Page 24 of The Swan Detective (The Swan Syndicate #2)

Beckworth weaved his horse through the crowds of carriages and carts as he made his way to the gentlemen’s club.

He should have been focused on his meeting with Hensley and whether anyone had discovered the name of the man whom Lane thought was the captain of the Nighthawk .

The next logical step would be to determine whether this captain was associated with McDuff, and if so, what role he played.

But, rather than focus on the issues those answers might produce, his thoughts drifted to Stella.

All he could think about was the two hours of snuggling, making love, and planning their day.

Mornings that were more akin to her time period.

He rubbed his steed’s neck and grinned. What made the difference in this time period was his horses.

He loved morning rides when the sun had barely risen and the air was cool and fresh.

It wasn’t just a time to appreciate the beauty around him but to organize his thoughts.

He didn’t have that opportunity in Baywood, though Finn had offered him one outlet.

He’d bought horses for himself and AJ and made it a point to ride once or twice a week.

Beckworth had been surprised when, a month after their first jump to Waverly, Finn had taken him to the stables.

AJ looked at horses the same way Stella did.

If they had to ride, they would, but it wasn’t their first instinct.

He understood. They hadn’t grown up in an era where you didn’t get very far without a horse, whether on its back or in a wagon or coach.

Finn’s concern was that AJ’s horse, Seraphina, wasn’t getting enough exercise.

When AJ was too busy to go, Finn often asked Ethan, but Ethan’s security business was growing, and his time became limited.

That was when Finn turned to Beckworth, and he never turned down an offer to ride.

In fact, just before leaving for this trip, he’d chatted with Finn about owning his own horse, and Finn agreed to talk to the ranch owner to see what she could find.

Ethan hadn’t made a commitment to buy one, but if Beckworth had one, that would allow all three men to go riding without arranging a rental with the ranch owner.

Not that finding a horse to ride was a problem for her.

She was happy to have the horses exercised, and Finn had proven to her that if he said someone could handle a horse, she took his word for it.

If he’d only taken the time on that last ride to ask Finn how he’d controlled his innate nature to protect AJ while in this century.

When he arrived at the club, he found a few letters waiting, and he tucked them in his jacket pocket before heading to the lounge to see if any of his friends were about.

He lucked out and found three merchants with whom he’d done business in the past having a midday discussion.

They’d always been reliable for tidbits of information, and he spent an hour discussing current events with them.

The men had always been opposed to smugglers, who sometimes undercut their own businesses, but it seemed their positions had shifted since the war.

Commodities were becoming difficult to come by, so he wasn’t surprised when they asked if Beckworth had any connections.

After gathering a short list of items they were looking for, Beckworth promised to see if he could help them out.

He’d pass the information on to Jamie since he was still running cargo through the smuggling operations Sebastian had started at the French monastery.

To most, French monks turned smugglers might seem odd, but the monastery sat on the edge of a private cove that was ignored by most French patrols.

The Brotherhood of Monks, committed to helping the local community and other French citizens buy supplies difficult to obtain during the war, took only a small profit in the exchange.

Sebastian had used the money to purchase sacred and historical items that had been stolen during the Reign of Terror.

One of the monks’ missions had been the protection of these items, so they believed it was their responsibility to find the items and have them returned.

With Beckworth’s mind on the monks, he remembered Sebastian’s list, and he stopped to purchase the monk’s requested items on his way to Hensley’s.

He should have sent a note to Hensley to advise of his arrival to ensure the man would be home.

When he reached the manor, he was surprised to find not only the spymaster at home, but that Jamie and Lando had arrived moments before him.

Since it was close to lunch, Mary had food served in Hensley’s study along with ale.

“Where’s Fitz?” Beckworth, happy to find his favorite leather chair available, sat back with a plate of roast beef and other delectables.

“He’s keeping an eye on John Leclair and was out all night. He needed sleep before going back to keep an eye on the Nighthawk .” Jamie had settled at the corner of Hensley’s desk and focused on his food.

