TheCharmer (30 page)

Speaking of which—he cleared his throat loudly enough to distract even Liverpool's rage. "My lords, a more pressing issue is… how did the Voice of Society know His Highness was… ah… out and about?"

Even Liverpool had to admit that the entire affair would have been much less public without the gossip columnist. The leak had troubled them before, yet no progress had ever been made in the search for the informant.
Someone
knew too bloody much and wasn't shy about telling it.

"Well, you've done it now, George," Liverpool said with slightly more restrained ire. "That outrageous challenge to these… these amateurs!… to accompany you on your misadventure? Madness! Are you
trying
to have yourself committed?"

Dalton folded his arms. "That's a bit much, my lord." He looked very uncomfortable with Liverpool's assertions. "It isn't for you to make that decision anymore."

No
, Collis thought. Liverpool had left his seat on the Royal Four to take the appointment to Prime Minister—and only the Royal Four had the combined muscle to remove a king from a throne, a power they did not take lightly. Even then, King George III had had to exhibit undeniable madness before steps were taken.

Come to think of it, Liverpool had been a part of that decision at the time…

Collis's drifting attention was caught by George rising. They all scrambled to their feet as well.

Rose hopped up quickly. It was odd, how comfortable she had become in the company of a prince. But their adventure was over. George was again "Your Highness," and she was again simply Rose Lacey. She must watch herself to behave properly now.

Before he left the room, George turned wearily to clap one hand on Collis's shoulder. "It was an honor and a pleasure to spend time with… with such lively young adventurers. I won't forget how you kept that maniac distracted from me, son."

Collis bowed his head in silent acknowledgment. From Rose's view, for just a moment, both Collis and the Prince Regent were in perfect mirror profile.

Perfect
. Every turn of lip and dip of nose was identical, despite the bruising. Etheridge coloring aside, Collis could have been George's brother.

Son
. The icy wash of realization kept her frozen for a long heartbeat. George turned to cup her cheek briefly, then moved off with Lord Liverpool, his shoulders sagging in exhaustion.

"He called you son," Rose breathed.

Collis turned to cast her a questioning glance. "What's that?"

Dalton stepped between them. "Collis, Simon will debrief you. Miss Lacey, you're with me, if you please."

Rose turned automatically to follow Lord Etheridge to a small morning room. The cozy chamber and the roaring fire should have been welcome treats. She stood there blindly, scarcely aware of her surroundings.
Son
.

Like the stamping mill in Louis's factory, the clues came down upon her mind with numbing force.

The lengths that had been gone to in order to make Collis Tremayne a lord's heir and not a simple lieutenant colonel's heir.

"
Gretchen
—
who became more a nanny to me than a companion to my mother
—"

Lady Gretchen, from the King's court. What highborn lady would consent to be an ordinary nanny? A
royal
nanny, now… that was something else altogether.

"They treated him more like a royal heir than simply Etheridge's heir."

"Rose."

She was snatched from her stunning realization by Lord Etheridge's voice. Yes, the debriefing. She stammered a bit, her mind still spinning, then began to tell his lordship precisely how she'd come to be at Wadsworth's house.

She stood before him like a schoolchild repeating the lesson. Which, in a way, she was. She spared herself nothing. From her first foolish mistake to her final error in not reporting in, she told the spymaster everything. He watched her with cool appraisal, occasionally nodding encouragement.

When she finally wound down, he gestured for her to sit, then took the chair opposite. "Miss Lacey, you have been exceptionally lucky, but perhaps there is less luck involved than you realize. You have demonstrated a knack for information analysis again and again. Putting clues together is one thing. Putting clues together while on the run is something else altogether. The ability to think on one's feet is a rare and fine thing. Yet perhaps not surprising, considering your experiences in Edward Wadsworth's service."

She caught her breath to ask his meaning but stopped. He raised a brow at her small noise of confusion. "Is a servant not required to anticipate others in order to survive? In your case, I mean that literally. Living in constant danger is wonderful training for the espionage trade."

Could that be? All those years, living in shadow and careful silence? "You believe I gained from that, my lord?"

"Why not? It is the hard knocks of the hammer that shape the iron, after all. The question everyone must ask themselves is, How am I going to use what life has given me? You'd make a handy thief. Or a wildly efficient housekeeper." He did smile slightly then. "And, as tempting as it is to hire you to run Etheridge for me, I think I'll pass."

He was jesting with her, of course. Especially the comment about becoming a thief. Did he think her untrustworthy?

"It truly was a mistake, my lord, at first," she hurried to reassure him. "I thought I brought out the Wentworth dossier."

"I wonder. Simon believes in hunches, as he calls them. Intuition, I suppose he means, although he claims that the mind is always processing information, even when we are not aware of it. He would probably conclude that a part of you did know that you had the wrong file."

Intuition. It sounded like huggery-muggery to her. "I don't know about that, my lord."

He didn't smile, although the corners of his eyes did crinkle a bit. "Neither do I. I prefer to deal in facts. Something I would recommend you keep in mind, now that you are no longer one of Simon's students."

Oh, no. She
was
being sacked. "My lord?"

"Welcome to the Liar's Club, Miss Lacey."

She couldn't speak. Finally, she inhaled at last. "Thank you, my lord," she said faintly. Then she thought of something else. Collis… but what of Collis, now? If what she had surmised was true, then someone must know. Someone like Lord Etheridge.

"And Collis, my lord?" She watched him closely. "Will he be admitted to the Liars as well?"

