Once Upon a Scandalous Secret (Spies Like Us #2)

Chapter One

“Damn and blast it, Beckett!” Anthony Ashton sheathed his dagger and glared at the man who stood in the middle of his bedroom in the early hours of the morning. “I could have killed you.”

A single candle illuminated a face carved deep with the scars of too many dark and dangerous missions. A thug’s face. “We both know that is unlikely, milord.” Beckett’s dark eyes showed no apology for waking him in such a manner, and Tony expected none.

Tony suppressed the urge to laugh. “I would have given you a run for your money, you old fox. How did you get in here? Warrington will be appalled to find his house so easily breached.”

The man’s lips twitched. “Through the duke’s back door, o’course. One or two of His Grace’s footmen may have a sore head come morning.”

Breaking and entering was but one of the man’s many talents. Tony raised a brow. “Right. Well, thank you for not killing them.”

The man nodded. Both understood what he was capable of if the need arose.

“Why are you here, Beckett?”

“A message for ye from Lord Stafford.”

Tony ran his fingers through his hair. Beckett remained standing in the halo of candlelight. Ever patient. Ever watching.

“This message, what is it?” Tony swung his legs over the edge of the bed, hesitant to put his feet on the cold floor.

“Captain Markham’s lost his finger.”

Tony blinked. “What do you mean he has lost his finger?”

“As in it were delivered in a box to Stafford last night. His lady nearly fainted upon seeing it, apparently.”

Tony felt the blood drain from his face. “Good God. Where is Markham now?”

Beckett shrugged. “That’s the thing. Nobody knows and Stafford fears the worst.”

Tony’s heart dropped as the heavy cloak of dread settled. Markham was not only his friend, but also a superior soldier and an integral member of The Ring. It was unfathomable to think he would lose his finger. Or any other part of him.

“Wait.” Tony stood and held the bed frame, his knuckles white, desperate to make sense of this news. He did not want to feel this mix of anger and grief and damn it, he would not give in to it without evidence. “How do we even know it is Markham’s finger?”

“His signet ring were still attached.”

“That’s not proof. Could be any poor fellow’s digit. Was there a ransom note, or any kind of demand?” He refused to think Markham had met his maker. Not yet. There must be a reasonable explanation for all this.

Beckett shook his head. “Nothin’ yet. Markham’s not reported for over two months.”

“That’s odd. I’ll find Markham’s last known location and bring him home.” Markham would do the same for him. They had saved each other’s hides more times than he dared to count. Whatever mess his friend had got himself into, it was Tony’s duty to get him out and bring him back to England.

Beckett held up a hand. “Er, before you go packin’ a bag, milord, there’s something else. Stafford told me to bring you a… package. It’s downstairs in the front parlor.”

“Why didn’t you bring it up?”

“No, milord, wouldn’t be right. Not a’tall.” Beckett scanned the room and found Tony’s banyan, breeches, and slippers. “Here, let me help you.”

Tony dressed quickly, concerned as to what might be in the parlor. Another one of Markham’s body parts?

He followed Beckett down the stairs, down the hall, into the parlor, and stopped short. A brace of candles lit the room, and on the sofa sat a young lady, hands clasped in her lap and fast asleep.

“Who is she?” Tony whispered.

“She’s yours,” Beckett whispered back, the stench of stale tobacco hitting Tony square in the face.

He winced and waved the man back into the hallway, a strange sensation of panic rising. “I’ve never seen this girl in my life. I do not know what she has told you but—”

“She’s your ward.”

Tony trembled, his body shaking with a combination of shock, discomfort, and anger. “My what?”

“Your ward, milord. You are her legal guardian now Markham’s gone and lost his finger and well… probably his life. Stafford said I were to fetch her straight away. So, I did.”

“She is not my ward. Markham would not be so foolish as to put me in such a position. There must be some kind of mistake. Stafford knows I live with my brother. She cannot stay here. Take her to Stafford’s. There, at least, Lady Stafford can keep her company until we figure this out.”

“But Stafford told me to fetch her here and give you this note.”

He glared at Beckett. “A note? Don’t you think you should have given this to me earlier?”

Beckett shrugged, a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

Tony looked over his shoulder into the parlor at the sleeping girl. She was pretty, had glorious auburn hair still braided for sleep and a pale, small-featured face. She was in her nightclothes, too. This only made it even more inconceivable.

Tony read the note from Stafford in the flickering light of the candle. The note quite clearly stated that the young woman, Lucinda Sterling, was now his ward and under his protection until Markham’s fate was confirmed.

This was a nightmare. He did not have time to be the guardian of anyone; Markham needed him. What was he supposed to do with this young woman? Take her shopping?

He grabbed Beckett by the sleeve. “She’s got to go. You must take her to Stafford and explain I will call on him tomorrow regarding Miss…”

“Lucinda.”

“Yes, Lucinda.”

It took him a moment to realize it had not been the man in front of him who had answered. He spun around to find the young lady standing in the doorway, a shawl wrapped tightly about her. Her expression was wary, her eyes huge in the dim hall, but she stood proud and still under his stare.

“I see I am not expected, my lord. Let me assure you I am as shocked as you are. Mister Beckett hustled me into a carriage before I was fully awake. I do not even know where I am.”

