Page 33 of A Masked Lady for Mr. Kenworthy
As he rode, he allowed himself to consider that the countess was not entirely wrong. He was feeling emotions since meeting Lady Faye, which he had not felt since Ruth passed away. He was always firm in his belief that getting emotionally involved, in any way, in the midst of a case, was detrimental to everyone around him. Including himself. He took his job very seriously and allowing room for emotional connections could jeopardize the entire mission. So why was it that he could not adhere to his own rule? Was it possible the countess was completely right about his feelings for Lady Faye?
As the horse trotted up to the front of Rupert’s manor, Thomas once more forced away thoughts of Lady Faye. He knew that Rupert would wish to get straight down to business, and Thomas could not afford to appear distracted. Rupert had already admonished him for thinking too much about Lady Faye. Thomas did not want to give him a reason to do so again. Besides, he would not do a very good job of protecting Lady Faye if he could not stop pondering his feelings for her. He needed complete focus on everything that lay ahead of them.
The front door of the manor was wide open, and Thomas froze. His mind flicked back to the boy he had seen watching them earlier, and he began walking on the balls of his feet, as he would if he were sneaking up on one of his targets. He crept up to the door, placing a hand over his jacket, where his pistol lay nestled in a special inside pocket, which many agents had sewn into their coats. Holding his breath, he slipped inside the manor, his eyes wide and alert and his ears straining for any sound.
When Rupert came rushing around the corner and down the hallway, Thomas sagged against the wall with relief. Rupert was looking down at a paper in his hand, but he lifted his hand and waved in greeting to Thomas.
“I left the door open in anticipation of your arrival,” he said.
Thomas’s lips twitched, turning up into a smile. His partner’s insight never ceased being impressive.
“Do you have any neighbors who have young children?” he asked, falling in step with Rupert, who motioned for Thomas to follow him.
Rupert shrugged, not missing a step or looking up from the page he held.
“Perhaps,” he said. “Why do you ask? Are you thinking of adopting one?”
Thomas chuckled. Briefly, as they made their way to the manor’s parlor, Thomas told Rupert about the boy he had seen watching them earlier that day. As they reached the parlor doorway, Rupert dropped the paper to his side and looked at Thomas, one eyebrow raised.
“Thomas, my friend,” he said, shaking his head softly. “I think your imagination is getting the better of you.”
Thomas laughed, nodding in agreement. That was, after all, what he had told himself earlier that day. But he could not shake the nagging in his gut about the boy’s gaze. Nevertheless, he shifted his attention back to the present moment and followed Rupert inside the room. Thomas was surprised to find that Darwin was sitting on the couch, awaiting his arrival as well.
“I sent for Darwin,” Rupert said. “I wanted to tell you both at once what I have learned.”
Thomas nodded a brief greeting to his supervisor as he took a seat at the opposite end of the sofa. Rupert sat between them, pulling a small piece of paper out of his coat pocket. Thomas already knew without looking what it was. His partner was so well organized when it came to his work that he made notes of every point he wanted to make whenever he had meetings with any of the other agents or superiors.
“Well, let’s get on with it,” Darwin said with only minor agitation. “I do have other matters to attend to today, Rupert.”
Rupert smirked at his superior, catching the jest in his words. He and Thomas knew well that there was little more pressing for the three of them than the case of Lord Turlington. Darwin was simply anxious to find out what Rupert knew because the suspense was killing him.
Rupert stood to face the other two men as he dramatically unfolded the paper from his pocket. He cleared his throat and held up the page.
“I have uncovered information confirming that Mayson Winters and the illustrious Marquess of Turlington are working together,” he announced proudly. “They allegedly shared a shipping business about two years ago. It seems as though they were good friends, as well, as they shared the business equally, on all counts.”
Thomas and Darwin exchanged wide-eyed looks. This was, indeed, news to them both. When they first began working on this case, they knew of the two men that they were mortal enemies. To hear that they were not only business partners but also friends was truly shocking.
“That does not make sense, Rupert,” Darwin said, rubbing his thinning hair. “That was such a short time ago, relatively. That would have meant them becoming enemies practically overnight.”
Rupert grinned and nodded.
“According to my sources, that is almost precisely what happened,” he said. “As far as everyone who was concerned knew, one day, the pair were friends and partners. The next, Mayson Winters left London and was not seen again for a very long time.”
Thomas nodded, trying to make sense of what Rupert was saying.
“Do you know what happened to Mayson Winters after the dissolution of his partnership with Charles?” he asked, scratching his own head, puzzled.
Rupert nodded once more, glancing at his paper before looking at the two men again.
“Yes,” he said. “It seems that Mayson fled to France. He told no one that he was going. It took me ages to even learn that, as all anyone knew of it was that he just upped and disappeared one day. But one of my sources finally tracked one of the deck hands who was aboard the ship that took Mayson to France, and the date coincides with the other information I have about the falling out between the two men. And another source spotted Mayson disembarking from the ship a few months ago when he returned to London.”
Thomas tightened his jaw.
“Right around the time that Welborn got itself a new earl,” he said.
Rupert nodded.
“Interesting, is it not?” he asked.
