Sins, Secrets and Spies, page 13
Elias realized how it could be done.
The weather was cold and drizzly, and hurrying away, he headed back to the village.
* * *
Sitting impatiently in his first-class compartment on the train as it raced through the countryside, Richard Smythe III was furious. Settled into his room in a fine hotel in Southampton, he’d woken in the early hours with a strange prickling at the back of his neck. Sitting bolt upright, his instincts had told him something was horribly wrong.
It was the letter.
Jumping from his bed, he’d hurried across the room and opened his satchel. Hands trembling and heart thumping, he had pulled out the fine linen envelope and hastily ripped it open. In the dark room, staring at the page, he’d tried to find the flaw that had yanked him from sleep, but it had been impossible to view properly. Lighting a lantern, and tightly gripping the paper, he’d held it to the light.
That’s when he’d seen it.
It wasn’t what was contained in the letter, it was what was missing from the letter. All the best firms had embossed stationary boasting their name and address. He’d stood, staring at the plain white sheet, and his body had begun to tremble.
He had been duped!
How could he have been so stupid?
Crushing it in his clenched fist, he’d grabbed his bag and raced from his room.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Verity smiled at her reflection in the tall oval mirror. Diamond encrusted hair combs had been skillfully arranged in her hair, and the baby blue gown encrusted with sequins was merrily twinkling. Though she could hear the blustery winds she wasn’t concerned. In a few short hours she would be in Rocco’s arms, losing herself in his mouth, his smooth hot hands, and his ardent control. The howls of the wind would only enhance their passion, and the mere thought sent her butterflies into their happy fluttering dance.
“You are beautiful, my lady,” Mabel said wistfully. “You are shining brighter than the gown you wear.”
“Thank you, Mabel.”
“Forgive me for asking, my lady, but is there something special about this evening?”
“There is,” Verity replied, but as she slowly pulled on her snow white gloves, a sudden flash of fear rippled down her spine. Rocco’s plan was clever, but the assassin could still get the better of him. They would need luck, and luck was a fickle mistress.
“I believe I’m ready, but I’ve changed my mind about the coat. I think I’ll wear my royal blue velvet cape instead.”
“Very well, my lady.”
Starting down the hallway, Verity tried to calm her pounding heart. Taking deep breaths as she glided down the stairs, she told herself the evening would be a triumph. Crossing the foyer and heading to the drawing room, she began to feel slightly better, but as she entered she caught her breath.
Rocco was standing by the fire dressed in tight fitting black garments. They clung to his body, showing off his muscled arms and broad chest. He looked sinister and dangerous, yet his appearance was making her knees weak.
“Don’t you look just so…so…bellissimo!” he exclaimed as she moved towards him.
“Thank you,” she managed, “and you, your clothes—“
“I am dressed for what I must do. I apologize if it is shocking to you.”
Pulling her eyes away, she sent them to Lambert, standing poised and ready by the drinks cabinet.
“Champagne, please, Lambert.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Verity didn’t want the drink, she just wanted Lambert busy for a moment or two, and turning back to Rocco, she moved closer to him.
“May I make a request?” she murmured, feeling her cheeks flame red.
“Of course,” he replied, then lowering his voice, he winked and added. “Though I may not grant it if you misbehave.”
Her heart skipped. She wanted to drop to her knees in her very fine dress, place her hands behind her back, and gaze up at him while she waited obediently for his instruction.
Rocco could feel her heat, and the hunger in her eyes matched his own. She was a vision, so beautiful as to stop his heart. He wished there was no murderer waiting in the shadows, or dangerous mission needing to be completed. He wanted to sweep her back to Henry’s room, keep her in her sparkling dress, and tease her until she was begging for its removal.
“When we are together again,” she softly murmured, interrupting his salacious imagery, “will you remain in those clothes?”
Her whispered words had broken into his salacious thoughts, and hearing her request, his cock, already making itself known, continued to stiffen.