Tony bowed, which felt odd dressed as he was. “My apologies. You are in London. At the house of the Duke of Warrington. I am Anthony Ashton… your new guardian… apparently.”

Her brow furrowed. “Why? What happened to the captain?” Her voice was full of confusion, her eyes filled with shock.

He understood her uncertainty; he felt it too. “I will explain all tomorrow but first I must keep your existence here a secret until I can talk to Lord Stafford… and Warrington.”

“Leave the servants to me. I’ll see there’s no gossip,” said Beckett.

“I am afraid the servants are not yours to command.” The Duke of Warrington stood at the top of the stairs, his usual grim countenance firmly in place. How long had he been standing there? How much had he heard?

Beside him, Tony heard Lucinda’s gasp. He wiped his hand down his face and closed his eyes, but when he opened them, his brother was still there, glaring down at him. The light from the candle illuminated his face in a ghoulish fashion.

Stafford’s man bowed. “Of course, Your Grace.”

Warrington nodded and descended the stairs in his usual unhurried manner. “Now, Anthony, do introduce me to the young lady here.”

“This is Miss Lucinda Sterling.” Tony cleared his throat. “My ward. Miss Sterling, may I present my brother, the Duke of Warrington.”

She gave the duke a dainty curtsey.

The duke lifted an imperial brow. “Your ward?”

“Yes, as of about five minutes ago.”

“You do seem to collect the oddest things, brother. I assume there is a reasonable explanation for this?”

Tony handed him the note from Stafford. “Ah. Well, my dear boy, it seems you are to take on some responsibility, after all. Mother will be pleased. Not about the poor captain, of course, but she does so love a project.”

He bristled. If only they all knew what lengths he went to, to keep them all safe. How he appeared to shrug off responsibility, all the while responsible for them all.

Warrington bowed toward the young lady. “Miss Sterling, I welcome you to Warrington House. I hope you will be quite comfortable here. I will see a maid settles you in one of the guest rooms and stays with you for the rest of the night.” The duke turned to Beckett. “Has she any luggage?”

He nodded. “As many dresses as I could find in her room at Miss Covington’s School for Young Ladies. They might not all be hers.”

The duke turned towards Tony. “Splendid. My brother here will take care of any clothing matters tomorrow, won’t you, brother?

” He did not await an answer. “We breakfast at ten, Miss Sterling. I hope you will join us.” He glared at Beckett for a moment.

“I trust there will be no further need to render my servants senseless in the future; presenting your card should be sufficient.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Was that disappointment in Beckett’s voice?

“I will talk to you later.” Warrington indicated to Tony and went back upstairs.

Tony turned to the young woman. “I apologize for my brother. He snarls a lot but underneath he is…”

“A pussy cat?” Lucinda replied, all the while watching the duke ascend into the darkness of the upper level of the house.

She was putting on a brave face, this girl.

Despite what had happened, she had not swooned or fallen into fits of tears, but he could see that she was terrified.

Her eyes were huge in the dim light, and he detected a light tremble.

He had to admire her, though. This was an odd situation.

He let a small smile grow on his lips. “Something like that.”

Beckett gave a slight bow. “I’ll get your things from the carriage, milady.”

Tony and Lucinda watched his form disappear into the darkness of the hall beyond.

“What a strange man. I do not suppose he, too, is a pussy cat?” Her voice was silky, demure, controlled. It reminded him of good French cognac.

“Not in the slightest I am afraid. He is an acquired taste, but he does have his uses.”

“I see. And Lord Stafford?”

“Is a powerful man, who only has your best interests in mind, I assure you. He is also a friend of Captain Markham.” Tony took her hand in his, marveled at the delicate feel of her fingers clasped in his much larger ones.

“Let me reassure you. If the captain is alive, I will find him and bring him back.”

She smiled. It was a valiant smile, but her eyes showed her worry. “To be truthful, I met him only once, when his father died, and he became my guardian.”

“Only once?” This seemed inconceivable. Markham’s commitment to duty was renowned.

“Yes, it was to tell me that he had secured a place for me at Miss Covington’s School for Young Ladies in Sussex.”

“Sussex is nice.” What a stupid thing to say, considering the circumstances.

She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t ever wish to be there again.”

“At the school or in the county?”

“Both.” She gave him a tremulous smile.

“I see. Sussex gave you no pleasure then. Was it so awful at Miss Covington’s school? Did they mistreat you? If they did you must tell me now.” What was wrong with him? Already he was feeling protective of this stranger before him. No, surely it was just his sense of duty coming to the fore.

“No. She was all kindness, but I should not have been there for such a long time.”

“How long were you there?”

A maid appeared in the hall. “Sir? The duke said I was to come and fetch the young lady.”

“Ah, yes. We will talk more tomorrow. Sleep well, Miss Sterling.”

“And you, Lord Ashton.”

Tony watched as she ascended the stairs, watched as she disappeared into the darkness.

He picked up the candle holder that Beckett had left.

Scanned the note again, conflicted. He knew he now had to think of Miss Sterling, but how could he not go to his friend’s aid?

They both needed him, but surely Stafford would agree that he was the best man to find Markham.

Lucinda could come to no harm under his brother’s roof and his brother was right.

His mother liked nothing more than a project.

She would have the young woman in a whirlwind of shopping and morning calls before the girl had time to even think.

He suddenly felt sorry for poor Miss Sterling.