A Wedding In Springtime(72)

“Yes, well, therein lies the rub. I cannot rightly stay here too much longer without society taking notice. Already my grandmother has insisted that a physician be called. I fear my acting ability may not be up to the task.”

“So get someone else to sit here and wait for the spy—really quite a simple solution. They must have people who do this sort of thing.” Grant waved his hand in a dismissive manner.

“Yes, indeed. But I suspect a spy has infiltrated deep into the Foreign Office. I do not wish to use anyone from official channels.”

Grant put down his drink. “I do not like where this is going.”

Marchford smiled at his friends. “I know you have been wondering what you could do to help win the war against Napoleon.”

Thornton raised an eyebrow and Grant reached for the decanter to refill his glass. “If you can say that with a straight face, you have nothing to fear from your acting abilities.”

“I fear the thief will not strike until I am out of the house. It is imperative we find the spy. You are the only ones I trust.”

Grant shook his head. “You go too far. I cannot fathom sitting here, doing nothing all day.”

“I understand.” Marchford nodded. “It is a dangerous assignment. I would not wish to put you in harm’s way.”

“What are you suggesting?” asked Grant.

“Nothing, nothing at all. It is perfectly natural, since you have been enjoying a life of ease that you would become…” Marchford looked up at the ceiling as if in thought.

“Soft? Fearful? Cowardly?” supplied Thornton. He shrugged at Grant’s glare. “Just trying to help our friend find the right word.”

“Let us simply say you are out of condition. I would not wish you to get hurt if you are not physically capable or do not have the mental fortitude—”

Grant put up his hand to stop Marchford. “Enough! Say no more or I shall be forced to retaliate in kind. Do you truly believe impugning my honor would entice me to sit in your bedroom, waiting for a thief?”

“Did it?” asked the duke.

Grant sighed and flopped on the couch in the sitting area of the master bedroom. “Suppose I should get comfortable. But how is the thief going to open the safe to ring the bell? I thought you had it locked.”

“I do, but one of my keys was stolen.”

“Stolen?” asked Thornton in alarm.

“By a sly little opera singer.”

“The one you went to see the other night?” asked Thornton.

Marchford nodded.

“That little minx.” Grant shook his head.

“Yes, she was—” began Marchford.

“Not her, you!” declared Grant. “You purposely allowed her to seduce you, so she could steal the key and give it to the thief!”

Marchford merely shrugged.

“All in the line of duty to King and Crown?” Thornton raised an eyebrow.

Marchford smiled. “Long live the King.”

***

“Thank you for seeing me.”

Lord Bremerton gestured for the young man to sit in one of the high-back, comfortable chairs in his study. “What can I do for you today, Mr. Blakely?”

“I have had several pleasant conversations with Miss Talbot. Am I correct that you are serving as her guardian here in London?” asked Mr. Blakely.

“That is correct.”

“I understand there is interest in seeing her engaged quickly.”

Lord Bremerton said nothing, neither confirming nor denying the statement but gazing at Mr. Blakely with a confident air of the aristocracy.

“Miss Talbot is a sweet girl and very pretty. I should be the happiest man alive if she would consent to be my wife. However, I have run into some financial embarrassments since coming to London.”

“Been betting deep and lost,” said Lord Bremerton without emotion.

“Yes. And to be honest, I haven’t the blunt to repay the debt.”

“And how is it you expect me to help you with this problem of yours?”

“It pains me greatly to ask you this, but the circumstances involved force me to present my case in a manner most vulgar. I fear I must ask, if a man was engaged to Miss Talbot, if her dowry might be available even before the wedding?”

“You want to become engaged to Genie and collect early on the dowry to pay off your vowels.”

“You must understand how wretched I feel in even asking this of you.” Blakely’s voice trembled and he gripped his own hands in tan kid leather gloves.