Page 72 of Irresistible
“Well, no, but we’re friends, aren’t we? As your friend, I say you should have perhaps stayed with your father. I would have understood, and so would the Foreign Office.”
“Would you have turned down the chance to complete one last mission?” Dougal stared at him, daring him to lie. The sense of self-indulgence rose within him again.
“No.”
Dougal rolled his shoulders back. “Especially not on behalf of your father, ill or not.”
“He wouldn’t want me to,” Lucien said grimly. “That would be Con’s responsibility. And he’d expect Cass to tend him.” Lucien’s father made no secret of feeling a closer kinship with his eldest and youngest. To say his relationship with Lucien was fraught was perhaps an understatement. Watching them spar and seeing Lucien’s pain—which he buried quite deeply—over the years had made Dougal appreciate his father and their closeness even more. The thought of losing him was almost unbearable.
“What is your plan, then?” Lucien asked. “File your report and head north?”
It was time to confide in Lucien about his investigation. “I need to do something first, and I’m hoping you can help me. You knew something went wrong on one of my assignments last spring.” At Lucien’s nod, Dougal continued, “There were actually two failures.”
Lucien sat back and took a sip of whisky. “What happened?”
“The first one was puzzling—the message I received was filled with nonsense and completely useless. The second was disastrous. I went to meet a courier, and he was dead.”
“Shit.” Lucien winced. “At the meeting point?”
Dougal nodded. “Whoever killed him either followed him or knew about the meeting.”
“I take it there was no message on the courier?”
“No, and I searched him thoroughly.” Dougal woke sometimes thinking of Giraud, his throat cut and his clothing stained red as his eyes stared into nothing. He massaged the back of his neck as if that would dispel the image from his mind.
“What does Kent have to say about all this?”
“He was upset, of course, but it’s not unheard of for things to go badly. I just hadn’t experienced it before.” Dougal hadn’t been given another assignment for some weeks after that. He’d wondered then if his career might be over. Then he’d been called to Scotland because his brother had died.
“Upset with you?” Lucien asked.
“Not entirely, but it didn’t look good having both missions go wrong only a matter of weeks apart.”
“This was last spring? Before Waterloo and Napoleon’s abdication.”
“Yes.” Dougal gave Lucien a stern stare. “You know I don’t like coincidences.”
“Nor do I. I’m surprised you didn’t tell me about this sooner.”
“I would have, but then Alistair died, and it didn’t matter at the time. It does matter, however, and I don’t like leaving the Foreign Office without conducting an investigation.”
Lucien tossed back the rest of his whisky and sat up straight. “Then let’s get to it. Where should we begin?”
“I want to read through the reports pertaining to both missions.”
“That may be difficult,” Lucien said with a grimace. He looked past Dougal for a moment, clearly immersed in thought. “I might be able to get inside.”
“I hoped that would be the case. You seem to enjoy privileges I do not.”
Lucien rolled his eyes. “I don’t know about that. You’re the one who gets to gallivant about the kingdom and do actual things that matter.”
“You’ve a point,” Dougal said, cocking his head. “Whatdoyou do?”
Laughing, Lucien stood. “Sometimes, I’m not sure. Mostly, I provide support, such as maneuvering things so that Miss Goodfellow could stay with Lady Pickering. Or getting Evie to help Miss Goodfellow with her disguise.” He went to deposit his empty glass on the cabinet.
Helping people and managing such things were what Lucien did best. It was why he’d established this club—to help those in need and to provide a haven for all who might need one. He was a singular person.
“And you’ll help me access the reports I need.”