“Who’s John Leclair?” Beckworth asked.

Lando answered while the others had their mouth full. “That’s the bloke we’d seen on the Tidewater .”

“He’s French?” The name certainly suggested it. “How did you discover this so quickly?”

Hensley wiped the corner of his mouth and took a sip of ale. “He’s a French spy, or that’s what we believe, and someone my network has spent a great deal of time tracking down. He also goes by the name Le Renard and has been spotted several times with known smugglers.”

“It was a fluke, really.” Jamie wiped his hands and sat back to take up the tale.

“Lewelyn, one of Hensley’s men who spends time on the docks, met up with Fitz to help keep an eye on Leclair.

The man had been seen going into a private establishment, and they decided to wait outside.

When Leclair left the building, Fitz confirmed he’d been on the Tidewater , but it was Lewelyn who gave us the name. ”

“That was bloody lucky.” Beckworth remembered Lewelyn from their joint mission in Ipswich. A job that ended with Beckworth trading himself to Gemini in exchange for Stella’s safe release. Lewelyn was a good man and one who could be trusted.

Lando shrugged. “Maybe not as lucky as you’d think. Apparently, Leclair isn’t a stranger to London, and he’s been on the watch list for smugglers for a while now. This particular building is a suspected safe house for French citizens working under the noses of the constables.”

“That will be difficult to infiltrate.” Beckworth got an itch that he might have a solution, but whatever it was, he didn’t see it yet. “Give me a day or two. I might have an option. I need to think it through.”

They all agreed it was better than any idea they currently had.

They could have the man picked up and taken to Newgate for interrogation, but the chances of getting anything worthwhile were slim.

It was better to wait, watch, and gather more intelligence, especially if it could get them closer to McDuff.

With a bit more luck, Beckworth might remember why he thought he could help.

S tella exited the carriage and gave Flora a wave and a big smile before climbing the steps to the manor, forcing herself not to take the stairs two at a time.

First, she wouldn’t look like the lady she was supposed to be, and second, she’d probably step on her hem and do a face-plant on the stairs.

Barrington greeted her at the door.

“How do you always know when someone is arriving?”

“It’s a butler’s secret we take to the grave.”

She snorted and stormed through the foyer toward the stairs, then stopped. “I need stationery, quill, and ink. Is the study the only place to find that?”

He gave her a long look, and she could tell he was holding back a grin.

A few months ago, she’d think he was just being a stubborn butler, who looked down on Americans—or women.

But after being around him and working missions with him, she now understood that he wanted to smile, but it conflicted with his role as butler.

So, the long stares were most likely the time he required to reconcile the clash of emotions.

Though with his wickedly dry sense of humor, he was probably doing it on purpose to force her to reconsider whether her actions were those of a lady.

Considering the whiplash of differing etiquette between the centuries, she was doing her best.

She stood quietly, except for one foot that refused to stop tapping.

“Since you’re not staying in Templeton’s master suite, your office is in the library rather than your room.”

Before he could say anything else, she turned and marched toward the library. Then, as an afterthought and without turning around, she raised her hand in a wave and shouted back, “Thank you, Barrington.”

When she reached the library, she stood in the doorway and glanced around.

Fortunately, Bart and Lincoln, who spent most of their free time in this room, weren’t home, so she had the place to herself.

It took a moment to spot the writing desk, and she sat down to search through the cubby holes and two small drawers, pulling out linen stationery, an inkpot, a quill, and pounce.

She ran the feathered end of the quill under her chin as she considered what to say that wouldn’t reveal too much.

Not that she thought anyone else would read the note, but just in case.

When she was satisfied with what to write, she dipped the quill in the ink, tapped the tip three times as she’d seen Beckworth do, and with calm patience, wrote the note.

Once she’d dusted the letter with pounce, she waited several moments to ensure the ink was dry, then folded the note and addressed it to Elizabeth.

The letter was simple.

