Page 11 of The Swan Syndicate
“Yes, but with the Royal Navy focused on France, we simply don’t have the ships to waste chasing MacDuff between ports, especially when we don’t currently have a location for him. We could use British patrols, but they don’t have the skills to deal with someone like MacDuff. And the last thing we need is him going to ground if he smells a patrol.”
“Now it makes sense,” Beckworth added, and Stella had a good idea where this was going.
Hensley nodded. “I need theDaphneand her crew to find MacDuff.”
5
After Hensley dropped the bomb about the pending mission, the group broke up so Beckworth and Stella could get settled in. It was a reasonable expectation, but she also knew they didn’t want to discuss any more of the mission while she was in the room. There was a moment of irritation that she squelched, reminding herself they were in a different century, and she needed to pick her battles.
She was headstrong. Stella knew that. In her opinion, it was one of her best attributes and the reason she was the best-selling broker in the county. But that was in Baywood. Here, she was an unmarried woman with no father or brother to see to her needs. Beckworth didn’t see it in the same light, and for that, she was grateful. He’d grown up with a single mom and understood some of it, even if it was colored with the social etiquettes and trappings of the early nineteenth century.
After the meeting in the study, Beckworth went to the stables to see the foal while Stella went upstairs to unpack. She shouldn’t have bothered. She hadn’t packed much, but Libby had hung the dresses, placed the rest in a dresser, and stuffed the empty duffel in the dressing room.
Libby, her personal lady’s maid while she was in residence, was also one of Beckworth’s best spies. She wasn’t sure Mrs. Walker approved the decision, especially when the female guests would begin arriving for the hunting party. Lady Agatha Osborne always asked for Libby, as did others. Beckworth had assured Stella that it was common practice that the lady of the manor didn’t share her maid, and Lady Agatha would have to deal with it.
Whether by design or his nature to surround himself with trustworthy friends, he employed several people he’d known in London, quietly building his own crew at Waverly. Libby was one of those, but she knew how to follow proper decorum—when it was expected. She was a wild one—rebellious and outspoken. Stella considered her a perfect match as her lady’s maid.
Beckworth hadn’t been born into the aristocracy, even though his father was a duke. He grew up poor on the streets of London, a bastard son. When he rose out of the East End through various means—some questionable—he had a clear understanding of the haves and have-nots. So, when there weren’t any visitors at Waverly, he allowed the staff more freedoms. They knew the requisite etiquette and applied it when required. It wasn’t easy for many of them to relax, having come from generations of the service class, but they knew a good thing when they had it.
With the unpacking done and nothing else to do, she stepped onto the balcony and scanned the gardens in their drab winter color. Bits of green and small clumps of winter flowers played hide-and-seek through the dead leaves. Evergreens of various shapes and sizes added to the ethereal January landscape. Beyond it all were the deciduous trees, bare of leaves, and where they’d arrived through the fog.
She found a shawl and wrapped it around her, selecting a patio chair in the hazy sunlight. Less than two hours sincearriving, and they faced a dilemma. Beckworth’s interest in the mission might be nothing more than pure curiosity. He would want to be involved in developing a strategy for finding MacDuff, but he was fine waiting with her at Waverly while they prepared for the hunting party. Jamie and his crew would take theDaphneand track down the smuggler. They’d be back in time to join the hunt and regale them at dinner with their tales. Of course, Fitz would embellish everything and leave everyone in stitches.
The other possibility was that Beckworth would be unable to resist the challenge. He’d want to go with Jamie, promising to be back in time, and trusting her and Barrington to have everything prepared for their guests. That was not how she’d planned on spending her holiday.
There was a third option. But the odds were fifty to one against her—a long shot indeed.
The outer door burst open, and voices filled the bedroom. Libby was ordering someone to place a trunk in the room. Curious, Stella wandered in to see what her lady’s maid was up to.
Libby dropped two large boxes on the bed and startled when she turned around. “Lady Stella. I thought you were still downstairs.”
Two footmen nodded at them before leaving the room.
Libby tapped the two boxes. “I’ll get these ready in time for dinner.” She opened the trunk. “I’ll need to air the rest of these out so they’ll be ready for tomorrow.”
“What’s all this?” Stella opened one of the boxes to find an emerald-green evening gown. She lifted it out and admired the hand-stitched beadwork.
“Your royal-blue gown is in the trunk as well other the other items you left behind. Beckworth had them all stored in a trunk.” She clucked her tongue. “He must have known you’d comeback.” She draped a couple dresses over the open lid, stepped next to Stella, and removed the top from the second box. “These are your underthings for this evening and your shoes.”
“Do you know when Mary will be returning? And will Eleanor be coming with her?”
“They’ll be here this afternoon. Mary will want a nap before dinner, and Eleanor will see if Mrs. Walker needs help.” She hung the dress and emptied the boxes. “Oh, I forgot. Barrington asked to see you. He’s in the east study.”
Perfect timing, as she wanted to see him. Besides Libby, Barrington was the only other person, except for Eleanor, who would honestly tell her what’s been happening since they’d been gone. With any luck, she might maneuver him into telling her what he knew of Hensley’s mission.
Libby helped her change out of her pants and shirt and into one of the day dresses she brought with her.
Before Stella left to meet with Barrington, she nodded toward the clothes she’d traveled in. “Do me a favor. Can you have those freshened and then pack them in my duffel along with my boots? There was another set in the trunk. Could you add those and two sets of the undergarments I brought with me as well?”
Libby nodded, and though her brows had lifted at the request, she didn’t say anything until Stella was walking out the door. There was humor in her tone. “You need to tell me about those red boots before the party.”
Stella grinned as she strolled down the hall, nodding at the same two footmen who now followed Nigel, Beckworth’s valet, with another trunk.
Barrington was behind Beckworth’s desk in the secluded east-wing study. Beckworth used the larger west-wing office for manor business and meeting with his guests. This room was hispersonal study, and only a handful of people were allowed inside—Barrington being one.
The butler was reading documents and making notes on a separate page, most likely identifying major points for Beckworth so he wouldn’t have to read the entire document if he didn’t want to. There was a long-standing trust between the two that Stella had only glimpsed. She’d eventually pull away the layers of what she expected was a complex story.
“You wanted to see me?” She leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed in front of her chest, a grin on her face.
