A Lady of Letters by Jacqueline Diamond

Author:Jacqueline Diamond
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romantic comedy, regency romance, georgette heyer, jane austen, romance historical, disguises, victorian romance, 19th century romance, austen romance, romance 1800s
Publisher: Jacqueline Diamond

“I am not concerned with what is dead and gone, but with what is in the wind this very hour,” said his companion. “I was surprised to find that many championed the cause of Miss Arnet, reproaching me for my stand in the matter.”

“But she is merely a chit of a girl. And she has grown up in England, Lord Marlow’s granddaughter. Surely your suspicions are exaggerated.”

“Her mother grew up in England, too, and she was Lord Marlow’s daughter,” replied Jeremy. “No, Ned, you are an innocent when it comes to politics. There are many sympathisers with Napoleon, and some who do more than sympathise. They are growing desperate, and they must be found before they commit acts of outrage in London itself.”

“In London?” Ned gaped at him as the curricle halted in front of Lord Whitestone’s house. “You cannot mean...”

“An assassination? It is entirely possible.” The marquis stepped down onto the street. “Do not speak of this to anyone, Ned. It would not do for the wrong people to realise how suspicious we are.”

“Of course not.” The baronet shook his head wonderingly. “Here in England? Bloody bad business, Jeremy.”

The marquis sighed wearily as he watched his friend drive off. Walking up the steps and being ushered inside by the butler, he allowed himself to indulge for a moment in dreaming.

If only he might go to his club tonight and spend a peaceable evening gambling with his cronies. Or perhaps visit his box at the theatre, and watch for Miss Sloan, or at least enjoy a performance by Edmund Kean. He might even, could he give his full attention to it, unmask the mysterious Marianne and learn this deep secret that loomed so large to her and which, he was sure, would seem impossibly insignificant to him, if he could only win her trust enough to confide in him. Women refined so heavily on matters of small moment.

But tonight he would do none of those things, Jeremy reflected as he allowed his valet to undress him and gave orders that supper be served him on a tray. Tonight he must play spy. Not play, he reproved himself as he cleaned and oiled his pistol and secured it inside his waistcoat. The net was tightening around the traitors in the Foreign Office. Soon they must give themselves away, and some, he suspected, were quite high ranking. Papers had disappeared, an English spy in Dover had been found stabbed to death in his room at an inn, and a cache of rifles had been commandeered from a ship in the channel and no doubt taken to Boney.

Then there was the matter of the ship from France that had arrived a few nights before. Someone had been aboard that ship, someone of considerable importance who had been spirited away to a point in London. This much his watchers had learned, but no more.

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