Rex
Watching his wife eat her breakfast, a dreamy expression on her face as she stared into nothing, Rex allowed himself a certain amount of male smugness. He was the one who put that expression on her face. Last night had been supremely satisfying for both of them.
Unfortunately, thinking about the night prior also reminded him of the thought he had been avoiding—Collins’ report about seeing Lucas with Mitchell.
He understood why Collins had felt the need to tell him, though it was just as likely Collins had done so because he was hoping to cause Lucas trouble. Consorting with Mitchell would not be enough to remove Lucas from the club, but it did make Rex question what was going on with his friend. The situation was exacerbated by the question of a traitor within the Society, but even without that, Rex would have wondered.
What could Lucas possibly want with Mitchell? Rex liked to think Mitchell had approached Lucas, only to be rebuffed, but he could not be sure. It irked that he could not simply call upon Lucas and find out. Perhaps he should call upon Collins and ask where he had seen the pair. Somewhere disreputable, likely. Lucas had not been showing his face anywhere respectable of late.
“I must get dressed,” Mary said, getting to her feet. “Josie and Lily will be here any minute.”
“They will?” Rex asked blankly, his thoughts having to do an abrupt turn to remember what she was talking about.
Mary smiled, pausing to kiss his cheek as she passed on her way out of the dining room.
“We are going shopping.”
“Right, right.” Now he recalled. Watching her go, he smiled. Once his wife’s skirts had whisked out the door, it was only a few moments before the happy expression faded from his lips, his thoughts turning to dwell on Lucas. At some point, he would need to tell Mary she may be correct about her suspicions… but he owed it to Lucas to talk to him first. He just needed to find the damn man.
That was something he could attend to this morning since Mary was otherwise occupied, though he had no idea where to start. It was too early in the day to call on Carlisle’s home, the gambling hells would certainly be closed by now, and if Lucas had arrived back at his own home, Barnes would have sent a message. Ambling into his study, Rex idly pulled out his map of London, trying to figure out where Lucas might have gone to ground.
He was still sitting, pondering his next move when he heard Mary’s friends arrive and her leave. The house felt emptier with her gone. This was the first time they were spending time apart since their wedding day. How odd to feel a little bereft at her absence.
Married life was not at all what he had expected—it was far, far better. Even if his enthrallment with his wife was not fading as he had thought it would. Given how much he was enjoying himself, he did not particularly care if it ever did. He also thought he was well on the way to winning her love and loyalty. Which made him feel a bit badly about not discussing Lucas with her, but he would… eventually. Once he knew more.
Half an hour later, he was still pondering Lucas, the Society, and possible treason, wandering round his house… mostly the front of the house. Not because he was waiting for Mary’s return. He just happened to feel like walking about the front rather than the back. Which was why he heard the banging on the door before Cormack did.
Welcoming a distraction and hoping it was a message from Barnes about Lucas, Rex hurried to answer it. His eyes widening, he frowned when he recognized Captain Jones on his doorstep with another man standing beside him, both of them blankly serious.
“Gentlemen.” Rex raised his eyebrows, cock his head. “What can I do for you?”
“You can answer some questions for us,” the stranger said, pushing the door open and out of Rex’s hands, aggressively barreling forward.
Rather than giving way, Rex lashed out. While pugilism was not his favored sport, he was proficient, big, and strong enough to make a serious impact when he did. To his shock, the stranger caught his fist, turning and pulling Rex forward, neatly trapping him between Captain Jones and the stranger who was now standing in Rex’s foyer.
“Anthony—” Captain Jones started to say, pulling the other man’s eyes up. Having regained his balance and seriously riled by the invasion of his home, Rex took advantage of his distraction, quickly slamming his fist into the other man’s gut. Rather than softness, he met hard muscle and heard the man’s soft ‘oof’ before an elbow caught Rex across his chin. “Bloody hell, you two, stop!”
Hands pulled them apart, and Rex glowered at the stranger, this Anthony, who glared back at him. As tall as Jones and only an inch or two shorter than Rex, he had dark hair and eyes and a heavy jaw. He was dressed like a gentleman, despite his behavior. Rex did not recognize him, but that did not necessarily mean he was not of the ton. Like Jones, he had the bearing of a soldier, and it was entirely possible their paths had never crossed before. Rex would be perfectly happy if they never did again.
“I do not like uninvited guests in my home,” he growled, directing his words at Jones.
“We need to speak with you on behalf of White Hall,” Jones said imperiously. Rex groaned, stepping back so he could see Jones without turning his back on Anthony. “This is Captain Anthony Browne, who is going to apologize for his rudeness.”
There was a moment, then Browne shrugged.
