Chapter Twenty-Nine

“Oh my goodness!” Etta rushed into the bedchamber Kat had been allocated, less than thirty minutes after they’d all arrived and were shown to their rooms to change and freshen up. “You’ll never guess who is here!”

Kat turned from where she was directing her maid, Bess, to hide her daggers and faced Etta, who seemed as if she had run the entire length of the corridor from her assigned room. “Who?”

“Bertie!” Etta gasped.

“The Prince?”

She nodded her head confidently. “And you’ll never guess who his special companion is!”

“What? It’s not the princess?” Kat’s voice held an edge of sarcasm as she resumed pulling out some of her more interesting items of subterfuge. She put her special lockpicks, which were disguised to be used as hair pins, into her chignon.

“You know he wouldn’t bring his wife!” Etta looked around superciliously. “His companion is the Siren. Can you believe the Prince brought a courtesan to Lord Newtown’s house party… Clearly, she’s moved on from Danbury.”

Kat shrugged. Brighthope hadn’t mentioned she was attending with the prince, not that it made any difference to her. Though there’d be more security around. Perhaps the Chameleon wouldn’t risk assassinating Newtown now? “He is the prince and does as he pleases. You know that.”

“I do,” Etta agreed. “But I’ve never been to a house party while he’s in attendance.” Etta narrowed her eyes as she looked at Kat. “You’re not going to try to speak to that woman again, are you?”

“I have to,” Kat responded. She’d told Etta all about her encounter the other evening with the woman, and Etta had been less than impressed. “She has a list to give me.”

“Kat, you can’t speak to her.”

She smiled at her friend. “You know Bertie expects his companion of the moment to be treated with the utmost respect. This is in actual fact the only time I can converse with the woman in front of others, without censure. It’s perfect really.”

Etta frowned. “Trust me, even though they won’t be able to chastise you openly, the other ladies will certainly be doing so behind your back if you do speak with her.”

“You know I care little for other people’s opinions.” Kat shrugged again.

A long sigh left Etta’s mouth. “Unfortunately, I do.”

Kat walked over to Etta and grabbed her hands in her own. “Everything will be all right, you must trust me. Now, come on, we have a luncheon garden party to attend.”

They walked along the corridor and down the grand staircase, making their way to where lunch was being served on the terrace. Kat’s eyes glanced over the grand statues in the entrance hall and lining the passageway leading to the terrace, and for a moment, even she was taken aback.

Newtown seemed enamored with ancient Grecian statues in the nude style, and also favored somewhat gaudy paintings in a similar style.

As they arrived at the terrace, Kat realized Lord Newtown was continuing the Greek theme for the festivities over the weekend, as several of his footmen and the maids were dressed in Greek togas. Kat looked across at Etta, who was having a hard time keeping her mouth closed at all the bare flesh displayed by the servants.

Even though it was nearly summer, the wind whipping along the outside terrace was somewhat chilly. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for those of his poor serving staff forced into wearing the costumes, especially as it seemed a storm was brewing.

The guests themselves, around fifty, were dressed in their best day wear, and having a grand time flirting with each other, as they sipped on champagne and nibbled the food from the trays being taken around.

Kat spied Marcus and Lucas leaning against the balustrade at the far end of the balcony, their long legs occupying a great deal of the space in front of them. Marcus had changed into buff-colored trousers and a matching jacket, with a crisp white shirt and a deep blue waistcoat underneath. She hated to admit it, but every time she looked at him she was struck by just how devastatingly handsome he was. Not that the man seemed at all aware of his looks, and more often than not sent women scurrying away with a glare. It was something Kat enjoyed seeing more than she ought to, considering she had no claim on him.

To an observer, Marcus’s casual pose suggested he was supremely relaxed and rather blasé about the whole affair, but Kat could see the sharpness in his gaze as he superciliously surveyed the assembly. He was assessing everyone present. Then, his eyes came to rest upon her own. He inclined his head and his mouth tilted up into a half smile as he watched her and Etta approach, weaving their way through the gathered guests.

“Ladies.” Marcus bowed to them both as they stopped in front of him and Lucas. “Refreshed from the journey, I hope?”

“Admirably so,” Kat replied as she curtsied back. There, she sounded back to normal with him, she hoped.

“Yes, quite refreshed.” Etta smiled as she curtsied, too, before turning to Lord Cantfield, who had a decided glower across his countenance. “Are you ill, my lord?” she asked him.

Lucas’s glare only increased. “I’m fine,” was his clipped reply. “But I think perhaps you forgot to wear your fichu, my lady.”

“I have no need to wear a fichu, Lord Cantfield,” Etta ground out, glancing down at her décolletage, which was on prominent display, though tastefully so. And which a fichu would have completely covered up. “It is completely ungentlemanly for you to have mentioned such a thing, though completely expected from a rake of your ilk.”

“Any news on the man that attacked Sir William’s residence yet?” Kat hastily interrupted, trying to divert them from killing each other, which it appeared they were about to do, going by the expressions of fury in both their eyes.

Marcus shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. I have my informants making some enquiries but it looks like he disappeared into the night. What we need to do is work out what the motive is.” Marcus folded his arms across his chest. “If we can do that, it will potentially narrow down who the man is that funded the assassinations.”

“True,” Lucas said, finally flicking his eyes over to Marcus instead of glaring at Etta. “It’s got to be someone who has a grudge against the War Office. We know Burton had links to the Office and was the man who supposedly witnessed your brother selling secrets to the Russians. Perhaps it’s the Russians seeking revenge? Or to silence those involved in selling those secrets to them?”