"That remains to be seen." Lord Etheridge tented his fingers, tapping the tips to his chin. "Rose," he said finally, "one of the things that makes a good operative is the ability to know when to use information… and when not." He tilted his head. "I'd like to tell you a story."

She blinked at his casual tone but nodded obediently. "As you wish, sir."

"There was once a man who had a sister. She was a good deal older than him, so he did not know her well, although by all accounts she was a fine woman." He contemplated the carpet for a moment. "This sister married a good man, entirely her choice, but she wed quite young. Her husband was a military man and often gone from home for great lengths of time. Lord Liverpool took pity on her loneliness and brought her to Court. She was witty and very attractive, and soon made some… influential friends."

Collis's mother had been stunningly beautiful, from her portrait hanging in this house. Rose could see where his lordship was heading. George, with his eye for beauty, had been the influential friend. Pretty Mrs. Tremayne was young and flattered, Mr. Tremayne was older and patient…

It was well known that Prinny was fond of married women and, despite his regard for his "dear Fitzherbert," he had always been a dallying sort.

Dalton cleared his throat. "It was a brief period at Court and much regretted by this sister. She confessed all to her husband even before she knew she was with child. His patience and compassion finally won her love forever, I believe."

Rose noticed that his lordship had very carefully mentioned no names.

"Of course, she never told her brother of this. He learned it when he gained possession of their letters after they died. She loved her husband and son with all her heart. They were as happy as I've ever seen a family be."

"I'm sure they were, sir."

He still wasn't looking at her. How difficult it must be for such a private man to open locked doors of the past. His jaw worked. "Do you believe there is any point in Collis knowing of this?"

Rose studied his profile silhouetted against the flames. So like Collis, and yet so very different. He was nowhere near as cool as he seemed. His hand resting on the arm of the chair was posed casually, yet the tension in his fingers dented the taut fabric. His gaze was fixed nowhere in particular, yet his entire being seemed aimed at her as if she held his treasure in her careless hands.

"What of truth, then?" she asked quietly. "Is it not Collis's right to know who his father is?"

"Collis's father was Wallace Tremayne, in Collis's truth. But you could change that. Would you take his father from him, staining every memory he has with this other truth?"

Rose lifted her chin at the tone in his voice. "You wish me to believe that no political advantage holds your hand?"

That brought a wry sound from his throat. "Trust me, Miss Lacey. There is no political advantage to Collis in knowing the truth. It would change everything, and nothing. George would still make no claim, Princess Charlotte would still take the throne, and all you will have done is bring Collis to the attention of anyone with a vendetta against the Crown."

Rose could see it clearly. The plotting that would ensue, the dark influences who would only too gladly try to use Collis as a sort of figurehead to take over the government.

His lordship was watching her now. "Rather makes Liverpool seem the lesser evil now, doesn't it?"

Convinced, Rose nodded soberly. "But the concerns of the Crown will not convince
me
."

He raised a brow at her and waited.

"I mean no disrespect, my lord, but I cannot agree to keep your secret. I must make my own decision on the question."

A corner of his mouth quirked. "Well said, and so I must allow it is so. You have come far, Miss Lacey." He smiled in earnest. "Indeed, if you managed to turn Ethan Damont into a useful example of humanity. What did you do to him, anyway?"

Remembering her behavior, Rose nearly laughed. "I made him get up from his drinking binge and help me get into the factory."

His lordship's eyes widened. "You
made
him?"

Rose nodded. "I fear so, my lord. I was most forceful about it."

A brief chuckle rumbled from somewhere deep in his chest, but he almost covered it with a cough. "I, ah, see. Well, I'm sure you did no lasting harm to Mr. Damont's reputation as a libertine."

"No, sir, I'm sure you're right. Still, he was very drunk. It required a certain amount of icy water."

Chuckling out loud, Lord Etheridge only shook his head at her. "You have no idea how intimidating you can be, do you?"

Intimidating? "Me, sir?" Rose could only blink at him. "But I'm just a—"

He held up a hand. "Don't. Don't say that you are only a maid, Miss Lacey. You are not a housemaid any longer. You are a trained and accomplished Liar and don't you ever forget it."

She took a deep breath, for the air had somehow grown sweeter. "I am a Liar," she said softly to herself. Then she pinned him with a sharp look. "When will you induct Collis? He deserves it every bit as much as I."

Lord Etheridge inhaled. "Miss Lacey, that is complicated."

A voice came from behind her. "That is none of your business, girl."

Rose turned to find Lord Liverpool and Clara standing in the doorway. The Prime Minister indicated Rose with a disparaging flick of his stick. "Not this one?"

Rose saw Clara stiffen. "You asked for Miss Rose Lacey, my lord. This is she."

Lord Liverpool's eyes turned to slits. If Rose had been standing in the arena, she would be bracing herself for attack. Then again, bracing herself seemed like a very good idea.

The Prime Minister walked toward her silently. He wasn't a big man, not much taller than her and spare of flesh, but he was a man of enormous presence. Rose felt that presence—that
disapproving
presence—like a force pushing her backward.

Pushing her down.

She stood as tall as she could manage for the shaking in her knees. He stopped no more than a foot away from her and tilted his head, considering her. "You're a plain, pale thing. I don't understand the attraction." He turned toward Dalton. "How do you propose to separate Tremayne from this opportunistic creature?"

"They were merely partners in the test mission, my lord," the spymaster said. "They are comrades. No more." He smiled slightly at Rose. "Miss Lacey is all business, my lord."

Ah
. Rose thought that might be a very good moment to gaze elsewhere. There was a lovely vase on a pedestal table. Very fine, all cool blue and white—