Page 91 of The Swan Syndicate
Stella was excited to see everything Mary and Eleanor had put together, but exhaustion from the journey home was taking its toll, and she made an early excuse so she’d be fresh for the morning activities. No one questioned it, and Mary all but insisted. Beckworth promised to join her soon, which meant Hensley would want to discuss the mission once the men adjourned to the west study.
Before she left the dining room, she took a last glance back and caught Dame Elizabeth’s gaze. Elizabeth had been watching her all night, and Stella felt the woman’s eyes on her all the way out of the room.
After dinner, Beckworth followed the men to his west study and played host as he poured brandy for the others. He wasn’t surprised that Hensley had already informed Lord Osborne, Lord Melville, and Lord Standish of themission. Everyone who was anyone worried about the war—or, more specifically, about Napoleon.
While Stella had laid her head on his shoulder and slept during their ride to Waverly, he’d been preparing his report. It was Jamie’s mission, not his, so he had no plans to go into detail. That could wait until Jamie joined them.
He waited while everyone had a chance to light up their cigars as Hensley positioned himself behind the desk with an approving nod from Beckworth. While he was happy to be home, he wasn’t ready to play viscount. He’d wait for tomorrow, and he saw no reason to shoo Hensley out of his office when he had another in the east wing.
He went through his practiced report, sharing their luck at finding not only MacDuff but Cheval as well. Then he explained that the two smugglers appeared to be joining forces until Cheval got greedy over possible competition. He didn’t mention Stella’s role in the mission. While Hensley must have been aware of it, if not through Jamie’s messages, then certainly from Thomas, he didn’t mention it either. The group in attendance only needed the highlights of the mission, not the details.
Once the talk turned away from the mission and to rumors and gossip within the King’s Court and war council, Beckworth took his leave, claiming a similar excuse to Stella’s.
He left the running of the house to Barrington and climbed the stairs to the second floor, feeling oddly strange to be home after the last week. Perhaps it was because he’d only been home two days before leaving for the mission. Maybe it was coming home to a manor full of guests. Deep down, he wanted the manor empty of everyone but his staff and Stella.
When he entered their room, the only light came from the fire and a single lantern burning by the bed. A bed with an unmoving lump in the middle of it. He smiled as he undressed, tossed another log on the fire, then doused the lantern.
He snuggled next to Stella, who turned into him mumbling something he couldn’t understand. He’d planned for a special homecoming night, but it would wait for tomorrow. This was everything he needed. They were home, and she was safe. Life didn’t get any better than that.
30
Stella stretched and rolled over. That moment between sleep and wakefulness nagged that something was different. There wasn’t the gentle swaying she normally woke up to. Her head popped up, one eye stuck close, and she wiped it until the lashes separated and her vision cleared. Beckworth was gone, his side of the bed cold. She glanced around the room and then laughed, falling back to the pillow to stare at the ceiling.
She wasn’t on theDaphneanymore. They were home at Waverly. She’d been so exhausted, no doubt from the stress of the mission finally behind her, the entire homecoming and dinner had been a blur.
Except for Dame Elizabeth, who’d watched her like a hawk all evening. She’d worry about that later.
She sat up, her head stuffy from sleep but not enough to miss the scent of coffee wafting over from the pot hanging by the fire. She registered it had to be morning, but with the drapes closed, she had no sense of the time.
Maybe Beckworth had gone downstairs to bring back breakfast. She crawled out of bed, fumbled for her robe thatLibby must have left on the bed, and pushed the curtains away from the window that overlooked the gardens.
The sun was hazy, and dew glistened off the evergreens. Chances were good the clouds would lift and give them a sunny day. She carried the coffee pot to the table and placed it next to two mugs. One of the mugs had the remains of what was now cold coffee, and she poured coffee into the other one.
She must have slept like the dead to not have heard Beckworth come to bed or leave. So where had he gone? She took a sip of coffee, gave it a minute, then considered her question again.
Duh.
Hunting, of course. Parts of the night before were returning, and she took two more gulps of coffee. Mary had arranged for an early-morning hunt and a late breakfast upon their return. Well, at least she hadn’t slept through that, and her stomach, timely as ever, grumbled in agreement.
No sooner had she wondered where Libby might be when a knock on the door preceded her lady’s maid. Though she considered Libby more a friend than a maid.
“Good morning.” Libby flew into the room, setting a pitcher on the washstand, tossing a log on the fire, and opening the rest of the drapes on her way to the dressing room. “Beckworth wasn’t sure when you’d wake, but I thought you’d want to be dressed for breakfast,” she yelled from the closet. She came out holding a deep sea-green day dress. “They should be back from their hunt any moment. Most of the women took an early breakfast in their rooms, but they’ll be down to nibble when the men arrive.”
She stopped and stared at Stella, her head tilting to the side. “You look like you spent a night at the pub, but I know that isn’t true.” She glanced around the room. “I don’t see any dirtyglasses, so unless you drank straight from the bottle, you must have been dog-tired.” She held up the dress. “Will this do?”
Stella nodded as she took a longer swallow of coffee. She needed to catch up. Maybe a splash of water on her face would clear the rest of the cobwebs. She’d barely poured water in the basin when Libby rushed over.
“Here’s some hot water. Let me add a bit.”
Once Libby stirred the water in the basin with her finger, she nodded. “That’s better. Nice and warm.”
“Thank you. I guess the trip tired me out more than I thought.”
Libby moved to the trunk that had been brought up the night before. “Is that all it is?” She held up the crossbow. “I don’t remember packing this for your trip.”
Stella’s hands flexed with some weird instinct to grab it from her. She drained the mug and poured more. She was losing it. Was it some guilt over Cheval? She hadn’t experienced these rollercoaster emotions after Gaines. So, why now? Sure, it had bothered her until she remembered Beckworth would have been dead rather than him. Maybe it wasn’t how it ended. Maybe it was the terror when Cheval had tortured his spy with the crossbow before so ruthlessly killing him. If that was the case, why had she become so attached to the damn thing?
Libby patted the chair. “Come over and let’s get your hair done.” When Stella sat, Libby selected a few strands and began to brush. “I had to kill a man once.”
