Page 29 of What A Rogue Wants (Lords Of Deception #1)

Once Grey returned to the house, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey and headed up the stairs to his old room.

He tugged off his coat and cravat then sank into a deep chair.

In one day he’d lost his mother, his father, and the woman he was coming to love.

He tilted the bottle and drank deeply, searching for the same numbness for his mind that the snow had offered his body.

For the next couple of weeks, Grey worked by Edward’s side to set their parent’s affairs in order and to make sure their death was indeed an accident.

Once the accident site had been combed and surveyed and every piece of broken carriage had been sifted through and studied, the misfortune of their parent’s tragic deaths couldn’t be denied.

Once they found the shattered wheel, which Edward belatedly remembered Father had put off repairing, and they studied the snow-slick road which still showed signs of the tracks that had sent the carriage over the embankment, they both agreed it wasn’t murder.

After working so closely with Edward, Grey now felt more a part of the household than he ever had before.

How bloody ironic. Bitterness filled him.

The bitterness ebbed after a few days, and thoughts of Madelaine replaced it.

The last thing he wanted to do was think about Madelaine and having to face her, or his parents’ death, or having to go back to Court and break the news to Liz.

He fought back reality by doggedly filling his hours with a thousand tasks followed by hours of training in weapons with Edward at the end of each day.

His barrier against reality would have been perfect if it wasn’t for the thoughts that slipped into his dreams. Waking night after night drenched in sweat, recalling some way or another he had purposely hurt his father or remembering his promise to Madelaine to return for her was going to be the death of him.

He took to drinking several glasses of whiskey a night in an effort to have a dreamless sleep, but when he realized how much whiskey he’d consumed after only two weeks, he ceased drinking all together.

The dreams returned in violent force, so when he woke now, he’d stalk to the ballroom and spend the silent hours between dark to dawn practicing with weapons, until he felt sure he was just as good as his father would have expected.

Some nights, he saw Edward prowling the halls, or walking aimlessly outside in the gardens in the snow.

They didn’t acknowledge each other. To do so would have been to acknowledge their demons.

Edward’s glazed-eyed look told Grey his brother welcomed avoiding reality just as much as he did.

It was easy to keep putting off the inevitable confrontation with Madelaine and Liz, because the thought of it made him ache deep inside where he’d not known he was capable of hurting.

In the third week, Gravenhurst sent a letter informing them the king was still in Kew recovering from a sudden bout with madness, but that His Majesty was on the mend.

The news reinforced, in Grey’s mind, his decision to stay at his brother’s home until the king was fully recovered.

Only the king could give word for Grey and Gravenhurst to leave for France, and the last thing Grey wanted to do was go back to Court and have to stay and wait for the king to give the order.

Once at Court he’d want to deliver the news to Liz, speak with Madelaine, and then need to leave immediately for France.

Seeing Madelaine day after day, while knowing she would one day soon lie in another man’s arms, become another man’s wife would be like a knife in the gut.

Reality waited like an obedient dog. On the morning of the fourth week, Gravenhurst arrived before dawn waking Grey from a troubled sleep.

Grey dressed hastily and met Edward and Gravenhurst in the library.

Gravenhurst was never one for niceties, but this morning he didn’t even offer a greeting before he thrust a letter at Grey and one at Edward.

Both men read in silence for a moment. Grey’s heart roared in his ears.

After a moment, he met Gravenhurst’s steady gaze. “Do you know what this letter says?”

“Of course. I’m to go with you to Lancashire.”

“Lancashire?” Edward glanced at both men. “Why does the king send you there?”

“His letter to you doesn’t explain?” Grey asked.

“He expressed his sincere sorrow for our parents’ deaths and bade me to find Pearson immediately. What does your letter say?”

Grey handed the letter to Edward. His brother’s face soon mirrored the skepticism Grey felt. “I don’t believe Stratmore is a traitor to the king.”

Grey let out the breath he’d been holding. “Neither do I,” he agreed, glad his brother had voiced the same opinion about Madelaine’s father. Grey glanced at Gravenhurst, the most cynical man he knew. “What about you?”

