Page 45 of Love Abandoned

Chapter Twenty

Come not within the measure of my wrath.

—Shakespeare,Two Gentlemen of Verona

Richard was gladfor Walford’s note. It had been a week since he’d slid Patricia’s last missives into the copy ofLove in Excess, and he’d heard nothing about it. Nor had she contacted him again. He was concerned for her well-being, but he’d no excuse to go check on her. He could only hope Mrs. Tate would not lay another hand on her after his threat. The memory of that confrontation rattled him. When had he become a man who threatened anyone, never mind a woman?Hell and the devil. When had he become a man who worried about prostitutes? He urged his horse into a gallop as though he could outdistance his thoughts.

He reined in at the end of the run, all the better for the fresh air and the firm, determined beast underneath him. He wished he were in the country where he could truly have full rein, but at least there was this short pass on Rotten Row, and with few people about, it was somewhat freeing. He nudged to the left and headed toward the walnut grove before stopping at the halfway mark to wait for Walford. It seemed an odd place for a rendezvous, but he wasn’t complaining. He enjoyed taking in the air, and it seemed less in the city here. Richard wished he could head back to the estate and enjoy some peace and quiet.

It wasn’t long before Walford arrived. After greetings, they both dismounted and led their horses off the path. They strolled along the grass, exchanging pleasantries as though they hadn’t a care in the world, until the handful of people about were well out of earshot.

“The last piece of information caused an uproar. It indicated the French have anticipated planned battalion movement,” Walford said, getting straight to the point. “Spring is on the horizon, and they can afford no such exposure to their plans.” They entered the woods and were soon out of sight of others. “The agent from Home Office would like to speak with you directly.”

“About damned time,” Richard said. The whole clandestine aspect of how they’d been dealing with the information was ridiculous. “When?”

“Now,” Walford said, pointing his chin toward the pond, next to which a man now stood where seconds before he had not.

They approached, and Walford introduced Richard. The man thrust out his hand. “Lord Thornwood, good to finally meet you.”

“Mr. Miller,” Richard said, shaking his hand and taking his measure. He was unassuming. Dressed for riding as both Walford and himself, he wore clothes of a quality cut. The man’s dark eyes were alert as he did his own quick survey of Richard.

“We appreciate what you have done for the effort,” Mr. Miller said, and Richard tipped his head in acknowledgment. “But it is past time for us to find her source. Did you tell him?” He looked at Walford.

“Not all of it. Only about the French knowing Wellesley’s planned movements.”

Mr. Miller’s already serious demeanor darkened. “The second sheet was a replica of a letter from Wellesley himself. A letter only recently received by the Home Office regarding a move to the Port of Corunna. It details the need for supplies and for closer proximity for intelligence communication from London, much like what you’ve been aiding to provide.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” said Richard, although he had an inkling of the implication.

Miller stared at Richard as though contemplating him. He took his hat off and ran a hand through the few strands of hair splayed across his head. He exhaled audibly as he put his hat back on, seeming to come to a decision.

“My lord, you must keep this in the strictest of confidence.” Miller waited for Richard’s assurance before continuing. “Sir Murray has indicated the letter went straight from Wellesley’s hands to their agent, whom they trust implicitly. Yet somewhere between the initial transaction and our office, a replica was made.”

“By God, a traitor in the Home Office?” Richard could now appreciate the upheaval his last delivery had caused.

“It’s a possibility,” Walford said, shaking his head as though he could not believe it.

“A possibility, yes,” Mr. Miller agreed. “Murray is double-checking on his end and will thoroughly cross-examine his agent on his return. We’re concerned whoever your woman is dealing with might be playing both sides of the fence.”

“Notmy woman,” Richard said, balking at the reference.

“My apologies,” Mr. Miller said, although he hardly looked apologetic. “Of course not. We were going to bring her in, but we don’t want to scare him off. We decided to see what you could find out first. Whoever the informant is, he has gained some valuable information, and it’s aiding Wellesley in the field. We don’t want to lose that. But we’re not sure what game he is truly playing. Did he only share the letter to prove how clever he was? Or has he shared the letter, and more, with our enemies? It is imperative we find him.”

Richard’s head was reeling. This was to be a simple exchange, one that might help save lives. Now he was to interrogate Patricia? He was convinced she would give him no more than she had at any time he’d attempted to question her. So what was he to do? Beat her as Mrs. Tate had done? He shuddered in disgust.

“She is not very forthcoming,” he said. “I doubt I’ll discover anything.”

“A month of hard labor at Bridewell might loosen her tongue.”

“Bloody hell,” Walford said.

Richard fought rising fury. “Are you threatening me, Miller?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Not at all, Lord Thornwood. I’m threatening Miss Paisley. We’ll give you a week.” Mr. Miller turned and walked into the walnut grove.

“I had no idea that was what was on their minds, Thornwood. I merely received a note to meet Miller here, and I assumed they were going to impress upon you how important your role has been. Perhaps entice you to continue.” Walford looked as furious as Richard felt.

“For the first time in my life, I know what it feels like to want to put my fist in a man’s face.”

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