“The Russians wouldn’t hire an assassin, they would send their own men,” Marcus replied. “But what does Newtown have to do with selling secrets to them?” He ran a hand through his hair, messing the style up wonderfully. His poor valet would be frustrated at the end of each day.

Kat had to resist the urge to step over to him and run her own hands through his locks and kiss him. They hadn’t kissed since last night, and already it felt like too long. But then she felt angry with herself for even thinking about kissing him, when so many lives were at stake. She had to return her thoughts to the situation at hand.

“We could always ask him,” Lucas said. “Because it does seem that everyone named, apart from those two last names we don’t know, are linked in some way to your brother and the selling of the secrets to the Russians or his apprehension.”

Just then the tap of the duchess’s cane echoed on the stone floor and a moment later, she had insisted on whisking Etta and Cantfield away to the refreshment table. And no one, not even Cantfield who was to be a duke himself, was brave enough to say no.

Kat turned back only to find Marcus staring at her. His eyes were intent but unfathomable. She felt herself start to feel somewhat hot beneath his gaze. Why did the man affect her so?

“Lady Kaitlyn,” the velvet tone with a hint of an accent purred from behind her.

Swiveling around toward the voice, she found Lady Brighthope standing there, an expression of bored amusement dancing in her eyes. She was dressed in a sapphire blue day dress dripping with small jewels sewn into the bodice, and in the very fabric itself there seemed to be some sort of tiny sparkling objects interspersed throughout, making it appear as if she was shining. Her hair was swept up and piled high atop her head, with some ringlets cascading down her neck. The woman really was stunning; it was no wonder she was known as the Siren.

Kat couldn’t help but glance down at her own emerald outfit. Next to Lady Brighthope, she looked rather underdressed and dull. Though looking around, it appeared the woman had that effect on all of the other ladies present. Lady Brighthope knew how to live up to her nickname, as no one shone as bright as the Siren.

“Lady Brighthope,” Kat said, “it’s good to see you again. I was hoping we might have another chance to speak.”

“I did enjoy our little chat last time.” Lady Brighthope smiled at her and then she batted her eyelashes up toward Marcus. “Lord Westwood, we meet again. Have you changed your mind about my suggestion?”

She watched as Marcus gazed at Lady Brighthope, an expression of disinterest visible in his eyes. For some reason, his obvious lack of interest in the woman made Kat feel like smiling.

“No,” came his curt reply. “Now, tell me, who was the man with the list?”

The woman laughed lightly, the sound both innocent and seductive all at once, yet there was an edge of uncertainty to it. The woman was obviously not used to rejection. “Oh, you’re still as blunt and inflexible as always, aren’t you, Westwood? Where’s your sense of adventure and fun?”

“Long gone, my lady, as I’m sure you’re aware.” He straightened off the balustrade. “Who had the list?”

“You’re like a dog with a bone.” Lady Brighthope tossed one of her curls over her shoulder. “I’m sure Lady Kaitlyn has already told you that I shall not disclose such a thing.”

“You will if you don’t wish to end up in Newgate Prison.”

Lady Brighthope narrowed her eyes at him in glittering menace. “You’d be wise not to threaten me, my lord. Have you not seen whom I’m accompanying this weekend? One word from me and you’ll find yourself in a great deal of…what is that saying? Hot water, I think?”

A thin smile stretched across Marcus’s lips. “Threats do not work on me.”

“And what makes you think they’ll work on me?” Lady Brighthope demanded, squaring her shoulders.

“My threats have the power of being carried out.” Marcus shrugged.

Lady Brighthope’s jaw clenched and for the first time she didn’t look beautiful at all.

“Is that so? You know, I did bring the list with me this weekend, and had intended to give it to Lady Kaitlyn at some stage,” the woman began, “but if this is how I am to be treated, then I see no reason to assist further.”

Kat rushed to step between them and placed a gentle hand on the woman’s upper arm as she commenced turning away. “Please pay him no heed. You know what men are like, they get fixated on something and can think of little else.”

Somewhat mollified, Lady Brighthope lifted her chin and nodded. “What you say is true. Men always underestimate us, don’t they? Thinking they can bully and threaten us. But, ultimately, we’re the ones who control them.” Slowly, her practiced smile replaced the look of fury as she pulled Kat over to the side and away from Marcus.

Brighthope leaned in close to Kat and whispered in her ear. “But I think the name of the man who had the list isn’t the only thing Westwood is fixated on.” The woman eyed Kat up and down. “He hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off you ever since you came downstairs. Which must be the reason he’s turned me down. Which is understandable as you’re beautiful and intriguing. No wonder he’s smitten.”

Kat felt her face redden and had to force herself not to glance over at Marcus. Thank goodness he was far enough away not to have heard. “Let’s stop playing games, Lady Brighthope. Do you have the list?”

“Yes, but not with me. It’s up in my room.” The woman glanced around before returning her attention to Kat. “I’ve heard whispers that tonight may be the night that the Chameleon assassinates Lord Newtown.”

“At the ball?”

The woman nodded. “But you may be able to prevent it. There’s an inn in the village where a man by the name of Charles Tremont is staying. He might have some further information about all of this.”

“How did you find this out?” Kat asked her.

Fear seemed to grip Lady Brighthope’s eyes for a moment. “I’m already risking much by being seen speaking with you in public.” She took ahold of Kat’s hand and squeezed. “Do be careful, Lady Kaitlyn,” she said, an expression of intense urgency replacing the coyness normally present on her face. “I should hate to see anything happen to a woman as worthy as you, but the Chameleon is closer to you than you realize. You are in danger.”