Chapter 1 #2
And then his brother had died suddenly. As much as Anthony grieved the loss, the change in his station to assume the role of heir had required his immediate return home.
His relief at bringing the subversive activity to a close had been nearly palpable.
Braxton’s very presence now in his home engendered emotions that had no place in his current life, a new life he’d planned to begin that very evening by announcing his intentions to court a beautiful woman who had become his dearest friend.
Braxton broke eye contact and stared instead into the banked fire in the hearth.
Anthony studied him, suspicion nagging at the back of his mind. “You would have me believe your only concern is for the welfare of those on the list? The war effort? What else is there?”
Braxton flushed. “Is it not enough that I fear for the lives of dozens of people? Come, Anthony, you know me.”
“I know your first concern is usually you.”
Braxton leaned forward in his seat, impatience showing on his face. “I am the only one with access to the document. Nobody else—nobody—is allowed anywhere near it.”
Anthony smiled without humor. “Ah. And there it is. If something happens—when something happens—and it becomes common knowledge that the document was taken out from under your nose, you will be the one to bear responsibility for it.”
“That document has your information on it, Wilshire. As well as that of dozens of others, many of whom are still serving abroad. Multiple lives are threatened, as well as families, friends, loved ones. Rumor has it you’ve become close to a young woman—the sister of an earl relatively new to the ton.
I hear she has caught many an eye, most notably yours.
Now, supposing I were one of your former French associates who came into the knowledge that you had been a spy, someone you had duped or fooled; I might take great interest in your current social situation.
You know very well that loved ones are used as leverage for information.
Nobody in your circle is safe, especially one to whom you now show special favor. ”
Anthony’s eyes narrowed, hot rage boiling in his gut. “You will not speak of her, and you will not use her to force my hand.”
“And yet you know I speak the truth!” Braxton threw up his hands, his frustration clearly mounting.
“Yes, I am concerned for myself.” He sighed, and his shoulders slumped.
“Not only do I bear sole responsibility for the document, my information is contained in it as well, as your governmental liaison, the mastermind of the entire operation.”
Anthony allowed himself to fully absorb the conversation and, along with the pervasive anger, felt a deep and sharp stab of fear.
If the Janus Document did indeed find its way to his former French associates, nobody was safe.
His friendships with Jack, Ivy, and Sophia were well-known.
Anybody with an ounce of investigative skills would soon realize that although Anthony’s blood relations were dead, the Elliots had become his family.
Anthony inhaled and exhaled slowly and shook his head. “Believing my life was my own was too good to be true. I ought to have known. Where am I to start looking for the blasted thing?”
“As I said, I traced Harold Miller as far as France. He has disappeared.”
“Are you certain he is the one who has it? Why do you suspect his intentions are to sell it?”
Braxton frowned. “He’s a bright lad, but destitute and from difficult circumstances.
He commented once on the amount of money the document would bring—” He rubbed his face though clear evidence of his stress remained in the lines around his eyes and mouth.
“He was the only one with access to my office. I saw him in it less than an hour before I realized it was gone. I immediately started tracking him, of course, but lost him in Paris. And it isn’t as though I can approach French authorities with the situation.
Pardonnez-moi, mais je requiers l’aide pour trouver une liste des espions Anglais. ”
“Is he working alone? How has he gained access to resources?”
Braxton shrugged. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t have believed he could mastermind something of this magnitude, but as I said, he is an intelligent sort.”
“Are we to assume it hasn’t already fallen into the wrong hands?”
“I know it hasn’t. I still communicate with our people on the inside, and very few are even aware of the theft.” Braxton shook his head. “If the French get the list, I suspect we will know soon enough. An experienced agent will eventually see the patterns in the code.”
“Or one of our own could be turned,” Anthony warned again.
“I don’t believe that would happen. Our people are carefully investigated before serving. But should the worst happen, I suspect our operatives past and present will likely begin disappearing. Of course you see the urgency.”
Anthony sighed and rubbed his eyes. The evening was now colorless, joyless.
Not only would he be forced to leave Sophia, but he wouldn’t be able to tell her the reason.
She would hear Braxton’s carefully placed rumors that Anthony Blake, the new Earl of Wilshire, was back to his old tricks.
It left a sour taste in his mouth, and his eyes burned at the thought of her inevitable feelings of betrayal.
Because aside from the fact that he wanted her in every way he possibly could, theirs was a genuine friendship.
They had spent countless hours in meaningful conversation, sharing confidences in the library over a game of chess while Jack and Ivy read or played cards.
He had grown accustomed to being with Sophia.
Before, when he had served in France, the secretive nature of his role had been unpleasant but it hadn’t upset anyone else. Then, there had been no one with whom he cared to share the details of his life. Now, Sophia was the one person on earth who knew him without his protective wall of cynicism.
“I am sorry, old boy.” Braxton did indeed look regretful. “Dreadfully sorry. If it weren’t so critical, I wouldn’t ask. You’re truly the only one who can do this—you have the knowledge, the resources, the persona already in place.”
“With any luck, I won’t need to use it for long.” Anthony stood and gestured toward the library door. “You should leave. I find I’m not much in the mood for company.”
The corner of the viscount’s mouth lifted. “You were never in the mood for my company anyway.”
“Is it any wonder? A meeting with you never did carry good news.”
“Be at my office in the morning. I’ll have more for you then.” Braxton clapped a hand on Anthony’s shoulder and took his leave.
Anthony rubbed a hand over his face and stared for a moment at the empty room.
He poured himself a drink at the sidebar and wandered slowly to the mantel where the image of his late mother looked down on him benevolently.
All will be well. He heard her familiar refrain echo through his thoughts and rolled his eyes.
She’d lived for years with a lying, philandering husband that Anthony honestly couldn’t say he missed, an arrogant firstborn son, and a floundering second son who had made a general nuisance of himself trying to find his place in the world.
All had not worked out well for her, and he marveled that she’d ever believed it would.
He braced one hand against the mantel and hung his head, frustration clawing at him until he felt he’d explode from it.
With an oath, he hurled his glass into the fire and closed his eyes, steeling himself for what lay ahead.
Because as much as he hoped he would find the Janus Document quickly, he had a feeling it would be some time before his world was set to rights again.