Epilogue
The music and laughter filled the opulent ballroom, drifting up to Dalton from the dance floor like incense rising to the heavens.
London’s elite moved in graceful patterns across the polished parquet floor, the light from the crystal chandeliers sparkling on the king’s ransom of jewelry adorning them.
None of that mattered to him.
From his position by the entrance, at the top of the grand staircase leading down to the ballroom, he had the perfect vantage point to not only greet every guest who arrived at the ball, as any gracious host would do, but also to oversee his domain and everyone in it.
This was not simply a ball, but a battlefield, and as such, he surveyed the scene below not with the eyes of a host, but with the intense scrutiny of a general preparing for battle.
At his side, his sister, poised and serene, acted as his hostess, greeting everyone warmly and ensuring their guests were charmed and properly entertained.
She was a gem, and he appreciated her more than he could ever express.
Her competence freed his mind to focus not on the ball’s success, but on the man he meant to unmask.
The next guests to arrive warranted his entire attention, so Dalton pulled his gaze from the ballroom to fix it on the newly arrived couple.
Not only because they were key elements in the trap he was setting today, but they were also the closest thing he had to friends.
Alice and Nathaniel were greeting his sister on the receiving line.
He extended his hand to Nathaniel. The quiet joy that seemed to radiate from his friend caused a pang in his chest. He didn’t have the time or the inclination to examine the emotion, but it looked a lot like envy, so he pushed it down.
Down with all the other emotions he had been suppressing for so long, it was now second nature.
“Greystone, it’s good to see you, and in such a fine fettle.” He turned to Alice, one of the best agents he had ever had. They both were. He was going to miss them. But he couldn’t begrudge them that they had retired. Not when they seemed to glow with happiness.
“Alice, you look radiant. It’s plain to see marriage suits you,” he said, kissing his former employee’s hand.
“Thank you, Dalton. We are happy,” Alice murmured, shooting a side glance to Nathaniel as if her eyes couldn’t stay away from him for too long.
Nathaniel took a step forward to speak in a low voice meant for his ears only.
“Your summons were…vague. I don’t know what you are planning, but I warn you, Alice is not to be upset or put in any sort of dangerous situation. She’s in a delicate condition.”
Dalton felt a genuine smile tug at his lips. “My congratulations to you both,” he said warmly, his voice pitched just as low as Nathaniel to avoid being overheard. “And it was hardly a summons. More like an invitation.”
At Nathaniel’s scoff, he added, “I promise you, whatever happens tonight, Alice will not be put in danger.”
“I am not a wilting violet, Nathaniel. You don’t need to coddle me.” Turning to him, she asked, “What is it you need from us, Dalton?”
“Nothing dangerous or complicated, I assure you. I only need you to observe. One guest in particular. Then report your impression. There are guards all around the ballroom ready to step in should the need arise, although I don’t expect any confrontation.”
Nathaniel nodded, seeming unconvinced, but he put his arm around his wife’s waist and led her into the ballroom.
A short time later, the final actor in the play arrived. At last, the pieces of his plan were neatly falling into place.
It wasn’t until the ball was in full swing, most couples dancing, the orchestra drowning the underlying din of conversation, that he seized the opportunity to corner his quarry.
But first, he sought Alice and Nathaniel and guided them to a discreet antechamber overlooking the veranda running the entire length of the ballroom.
From there, they could see without being seen, hear without drawing attention.
Dalton’s heart beat just a touch faster as he approached his cousin, who was standing by the tall doors that opened to the veranda.
“Alfred. It’s good to see you.”
“Dalton,” his cousin replied with an easy nod. “It’s good to see you as well.”
“Care to join me for a smoke on the veranda?” His voice betrayed none of his suspicions as he withdrew a pair of cigars he had placed in his pocket just for this reason, and offered one to his cousin.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Alfred said, grabbing the cigar with a smile. “You always stock the best Havanas. Partagas?” he asked, raising the still unlit cigar to his nose as he exited the ballroom.
He knew his cousin favored that brand for its strong, full-bodied flavor, but for him, who didn’t really care for cigars, a smoother blend was preferable. “Hoyo de Monterrey. A new brand, but I think you’ll find its quality and smoothness impeccable.”
He grabbed a taper from one of the chandeliers near the door before exiting.
“How is your mother? I have not heard from my dear aunt in some time,” he asked casually as he lit his cousin’s cigar with the taper, leading him along the veranda to the position he intended.
“Complaining as always, though she thrives on it,” his cousin replied smoothly, taking the first draw from his cigar. “She sends her regards.”
“And you? You’ve been scarce of late.”
Alfred shrugged. “I have been away on business, but now I’m back,” came the vague answer. “These are really good, by the way. You always did have an eye for quality.”
Dalton forced himself to maintain a polite nod. Smiling and maintaining casual conversation as they enjoyed the cigars. He kept the subjects light. He wasn’t trying to extract information. Not yet.
When nothing but a nub remained of the once robust cigars, he snuffed the flame on the stone balustrade and tossed the remainder into the hedges below.
