes narrowing upon Kat. “Besides, you named Lord Westwood and he hasn’t even done anything to warrant it!”

“You know he was named for a purpose,” Kat said. “Do you really wish to destroy Cantfield because he gave you a compliment and disagreed with your political leanings?”

“He had no right to comment on my figure,” Etta said. “He is a complete scoundrel to have done so, which makes me think he might have skeletons in his closet that need to be unearthed. Besides, I know my curves are somewhat larger than Society’s standards, which is why I’m certain he was being sarcastic with his comments.”

“I doubt that. The man adores women and has no qualms about making it known,” Kat replied. “Etta, you can’t think he was being sarcastic. Too many times you have degraded your figure when I have seen the majority of men admiring it greatly.” Really, Etta was so sensitive of her figure and in particularly her overly large bosom, but most men Kat had seen look at her held a definite glint of admiration in their eyes when doing so.

“Please,” Etta scoffed. “Next to you, I look like a short, stuffed cream puff.”

“And next to you, my chest looks like a flattened pancake.”

They looked at each other and burst into laughter, but then Etta glanced up and stiffened beside her.

Kat followed her gaze and saw Cantfield sauntering over to them, a grin covering his attractive face. One couldn’t deny the man had charisma. It just wasn’t a charisma that attracted her. In fact, no man had really attracted her notice, except for Marcus. Even as a fourteen-year-old, she’d been intrigued by him, and still was.

“Why is he coming over here?” Etta pointedly turned away from the approaching man in question.

“He obviously wishes to talk to us,” Kaitlyn said.

Etta narrowed her eyes. “You watch, the first thing he will do is compliment you with some sort of sickly sweet clichéd phrase.”

“Good evening, ladies,” he said as he stopped a few feet from them and bowed. “How magnificent you both look. Why, just like diamonds sparkling amongst pebbles.”

“See!” Etta told Kat, before she turned to Cantfield and shot him a look of utter distaste. “I would have thought a man of your reputation would come up with less of a completely hackneyed phrase than that. Or is that the extent of your compliments?”

Kat had to stifle a laugh at the sudden look of consternation creasing the corners of Cantfield’s eyes.

He stiffened up perceptibly. “Excuse me, Miss Merriweather, are you really suggesting my compliment was hackneyed?”

“No, not at all,” Etta said. “I wasn’t suggesting anything. I was telling you it was completely hackneyed. There is a great deal of difference.”

The man’s jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed, but Etta didn’t appear worried at all. Instead, she seemed to be in her element and in control of the situation. A good thing, too, as Kat imagined it was a rare occasion that anyone, let alone someone without rank, would dare say such a thing to the future duke.

As Etta and Lucas continued to exchange veiled insults, Kat excused herself and went in search of Marcus. The blasted man better be here.

She began walking through the milieu of the crème de la crème of society, her eyes wandering over the crowd. The ladies were all garbed in gowns dripping with jewels and fripperies, while the men were dressed in their evening regalia, sporting elaborate black suits and bow ties, with most having even more absurd hairstyles than the ladies.

“Lady Kaitlyn!” a voice exclaimed from behind.

Kat turned to see Mr. Fullbrink hurrying over to her, an expression of both pleasure and anxiety warring on his face all at once.

“Mr. Fullbrink? You found me in this crush. Does this mean you have news?”

“Indeed, it does. Is the earl with you?” There was a question in his eyes as he hurriedly smoothed down his day suit.

“No. He has not graced us with an appearance yet, I am afraid.”

Fullbrink’s face fell somewhat. “I’d hoped to share the information with him, too, as he will need to know.”

“Come,” Kat said, gently grabbing his forearm and guiding him toward the back of the room, to one of the empty alcoves. “You can tell me and then I’ll pass it on to Westwood.”

The man allowed himself to be steered into the alcove and unobtrusively, Kat pulled one of the sashes holding the velvet drapes, and the ruby red cloth cascaded down, covering half of the entry.

“Tell me what you have learned,” she said.

The man’s eyes twinkled with excitement in the glow of the wall lamp beside him. “I’ve decoded the ledger, my lady! And you will never guess it, but I believe it to be a list and transaction record of all of the Chameleon’s past and future assassinations.”

Her heart started to pound faster. It was exactly the news she’d been hoping for. “Go on.”

“Well, the book is filled with the names of dead men, with the dates of their deaths in one column and a monetary amount in the other. And a majority of them are all men whose deaths have been attributed to the assassin. All except the last seven entries, which have names and amounts of money next to them, but no dates. The names I do recognize are all still alive. At the moment, anyhow.” He shrugged his shoulders. “So perhaps they are the future targets of the Chameleon…”

“And who are the seven names listed, Mr. Fullbrink?”

The man smoothed back his hair before taking a hearty breath. “I hate to say it…but the first is the Secretary of State of War himself, Lord Danbury, as I had suspected.”

