Page 43 of The Bachelor
What’s more, in the two nights he’d spent in the City, he’d slept much better than at home. If he proved a real asset to Fitzgerald, he might be able to live here instead of in Lincolnshire. That meant he could see Beatrice often.
And not see Gwyn once the Season was over. That alone made it worth doing. Because seeing her when he couldn’t touch her or talk to her was a pain he did not want to endure forever. But if she was in Lincolnshire and he wasn’t, or if she was married and in an entirely different part of England . . .
That did not sit well with him either. And the fact that it didn’t alarmed him. It also pushed him to make up his mind about one part of Fitzgerald’s offer at least.
“I have no other objections. Indeed, I’m happy to spy on a blackguard like Malet if it means getting him locked up in gaol where he belongs.” Joshua drew in a deep breath. “But I need time to consider making the post permanent.”
“Of course,” Fitzgerald said, looking as if he’d expected the answer. “That’s probably best anyway. We can determine if you’ll meet our requirements.”
“And whether I can control my temper,” Joshua drawled, fingering the pieces of the shattered sword cane he held in his hand.
Fitzgerald chuckled. “That, too.” Without warning, the gentleman took the pieces from Joshua and shoved them under his seat.
“Now see here,” Joshua protested, “I was hoping someone could repair that, or perhaps use the blade in a new stick.”
“No need.” Fitzgerald opened the panel and told the coachman to go back to the office of the War Secretary, then take Joshua to a certain address on Threadneedle Street. “Bennett and Lacy, a sword cutler and gunmaker establishment, will provide you with whatever you need. Just tell them to put it on the War Secretary’s account.”
Fitzgerald reached under the seat again and pulled out a knobby walking stick. “You can use this for the time being, but Bennett and Lacy can make you a sword cane to your specifications if you find nothing to your liking that’s ready-made.”
The carriage halted where it had picked them up.
“If you don’t mind waiting,” Fitzgerald continued, “I’ll go inside and write a letter of credit for you.”
Well, now. This was something he could get used to. “Sounds as if I’m going to like this post a great deal.”
“Good. Because I believe you’re perfectly suited to it.” Fitzgerald reached inside his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. “Oh, and before I forget, I tracked Malet to this address, planning to follow him myself, but Castlereagh prefers I work on other things. With England at war—”
“I understand.” Joshua took the slip of paper and read it. The address was in Chelsea. Which confirmed that Gwyn had written the note to Malet, damn her. How was he to handle this? “I’ll see what I can learn.”
“Excellent.” Fitzgerald held out his hand. “Glad to have you on board, Major.”
Joshua shook his hand. “Glad to be on board, sir. I won’t disappoint you.”
That was a promise to Fitzgeraldandto himself. And he intended to keep it, no matter the cost.
Which meant that he must be more careful with Gwyn. If she was indeed involved with Malet, she might be trying to “manage” Joshua’s guarding of her the way she seemed to manage everyone else’s lives in her orbit. For all Joshua knew, she might even be using him to hide her association with the man shereallywanted. The thought of her and Malet laughing at him behind his back—
Bloody hell. Joshua didn’t want to believe she would do that, but the only way to be sure of her connection to Malet was to go along with her plans until he could figure out exactly what that connection was. Once he did, however, he must be prepared to reveal what he learned not only to her twin, but possibly to Fitzgerald. And that meant not succumbing to his mad urges for her.
Chapter Twelve
When Gwyn first entered the ballroom of the Greycourt town house, she should have been ecstatic. Her presentation at court had gone better than expected. She hadn’t tripped on her train, hadn’t said anything stupid to Her Majesty, and had even managed to enjoy her conversations with Thorn.
What’s more, Grey had spared no expense for her and Beatrice tonight. His newly purchased Argand lamp chandeliers cast a warm glow about the room, and the scent of fifty or more branches of orange blossoms reminded everyone that it was spring—and that the room was filled with young women hoping to meet their future husbands. A fine orchestra had been hired for the occasion, which was playing exquisitely.
But all she could think of was the note Lionel had sent—right to her home! He’d asked for his money. Again. And he’d said that if she didn’t meet with him on the morrow to give it to him, he would go straight to the nearest gossip rag to lay out everything he knew about her. It would mortify her family. Ruin her.
He’d given her no choice but to set up a meeting. That had been risky in itself. She didn’t want to meet him anywhere near Mayfair, where her family or their servants might see her. But she’d worked out a plan. She and Mama had already intended to go shopping tomorrow afternoon, so she’d told Lionel to meet her around three o’clock in the alley next to her favorite glover’s shop. There she would pay Lionel his pound of flesh and pray that it sufficed to keep him away from her forever.
Now all she had to do was get a hundred pounds from Thorn. And escape Joshua long enough to give it to Lionel tomorrow.
“Are you having fun yet?”
She jumped, sure that the major had read her mind. But it was just Thorn.
“You scared me half to death!” she cried, slapping her twin’s hand lightly with her fan. “Don’t sneak up on a woman like that!”
Typical of a brother, he merely laughed. “I came to tell you I’m leaving.”