“Most definitely,” he smiled, thinking he might act out some kind of villainous scene. “Would you like me to play a part?”
“Yes!” she breathed, her eyes lighting up. “That would be—yes!”
Thrilled with the prospect, a fresh flush burned across her face, and in spite of the important mission, she wondered how she’d be able to make it through the tedious conversation at the earl’s dinner. A discreet cough caught her attention, and shifting her gaze, she saw Lambert walking towards them holding a tray with two glasses of champagne.
“Not for me, thank you,” Rocco said, raising his hand. “I must keep a clear head. Where is Luigi? He should be here by now. Ah, there you are.”
As Verity picked up her glass, Luigi walked through the door. He was dressed in the same clinging suit, but with his powerful physique, Verity thought it made him look sinister.
“I apologize if I kept you waiting,” Luigi said as he joined them, then dropping his voice to a whisper, he added, “I had trouble finding my weapon.”
Staring at his clothes, and seeing nothing in his hands, she wondered what sort of weapon it could possibly be, but his statement underscored the danger, spurring her to take a drink.
“Verity, you too need a clear head,” Rocco said firmly. “It is not just Luigi and I who have important work tonight.”
“Sorry. Of course, you’re right,” she said quickly, placing the champagne glass on the table. “Perhaps we should leave. I don’t think I can stand here a minute longer.”
“I agree. Luigi, did you double-check the plans with Cyrus? ”
“Yes, sir. He’s most eager to be of service.”
“Good. Verity, I need a private word with Lambert before we leave. Would you please go with Luigi and wait for me in the carriage?”
Verity frowned. She was about to protest, but the look in his eye stopped her.
“I’ll see you there,” she said softly, and started for the door with Luigi.
Waiting until it was closed behind them, Rocco took a breath, then stepped towards the concerned butler.
“Lambert,” Rocco said gravely, “I cannot express how grateful I am. Your willingness to put yourself in danger will not go unrewarded.”
“It is a privilege to serve my Queen,” Lambert said soberly. “I am greatly honored that you have asked for my help. I only hope I do not let you down.”
“I know you will be superb, but there is one other thing I must mention. Her ladyship and I have become close, and I fear if I should not return…”
“I see,” Lambert said grimly.
“It would probably be best to have a doctor called. She will need a great deal of care.”
“I most sincerely hope that will not be necessary. If I may be so bold—she has been happier these last hours than I have seen her in some time, and believe your company is responsible. It seems a quick and warm friendship has developed between you.”
“It has. If the worst should happen, she will be exceedingly upset.”
“If fate chose to deal her that hand, it would be cruel indeed. She has suffered for too long. I pray you will take care, sir, and return safely.”
“That is my intent. Goodbye, Lambert, and I will leave by saying, Sarò vedervi presto.”
“Which means, sir?”
“I will be seeing you soon.”
“Ah, yes, I will be seeing you soon,” Lambert repeated, and as he watched Rocco turn and stride from the room, he muttered. “I pray that comes to pass, Count Cavaletti, I pray that comes to pass.”
* * *
The carriage rolled through the dark windy night. Seated next to Rocco, Verity moved her hand around his and gently squeezed.
“You must promise you will come back to me,” she murmured, trying to extinguish an unexpected wave of heat in her throat. “I couldn’t bear it if you didn’t. I swear, I couldn’t bear it.”
“I promise,” he whispered, though he knew it was a promise he couldn’t make. “You must stay focused on your task. That is the most important thing.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head, “it is not the most important thing. You are the most important thing. We are the most important thing.”
The hot lava was spreading, and she swallowed hard, trying to fight her rising panic as unwanted thoughts flashed through her mind.
What if it all goes horribly wrong? What if Luigi is unable to protect him? What if the assassin knows what you look like? What if he knows you’re really the count?
Sensing her fear, Rocco shifted his body to face her, took both her hands, and locked her gaze.
