Chapter 5
James
Asudden thrust forced James to retreat with only a breath to spare as the blade’s point almost grazed his cheek. Beads of sweat stung his eyes, and his heart pounded in a heavy but familiar cadence, the air thick with rivalry and unspoken challenge.
He steadied himself and forced his mind to ignore the ache of his muscles. He could not afford to slow down or be distracted. The consequences of losing were too grave to contemplate.
He moved deliberately across the polished floor, eyes locked on his opponent as they circled each other.
Sensing a moment of weakness, James lunged, his foil cutting through the air with practiced precision.
The man parried his attack, the clash of steel echoing through the room like a tolling bell.
Voices murmured in the distance, but James only heard the measured rhythm of his own breath. As he fought off exhaustion, his mind conjured a different opponent—a faceless man who deserved no quarter.
Renewed energy coursed through him and he advanced again and again, his movements fluid and calculated. If he could not best his adversary on skill alone, then he would outlast him by sheer force of will.
His muscles tensed and shuddered as he blocked a thrust from his opponent’s blade and answered with a forceful attack. Then, with a deft twist of his wrist, James disarmed him.
Approving murmurs and a ripple of applause sounded around them. James bowed his head briefly, catching his breath as the room came back into focus.
His friend William Sterling lowered his foil and wiped beads of sweat from his brow.
“Blazes, James,” William huffed. “If I had known you were going to fight like a man possessed, I never would have taken the bet.”
James chuckled. “Why do you think I did not suggest a bout of fisticuffs? You would surely have bested me, and then I would be the one composing a sonnet in your honor.”
William was the second son of an earl, and most men did not quite know what to make of him. He was a barrister and a boxer, possessing both a lightning-fast left hook and a brutal cross-examination in the courtroom. He was also a loyal friend.
William let out a groan as they fell in step together, sweat and leather heavy in the air. “Pray, do not remind me. Last time I lost a bet to Alex, I had to perform at Lady Radmall’s musicale and I have never been so humiliated.”
They placed their foils on the wall mounts amid shouts of congratulations. Among the men gathered at the edge of the room stood Thomas Whitlock. James had met Henry’s older brother only once, during a brief, somber encounter at the funeral.
Now, Thomas stood in conversation with two other gentlemen, lean and athletic in a plain dark coat.
His resemblance to Henry was haunting, though he appeared the older and more reserved of the two.
Henry had rarely spoken of his brother except to say that Thomas kept irregular hours and worse company.
Thomas’s gaze passed over James without the slightest acknowledgment before turning back to his companions.
A pressure built beneath James’s ribs. He reached into his pocket for the token again, hoping the cold weight of it would ease the acute sense of guilt and loss. He only hoped that finding Henry’s killer would bring them both some measure of peace.
They left the sparring room in search of their other friends.
Angelo’s School of Arms and Gentleman Jackson’s next door were popular clubs for gentlemen of the ton.
James visited one or the other as often as his schedule permitted when in London.
The practice kept him agile. And prepared.
He never knew when he would need the use of those skills, though the ball tonight would require a different sort of discipline.
William cast him a quizzical glance as they slowed near the wall covered in ancient shields. “I have no wish to pry into your personal affairs, except, of course, that I really do. I received a letter from Hugh a few days ago. Is it true that you are finally betrothed to Kate?”
How much to tell him? He had no wish for everyone of his acquaintance to know of the bargain between him and Kate, but this was William. They had been friends since their early days at Eton.
Lord Nicholas Haverly, their close friend who had been observing the match, joined them with a wide grin. “You are betrothed?”
James ran a hand down his face, as though he might wipe away the conversation along with the sweat. “Not . . . precisely.”
William raised an eyebrow.
James might as well tell them since they would find out eventually. “The lady may have asked for some time to consider things.”
Nicholas let out a loud laugh. “Oh, that is famous! Wait until the others hear about this. James has met the one woman in all of England who does not blush at his smile or go silly over his handsome face.”
