Page 3 of Jaxon (Gentlemen of War #4)

Jaxon

Shortly before I left the veranda, I returned my cravat to its proper place; certainly not as good as Jesse would do, but presentable enough for my goodbyes. First, however, I must locate the host and hostess—Lord and Lady Byrne—not to be found together, of course. Lord Byrne was in the game room trying his luck at All Fours, while his wife danced the night away. Several sets had passed before I could reach her and before I could finally inform a footman to ready my horse.

I had arrived at the Byrne’s masquerade ball on Chesapeake, my gray thoroughbred. Father, Mother, and one of my two younger sisters, Lucy, arrived by coach. While my father did not specifically admonish me to leave the Byrne’s immediately, I knew it must be done. I had much to accomplish. I would take the remainder of the night to make preparations for my departure from London.

A lovely silver pelisse fell to the floor before me. “Allow me, Miss,” I said casually as I picked it up before being drawn into the trance of a stunning heavenly mirage.

“Thank you,” she said, not yet turning away from me.

“From this capricious clime she soars, O! would some god but wings supply,” I whispered at the sight of her angelic appearance and bowed low, not preventing my smile as she surprisingly responded with the next lines of my favorite Samuel Johnson poem.

Of course, the only woman who managed to capture a smidgeon of my attention the entire night was now leaving. Dressed as an angel in a flowing gown of white silk, a small halo of pearls circled her honey-blond hair piled up in a fashionable style, and a delicate white lace mask covered most of her face, she peered at me with eyes the color of a stormy sky where the clouds blocked any hint of blue and, for some strange reason, my dormant heart skipped a beat.

It would serve no logical purpose to request an introduction with all that had transpired tonight, but I could not help wishing for it all the same. I would be leaving London straightaway and taking refuge in a hunting lodge for however long it might entail.

Her stare broke only when I stepped away and strode back inside the ballroom, awaiting the notification that Chesapeake was ready for me. As I approached my mother who stood gracefully with her dearest friends, Lady Drake and Lady Ophelia, I forced any thoughts of curiosity over the angel in human form aside, for it was a hopeless quest.

“Mother.” I reached for her hand and bowed over it. “I came to bid you goodnight.” Though not intentionally, I interrupted the women as they all delightfully watched Lucy on the ballroom floor. My younger sister by six years, dressed as a butterfly in a dazzling blue and green gown, danced the cotillion with Sir Grady, cloaked as a dashing swordsman. My brother, Griffin, tarried with his wife, Lady Daphne, across the room with friends. Hannah, the youngest of our four siblings, remained at home awaiting her debut next Season.

“You’re leaving?” Mother asked with an element of surprise rising in her features and gestured to the side so we might speak in private.

I followed her. “Yes, I must.” I took a deep breath. “Surely you saw what happened with Miss Groves.”

She sighed and cradled my cheek lovingly with her gloved hand. “Dearest Jaxon, you were away from society for a significant amount of time. You will recover, it only takes time and patience. You are much too hard on yourself.”

I appreciated her gentleness on the subject, but we both knew one could not make the mistakes I have so often and not become the center of talk of the ton . The scorn did not end with me, it would follow my family around like an unwanted shadow.

One day, when this mess has all been resolved, I will be able to confess the whole truth to her. Until then, I must continue to keep feeding the lie for their protection.

I leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “We can speak tomorrow. Say goodbye to Lucy and Father for me.” I bowed with all the respect she deserved and strode out of the room once more.

When I had received the letter from Claude and Henri Dupont from France at Hunter’s house party last autumn, it detailed a man who came to their home in search of me. His abrasive and curt manner alerted my friends to his devious inquiries over my memory and, if they had not drawn their weapons upon him, he may have attacked similarly to what happened at the country estate when a servant was assaulted for refusing to divulge my whereabouts.

The notion that this mystery man had now travelled from France to Hartley House in search of me angered me. But just last night, upon my return home from the opera, I found my bedchamber in our Mayfair home in complete disarray. Nothing had been stolen, but my room had certainly been rifled through, as if someone had been looking for something in particular. The servants did not hear or see anything, so this man’s abilities to be covert were equally of interest and concern to me. Was he a trained operative? What did he seek? And why me?

Receiving my great coat from the same footman who alerted me about my horse, I buttoned it closed and tugged my collar high. The ride home would certainly be a cold one, and I could not keep my mind from dwelling on all that had transpired after I attended the Drake Soiree for the first time since my return to British soil.

It was there that portions of my hindered memory began to surface with faces I had not seen in quite some time. Faces that I recognized and knew from my missions in the British Alien Office. Faces that did not wish to be remembered in certain ways… traitorous ways.

Though I had attempted to keep my surprise at bay, the peers in question may have noticed and realized I knew more than I let on since my memory triggered. This discovery only placed the safety of my family in jeopardy. I growled over how close the offender had come to endangering my mother and sisters. What if the next time he enters the home, they are there alone?

I could never ever take that chance.

It was probable that the offender departed once he realized I had nothing of related value in my bedchamber. I would not be so foolish to have kept anything incriminating from my days as a spy in my home. The day after my memory of their involvement returned, I redrafted my notes and recollections of the traitors. Placing the papers in the hands of a trusted pastor at the St Pancras Church, I gave a strict directive to not release them to anyone other than myself or my mates, Lord Lucas, Hunter—Lord Devon, or Lord Zachary.

This morning, Hunter and I devised our plan for the ball tonight, but that was only the beginning. For he, Luke, and Zach must meet in private and soon. They must receive the papers, do their due diligence in confirming my claims, and deliver all the evidence to the magistrates on Bow Street.

And while all this takes place, I must disappear and trust that my arduous labor comes to fruition. If nothing ever comes of it, I will never be able to return to my former life or my family.