Page 25 of Duke of Disguise (Ladies of Worth #4)
Over the next two days, Avers ran over the details of how he and Mademoiselle Cadeaux had covered their tracks. They had been careful. The Comte did not appear suspicious. But Avers was realising how unpredictable Dartois was. He made a point of remarking on Avers’ swift recovery from his ankle injury several times. The affability that emanated from the Marquis and the feeling of ease in his speech cloaked a sharpness that caused Avers discomfort.
As a result, he was relieved to find out that the hunting party would be breaking up on Monday and returning to Paris. Clearly, there had been no need to prolong it, now that the Comte and Dartois has finally revealed their business proposition. The party’s only other purpose had been to test his loyalty at the ambush in Buc.
Avers was told the Commissioners would soon receive an invitation, via the Comte and Dartois’ communications network, and the meeting would be set. He should have been satisfied at the success of his mission, but the idea of leaving Mademoiselle Cadeaux the following morning filled him with disquiet.
No opportunity presented itself to speak alone with her and attempting to manufacture one could put her in further danger. As a result, sleep that night evaded him, only descending in fitful bursts, and when he took his leave the following morning, he felt as though he left her, a lamb, among wolves.
He was back in Paris less than a day when he met with Wakeford. The information he had learned weighed as heavily on his mind as Mademoiselle Cadeaux. He could not escape the memory of that kiss as he travelled through early morning Paris.
When he arrived at the boxing club, the lad who had served him last time opened the door, bleary eyed. It was barely seven o’clock. Avers had paid the owner of the club to open early, and the lad showed him to the same private sparring room where he had met Wakeford less than a week before.
His friend was already there, back to the window, where he had likely been watching for Avers’ arrival. He had a beaver hat pulled low on his brow and collar turned up to obscure his face.
The door clicked shut behind the serving boy.
Avers greeted him, grasping his friend’s hand warmly. “Thank you for meeting me so swiftly.”
“Of course—your note said urgent?”
Neither gentleman made to sit. Avers couldn’t have even if he’d wanted to. He felt incapable of sitting still. Instead he threw his hat and gloves upon the table, resting his cane against a chair, and then he ran his hands through his loose hair.
“My excursion to the hunting lodge has proved fruitful. You know already that the papers the Comte de Vergelles’ circle stole from your offices contained information helpful to the colonists’ cause in the Americas and that they have sold the intelligence to Louis’ government. Well, it appears they plan to sell it twice over before the French have a chance to pass on the information. They’re intending to sell the papers to the Continental Commissioners who are currently here in Paris.”
Wakeford inhaled sharply. “Devils!” He reached a hand up to rub the back of his neck, not taking into account his hat, and knocked the beaver-skin creation off his head. Its stiff brim made an odd thud on the floorboards of the largely bare room.
“It’s serious, yes—” Avers began after a few moments, but Wakeford cut him off.
“Gracious!” he exclaimed, half-stumbling towards the table and falling heavily into one of the chairs. He stared disconsolately ahead of himself. “I’m ruined.”
Avers followed him over to the table calmly, tapping the top lightly with his fingers to capture his friend’s attention before speaking.
“The situation appears dire.” He ignored a groan of unhappiness from Wakeford. “However, bringing me into it has finally paid off, my friend. They’ve offered me a handsome payment in return for being their go-between with the Commissioners.”
Wakeford’s ears pricked up at this, his eyes refocused intently upon him. “Yes? Go on.”
“It appears my connection to your offices will legitimise the information in the colonists’ eyes. I have the details of the meeting, where and when it is to happen, and that means we will have the chance not only to catch the Comte red-handed, but to recover the papers as well.”
“You’ve arranged all this in the last few days?” asked Wakeford, astonished.
“I’d have the papers for you as well,” Avers said ruefully, “if it wasn’t for an untimely interruption by the Comte and Dartois. “It’s only thanks to Mademoiselle Cadeaux that I was not caught in the act of stealing them.”
“What?” Wakeford demanded in astounded accents. “The mistress?”
The title hit Avers’ chest uncomfortably.
