Chapter Four

After a restless few hours of sleep, if that’s what one could even call the tossing and turning Kat had done, she’d finally given up on the activity altogether when Marcus’s ridiculously blue eyes kept swimming in and out of her dreams. She dragged her slightly stiff and sore body from the warmth of her bed, determined to make a head start on the day.

Having finished reading the journal cover to cover before eventually trying to sleep, she had obtained what promised to be the most tangible link thus far to finding the Chameleon, if she could convince Marcus to assist her. Because although she loathed the thought of asking anyone for anything, in this instance she needed a man to infiltrate the club mentioned in the journal, and Marcus fit the bill to perfection.

Obtaining his agreement, however, could prove difficult, especially if her memories of his stubbornness were anything to go by. Well, she’d have to make him agree. No matter what it took. She’d just have to remember not to let herself get distracted by him again. A fact she was starting to think might be easier said than done, given her body’s traitorous reaction to him last night. But she would persevere. She had to.

Marching down the last of the stairs to the ground floor of the Montrose townhouse, her purpose for the day clear, Kat stopped in her tracks as the aroma of coffee and bacon assailed her senses, tempting her as little else could. Perhaps a quick detour to replenish her energy reserves before she headed to the Gazette’s office in Bethnal Green was warranted after all.

“You’re not training this morning, my lady?” Fenton’s deep baritone interrupted from behind her.

Kat swiveled around and faced her ever-efficient butler, who was standing as always with his tall frame erect, and not a strand of his white hair nor a thread of his clothing daring to be out of place.

He was more family to her then nearly anyone else in her life, having been in her uncle’s employ since before she came to live with them after her parents died when she was three.

“Not today, Fenton. There is much to do.” Normally, for an hour every morning she trained with her friend, Master Zhang, who had been first Victor’s mentor and later Kat’s, training them both in Eastern fighting techniques. But when it came to the Chameleon, sacrifices had to be made.

“I take it your visit to Lord Sommerville’s residence was productive and you retrieved the journal?” Fenton’s piercing blue eyes probed her own.

“Indeed, it was, and I did.” Kat smiled. He knew her moods better than she.

“Good. Then we are a step closer to finding the Chameleon.” Fenton, who had been Victor’s most loyal and trusted servant for over thirty years, was in full support of her quest to find the assassin.

“We are, though I shall need the floor plans for the Corinthian Club. Do we have them?” She always liked to study the layout of any premises she intended to pay a clandestine visit to, for it paid to be prepared.

“For such a questionable establishment? Of course.” Fenton rubbed his jaw. “Though we only have a minor informant in the kitchens. It’s been near impossible infiltrating that club without a more well-placed informant. I daresay it’s going to be difficult to get in undetected, if that’s what you were thinking of doing.”

He knew her too well, for it’s exactly what she intended. “I shall have a way in, I just need to lay the groundwork first and obtain Marcus Black’s assistance.”

“The Earl of Westwood?”

She briefly recounted the tale of the previous night, to which Fenton seemed neither surprised nor fussed over. The man was unflappable and completely dependable, thank goodness.

“Westwood is hunting the Chameleon, too,” Fenton said. “I believe the assassin murdered his late wife. The earl could prove useful.”

“Oh, he will,” Kat said. “He just doesn’t yet realize it.”

“Your uncle trained him, too,” Fenton remarked. “Which will make him a formidable ally, or an equally formidable foe. Do have care when dealing with him, my lady. Though he is a gentleman, he can be ruthless when he must.”

Kat could always depend on Fenton to look out for her. “I will be careful.”

Fenton nodded. “Indeed, you will. Now, I shall obtain those plans for the club for you and make contact with our informant there. When you do need to infiltrate the place, you shall be well prepared.”

“Thank you, Fenton.” She reached over and placed a quick kiss on his weathered cheek. “I can always count on you.”

He appeared equally embarrassed and delighted with the praise. “Always, my lady. I made a promise to his Lordship that I would assist you and look out for you, and I intend to keep that promise to my last breath.”

“I’m grateful for that, for I consider you family.” She picked up his hand and squeezed his fingers before releasing them.

“As I do you, my lady.” He smiled, which was rare for Fenton. “And don’t you worry, we will find the Chameleon.”

“Yes. Perhaps with my endeavors today, the path to avenging Victor will finally be within reach.” Exhaling sharply, she prayed that would be the case in her so far unsuccessful pursuit of the Chameleon. It had to be. The Chameleon couldn’t keep lurking in the shadows forever.

Fenton bowed and then turned on his heel before disappearing down the corridor.

Kat turned in the opposite direction and strode down the hallway, following her nose to the breakfast room. Once she satisfied her belly, then she could get everything in place to ensure Marcus’s agreement.