“Listen to me,” he began, his voice firm and resolute, “we are together tonight because providence has divined it. While I cannot tell you the news I carry, trust me when I say it is of the greatest importance, and its safe delivery is in the hands of God. This is why we find ourselves in this carriage on our way to our destiny. History will not record what will be done here tonight, but one precious life, and the lives of thousands, will be forever changed because of it. This is your reassurance, Verity. The storm swept me into your home not just because we are, spiriti affini, but because this night is fated.”
“Spirit affini?” she repeated.
“I cannot think of the English phrase.”
“Kindred spirits,” Luigi offered.
“Grazie, Luigi. Kindred spirits,” Rocco repeated.
His words rang true, and she let out a sigh. It would all be as it should. They were in God’s hands, and He would deliver them safely through the night.
“Remember what I told you,” Rocco continued. “When you return home you must make haste to your room, then lock the door and do not open it until you hear five knocks. Five, and five only.”
“I’ll remember.”
“If all goes as planned, I will be in Henry’s room with this devil learning what I must, but it will take time. You mustn’t become impatient.”
“I’ll do my best, I will, I promise.”
They were approaching the gates, and as Cyrus stopped to present the invitation, Rocco moved his head to the window.
“An impressive home,” he remarked, gazing at the imposing towers. “The earl is fortunate indeed.”
“He is, and I would say this only to you. He is not the cleverest fellow I have ever met.”
“Is that so?” Rocco said, finding her comment surprising.
“Alice, his wife, is by far the smarter of the two. He did well to marry her. She is the daughter of a man in high power, and I believe she is just as smart as her father. If you find yourself in trouble, she is one to seek out. I am so sorry I should have mentioned her sooner.”
“But you have told me, and in time enough,” he said reassuringly.
“It’s time you’d best hide yourselves,” she said urgently. “We’re drawing near the front. May God bless us all.”
“May God bless us all,” Rocco repeated.
Slipping off the seats, Rocco and Luigi huddled on the floor while Verity took a dark blanket and quickly covered them up. When the footman opened the carriage door, Verity would make a fuss to keep his attention. The black night, combined with the darkness of the coach’s interior, ensured Rocco and Luigi would not be seen. It was daring, but as Rocco had said, people saw what they expected to see. Even if someone spied the strange shape behind her, they would assume it was a trick of the eye, certainly not two men concealed under a blanket. The carriage rolled to a stop, and clutching her evening bag, Verity readied herself for her task.
Since all the men would be wearing a red ascot, the contact with whom Rocco was supposed to meet would find himself in an impossible situation. Her job was to study the guests and search out the one who appeared to be perplexed, then approach him and speak the secret phrase. If he responded with the correct phrase, she would invite him to her home for afternoon tea the following day. The words were innocuous, and she could repeat them to anyone without suspicion. If she guessed wrong the first time, she could keep trying.
The carriage door opened, and as she stepped out into the unpleasant wind, her cape flapping around her, she dropped her evening bag. The footman immediately bent down and picked it up, and as he handed it back to her, he closed the door with barely a look inside the cabin. Cyrus ordered the horses to walk on, and taking her purse, she moved quickly into the magnificent home.
The circumstances had required bringing Cyrus into their confidence, but Rocco had liked the man when they’d initially met during the raging storm that first night. Verity’s assurances that Cyrus had been a true and loyal servant to Jack took care of any concerns Rocco might have had. They needed him, and Rocco was grateful to have his help. When the coast was clear, Cyrus would open the carriage door, and Rocco and Luigi would slip out and disappear into the trees.
After a great deal of thought, Rocco had decided the tall, red-headed man wouldn’t be attending the party. He’d be too conspicuous. That meant he’d be loitering near the house watching the guests arrive in search of his prey. What he would do once he spotted them, Rocco couldn’t guess, but he didn’t need to.
