Page 27 of Lyon’s Obsession (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #91)
“Just be thankful you have them, and they are upstanding members of society,” Alexander said with a bit more bitterness than he should have.
“You were fortunate to have Lord Duncan to see to your upbringing,” Hartley said in his customary loyalty to Duncan.
“I was, and so are you. Duncan has nothing but praise for your performance. Then again, you were not required to live with him.” Alexander added a smile as if he were teasing, but only halfway.
Duncan had been quite demanding of all his sons.
He made them better men, but at what cost?
“I know it must be hard to keep some of the government’s secrets from your family.
Very difficult, I would imagine.” Alexander was not necessarily thinking of Hartley at this very moment, but rather on what he planned for this evening.
“It is, but I would have it no other way,” Hartley admitted.
Alexander nodded his acceptance of the man’s response. “By the way, when do you leave for India?”
“Postponed indefinitely,” Hartley explained, “which is fine with me. I am no longer so keen on the appointment. I believe I can be of more use to Britain here in London.” With that, the gentleman nodded his farewells and exited the room to make his way through the empty halls of the house.
Meanwhile, Alexander pulled a high-backed chair closer to the window.
There was little he could do until the sky turned dark.
It was not as if he could knock on the door of Honfleur’s home and be admitted to the drawing room to have a conversation with Annalise about their parents and enjoy a well-deserved reunion.
For now, he would simply wait and watch.
Alexander had remained in his position for hours, noting how his sister made her way from room to room, but she rarely entered the rooms at the front of the house.
He supposed she had been warned not to publicize her being alone in the house.
He would attempt to locate her at the rear of the house.
Therefore, after someone from the Home Office came to watch the front of the house, he gave orders, “I plan to watch the back of the house. I cannot imagine Miss Moreau having much use for sitting in the drawing room alone.”
“Signal if you require my assistance,” the man said.
“ Not likely ,” Alexander thought as he crossed the street where the flickering streetlamp would not take note of his destination.
He now understood why Honfleur had chosen this house and this street.
Many of those who lived nearby were elderly aristocrats, less likely to be coming and going at all hours, as one might find at the more fashionable addresses.
There was close proximity to the mews, not to mention the tunnel if a quick escape was required.
Alexander thought he had not presented Honfleur enough credit in the design of this plot: It was one that could crush the British government and the fault would fall on the backs of the lower class, not the aristocracy, though the noblemen had presented Honfleur a “free” ticket to dupe them.
Once the hours turned towards midnight, there was no one about.
He had examined the rim of the house to know confidence that no one was on guard and all was secured.
At length, he entered the house through the kitchen door, which he was not happy to find unlocked, especially at this time of night. It could spell trouble for his sister.
As quietly as he could, he checked the two small rooms off the kitchen. No signs of recent use could be discovered.
“No servants,” he remarked. “So, she is truly alone?” He had thought surely Honfleur had left one or two servants to keep “Miss Audrey” company, but now he knew differently, and urgency overcame his reason.
He quickly closed the door and made his way towards the servants’ stairs.
It was difficult to see in the narrow passage, but his years on the street and his service to the Crown permitted him to climb the stairs more through instinct than sight.
At length, he entered the house’s main passageway.
Although no lights remained lit, enough moonlight, as well as the streetlamp on the corner, reflected through the windows to allow Alexander to make out shadows. Ignoring the possibility of Annalise having fallen asleep in one of the drawing rooms, he climbed the main stairs to the family quarters.
He should have searched the house for evidence to be used against Honfleur, but all that could wait until he recovered his sister—until he extracted her from this house and Honfleur’s influence over her.
Turning to his left, away from the master suite, which he assumed belonged to Honfleur, he opened the first door, softly edging the wood apart.
Quietly, he entered, but found nothing out of place and no one asleep in the bed.
