Page 55 of Presenting Miss Letitia (Once a Wallflower 1)

Willard ran a hand over his eyes. “Descrier and Elford are businessmen, Marston, too, to a lesser degree. Descrier lost money after the decline of slavery, and Lord Elford after a storm razed his cotton plantation in the West Indies. Marston was a gambler who went through his family’s money. They all looked to fill their coffers by any means available to them. When the opportunity arose to engage in opium smuggling, they grabbed it.” He leaned back in his chair. “The Home Office is satisfied with the outcome. The Journal Noir proves these men were contributing money to Napoleon’s cause, aided by Pierse. A clear case of treason. They will stand trial, as Fraughton and Marston would have, had they survived to face justice. That is why the journal frightened them. Napoleon had advised them of it, perhaps with a view to keep them under his control, who knows? But knowing their names were in it made them all too aware of the consequences should the journal ever fall into British hands.”

Brandon folded his arms. “The mystery of the journal is at last solved. How was Miss Bromley this morning?”

Willard lifted his bushy eyebrows. “She was breakfasting with my wife when I left home. I gather you will call and see the young lady today?”

“This afternoon. Did Miss Bromley mention whether she planned to remain in London?”

Willard shook his head. “The offer is there should she wish to do so. My wife is so taken with her, she might sponsor Miss Bromley, herself.”

Brandon smiled. “That is good of her.”

“With Lavalette freed, the journal in our hands, and the three remaining culprits awaiting trial, the matter is now at an end.” Willard steepled his fingers and eyed Brandon. “Might you be interested in getting your teeth into something new? Or are you planning to take my advice and resign?”

“What’s the mission?” Brandon asked idly.

“What we discussed earlier. It’s a matter of diplomacy. You may, however, need to apply a little pressure in some quarters to facilitate the comtesse’s release from prison. We owe her a debt since she delivered the journal into our hands. It’s the least we can do for her.”

Brandon waited for that spark of excitement to kick in that familiar tightening of the belly. But he felt nothing. He expected he was tired. And perhaps he did want something more from life than this. “I’ll give it some thought.”

At two o’clock, he called at the Willard’s home. Letty entered the parlor looking pale and subdued in one of her demure white muslin gowns. Concerned, he took her hand and raised it to his lips.

She smiled slightly at the old-fashioned gesture and sat opposite him on the sofa. “Would you care for wine, or coffee?”

“No thank you. I only wish to hear how you are.”

“I’m quite well,” she said, not sounding at all like herself. “It was decent of you not to mention you were right about Arietta, for you were, weren’t you?”

“There’s not much I can tell you about all this, Letty, except that her motives might have come more from a matter of the heart, than any desire to betray her country.”

“Yes, I thought that, too,” she said with a heavy sigh. “I’m glad it’s over, but I will miss her.” She glanced up at him. “I believe Pierse loved her, too. Why did he wish to spy on the others?”

“He was covering his back, I imagine. Not much trust among thieves. You have written to your uncle?”

She nodded. “I sent him a brief letter in this morning’s post. Mr. Willard told me to say little about Arietta, only that she had died.”

“He will be advised of the details later. Did you ask him to let you remain in London?”

“I saw no point. Even not knowing the truth, he will insist I come home. He already believed London to be a den of thieves.” She bit her lip. “And when he learns what happened to Arietta, he will be certain of it.”

“Bow Street will notify him of the true facts of her death, of course, being a relative. But a rumor will be put about that Lady Arietta was taken suddenly by a catastrophic illness. I’m sorry you will miss the rest of the Season.”

Letty dropped her chin, hiding her expression. “It doesn’t matter. I’m so very tired, you see.”

“Yes, but you won’t always be tired.”

She raised her head. He almost gasped. Gone from her beautiful brown eyes was her vivacity and optimism, to be replaced by a sad awareness of the world’s darker underbelly. He would have spared her that if he could. It crushed him that she had come to London seeking romance and adventure and now seemed bowed down by what life had thrown at her.

“I will miss you, Letty,” he found himself saying.

Her eyes flew to his. “Will you, Brandon?”

“Yes.” He gave a brief smile. “We have been through quite a lot together, haven’t we?”

“What will you do now?”

“There’s a chance I’ll be sent to Paris.” He hadn’t decided to accept, rather he’d almost decided not to take Willard up on it. But suspected he used it now as a way to stop himself from reaching out to her.

She nodded. “Paris? I hope it’s not a dangerous mission, Brandon.”

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