Page 11 of A Masked Lady for Mr. Kenworthy
Thomas took another shaky sip of his drink, praying his nerves would settle. He shrugged, giving his head a single shake.
“No other young woman would have any reason for having a key to Lord Turlington’s study,” he said softly.
Darwin’s eyes grew wider still, and excitement began to replace his suspicion.
“She had a key?” he asked, incredulous. “You got close enough to her to see her with it?”
Rupert nodded eagerly.
“He got much closer than that, Darwin,” he said.
Darwin raised his eyebrow again, this time with a small smirk.
“Please, continue, Thomas,” he said.
Thomas nodded and launched into the story of discovering the woman in the study. He even explained his humiliating defeat when she had kicked him in the stomach and rushed past him. Darwin chuckled slightly at that part, but Thomas was merely relieved that the man no longer looked as though he wished to murder him. When he was finished speaking, Darwin clapped his hands together.
“Well, this is excellent news, indeed,” he said. “Perhaps that journal will prove irrelevant, after all. And I believe I know what we should do next.”
Rupert took a step sideways and clapped Thomas on the shoulder. Then, both men turned back to their superior.
“What is our next assignment, then, Darwin?” Rupert asked.
The man looked at them, and the smile fixed on his face.
“Thomas, you shall keep an eye on Lord Turlington’s behavior until further notice,” he said. “Watch his every move, document his every meeting. Report anything suspicious to me at once. Otherwise, just keep notes, and report to me once a week. And Rupert, I want you to do some more investigating on Miss Gabriella Dupont. It sounds as though that was indeed her, but we must be sure. And, if it is, we must learn as much about her as we possibly can.”
Thomas and Rupert nodded their agreement. After a brief parting exchange, the pair exited the building. Thomas relished the cool, fresh air on his face, feeling free of the burden with which he had entered the building. Rupert clapped him on the back once more, grinning brightly at him.
“You see?” he asked, leading the way back to their carriage. “That went very well.”
Thomas chuckled, shaking his head.
“If not for you, I believe Darwin would have ripped off my head with his bare hands,” he said.
Rupert laughed heartily. Then, he looked at Thomas intently, raising both his eyebrows with the excitement that only a new assignment seemed to bring him.
“Shall we get to work?” he asked.
Chapter Eight
Mayson sat hunched over the desk in his study, his forehead pressed against the heels of his hands. He had plenty enough work to do, but his vision was too blurred to focus on the papers and ledgers in front of him, and his head roared with the overindulgence of the night before. He had spent the evening at Boodle’s, his favorite gentleman’s club, and the only one he ever attended unless he was invited as a guest to White’s or Brooks’s by an acquaintance or business partner. In truth, he would never set foot in either of those clubs unless it was necessary. The men who were elected into both clubs were too sophisticated and snooty for his tastes. He preferred the relaxed, hush-hush atmosphere at Boodle’s. The card-playing was much more serious there, and no one batted an eye at high-stakes gambling games. In fact, many of the patrons of Boodle’s went there expressly for that purpose. And he had found that, since coming to London and taking over his uncle’s title of earl, there had been no shortage of people with whom to gamble.
He smiled as he thought of the many ways in which his new title had worked in his favor. Not only was he able to quadruple his gambling winnings because of there being so many gentlemen eager to make wagers with an earl, but he could also use the title and his duties as the guardian of young Faye as a cover for his less-than-reputable other dealings with the seedier community of London. Surely, no one would suspect a man who had inherited the earldom of such a well-respected man or had taken on the responsibility of looking after the late earl’s daughter and widow of the crimes in which he was involved. And even if they did, he could have them crushed under his thumb with a simple payment to the right people. And, since his wards believed they were destitute, he had plenty of money with which to do that. The perfect crime, one could say.
He could not help chuckling to himself as his thoughts wandered to his little cousin and the task he had given her. He had known, of course, that she could be persuaded to do as he wished. The look in her eyes when she saw the pistol in his hand had told him she would do anything he wanted. He made a mental note always to keep that pistol nearby when speaking with little Faye. And, disgusting though she was to him, she was pretty enough. She would have blended in well with the ball guests and perhaps even caught the attention of Lord Turlington himself and created quite a distraction for the marquess. He could only imagine the surprise on the face of his rival, Charles when he discovered his journal was missing. The look of horror on the marquess’s face was something Mayson was sorry he would miss. Especially since Charles had witnessed Mayson during the most horrifying moment of his own life: when Charles had shot his dear Gabriella.
Many years ago, Charles and Mayson had been good friends and partners. They worked together as spies for the French government, which is how they met Gabriella. They had a wonderful partnership, and they were one of the best teams of spies the French had ever employed. Mayson had been annoyed when Charles began courting Gabriella, as he expected her to be nothing but a hindrance to his partnership with Charles. But it turned out that Gabriella was one of the best solo French spies he had ever encountered, and Charles remained as dedicated as ever to their partnership.
All that changed when Charles decided that Gabriella’s skills surpassed Mayson’s. Unbeknownst to Mayson, Charles started conspiring with his beloved Gabriella to take on more complex missions and gradually began phasing Mayson out of those missions. Apparently, Charles had even started stiffing Mayson on his cut of the loot from the jobs they had been doing together. He was becoming as greedy as he was love-blind, and it made Mayson furious. It took him several weeks to find hard proof of Charles’s treachery, but Mayson came up with a plan of his own once he did. No one would get away with stabbing him in the back. Not even his best friend and partner in crime.
Mayson arranged for Charles to meet him in an abandoned building in the rundown part of London. He told Charles that they were meeting with a freelance client, who had offered a large sum of money for their services in obtaining some intelligence about a heist they were planning. He appealed to his friend’s newfound greed by adding that the client had promised them a bonus if the heist was successful because of the information they gathered. As Mayson had hoped, Charles had been unable to resist and had agreed at once to the meeting.
But Charles had surprised him one final time. When he arrived at the location to which Mayson had summoned him, he had not come alone. Charles had decided that Gabriella should be in on the deal because she was so good at infiltration. That had infuriated Mayson, and he had flown into a rage. He began ranting about how Charles had betrayed him and how he had let a woman come between them and their partnership of many years. Charles had tried to pacify him, but he had lied directly to Mayson’s face. Though he had planned to threaten Charles into ditching Gabriella and going back to the way things used to be after Charles had paid him back every coin he had stolen from him, Mayson’s anger took over. He had pulled his pistol from his pocket and fired. Unfortunately, he had fired blindly, aiming only in the general direction of his now-former friend. Gabriella had lunged forward at the sight of the pistol, and the bullet had struck her.
The misfired shot had been a complete accident. He had gone to the meeting spot to shoot Charles. He had never had any intention of harming Gabriella. However, it was her own fool fault that she got in the way of the bullet. She should have never even come with Charles that day. She was the whole reason why Charles was planning on cutting him out of business deals in the first place. She had no business even being there, let alone in the way of the bullet Mayson had fired. He had to admit he felt no remorse about the mishap. The injury had been severe, and Charles had vowed to get revenge on him. But then Gabriella went into hiding, and Mayson did not hear anything from or about Charles for a long time.
A knock at the study door pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up, his eyes widening when he saw Faye standing timidly in the doorway. He beckoned her inside, quickly shoving aside some papers he had spread out before him. As his cousin approached his desk, his excitement diminished. He scowled at the young woman, pointing firmly behind her.