“Sorry,” he said shortly, not sounding anything of the sort, eyeing Rex with hostility. Jones made a derisive snorting noise, shaking his head in disgust at his companion and shutting Rex’s door behind him.
“Please excuse him, Rex, we have had a frustrating few days. I am hoping you will be able to help us.”
“You should tell Stuart he would have done better to just send you. Or Elijah.” Rex deliberately turned away from them both. If Browne was the type to attack from behind, he doubted Jones would stand for it, not if they needed Rex, for whatever reason. “I suppose you might as well come in then.”
“How did you know about Elijah?” Browne asked suspiciously. Rex ignored him, striding down the hall. Cormack was hurrying toward him, probably worried about having missed the door.
“Sorry, my lord, I was in the back with Mrs. Maple… Captain Browne?” Cormack’s eyes widened when he looked past Rex to see their guests, perplexing Rex even more. Grinding to a halt, he turned to see Browne squinting at Cormack as if trying to place him. “Nah, you would not remember me, but you saved my regiment when we were on our way to Waterloo.” Real gratitude was in his voice.
“Ah, the almost-ambush,” Browne said, relaxing and smiling back at Rex’s butler. “I do remember. You were the singer.”
Cormack shrugged, clearly embarrassed, his voice gruff when he answered. “Aye, that was me.” Then his expression changed. “What are you doing here, though?”
“Investigating Lord Hartford,” Browne said as Jones answered at the same time.
“Requesting Rex’s help.” Exasperated, Jones turned to glare at Browne. “Elijah and I both told you, Rex has nothing to do with this.” Cormack’s jaw dropped open in shock.
“I am glad to hear the two of you vouched for me,” Rex murmured. He gestured. “Follow me, gentlemen, and we can talk. Cormack, you should come, too.” If for no other reason than Rex wanted to know more about this Captain Browne.
Mary
Being out with her friends rather than with her large and impossible-to-ignore husband by her side felt almost odd. She had become so used to him looming over her shoulder, the missing presence made her a touch anxious. Doing her best to ignore the unsettling reaction, Mary did her best to be distracted by her friends.
“Elijah? Truly?” Josie whispered, sounding scandalized, horrified, and perhaps a bit intrigued. “I know Rex said he had joined the club, but I cannot imagine him…” Her eyes unfocused for a moment as she made the attempt to imagine him in the position Mary had described.
“What do you think of this bonnet?” Lily asked. Unlike Josie, she was not particularly interested in Elijah’s exploits. She had listened agog to Mary’s description but did not dwell.
“The orange ribbon against the cream is very fetching,” Mary said, leaning forward to inspect the fashionable construction. Beside her, Josie made a noise of aggravation.
“How can you two talk bonnets when—” She was loud enough, Lily shushed her as the shopkeeper looked in their direction, thankfully prompting Josie to lower her voice to a more discreet whisper. “When Elijah did… that… last night with a woman.” Color rose in her cheeks.
“Why should I care what Elijah does?” Lily asked, appearing confused. She was still holding the bonnet. “We came in here so I could buy a hat.”
Mary stifled a giggle when Josie scowled. Grumbling under her breath, Josie swung away, looking at the other offerings in the store while Mary and Lily discussed the benefits of the cream bonnet with its orange ribbon on Lily’s coloring. Once Lily had decided to purchase the bonnet and made her way to the shop keeper, Josie came back around to where Mary was standing, looking perturbed.
“Do you… do you think Joseph is like Elijah?” Josie whispered. Mary blinked. She had not even considered…
“I cannot picture that,” she said, shaking her head.
“Well, that is what I thought about Elijah.” Josie frowned. Mary thought Josie might be hoping Joseph’s inclinations ran along the same lines as his brothers’. Even more than Lily, Josie had been fascinated by Mary’s descriptions of the Society’s perversities. Mary had the sneaking suspicion they appealed as much to her friend as they did to her. With Lily, it was harder to tell, but she didn’t ask Mary to stop any of her descriptions, and she listened with interest.
“I have more trouble picturing Joseph,” Mary murmured. In truth, there was something about Elijah that reminded her of Rex. Not just his bossiness, but his general demeanor. In many ways, they were two peas in a pod. Joseph, on the other hand, did not have that same air of command. Mary had always attributed it to Elijah being the heir, but perhaps there was more to it than that.
There was a small commotion as a boy burst into the hat shop, startling several ladies near the entrance. Mary’s eyes widened in surprise when he looked right at her, hurrying forward before the shopkeeper or her assistants could halt him. The urchin grinned widely, shoving a piece of paper at her.
“Message m’lady,” he said. “Urgent like.”
“What are you doing in here? Out!” The shopkeeper was clearly outraged at having a street urchin in her shop, but she cut herself off when Mary stepped forward, shooting the woman a sharp look of censure.