Dear Elizabeth,

I hope this note finds you doing well. What a marvelous time I had with Flora at Eloise’s garden party.

I couldn’t believe all the beautiful jewelry on display.

You wouldn’t, by any chance, know anyone who owns a piece of jewelry from Louis Pierre Deschanel?

I would love to see more examples of his designs. Can’t wait to see you again.

All my best,

Lady Stella Caldway

She stared at the note. No mistakes with the ink.

She really was getting better with a quill.

Elizabeth was a smart woman and should read between the lines.

If nothing else, it should pique her interest. She stored the writing supplies away and went in search of Barrington.

She probably should have told him to wait for her.

That would have been a waste of breath because the consummate butler entered the foyer at the same time she did. Had he been hiding behind a corner waiting for her? She had mentioned stationery, so he might have assumed she’d be sending a note.

“Barrington, could you have this message sent to Elizabeth right away?”

He gave her that long, cool stare again, but eventually his lips quirked into a slim grin.

She put a fist on her hip and stared back. “What’s so funny?”

“Not funny. I just realized this is the first time you’ve actually asked me to perform a task as lady of the manor.”

That couldn’t be right. But when she thought about it, she couldn’t remember doing anything more than ask questions of where something was or how to do something that didn’t make her look like an idiot. Not an easy task for anyone.

She refused to look pleased with herself. She’d have to wait for the sky to turn green before he’d actually compliment her on anything, so she went with her usual flippant tone since it suited her best.

She handed him the note and said, “Don’t get used to it.”

When he turned the note over and glanced at the way she addressed it, he nodded. “Nicely done. I’ll have it delivered immediately.”

She stared after him as he wandered off. A compliment after all. The poor man was going soft.

She was halfway up the stairs when the front door burst open and Beckworth strode in. It took him a moment of glancing around before he noticed her.

“Did you just get home?” He glanced around again. “Where’s Barrington?”

“He just left to send a message for me.”

Beckworth was climbing the stairs when he stopped. “You sent a message?”

She rolled her eyes and continued up the stairs. “Yes, believe it or not, I can write with a quill now. Call me crazy.”

He sighed deeply and followed her. “You know that’s not what I meant.” When she didn’t respond as she strode down the hall, he asked. “Who did you send a message to?”

“Elizabeth. I wanted to know how she was doing.”

Once they were in their room, and Beckworth closed the door, she turned to him but wasn’t expecting him to grab her and plant an intoxicating kiss on her lips. She released her building worry that he’d dig further into what she might be up to and wrapped her arms around him.

When he finally lifted his head, leaving her more than breathless, he grinned. “I love how independent you are.”

Her brows dropped as she considered him, forgetting that she hadn’t wanted to discuss her investigation into the thefts, and asked, “What are you up to?”

He laughed. “Nothing. Just thinking about your day. A garden party with the elite in the afternoon and an evening of drinking ale and dancing in the East End.”

“And I have no doubt I’ll have a better time tonight than with that stuffy lot at Eloise’s.” She removed his cravat. “I’d ask how you spent your day, but right now I don’t care.” She tossed the cravat on the floor and unbuttoned his waistcoat. That went on the floor as well.

“What are you about, Lady Caldway?” He grinned as his hands reached behind her to undo the buttons of her dress.

“Just finding something to do while I wait for one of my lady’s maids.” She unbuttoned his pants and slid them down to his thighs, then shuffled him backward until he fell, laughing, into a chair.

He had most of her dress undone, and she pushed it off her shoulders and let it fall around her.

She stepped out of it and kicked it out of the way so she could pull off his boots.

It didn’t take long after that before they were both naked, and he chased her around the room.

They were both laughing and out of breath by the time he picked her up and dumped her on the bed, crawling over her, which made her squeal with delight.

He pulled the covers over them until they were completely hidden from view, on the off chance either Libby or Maggie came looking for her. If they did, all that would greet them would be shifting covers and lots of giggles.

For Stella, that was an afternoon well spent.