“When my uncle murdered my father, I learned no man is above treachery if the circumstances are right.”

Edward waved the king’s letter in front of Grey and Gravenhurst. “What paper is the king talking about that has gone missing?”

Grey raised a questioning eyebrow at Gravenhurst. “Did he tell you?”

“He did. But you may do the honors, since you were there.”

Grey quickly explained about the new code Stratmore had created and about the meeting where the duke had shown the king and Grey the code.

Then haltingly, he told Edward of the king’s spell that day and the madness he’d written about with the angels telling him things and needing to execute his administrators.

By the time Grey was finished, Edward’s complexion was pasty. He walked over to the study door, shut it, and turned back to Grey. “That was damned foolhardy of the king to write down some of the missions he planned to assign us. Even if he was simply practicing the code.”

Grey nodded. The rest of what the king wrote hung between them like a deadly snake. Was Edward going to ignore the king’s other words? Grey couldn’t do that. “We have to find that paper and destroy it. It could be used to prove the king is mad.”

Edward’s eyes narrowed. “Was temporarily confused. Under a spell.”

“Alright. Temporary madness. That could do grave harm if not monitored.”

“We’ve been monitoring him, Grey. That’s part of your job as one of us.”

Grey’s jaw went slack. “I had no idea.”

A sardonic smile tugged on Edward’s lips. “It’s not something I think the king wished to tell you, unless the need arose. He’d hoped his spells were over.”

“Yet they’re not. So where do we go from here?” He wasn’t sure what Edward wanted from him, but he wanted to do what his brother expected. His father would have wanted no less.

Edward let out a long sigh. “We keep watch as we’ve done. Guard him closer. And when he’s fully recovered we gently approach him about the possibility of putting further measures into place if the time should ever come that the spell occur too often and pose too much of a danger.”

That sounded reasonable. “The king claims to have put the paper in his nightstand that night. Perhaps Stratmore took it and burned it because he knew it could harm the king? We all agree it should be destroyed.”

Edward hit his open hand with his fist. “Yes, we all agree, but none of us would take the paper and destroy it without the king’s permission.

It is his paper. He gives the orders. If Stratmore stole the paper then he committed an act of theft and deliberately disobeyed the king we all vowed to protect always and serve forever.

Let us hope the king destroyed the paper and forgot when he was overcome by the next dark spell.

He fell ill right after Stratmore’s visit, did he not? ”

“He did.”

“Did you notice any tension between them when you were with them?”

“Only the tension brought on by what the king wrote.” Grey shrugged.

“They argued, but if it was over the paper, I couldn’t say.

” The dire implications for Madelaine’s future if her father was named a traitor to the king made Grey’s gut twist. “If Stratmore did take the paper, do you think the king would forgive him if the duke assured him he was simply trying to protect His Majesty from himself?”

“It’s hard to say. They’ve been lifelong friends.

Yet I don’t know any man, let alone a king, who’d be happy to think he needs to be protected from himself.

And as I’ve already said, it’s our sworn duty to obey the king’s orders.

” Edward made a guttural sound in his throat.

“What a mess. The king could forgive Stratmore or he could just as soon hang him for treason. Let’s pray the king remembers he burned the paper or finds it before a choice of the duke’s life or death must be made.

Is there anything else you remember about that meeting? Anything unusual?”

Grey thought for a moment and almost felt foolish to mention Constance, but surely Edward would want to know every detail. “There was a chambermaid in the room. Constance. She bribed one of the guards to let her in to finish her work.”

Edward waved a hand. “That’s normal. I’m forever running into maids here in places they shouldn’t be. They sleep too late or work too slow and then have to find a way to sneak and catch up because they’re afraid they’ll get in trouble. Forget her. She’s trivial.”

Grey’s face burned with embarrassment. He’d have to do better. “She’s forgotten. But I must say I had no idea you understood the minds of the staff so well.”

Edward scowled. “There’s a great deal you don’t know about me, Grey.”

Grey clenched his jaw on harsh retort. Fighting would do no good. “So we proceed as if he’s committed treason, even though we don’t think it so?”