The first thing she noticed when stepping into the room was her aunt Daisy sitting at the table calmly sipping some tea, with not a wisp of her pale blonde hair escaping her perfect coiffure.

Kat absently brushed some of her own recalcitrant auburn locks from her face, wishing not for the first time that her mane would take some lessons from Daisy’s. Not that she’d bothered to spend any more than a few moments upstairs twisting it into a knot at the nape of her neck. There were more important things to do than spend hours on one’s hair.

“Is everything all right?” Kat asked Daisy, glancing pointedly at the clock on the far wall. It was a rare occasion that her aunt was up before eleven. Practically unheard of.

Daisy’s brow arched slightly. “Everything is fine, Kaitlyn. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“It’s rather early for you to be up, is it not?”

“Perhaps,” her aunt replied, a soft smile tilting her lips upward. “Though it seems we are both acting contrary to our normal patterns, does it not? You’re up and about a great deal later than normal.” Daisy gently placed her teacup back onto the saucer with elegant precision, before picking up a white linen napkin and dabbing at the corners of her mouth. “Were you delayed in your return last night from the Bentley soiree?”

There were subtle hints of worry and disapproval in her aunt’s tone, as Daisy was perfectly aware Kat hadn’t actually been at a soiree, but with the footmen standing to attention on the far side of the room, Daisy was always careful when discussing Kat’s unusual activities, regardless of the fact the servants were all aware of the nature of some of Kat’s work. They themselves were trained by Fenton in skills unusual for domestic servants, but definitely required in the Montrose residence, where maintaining vigilance and security was paramount. After all, Victor’s work within the government hadn’t been without risk, nor without accumulating enemies.

“Yes, I did get in late,” Kat said as she wandered over to the buffet table and placed a few strips of bacon and some eggs on a plate.

“You know I dislike you attending those sorts of activities, Kaitlyn.” Daisy was trying to project a stern matronly voice, but it never had the desired effect, especially considering Daisy was only ten years older than Kat, and more like a sister to her than an actual authority figure.

“I know you don’t,” Kat remarked as she returned with her plate to the table and sat across from Daisy. “But you also know why I do so.”

Daisy didn’t actively encourage or support Kat’s activities, believing such things were well outside the realm of what a woman ought to be doing, let alone what an Earl’s daughter should be. And, of course, by Society’s standards, her aunt was correct.

But spying and dealing in information paid ridiculously well, and the estate needed every penny it could get its hands on, especially after they had discovered soon after Victor’s death that it was on the verge of bankruptcy. Which was the only reason Daisy put her displeasure aside surrounding Kat’s activities. Her aunt was nothing if not pragmatic when it came to finances, contrary to how delicate and ethereal she appeared on the surface.

“I hope you didn’t run into any difficulties?” Daisy asked, as Kat took a seat across from her.

Kat chewed on some of her bacon before finally responding, knowing Daisy wouldn’t like hearing about her run-in with the earl. “I suppose it depends on what you class as difficulties.”

An expression of shock or perhaps horror flickered across Daisy’s face. “What do you mean by that, Kaitlyn Montrose?”

She couldn’t help the grimace that stretched over her face with the knowledge of how truly displeased Daisy was about to be. “Please leave us,” she said to the two footmen.

The men bowed and then swiftly left the room through the open doorway.

“It’s that bad, is it?” Daisy asked, bringing her hands up to her temples and rubbing them.

“I don’t think so,” Kat began, “but I suspect you will have a different opinion. You see, I ran into the Earl of Westwood last night.”

“Westwood?” Daisy seemed baffled. “I thought you went to Somerville’s last night to retrieve a journal. What does Westwood have to do with any of that?”

“He showed up while I was removing the journal from Lord Somerville’s safe. I had to fight him to ensure I kept it.” Kat poured herself a cup of coffee, knowing she’d need the sustenance of the brew against what she predicted would be Daisy’s attack of apoplexy at the announcement.

“Kaitlyn, please tell me I heard you incorrectly. You didn’t actually fight the Earl of Westwood… As in, physically fight him, did you?”

“I did.”

Daisy’s hand clutched at her chest, while her other hand gripped the handle of her teacup so tight, her knuckles went bone white and Kat thought she would snap the fine bone china. “You physically fought not only a man, but a peer of the realm? Good Lord, you will be the death of me.”

“I had no other choice,” Kat replied with a shrug. The bruises along her arms and legs were a testament to the sparring and blocking she’d done fighting Marcus to avoid having to hand over the journal to him. “There’s no need to make such a fuss about it. I wasn’t presented with many other alternatives.”