“He is here with a message for me, and I have some questions for him.” Her voice was sharp. The woman had heard him say so, yet she had been ready to toss him out. Pressing her lips together, the shopkeeper looked as though she wanted to say something, but she managed to hold herself back in the face of Mary’s disapproval. Turning back to the boy, Mary let Josie’s glare take the place of hers. While Josie did not have Mary’s rank, she could glare with the best of them. Taking the piece of paper, Mary focused on the message-bearer. “Who sent you with this?”
“The toff outside.” The boy shifted on his feet uncertainly, eyes flicking between Mary and the shopkeeper. Likely he had come in on a lark, planning to make quick his escape. Mary lifted her head, glancing out the front window. Sure enough, there was a carriage out there and a man standing beside its door, watching her through the window. It took her a moment to place him—Collins. That was what Rex had called him last night. “Said it needed deliverin’ right away.”
Reaching into her reticule, Mary pulled out a coin and handed it to the boy.
“Thank you, you may be on your way.”
Grabbing it, the boy sprinted back out the way he had come. The shopkeeper sniffed but hastily turned and walked away when Mary met her gaze again.
“What is it?” Josie murmured, looking over Mary’s shoulder. Lily was walking up to them, wanting to know what was going on, her new bonnet already tucked away in a box.
Rather than answering, Mary quickly opened the note.
Please come quickly. I must speak with you alone. I have done something terrible and believe Rex might be in danger by my actions. Only you can help me.
Lucas, Earl of Devon.
“Oh, my…” Mary breathed out the words, quickly folding the note when Lily and Josie sucked in identical shocked gasps.
“Mary, you cannot,” Lily whispered. “It is too dangerous!”
“Do you think he’s the…” Josie cut herself off just in time. Though she was whispering, saying the word ‘traitor’ in such a public space was too much of a risk, especially since they had already drawn the attention of most of the shop when Mary accepted the message in the first place.
Looking back out the window at the man standing beside the carriage, she could see the clear pleading in his face. He was from the Society. Last night, he had approached Rex to say something about the earl. Mary’s memories were fuzzy on the actual conversation, too lost in her own little world, but she remembered that. The man stared back at her, tilting his head as if asking if she was going to come out. Why he did not leave the side of the carriage, she did not know, but surely it could not hurt to find out.
“Even if he is, he clearly regrets his actions,” Mary murmured. Thinking quickly, she shoved the note at Lily. “Take this to Rex. I am going to find out what Devon knows.”
Searching her eyes, Lily nodded her head sharply, taking the note. Josie was glaring out the window, squinting at the man as if she was trying to memorize his features. Apparently, unnerved by her gaze, Collins turned away, looking back into the carriage window. Or perhaps there was someone within who had spoken to him? The earl?
“I should go with you,” Josie said stoutly, but Mary shook her head.
“He says to come alone. If you come, he may not feel comfortable talking, especially if the conversation is… delicate.” Rex would want to help him, Mary felt sure of it. “Get that note to Rex, and I am sure he will be along shortly. If Devon is feeling talkative, this might be our only chance… Rex has been looking for him for days. I will be safe enough—he would not send me a message in the middle of a shop with so many witnesses if he was planning something nefarious.”
They did not like it, but they did not protest again, both nodding their grimly reluctant agreement and exchanging glances. For once, their feelings on a subject were in complete unison.
Hurrying out the door, Mary rushed up to Collins.
“Did you share the note with your friends?” he asked accusingly, frowning at her. Mary frowned right back at him.
“Of course, I would not be coming along otherwise.”
Still disapproving, he sighed, opening the carriage door.
“Very well. His lordship is in here, but be forewarned, he’s completely soused.”
That he was drunk came as no large surprise. Mary suppressed a sigh, climbing into the carriage with Collins’ help. As the man had indicated, the Earl of Devon was sitting inside, a blanket over his lap, his hands tucked beneath its edges. He blinked at her with muzzy confusion. His hair was bedraggled, there was several days’ worth of growth on his jaw, and he smelled like a brewery. Mary did not think she had ever seen a gentleman look so wrinkled and disarrayed.
“M-ry?” His voice slurred her name, so there was no vowel, and she tutted under her breath. Goodness, how drunk was he? The writing on the note had been perfectly legible. Perhaps he had written the request, then had a drink to give himself fortitude? Settling on the bench across from him, she stared back at him, aghast at the picture he made. Collins clambered into the carriage behind her, and Devon’s eyes widened in alarm. “M-ry – run!”
His voice was not loud, but it was emphatic, and he lifted his hands as if to reach for her. Mary gasped in shock and horror when the blanket fell away, revealing his hands were bound in front of him. Cursing, Collins slammed the carriage door shut behind himself, quickly pulling out a gun and sitting down next to Mary, pressing the hard metal against her ribs. Mary cried out as his hand wrapped round her bicep, holding her in place, trapping her. Her mouth went dry with fear, heart pounding in her chest, and confusion reigned.