A bit disappointed, he left the room as he found it and moved on to the next, only to claim the same result. Then the next. And again. And again. Within a few minutes, he had entered each of the bedrooms, quickly recognizing the one used by his sister and the one belonging to Lady Caroline.
“What the Devil?” he murmured in frustration as he reentered the passageway once more.
“Where can she be?” He made his way to the head of the stairs.
“Up or down?” he asked himself. For a brief moment, Alexander closed his eyes and relived those precious memories he had stored away of his sweet sister.
Speaking softly to that memory, he said, “If Annalise is frightened, she would wish to be as far away from a possible attack as she could muster. Up, then.” Therefore, with a sigh of resignation, he continued his search.
This time, his feet carried him towards the end of the hall where he had spotted the narrow stairs leading to the attic and likely to the few rooms used by the servants.
Unlike the manors on most estates, London servants, especially maids and kitchen staff, did not always live within the great houses they served.
As expected, the stairs narrowed and made a sharp turn to the right.
He smiled when he saw the dull light indicating a room up ahead: The light said the space held an occupant.
When he came abreast of the open door, Alexander paused to view the scene within.
His sister was curled up in a ball on a thin mattress, her right hand tucked under her chin.
Alexander could not control his smile. “Glad to view how some things have not changed,” he murmured as he crossed the room on quiet feet to kneel beside the mattress.
Before he woke her, Alexander glanced about the area, likely once used for a drying room, and knew surprise at finding a variety of weapons set out on tables.
There was even a target at one end of the room for archery practice.
“Impressive,” he whispered. It reminded him of what Theodora employed at Duncan Place.
Neither he nor any of his fellow agents had considered Honfleur to be more than a middle-aged English man posing as a French aristocrat.
Yet, now, Alexander experienced second thoughts.
He wondered if perhaps Honfleur’s rudimentary French had been learned as a soldier.
“Or as the privateer we know him to be,” he breathed the words as he briefly considered once more whether Honfleur held a closer relationship to Darwood Lisey than either he or Duncan had anticipated.
He glanced to the other side of the mattress to discover a discarded rapier. Repeatedly, his eyes drifted forth and back between the weapon and his sleeping sister. Had Annalise been using the blade in some sort of practice before she had fallen asleep?
“Doubly impressive,” he acknowledged softly before he leaned over to place his hand gently on Annalise’s shoulder. “Annalise,” he whispered as he gave her shoulder a tender shake. “Wake, my dear.”
A groan of protest signaled she was fighting to remain asleep, and Alexander could not resist the smile turning up the corners of his lips. He could soon know an end to the loneliness he had experienced for the last fifteen years.
“Wake, Annalise,” he repeated.
Instead of the “easy” recognition for which he had hoped, his sister bolted upright, shoving forcibly against his shoulder and sending him tumbling over to land hard on his backside.
Alexander quickly righted himself to view Annalise scrambling backwards on all fours like a crab to place distance between them.
“What are you doing here, my lord?” she demanded.
It surprised him how efficiently she managed to stand, catching up the abandoned rapier and pointing it at his chest as he rose slowly, hands up in a sign of surrender.
“I did not mean to frighten you,” Alexander said in encouraging tones. “I was worried for your safety.”
She assumed a more aggressive stance. “As you may observe, I am perfectly well. Now, I must ask you to leave the way you came.”
Alexander shook off the idea. “I fear I cannot comply. We have much of which to speak.”
“Then call at a proper hour.” She extended the rapier in his direction in a menacing manner. “I insist you depart immediately or I shall set up an alarm.”
His sister impressed him: Annalise’s attention remained completely on him, and her hand on the weapon held steady.
“We both know your uncle and cousin have departed England, leaving you behind. Moreover, there are no servants to assist you.” He smiled softly.
“I have been through the house, searching for you. We are quite alone.”
The rapier inched closer to his chest. Instead of acknowledging the truth of his words, she announced, “I shall not permit you to take me without a fight, my lord. I shall never submit to you.”