Silence greeted the pronouncement for about a minute, as Daisy digested her words. “I can’t fathom that the Earl of Westwood would fight a woman. I would have thought him too much of a gentleman to do so…”

“He didn’t know I was a woman when we initially fought.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” Daisy breathed out a heavy sigh of relief. “Then there’s still a chance your reputation is salvageable, if he’s not aware of your identity.”

“I hate to disappoint you, Daisy, but I’m afraid he’s well aware of my identity.” It would have been far easier to allow Daisy to labor under that particular illusion, but Kat always believed the truth was the best policy, no matter how painful it might be. She proceeded to tell her aunt exactly what had occurred, and when she finished, Daisy was staring at her as if she had lost her mind, an expression Kat had become familiar with over the last few years.

“You actually kneed the Earl of Westwood in his nether regions?”

Kat nodded. “He had me pinned against a wall and it was all I could do to escape his grip.” She truly hadn’t enjoyed resorting to such a move, but one did what one had to.

“My goodness, if this is ever revealed to anyone, we will be ruined…” With shaky hands, Daisy lifted her cup to her lips and took a sip of the liquid.

“That is a tad melodramatic. We shall not be ruined. As you said, Westwood is a gentleman, so he will not gossip about the matter.”

Her aunt placed her cup on the saucer, tea splashing over its edges, her usual finesse clearly shaken. “Melodramatic? Kaitlyn Montrose, your actions are melodramatic. What other lady would ever do the things you do? None, that is who! Why you take such risks is beyond me.”

“You know why I take such risks.” Kat pinned Daisy’s eyes with her own. “Victor must be avenged.”

“Your uncle would not have wanted this for you!” Daisy implored. “Fighting a man, at night and all alone. I admit I tend to cling to the past and the etiquette of years gone by, but even this is too much! I fear Victor would be turning in his grave with what you’ve been getting up to.”

Annoyance coursed through her with Daisy’s words. Why didn’t her aunt understand? “Victor was the one who trained me for this, a fact you frequently like to forget.”

“Yes, and he realized he’d made a mistake and that you needed lessons in decorum. Which is why he sent you off to that finishing school!” Daisy countered, her eyes flashing with fire. “He wanted you to eventually get married and be happy.”

“I’m twenty-six and firmly on the shelf, Daisy. I have no intention of marrying.” Kat stood and paced over to the window overlooking the gardens. “Besides, Victor only sent me to that finishing school to appease you, after you married him.”

“I make no apologies for that. You were in desperate need of learning the etiquette required of your station.”

It was a sore spot between them and one Kat didn’t want to dredge up. “What is done is done, including what happened with Westwood last night.” Her expression softened as she saw the angst on Daisy’s countenance. “The Earl of Westwood is too honorable to talk about it, and besides, what man wants it known that a lady bested him by kneeing him in the bollocks?” She walked over to Daisy and took her hands in her own. “You must trust me on this. My reputation and yours in turn, are safe. I promise.”

Daisy sighed and squeezed Kat’s hands for a second. “You know I trust you. I just don’t know if we can trust Westwood.”

“Victor trusted him.” And Kat knew that if Victor trusted him, she could, too.

“For a man used to deception and treachery,” Daisy said. “Your uncle trusted a great many people he shouldn’t have.”

Kat glanced down at the small brass key suspended on the gold chain hanging around her neck. Reaching down, she took ahold of it and began to absently twirl it between her fingers. Yes, Victor had been immersed in a world of deception and treachery, and most of it entirely of his own making.

Indeed, he’d even kept the truth of her parentage from her, her entire life. A bitter secret Kat had discovered after opening Victor’s safe following his death and reading the letter he’d left her. The secret that she wasn’t actually Victor’s niece, but instead his daughter.

He’d explained in the letter that he’d fallen in love with her mother, Amelia, shortly after she’d married Victor’s brother, the first earl. Victor and Amelia had apparently tried to resist each other, but Amelia’s husband had always been distant and inattentive to his new bride, instead preferring to visit London and leave his bride in the country. And one stormy weekend, the two succumbed to their love, after which Victor promptly left the country, guilt wracking him after betraying his brother. But the damage had already been done—Amelia was pregnant with Kat.

Though no one, apart from Victor and Amelia, had ever known the truth of Kat’s parentage. Except now Kat. Not even Daisy knew the truth. Part of the reason why she’d never marry. A secret like that had to stay buried. And what man in Society would want to marry a bastard in any event?

“Westwood is an honorable man,” Daisy continued, returning Kat’s thoughts to the present. “Perhaps he might even consider marrying you, after essentially compromising you?”

The idea was amusing, especially after what she’d just been thinking. “You do understand I wasn’t compromised, don’t you?” Even if her dreams had been filled with the thought of being compromised by Marcus all night.

The patter of footsteps and Samuel hollering from the hallway was a welcome relief from the tension in the atmosphere, and a moment later in barreled a small white puppy, with flecks of brown on its coat, followed closely by Samuel.