“It’s been good catching up with you, cousin. Alas, I must return to my guests. Enjoy yourself tonight.” With that, he excused himself. His steps were measured, controlled, as he returned to the ballroom, and immediately continued on to the antechamber where Nathaniel and Alice lurked.
“It’s him,” Nathaniel said without preamble as soon as he entered the room. “The man you were just speaking to, that’s Lord A.”
Dalton felt the blow, sharp but not entirely unexpected. He had suspected this outcome, yet hearing it confirmed was like the dropping of the guillotine blade. Final and painful.
“You are certain?”
“Yes,” Alice said, her hand tightening around Nathaniel’s. “I would know that voice anywhere. His height, his stance—it’s all the same. There’s no doubt.”
Dalton inclined his head once. “It’s as I expected, then. And it ends tonight.” He drew in a breath, letting his ducal mask settle firmly into place. “Thank you. You have done what I needed. The rest is for me to see to.”
“We will stay. Be nearby in case you need us,” Nathaniel offered, but Dalton shook his head.
“I would rather you keep Alice safe. She must be cherished, especially now.”
“She is,” Nathaniel said quietly with a look to his wife that made Dalton’s chest twist. “But we’ll remain close, should you need us.”
Dalton gave a single nod before striding back toward the ballroom.
It did not take long to find his cousin again. Dalton waited until Alfred excused himself to use the necessary, then intercepted him with two of his most trusted men.
“Walk with me,” Dalton said in a tone that brooked no argument.
His cousin’s eyebrows rose, but he followed, sauntering with feigned nonchalance into the duke’s private study.
“Cousin. This is the second time you’ve sought me out tonight. Have you something to say?”
Dalton made sure to close the door behind them before he spoke. “Let’s dispense with the pretense. I know what you’ve done. I have witnesses. I have evidence. You have been selling intelligence to foreign powers—treason, by any definition.”
For a heartbeat there was silence, then his cousin’s lips curved into a mocking smile. “Bravo. Took you long enough to figure it out. You were never half as clever as everyone thought, cousin.”
Dalton’s jaw tightened, but he held his ground. “Whatever grievances you nurse, they do not excuse what you have done. Because of you, good men are dead.”
“Oh, I’m not looking for excuses. I’m enjoying my triumph.”
“Triumph? You will hang for this. Don’t think I’ll spare you for being my cousin. If anything it makes your betrayal worse.”
“Oh, no.” Alfred laughed softly, with chilling confidence. “I will not hang. I will be gone from England and living very comfortably abroad within a week. Thanks to you. You see, I have something you want. Something you’d do anything to have back.”
Dalton’s brows drew together. “There is nothing you have that could buy you leniency from me.”
“Are you sure?” His cousin reached into his pocket with deliberate slowness and withdrew a small rectangle, holding it delicately by the edges. A letter?
No. A photograph.
Then Alfred held it in front of his face, and the world tilted as he stared at the picture.
His wife.
Pain lanced through him with brutal familiarity, sharp enough to stagger him, though he forced himself to remain outwardly unmoved. The photograph was crisp, new. The image unnervingly alive—her features exactly as he remembered, yet subtly changed.
He kept his voice cool, though his heart thundered. “A fine photograph of my wife. Though I do not recall when this one was taken. Nor can I imagine how it ended up in your possession.”
The sly smile widened. “I had it taken a month ago.”
Dalton lunged across the room in a heartbeat, slamming his cousin back against the paneled wall. “Do not lie to me, you bastard. Don’t you dare drag her memory into your intrigues.”
“I’m not lying.” His cousin’s voice was smooth, infuriatingly calm. “Look closer. You’ll see it is new—she is older than she was when you last saw her. And very much alive.”
“You lie.” Dalton’s voice was a rasp. “She died at sea.”
“She survived,” the man said softly. “But if you do not let me go, you will never find her.”
Dalton’s grip tightened. “She would have come home if she were alive.”
“Not if she doesn’t remember where home is,” came the silken reply.
Dalton froze. “What are you saying?”
“I am saying, cousin, that the duchess has no memory of her past life. She does not remember you. She doesn’t even know who she is. I am the only one who knows where she is.” His smile turned razor sharp. “Let me go, or lose her forever.”
Everything was a blur after that. He recalled punching his cousin’s face, the impact momentarily satisfying, but not enough.
Never enough. Then having the guards take the bastard to the holding cell in the house’s basement.
A strong hand gripped his shoulder. How much time had passed?
How long had he been staring at the image of his wife?
Hope warring with fear. Pain and love struggling against reason.
“Dalton.” Nathaniel’s voice pulled him out of his trance. He looked at his friends. Alice was sitting on the other side of the desk. Nathaniel was at his side.
“He says she’s alive.” His voice was a painful rasp. He had lost all pretense of control and for the moment didn’t care.
“I heard him. What do you think? Do you believe him?”
“I’ve been asking myself the same question. I was afraid my longing might have tricked my mind. But…” He held up the photograph. “It’s her, Nathaniel. I’m sure.”
Nathaniel nodded, accepting his word as definitive proof. “What are you going to do, then?”
“What choice do I have?” he muttered. “I’ll have to let him go, give him whatever he demands. Because regardless of the cost, I’m bringing home my wife.”