“Neither of you move,” he said, his voice icy cold and cruel, a far cry from the worried, disapproving man he had portrayed only moments earlier. “Lucas, behave, or I will shoot her right here and now, and damn the consequences.”
Rex
Clearing the air did not take long once Browne was settled and willing to begrudgingly listen. Rex was glad he had asked Cormack to come along—the butler was so shocked Browne thought Rex could be complicit in any kind of treachery and so vehement in Rex’s defense, the captain actually began to listen.
“You could have believed Elijah and me,” Jones complained, scowling at Browne, who shrugged unrepentantly.
“Elijah was his friend years ago but not of late, and you barely know him. He could have hidden all sorts of things from either of you.” Browne inclined his head toward Cormack. “No one can hide anything of importance from their butler.”
Rex snorted. It was true enough. He did not allow himself to laugh, though. He did not want to like Browne. The man was rude, gruff, abrasive, and far too quick to jump to intimidation. That might work on some people, but it had backfired with Rex.
“So, how can I help you, gentlemen?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. “Why do you need my help?” He braced himself, sure they were going to ask about Lucas, and was utterly shocked by Browne’s first question.
“What can you tell us about Andrew Barrowman and Rupert Collins?”
Blinking in surprise, Rex took a moment to readjust his expectations. He had been prepared to confess he didn’t know of Lucas’ whereabouts and even to tell them about the odd last meeting they’d had. The Earl of Carlisle and his lover had been nowhere near his thoughts.
“You think Carlisle is involved?” Truthfully, he could see that even less than Lucas. Carlisle’s accounts were in no danger of being emptied, he stood to benefit greatly from the trade agreements currently being hammered out with the French, and he had a core of honor Rex would have thought unassailable. Whereas Lucas, for all that he was Rex’s friend, was an admitted opportunist.
“Or Collins,” Browne tacked on. “Or both of them. Right now, the evidence is unclear, but we believe that to be the case. Jones saw him speaking to you last night.”
“Yes, but all he wanted was to warn me that he saw the Earl of Devon speaking with… well, someone whom the Society would rather not have him interacting with.”
Jones and Browne both grimaced.
“Julian Mitchell?” Jones asked, his distaste clear. Rex nodded, surprised they knew the man’s name. “Not one of Stuart’s better recruiting ideas, though he does have a knack for ferreting information out of the underbelly of London.”
“Mitchell is one of Stuart’s?” Rex was thunderstruck and a bit irate. “The man is an attempted rapist, at the very least.”
“Believe me, none of us are happy about it, though Stuart has curbed Mitchell’s darker impulses,” Browne said sourly. “Likely he thought he was safe in your club. Stuart was livid when Mitchell managed to get himself kicked out.”
“Does that mean Warwick…” The realization nearly bowled him over since Warwick had been the one to introduce both Mitchell and Jones, but Jones was already shaking his head.
“Only a useful connection, not one of us.” Jones smiled a bit bleakly. “Stuart has some information Warwick wants, and we wanted access to the Society.” He shrugged, and Rex scowled. Hell and damnation. Warwick was definitely out after this. Introducing damn spies into the Society, even if Jones ultimately belonged there. Catching the expression on Rex’s face, Jones gave him a look. “If you could allow Warwick to remain a while longer, we would be grateful.”
“If I must,” Rex replied begrudgingly. He sighed, turning his thoughts back to what he knew of Carlisle and Collins. While his impressions of Carlisle were easily shared, when it came to Collins, he stumbled. “He and Lucas, the Earl of Devon, do not get along because Lucas tried to seduce Carlisle away from Collins at one point, but… truthfully, I know almost nothing about the man. He allows Carlisle to speak for him and is almost always by his side.”
The bell rang, and Cormack begged their pardons, leaving the room to answer the door.
“Do you know if Collins stays with Carlisle when he returns to his estate?” Browne asked.
“Oh, yes. The two are never separated unless Carlisle has to attend a ball or some such. Obviously, Collins cannot follow him there.” He was not ton, although Rex now realized he did not know much about the man’s antecedents. Carlisle had sponsored him to the Society, he had clearly belonged by his own behavior, and the two were together even more often than Carlisle and his wife were. While the Countess occasionally dabbled with other members, Collins never did.
A commotion in the hall had all three men on their feet, frantic feminine tones underscored and overriding Cormack’s baritone.
“Rex! Rex, we need you now!” Miss Pennyworth burst into the room, Miss Davies only a step behind her, and Cormack just behind them, his face flushed with worry. “We think Mary is in danger!”