Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Knox Ancell, the Duke of Hampton, watched the woman’s retreat until she was lost in the crowd, then he hit the side of the coach to let his driver know he was ready to continue on his journey.
Although the idea of spending the rest of the morning in the middle of a smoke-filled, alcohol-induced daze at his club did not hold as much interest as it had when he’d climbed into his carriage, intent on putting an otherwise sour day out of his mind.
He'd had a discussion with Lord Montrose that had put him in rather dour spirits, and he’d worn a perpetual frown on his face until an enchanting creature in a plain, brown woolen dress had intruded upon his dark solitude.
Her hair was pulled back into a simple knot at the base of her neck.
But it was the notable curves and the expressive green eyes that struck him the hardest. When she flashed that brazen smile at him he’d been equal parts annoyed by the intrusion and…
impressed. It wasn’t often he was faced with such bold ladies hopping into his carriage.
Generally, they blushed to the roots of their hair or fluttered their lashes in a ploy at winning his heart and gaining the title of duchess.
It did not take much to discern that this woman cared nothing for such trivial things.
She was set on a mission that he admired, albeit with reluctance.
She was entirely too comely to involve herself in any sort of dangerous intrigue.
England was in the heat of war with Napoleon and there was nothing grand or honorable about losing one’s life or being captured by the enemy and branded a spy where a quick death was a luxury.
It was one of the reasons he’d been arguing with Montrose.
That man was against everything that the Lion’s Watch stood for, believing that the Home Office should be tasked with anything to do with crossing enemy lines, rather than a group of “miscreants,” designed by a “bored aristocrat,” who only started the organization because he’d been “shirking his duty” by adopting the role of duke upon the deaths of his father and older brother.
Knox was personally acquainted with the Duke of Lionston and had been furious at the disrespect in the Montrose’s tone.
The very last thing Lionston could be called was a shirker of anything.
Struggling for calm, Knox had gathered his belongings and stomped out of the residence after a few choice words tossed at Montrose, none of which were complimentary.
Knox resented the bloated toad’s view on the Lion’s Watch, which had gathered much useful intelligence for the Crown.
They were highly skilled men, who were not afraid to take risks.
While he would not say there were no women who assisted in the cause, he did not like the idea of his carriage companion joining those ranks.
She was just confident enough to get herself in serious trouble.
Thus, instead of heading for his club, he decided to speak to someone he knew would be able to listen to reason.
He tapped on the roof and instructed his driver to turn toward a section of London that was a far cry from Mayfair.
When the coach stopped and he stepped to the ground, Knox looked at the dilapidated old warehouse.
It did not look as though it had witnessed much activity over the years.
There were some who might say it was a waste of good space that could be put to other uses.
Only a handful of loyalists were privy to the truth of this unassuming building.
His driver didn’t bat an eyelash as Knox instructed him to wait.
Then again, he was paid handsomely for his time.
All of Knox’s servants knew better than to question anything he did that might appear odd on most occasions.
While his solitude was preferable, it was not unusual for Knox to visit other associates at all hours of the night.
Nor to find his way to a seedy part of the city.
He rapped on the door, and after the password was exchanged, the latch was thrown and he was allowed entry. “Good to see you again, Your Grace.”
Knox inclined his head and walked through the altered interior.
One would never guess that there was an elite organization housing their headquarters in this location.
Society did not know to whom the warehouse belonged, as it had been a secret exchange, but Knox was aware of everything.
He had been initiated into the ranks of the Lion’s Watch some months ago and was a respected agent among his fellow members.
But everyone who was selected as part of the society was considered for their merit and skill level.
Knox had never shied away from anything, never backed down from a fight, and was capable of using his title and influence to gain entrée to many doors that would have been closed to others.
He took pride that he was able to assist the Crown in fighting the French, who wanted to take over the entire world with Napoleon at the helm.
Not in this lifetime.
But he was not here about the situation on the continent at the moment.
He had to be assured that the woman who had jumped into his carriage earlier that day would not be considered as a recruit.
There were several possible women recruits around the city; enough that she did not need to be counted among them.
He walked toward a gentleman who was looking at a hand drawn map with a deep crease on his brow.
His hands were spread on either side, and he seemed to be studying the lines with a calculated method.
As focused as he was, he still must have managed to hear Knox’s approach, because he glanced up and straightened. “Hampton.”