William’s laugh echoed as he clapped James’s shoulder. “Perhaps you have finally met your match, my friend.”
Kate rose in his mind, proud and defiant on the frozen path. “This is a matter of convenience, nothing more.” Even to his own ears, the words sounded hollow.
William sobered. His friends had heard James dismiss love too many times to be surprised, though he was grateful none of them questioned why he had finally proposed to her. “Do you have a plan to secure her hand?”
“I am escorting her to Lady Wycliff’s ball tonight. I hope to find some way into her good graces, though I fear that may be an impossible task. We have agreed to a courtship of only five weeks.”
“Five weeks to fall in love?” Nicholas’s voice was incredulous.
“I do not need her to fall in love with me. I only need her to choose me.” It sounded far simpler than it felt.
His two friends shared a look, equal parts pity and amusement.
“Enough talk of marriage,” James said. “When shall we have the pleasure of hearing your sonnet, William?”
Even after James returned home and exchanged his fencing clothes for more suitable attire, his conversation with William and Nicholas rankled.
Seated in his study, he paid little heed to the pile of estate business in front of him.
He turned Henry’s token over in his hand, its weight failing to calm his agitation.
He should have been thinking about Henry’s list or the investigation.
And yet his mind remained stubbornly fixed on a single, vexing distraction. Kate.
She was occupying far too many of his thoughts, especially since he had not seen her since arriving in London yesterday. It was maddening. Even when she was not with him, she was still disrupting his focus. He spun the token on the desk.
He had carried out dozens of assignments for the Crown since Westmarch had recruited him as an agent, but none had unsettled him quite like this one.
He pocketed the token with unnecessary roughness.
He had a plan ready to put in motion for identifying the twelve names on the list, but time was already running out.
Five weeks to court Kate. Five weeks to discover the identity of The Sentinel. Five weeks to stop a threat against the Crown.
A familiar knock sounded, and the butler strode through the door with a bow. “My lord, your young friend is at the servants’ entrance. He is asking to speak with you.”
James straightened. “Tell him I shall be there directly.”
He gathered the papers on his desk and locked them in a drawer.
Why had Jimmy come? James had told him to visit Westmarch if he came across any useful information.
Would James be disobeying orders if he talked to the boy?
Surely not. He would simply ensure the boy was fed.
If Jimmy wanted to share any information while he ate, it would be rude not to listen.
James entered the kitchen to the sweet fragrance of tea cakes. A young boy of about ten with unruly dark blond hair and breeches several sizes too short sat at the kitchen worktable. He was devouring the sweet buns, crumbs at the corners of his mouth mixing with the smudges of soot on his cheeks.
An ache bloomed in James’s chest at the rip in the boy’s jacket and the hunger in his eyes.
At least Jimmy’s shoes were in decent shape.
James had seen to that with a pair passed on as castoffs by the stable boy, sufficiently scuffed to appear worn.
The boy had refused James’s offer of a steady job, though James paid him in food and coin for the information he brought him from the streets.
Pride was a fierce thing, especially when it was all one had left.
“I nearly made it to your chair before you noticed me. Are you losing your touch?”
Jimmy’s head snapped up, a broad grin stretching across his face. “Nah, it’s just them cakes. Can’t ’elp it if there’s food to be eaten.” He took another large bite, then licked his fingers. “Right delicious these are.”
“I thought I told you that for the time being, you should visit our mutual friend instead of coming here.”
“I remember. What d’ye take me for? I ain’t a confounded lackwit!
I went just like you said. His servant told me he ain’t home at present.
Said he didn’t know when the gent’d be back, so I came here instead.
’Sides, Mrs. Bates always has the best grub.
” Jimmy’s hand hovered near the remaining cakes.
James slid the plate closer as he took a seat on the wooden chair across from Jimmy. “Indeed. And I daresay she hopes that these will be eaten by someone who might truly appreciate them.”
Jimmy snatched another one from the plate. “Well, if you ain’t makin’ game of me.”