The boy pulled up short seeing his mother and Kat sitting at the table. “Oh, good morning. What are you both doing down here?” he asked, panting, his gaze darting about the room for his errant companion. “Oh no, D’Artagnan! Stop it!” His eyes, the same green as Kat’s and every Montrose before them, looked stricken toward the French doors leading to the terrace, where the puppy, whom he’d named after his favorite Musketeer, was now quite happily tugging on the curtain hem, seemingly determined to fight the material to the death. The puppy definitely lived up to his namesake.

“Goodness, Samuel!” Daisy exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “How many times must I tell you that that creature is to be kept outside?”

Samuel darted over to the pup and wrestled him away from the paisley material. “I’m sorry, Mother, he snuck in when I went to feed him.” He picked up the wiggling puppy and turned back around to face them. “And he headed straight for this room.”

“And who could blame him with the smell of bacon wafting through the house.” Kat said as she picked up a piece from her plate and went over to feed it to the wagging ball of energy, who eyed her in adoration.

“Kaitlyn Montrose! Must you encourage them?” Daisy groaned as she sank back into her seat with a sigh and took another sip from her teacup in weary acceptance.

“It’s only a little bit of bacon,” Kat replied, with a quick wink to Sam, who grinned in reply. “The poor little darling was obviously desperate for some, weren’t you?” She rubbed D’Artagnan’s head and was rewarded with some furious thumping of his tail.

“He loves bacon,” Sam said, before leaning closer to Kat and lowering his voice. “Are we still good to train later today?”

They both knew full well Daisy got particularly upset with the thought of him following in his father’s footsteps, preferring Sam to have nothing to do with learning the art of defending himself. Which, in some ways, Kat could understand, even if she didn’t agree with it.

Daisy had lost her husband at the hands of an assassin, so it was no wonder she was determined not to lose her son, too. But sheltering Samuel from the harsh realities of the world and preventing him from learning life-saving skills, was a naive and foolhardy decision. Which was why Kat was going to start training him, following on from what Victor had started shortly before his death, regardless of Daisy’s dislike of her doing so. After all, he was her only blood family left, and she would do everything to protect him.

She wouldn’t lose him as she had lost Victor.

Ruffling the lad’s dark blond hair, Kat whispered in his ear, “Unfortunately, not today. I’m chasing a lead. But I promise I’ll start teaching you soon.” She drew back and twisted the brass handle of one of the doors leading out to the back terrace. Raising her voice again, she said, “Now, why don’t you take D’Artagnan out the back for a play.”

Samuel nodded in understanding, before bounding out the doors with D’Artagnan in tow.

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to allow him to get a puppy in the first place.” Daisy sighed.

“He’s the happiest he’s been since Victor’s death,” Kat replied, grinning slowly as she watched Sam and D’Artagnan chasing after each other through the gardens at the back of the residence. Sam was still so innocent and unaware of the horrors outside of the walls surrounding him, having had a very different childhood from her own. For Victor had never pushed Samuel as he’d pushed her. Had never forced the lad to train from the age of four, as he had Kat.

In a way, she envied Samuel. Never having the shadows of death hovering at the back of his memories as Kat had. Never waking up, frozen in terror after nightmares filled with the horror of blood being everywhere. Never having to hear his mother’s last anguished screams echoing in his head like Kat did.

But that very fact meant Samuel was so underprepared to protect himself. By his age, she’d been capable of throwing a knife from twenty feet away, hitting her target dead center. She’d been able to load and fire a pistol as quick as any of the men Victor had been training. And then, when she was twelve, only four years older than Samuel was now, she’d felt the burden of taking lives. A burden that was always with her, no matter how she tried to forget the fact.

Seeing Samuel grow with a carefree type of innocence, Kat realized she’d never really had a childhood to begin with. Not that she blamed Victor. He’d simply been trying to protect her as best as he knew how, even if that meant she’d never had a puppy to play with, or the freedom to run around chasing it with blissful abandon, completely oblivious to the potential dangers looming around every corner.

“What are your plans for the day?” Daisy asked. “Sending an apology note to the Earl of Westwood, perhaps?”

There was a definite hint of sarcasm and perhaps futile hope in her aunt’s voice.

Kat turned back to face her, blinking away the memories and returning her thoughts to what she had to do. “I already apologized to him prior to incapacitating him. I was taught manners, after all, at my finishing school.”

“At least you were taught something.” Daisy sighed heartily. “Whatever am I to do with you, Kaitlyn? I do hope the Earl is not at the Darrow’s ball tonight when you attend.”

“Oh, he’ll be there, searching for me, no doubt.” Which is exactly what Kat wanted. She had plans for the man, and the sooner he knew of them, the better.