“The woman is not party to their dealings. I had to tell her what I was doing when she caught me in Dartois’ study trying to retrieve the papers. She helped me evade capture. When we arrest the others she must go free.”
If Wakeford had been less dazed he might have noted the warmth, almost fierceness, in his friend’s voice.
“I suppose if you vouch for her, and she’s not at this meeting that’s been arranged, then there’s no point bringing her into it.”
“She isn’t a part of it,” Avers reiterated.
But Wakeford was already onto his next thought. “Where is the meeting?”
Avers spent the next several minutes explaining exactly what had transpired at Dartois’ hunting lodge, including the test of his loyalty and the plans for the meeting with the Commissioners.
“Dash it, but they’re brazen fellows to hold up an English peer in such a fashion! I can only be sorry I let you go alone without support. I had no notion they would be so dangerous. And such an enclosed space for sale of the papers. They must have no fear of being caught.”
“Brazen appears to be their modus operandi,” Avers said, thinking of the ambush in Buc, “but we can be thankful for it in the case of the meeting with the Commissioners. It should mean they’re unlikely to get away if you send people with me to arrest them.”
“With you?” Wakeford dropped his hand from where he’d been rubbing his chin. “Gracious no, man! You won’t be going anywhere near that meeting. No sense in it! If they’re not afraid to hold an English Duke at gunpoint on the road, there’s no telling what they might do when they’re backed into a corner. Far better to keep you out of it entirely.
“I’ll send a note to Lord Stormont and Viscount Weymouth directly to apprise them of the situation and request a retinue of men to be positioned in the gardens ready for the meeting—discreetly of course—and as soon as the Comte and his men show their hand we’ll bring them in.”
“You’re sure I won’t be needed? I have no problem seeing this through if it should result in their apprehension.” Avers wasn’t sure he wished to leave the work so wholly out of his control, not when it would indirectly affect Mademoiselle Cadeaux. The Comte needed to be taken into custody without issue if she was to be kept safe.
“I’m positive. You’ve put yourself in harm’s way enough for me already.” He reached over and put a hand on Avers’ shoulder, patting him soundly. “For that I’m immeasurably grateful. Mind you, if I had known there was still something afoot, I wouldn’t have let you go to the hunting lodge at all.”
“I knew the situation wasn’t done yet.”
“I should have listened to your gut,” Wakeford replied ruefully. “You have more of a knack for this sort of work than I would have thought—espionage that is.”
“I’m not sure what that says of my character,” Avers replied, with a mock-frown. “Not a gentlemanly pursuit with its falsehoods and trickery. But seriously—you are absolutely sure I am not needed for the exchange? I’m happy to continue playing my part if it will aid their arrest. It could be our only chance to get them.”
“I’m well aware of that, and yes, I’m certain. You’ve done your part and I’m confident that now we have a solid meeting arranged, we’ll be able to bring them to justice. My reputation and my neck will be forever grateful to you.” He rubbed at the skin between his chin and his cravat.
Avers refrained from saying what was in his mind. It was not only Wakeford’s safety he was concerned about.
“It’s the Comte you want,” said Avers unnecessarily. “He’s the ringleader, so you must make sure you pick him up at the earliest opportunity.”
Once Vergelles was under arrest there would be no further danger to Mademoiselle Cadeaux.
“I know. Thank you.”
Wakeford rose and Avers reluctantly followed suit, realising his friend’s mind was made up—he wouldn’t let him take part in the meeting on the ?le de la Cité.
“You’ve saved my skin.” Wakeford threw his arms around Avers to embrace him. “I shan’t ever be able to repay you.”
“Just get the Comte.” Avers broke his friend’s hold, nodding, the business settled.
But his feelings were no easier than they had been all night when they parted. The prospect of remaining at the Tremaine’s H?tel while the Comte and his accomplices were apprehended was intolerable.
It was not just their fates which hung in the balance. Nor was it only Wakeford’s. It was the fate of Mademoiselle Cadeaux—the woman who had aided Avers at the expense of her safety. The woman who had proved herself a lady of character despite his judgements. The woman who was increasingly consuming his thoughts no matter how hard he tried to fight it.
The idea of that woman being in danger, and Avers being unable to aid her, was almost too much to bear.