“I assure you, Jimmy. Nothing would make her happier.” The sweet smell of bread and dried fruit reached his nose. “In fact, I will join you.” James took a bite of the soft bun and brushed away the crumbs.
“Now. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit today?”
“Well, I was at that taproom near Pottery Lane, the one Mr. Brown owns. He lets me sweep up now and again for coin.” Jimmy paused his story to take a quick bite of tea cake and a gulp of tea.
“There was two gents sittin’ at a table in the corner, one of ’em was three sheets in the wind.
I was just cleanin’ and I heard . . .” Jimmy hesitated, brushing his fingers over the crumbs on the table.
“I heard ’em say the name Henry Whitlock. ”
The name struck James like a physical blow.
“So I kept my ears open and stayed close, and the flash cove with the fancy ring said he was meetin’ someone.”
“Who? Where?”
“Midnight. At Wycliff’s. In the library.” Jimmy shrugged. “Didn’t make much sense to me, but that’s what he said.”
Wycliff’s. The ball tonight. James had learned that sometimes the perfect place to hide was in plain sight.
“I done right, comin’ to tell ya, didn’t I?”
James reached out and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Yes, Jimmy. You did exceedingly well.” That earned him a large grin. “I have an important job for you. Do you think you are up for it?”
Jimmy nodded enthusiastically.
“Wonderful. I have a list of names, and I need you and the other boys to see what you can find out. Tell them there is extra coin and food for anyone willing to help me.”
As James waited in the front hall of Kate’s town house to accompany her family to the ball, he replayed Jimmy’s words in his mind.
The boy had never led him astray, and James knew where he had to be at midnight.
He would have to find a place to conceal himself, but a library at a large town house should provide options.
He needed tonight to go smoothly so that he could delay explaining himself to Westmarch until it was necessary.
If the man could not be reached, he could hardly fault James for his actions tonight.
He glanced up at the stairs. Again. Footsteps sounded, but it was not Kate who appeared.
“Good evening, Lord Sutherland. Lady Sutherland.” James bowed, but when he straightened, he noticed Lord Sutherland was not in evening attire.
“There has been a change in plans,” Lord Sutherland said. “I shall not be attending the ball tonight. There has been an unfortunate accident.”
His heart skipped a beat. “Kate. Is she well? Did she—?” His voice broke as dread seized him.
“I apologize for alarming you. Kate is unharmed,” Lord Sutherland reassured him. “It is Hugh. He was thrown from his horse. He will make a full recovery, but Lady Sutherland insisted one of us remain at the house to be with him.”
How had his friend been thrown? Hugh was a horseman, known for his steady seat and easy command of any mount. But whatever had happened, those kinds of questions could wait.
“How may I be of service to your family? Is Hugh able to receive visitors?”
Before Lord Sutherland could answer, a door clicked softly above them, and every other thought vanished.
Kate stood at the top of the stairs, wearing a cream gown with a gauzy overlay that followed the lines of her graceful figure. Her hair was styled high, small pearls woven through her dark curls.
As she descended the staircase, James could not tear his eyes away, each step deepening his awareness of her.
Would she fit as perfectly in his arms as he imagined?
He exhaled slowly, dismissing the unwelcome thought.
He had faced down loaded pistols and ruthless traitors; surely he could survive one evening in the company of a beautiful, intriguing woman.
Kate drew close, and the subtle scent of orange blossom and lavender weakened his resolve. He cleared his throat. “Lady Katherine, you look lovely this evening.” He placed a lingering kiss on the soft silk of her glove before forcing himself to release it. He needed some fresh air.
“I heard you asking after Hugh,” Kate said. “I am certain he would enjoy a visit from you, but he has been asleep since taking laudanum yesterday and will likely be so for hours still.”
“Are you certain you would like to attend the ball tonight?”
“The doctor assures us he will mend better with quiet and rest.” A touch of mischief brightened her smile. “Besides, tonight promises to be an adventure.” Kate tucked herself against his outstretched arm, the warmth of her touch stirring something in him that he refused to explore.
Tonight would be an adventure, indeed.