“Scarsdale,” Knox greeted Fletcher Clay, the Earl of Scarsdale, and added a respectful incline of his head.
He had long admired the earl for his services thus far in the Lion’s Watch.
As one of the original founding members, he had proved his worth as a valuable asset in the war, ensuring that missives were carried back and forth between England and France to their network of spies that had dared to infiltrate enemy lines.
Knox knew Scarsdale would have volunteered for much of the wartime effort, but with his dark, penetrating stare and his memorable copper hair, it was decided that he was most valuable giving direction to the new members.
He was essential when it came to assigning them a mission that would prove, not just their loyalty, but their abilities in the field.
It was much different when under the threat of death, as opposed to thinking they would be riding in guns blazing and coming out the victor without any consequences.
They had lost a few good people who failed to remember that important fact.
“Already here to ask for your next assignment?” Scarsdale inquired.
“Not precisely. I am enjoying a few hours of freedom.”
The earl chuckled at that. “You don’t appreciate getting shot at, Your Grace?”
“Not every day,” he returned dryly.
The earl moved toward a more secluded part of the warehouse where many meetings had been held with the utmost discretion. “Brandy?”
When Knox murmured an agreement, two glasses were brought over and one of the crystal tumblers handed to him.
“I daresay,” the earl sighed. “I am grateful for the distraction. I have been trying to pinpoint exactly what turncoat in a position of power in London could be a loyalist to those damned frogs.”
“No luck yet?”
“I wish I could say yes, but the cretin is good at covering his tracks.” He took a steady drink. “Thankfully, I have someone I can put into place who I believe will be a good fit when it comes to infiltrating polite society.”
Knox wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that. Combined with the feeling of apprehension that traveled up his spine, that statement was even more concerning. “Oh? Who did you have in mind? Sophia? Margaret?”
“Someone new. Someone the society is interested in speaking with.”
Bloody hell. “Does this lady have a name?”
Scarsdale gave a light snort. “Using the word lady would be too humble of a word for Miss Astara Smith. She has been known for her daring attempts to gain the attention of our society for quite some time. I’m surprised you have not heard us speak of her in the warehouse.
” He sighed. “But I suppose you have been rather preoccupied on various assignments of late.”
He drained his brandy and then set the glass aside as he rose to his feet.
Upon walking over to a cabinet, he reached into a pocket and withdrew a key that only the senior agents had access to and opened the cabinet.
The single envelope he brought forth would contain various files on possible agents, as well as money and assorted other items that might be needed in the field of intrigue.
The earl tossed the envelope to Knox. Crossing his arms, he said, “In there you will find everything you need to know about the lady in question.”
Knox gripped the envelope and downed his brandy, preparing to leave, when Scarsdale added, “I know that you were likely hoping for a bit of a respite, but I’m afraid that is impossible considering the current state of our nation.”
“I understand my duties,” Knox returned evenly.
“I have since the moment my governess rapped me on the knuckles with a ruler for allowing my attention to wander during my Latin instruction.” He smiled tightly.
Being a duke was certainly not something he would wish on his worst enemy.
Yes, there were benefits that came with having a title, but there was also much responsibility, such as caring for all the land and tenants at his disposal and ensuring that the estate made enough money each year to sustain it just a bit longer.
“I am sure that is true,” the earl murmured. “There were many times I wished I had a common upbringing, able to do whatever I pleased, rather than being forced to attend school and be the man that my father patterned me to be instead of the man I became.”
It had never been truly confirmed, but Knox had heard the rumors that Scarsdale preferred the company of his own sex.
However, it had never diminished the other man in his eyes.
He was still honorable and loyal, a servant to Crown and country as well as his fellow agents.
Knox had no doubt he would sacrifice himself if the situation became that dire.
Before he took his leave, he felt compelled to bring up his latest conflict with Lord Montrose.
“Hmm. That is concerning.” Scarsdale’s frown had returned.
“I will inform our other high-ranking colleagues and see if this is something they wish to pursue. During these dark times we do not need a slander upon the society’s good name.
We are not a hindrance to the Home Office, which has been made clear on more than one occasion.
They are more than happy to relinquish the reins of certain politics for the greater good. ”
Knox left feeling a bit more easy regarding Montrose but as he climbed into his coach and instructed his driver to head back to his townhouse, he grasped the envelope and knew this wasn’t just his new orders from his superior, it was also Miss Astara Smith’s first assignment.