The hunter was now the hunted.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Rocco’s calculations were correct. Elias had jogged in from the village with a bag strapped to his back, and had been on the earl’s property for some time. Making his way through the gate hadn’t been difficult. He’d hired a messenger to deliver a box of cakes from the village bakery. When the messenger arrived, one of the guards escorted him up to the front door, but before the second guard had time to close the gate, Elias had thrown a perfectly aimed rock that hit him on the side of the leg.
The shocked guard had dropped his gun and grabbed his calf. Elias threw a second rock into the foliage at the right side of the driveway. Immediately the guard had lifted his head, and darted into the brush. Elias had sprinted through the gate and disappeared into the trees on the left. The entire ruse had taken less than a minute. Unloading his bag, he’d withdrawn a long, warm winter coat, a wool cap that he’d pulled over his head, and a scarf he’d wound around his neck. Moving stealthily through the trees, he’d begun his reconnaissance.
He’d discovered a wide empty terrace at the back of the home, and guessed it was abandoned during the winter months. As the sun set he’d slipped from his cover and hurried up the steps. As he’d stared through the windows, moving swiftly from one to the next, he’d discovered there were three rooms that offered French Doors, and in all three the furniture was under white cloths. It was obvious the back of the house had been closed up until spring.
The sight had sent him into a fury.
“The rich!” he’d fumed. “Living in homes that could house a dozen or more starving families! You make me sick.”
He’d wanted to smash all the windows, charge inside and steal everything in sight. As he’d silently wished Queen Victoria a grisly death, and cursing the British Empire for ruling too many for too long, he set about methodically checking the locks on the doors. He’d have to break a pane of glass, reach inside and turn the knob beneath the handle. He would be inside the house in a matter of seconds. The noise of the party would cover the sound of the breaking glass. Even if it didn’t, it would be assumed it was just a clumsy servant breaking something. Satisfied, he had returned to the cover of the trees, and moved stealthily around to the front of the home to watch the guests step from their carriages. He’d soon see the arrival of the man wearing the red ascot.
He didn’t have long to wait before the first coach rolled up the driveway. Feeling the anticipation ripple through his body, he withdrew his telescoping spy glass. Carriage after carriage deposited their passengers, but he didn’t see a single man wearing a red ascot. As the last coach rolled towards the stables, and the front door closed, he was left confounded.
“I must have missed them somehow,” he grunted. “I need to see the party. Either the secretary or bodyguard must be wearing a red ascot.”
There was an open expanse between where he was hiding and the front of the house. It was a dark, almost moonless night, ideal conditions for the task. Crouching low, he darted across to the windows, then slowly raising his head, he stared inside. What greeted him filled him with disbelief.
The men were either removing their white bowties and tying bright red scarves into ascots, or were already wearing them. Rage burned through his veins. Crouching down, as he pounded his fist on the soft, wet dirt, another thought occurred to him. If all the men were now wearing the tell-tale red ascot, wouldn’t the person receiving the message also be confused?
None of it made any sense!
Furious and frustrated he hurried around to the back of the house.
“I’ll kill them all,” he growled, “and I’ll do it with pleasure.”
Reaching the security of the trees, Elias let out a heavy breath and flopped on the ground. He didn’t care that it was wet. He’d sat in a lot worse. Pulling off his cap, he rolled it up in his hand and stuffed it in his pocket. The cold air against his bald scalp felt good, and he closed his eyes to collect his thoughts.
* * * * * * * * * *
Cyrus had finally felt it safe to open the door for Rocco and Luigi, and stepping from the carriage, they huddled with Cyrus in the shadows.
“Your Queen and my King thank you for your service,” Rocco said solemnly. “Please stay close to the carriage and keep watch for us. As Luigi told you earlier, we may return with another man, and if we do, you must race us back to Wilshire Hall with great speed, then you can come back and wait for her ladyship. If the party breaks up and it’s time to go, you must leave without thought of us and return her safely home.”