“And the others?”

He scrunched his face up and twisted his hands together. “Sir William and Sir Albert are also listed.”

“Are you certain, Mr. Fullbrink?”

“Yes, my lady.” There was a hesitance in his voice, almost as if he didn’t want to believe such a thing. “Then there is a Mr. Silas Morriset, Lord Newtown, Lord Burton, and a Ms. Bellis Perennis.”

Kat had met both Newtown and Burton, but she’d never heard of Mr. Morriset or Ms. Perennis before.

“And what did Sir Albert and Sir William say when you told them this?”

“I um…well, I didn’t get to tell them. They’d already left by the time I finished decoding it all.” He pulled out a notebook from his pocket. “Here’s the copy of the decoded ledger.”

Kat placed the notebook in one of her pockets, noting the fear blanketing Fullbrink’s eye, which she could understand. The three men essentially in charge of running England’s War Office were listed as the Chameleon’s assassination targets. Not to mention two lords and two other unknown persons. It wasn’t a good situation.

Suddenly, she sensed a presence on the other side of the curtain. Pushing Mr. Fullbrink backward, she swiveled to face the entry, simultaneously grabbing her dagger from her skirt and holding it at the ready by her side.

The curtain was pushed aside and Marcus stepped into the alcove, his features calm and composed except for the grumpy glare in his eyes. She was getting rather good at reading his emotions. Though he did seem to be grumpy a lot in her presence, which was perhaps why she recognized the look so readily.

“My Lord.” She curtsied, swiftly returning the dagger to her pocket. “Good of you to finally attend.”

“Lady Kaitlyn,” he said, a slight raise of his eyebrow as he glanced at the pocket of her skirt, where she’d returned the dagger. “What are you doing sequestered in here with Fullbrink?” He looked between them and his frown became fierce even in the dim light as his gaze rested on Fullbrink before returning to Kat.

“What do you think I’m doing in here with him?” Kat asked, bristling somewhat at his unspoken suggestion. “Fullbrink, fill him in please.”

The poor man stepped nervously forward and repeated what he had just told Kat.

Kat returned Marcus’s stare in full, not budging an inch.

As Fullbrink finished his report, Marcus finally glanced across at him. “Tell this to no one else at the Department.”

“But, sir? No one at all?” Fullbrink shifted from foot to foot. “But what of the Secretary? Not to mention the undersecretary and Sir William? Surely, they should know their lives are in danger?”

“Be assured I will see to their safety. Can I rely on you, Fullbrink?” Marcus asked him.

Fullbrink nodded so sharply, Kat feared his glasses would rattle off. “Indeed, you can.”

“Good.” Marcus jerked his head toward the curtain. “Now leave,” he commanded.

The man gave a quick bow to them and then hurried out of the alcove.

“We need to find them and warn them,” Kat said, taking a step to leave the alcove, but Marcus placed his hand across her body, gently halting her.

“We do,” he agreed, stepping in front of her and slowly maneuvering her up against the wall, well away from any prying eyes. “But, first, I must do this,” he whispered against her ear.

Kat inhaled sharply at the contact, the heat from his body penetrating through the bodice of her gown, sending a wave of longing to her core. She noticed he was breathing deeply now, too, a hot fire burning in his gaze as his lips descended upon her own.

Her whole body melted against his as she opened her mouth up to him, savoring the feel of his lips against hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in closer as she returned his embrace in equal measure.

One of his hands skimmed up her body to gently tilt up her chin as he deepened his kiss, while his other hand cupped her bottom and pulled her in tightly to him. She could feel the hard length of him pressing against her lower belly, enticing her. She urged herself closer still and moaned softly.

He reluctantly pulled his lips from her and rested his chin to her forehead, inhaling a shaky breath.

“You do the damnedest of things to me, woman,” he whispered into her hair. “I seem to forget everything else when I see you.”

Kat took in several deep breaths herself, her whole body feeling electrified, her every sense alert and magnified by his touch. She took in another breath, only to breathe in his intoxicating scent. “I’m glad you have finally seen reason and are agreeing to my earlier proposal to become my lover.”

The hazy mist of passion in his eyes was instantly shuttered, only to be replaced by an unfathomable stare. “I haven’t said that.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Kat replied. “Your actions speak louder than words.”

“I don’t want to compromise you.”

“It’s not compromising me when I fully agree to it.” She raised an eyebrow.

He ran a hand through his hair and swore under his breath. “You’re an impossible woman.”

“You’re not the first to say so. But we have more important things to discuss at the moment, like finding those on the Chameleon’s list.”

Marcus shook his head. “You’re right, damn it. We can start with Burton. He has a box on the third level here and is somewhat of an aficionado when it comes to the theater, so he’s always in attendance.”

“We had best go and check his box, then,” Kat said. “His very life could be at stake.”