“Yes. We may not think it’s so, but until we’re certain it’s not, he’s an enemy of the Crown. Proceed as if he’s a thief or worse.”

Grey frowned. “What do you mean, “‘or worse?’”

Edward held himself stiff as he answered. “I mean we must consider all possibilities. Even the worst ones such as Stratmore is not only a thief, but perhaps a traitor who is working to overthrow the king.”

Grey grimaced. “That’s absurd.”

The corner of Edward’s mouth jerked with a tick. “You’re wrong. It’s not absurd. It’s being cautious. And caution will keep you alive. Don’t forget that.”

Grey nodded. Perhaps Edward was right. He’d been a spy far longer than Grey. “I won’t forget.”

Edward’s shoulders slumped. Had his brother been expecting a fight? Grey was heartily glad he’d listened for once in his life. Edward waved toward the door. “You two better get going. The sooner this nasty business is behind us the better.”

Grey couldn’t agree more. Madelaine would have enough reason to hate him, but if she learned he was responsible for taking her father to the tower on charges of treason, she’d hate him even more. He wanted things settled, preferably in the duke’s favor.

“Are you ready,” he asked Gravenhurst. “We’ve a hard ride ahead of us, and an even harder confrontation. There’s no doubt in my mind Stratmore won’t like being hauled to the tower by us under suspicion of treason, and the duke already has a mild dislike of me.”

His brother blinked at him. “Why’s that?” Edward asked as he sat down.

“It doesn’t matter. The situation he disliked is no longer.” Grey narrowed his eyes at Gravenhurst, a silent warning to keep what he knew to himself. Gravenhurst gave a barely perceptible inclination.

“You’re sure?” Edward prodded.

“Yes,” Grey said in a tone he hoped Edward would recognize as final.

“All right then. You two be sure to keep Stratmore’s imprisonment in the tower a secret. No one is to know but the three of us, until I or the king say otherwise.”

Grey didn’t like the way Edward was barking orders at him as if he were dull-witted. “I read the letter, Edward, and Gravenhurst did too. We know the king’s wishes.”

“Sorry,” Edward said. “It will take me a while to be used to being in charge without being overbearing.”

“In charge?” Grey repeated.

“With Father dead, Stratmore imprisoned, and Pearson missing for the moment, I’m, by default, the leader of our little circle.”

“So you are,” Grey agreed, trying not to think about his father or Madelaine, or anything but the job ahead of him. “What if Stratmore’s servants question us?”

“They won’t. Stratmore will know what’s at stake if anyone should find out about his imprisonment. Even if he’s not found guilty and hung, his daughter’s future would be jeopardized, if word got out. He won’t want that. I’ve no worry he won’t cooperate.”

“I disagree,” Gravenhurst said. “You assume he’s innocent, though you just told us to proceed as if he’s not only a thief but a conspirator in a plot to overthrow the king.

If he’s guilty, he may very well run. His life will probably mean more to him in that case than his daughter making a good match. ”

Edward steepled his hands in front of his face, his brow furrowing. Grey was finding it hard focusing on anything but his worry for Madelaine. He struggled to push thoughts of her from his mind.

“You’re right.” Edward moved to stand. “Lure Stratmore away from his house, secure him, and then send the servants away so you can search the house for the king’s paper or any clues.

Do not leave any space unturned. If it’s there, if it still exists, you need to find it and destroy it.

And if you find anything else of importance, bring it to me. ”

“And if we find nothing?”

“Then treat him as if he’s guilty, until the king decides otherwise.”

Within the hour, Grey and Gravenhurst were on the road to Lancashire. They didn’t speak for a while, until they stopped to water the horses then Gravenhurst said, “Do you expect me to believe you’ve forgotten the lady and you can be impartial?”

Grey gritted his teeth together, releasing them after he felt under control. “I do. I know my duty, and duty will always be first to me.”

“Bah,” Gravenhurst mumbled as he dismounted. “Then you’re a daft fool who mistakenly believes himself indestructible. That woman’s your deadly weakness, no matter how strong you think you are. Stay away from her.”