Page 65 of Dukes Are Forever
"I'd be careful how loudly you say those words, Father," she replied coldly. "Because they smack of treason."
A sharp rap came at the door, cutting the tension between them.
Visibly seething, Sir George turned to the footman at the door. "What is it?"
"There's a messenger here, sir. You wanted to be alerted immediately the second he arrived."
Sir George cut her a sharp look. "We are not done yet. Stay here and don't touch anything. I need to see to this."
"I think I've heard enough, thank you very much." She gathered her skirts.
"Well, I haven't finished talking. Lord Corvus and I have come to an agreement, and you will abide by it."
Adele froze. "What kind of agreement?"
Sir George bared his teeth in a smile as he strode toward the door. "As I said, stay here. And you will find out."
Chapter 14
An agreement with Lord Corvus....
If Sir George had dared make a rash decision over Hattie's fate, Adele was going to kill him. She hastily rifled through the papers on his desk, trying to find some sort of letter or document pertaining to Corvus.
Damn it. Nothing.
Adele turned, her fingertips pressed to her temples, when she saw the fireplace.
And her breath caught as she saw something she'd never truly noticed before.
There, right in the heart of her father's study, was the rising sun emblem of the SOG—according to Malloryn.
Every inch of her stiffened.
"Malloryn's a traitor to his class."
Why had she not seen it?
Oh, she'd known Sir George despised her husband, but he was careful about the sorts of opinions he allowed to grace public air. She hadn't even bothered to put his name on the list she'd given her husband.
But what if he was an SOG sympathizer?
Creeping closer, she pressed her fingers to the sun embossed in the black steel of the fireplace like afleur-de-lis. The emblem depressed into the setting, and the fireplace groaned.
Drawing her hand to her chest sharply, Adele took a step back.
Had the fireplace moved?
Reaching out, she pushed it, and the fireplace began to turn, revealing a small hidden room behind it. Gray light streamed through a dirty window, highlighting a battered old desk and several shelves covered in heavy, leather-bound volumes and sundry other items. A mechanical ship held pride of place on the desk and she knew if she looked closer, she'd seeHMS Hamiltonengraved on the tiny nameplate.
Sir George had earned a knighthood from the prince consort for designing a new type of recurring mounted gun to be used by naval forces, one year before the prince consort was overthrown. She'd never understood it. Many other manufacturers designed important things, but her father had been granted a title for it.
If there was any memory Sir George worshipped, it was that of the moment he'd been raised into the Echelon. No longer a mere second son of a second son of some poorer House, far from the grace of the ruling duke, but a titled man himself.
They'd even named a ship after him, which seemed abundant, even to her, though now she had to wonder.
What else had he done for the prince consort?
Or had he somehow been involved with Lord Balfour? Everyone knew Balfour had pulled the prince consort's strings, so the knighthood must have been his idea.
