The Study of Seduction (Sinful Suitors, #2)(91)

After being ushered into his lordship’s study, they were forced to wait while Fulkham was rousted from his bed. Unsurprisingly, when he entered in his dressing gown, he was none too happy.

“What in God’s name is this about?” he asked as he crossed the room. “Couldn’t it wait until morning?”

“Blakeborough here might be dead by morning,” Warren said. “I’m hoping you can prevent that from happening.”

Fulkham frowned. “You’ve caught my attention, that’s for damned sure.” He sat down behind his desk. “Why would Blakeborough be dead?”

“Because Count Durand challenged me to a duel at dawn, and I’ve accepted,” Edwin said matter-of-factly.

“A duel?” Fulkham looked from Edwin to Warren. “Is this a joke?”

“Afraid not,” Warren said. “The count is apparently trying to hunt down my cousin, the Earl of Margrave. In the process, he’s been threatening the life and reputation of Blakeborough and Margrave’s sister. Who just happens to be Blakeborough’s new wife.”

“Ah,” Fulkham said, glancing at Edwin. “This has to do with that conversation we had a few weeks ago at the club. The one you claimed was about some other member.”

Edwin nodded. “Forgive me for the subterfuge, but my fiancée was involved, and I didn’t want that information to be bandied about.”

“Then can I assume this concerns the duel between Whiting and Margrave?”

Edwin and Warren exchanged surprised glances.

“You don’t think I knew about Durand’s connection to Whiting?” Fulkham fixed Edwin with a hard stare. “If you’d told me at the time that your concern over the charge d’affaires’ activities was related to Lady Clarissa’s family, I would have mentioned that Whiting and Durand were cousins. But you didn’t offer that information.”

“Offering information isn’t my friend’s strong suit, I’m afraid,” Warren said dryly.

“Do you know what the duel was about?” Edwin asked.

“No. Do you?”

Edwin let out a breath. “Yes. Unfortunately, I can’t say. But it doesn’t matter anyway. The important thing is that Durand wants revenge on my brother-in-law for killing his cousin, so he’s been trying to find Niall by cozying up to my wife. When she and I put an end to that with our betrothal, Durand threatened to reveal secrets about my father if I didn’t break it off.”

That arrested Fulkham’s attention. “What sort of secrets?”

Edwin swallowed. Now came the difficult part. “That apparently Father was a spy for the French.”

A cold anger suffused Fulkham’s features with color. “That damned bastard.”

“My father?” Edwin snapped.

The baron started. “No, no, not him. Durand. He’s mucking about in matters he should leave alone. I’ll have to speak to his superiors and put an end to this before he creates more trouble. Relations between England and France are rocky enough as it is right now.”

Edwin eyed him closely. “So you knew about my father’s spying.”

“Of course I knew. He was spying for us.”

“That’s not what Durand says. And he showed me—”

“Reports? Documents your father gave to the French? Damn them; they’d assured him that those records had been destroyed.” As Edwin and Warren continued to gape at him, he sighed. “I need your word as gentlemen that what I’m about to tell you never leaves this room.”

“Of course,” Edwin said, with Warren nodding his assent.

“Because of your father’s ties to France through his grandmother, and because of his occasional visits to that private opium club, the French approached your father in the final years of the war with a request to spy for them. They promised to pay him quite handsomely for such treachery.”

Fulkham settled back in his chair. “As you can imagine, money wasn’t much of an incentive for him, but he did see an opportunity to help England beat the French—so after agreeing to their proposal, he came to us. We engaged him to leak incorrect information about our troops to the French from time to time.”

A wave of relief swamped Edwin, followed swiftly by a wave of shame. He should have realized his father could never commit treason. “How do you know all this? You’re no older than I. You couldn’t possibly have been in the War Office at the time.”

“I wasn’t. But your father continued to go to the opium dens, so when our focus shifted to India, he was able to give us information about that occasionally. I joined the War Office a couple of years before he died. I was the one who took over managing his information.”

Edwin was still reeling. His father had spied for his country all that time. Without a word to his son. “You’re telling me he was not a traitor.”

“Never. He was a hero, as a matter of fact. Of course, he could never speak of his activities, and the French never knew him as anything but a spy for them. But they assured him that his reputation would never be impugned, because the documents connecting him to the activities were burned.”

“Clearly, that was a lie.”

“Yes,” Fulkham said tersely. “Which is another reason to go to Durand’s superiors. I don’t need to reveal that your father helped us—just that Durand is trying to use what he did to blackmail you for his own purposes.”