Sir Michael's Mayhem Page 2

  “Quite true.”

  “So why is this one different enough to warrant reconsidering your stance?”

  “Reconsidering my stance?” Michael’s eyes narrowed as he searched his valet’s innocent looking face. He pulled off his labourer-style boots.

  “You expressed a desire in seeking this chit out, didn’t you?”

  “I did. She helped me significantly tonight. I would only want to thank her properly and ensure she made it safely home.”

  “Noble thoughts, indeed.” Tristan’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

  Michael reached out to bat a hand at his servant and partner in espionage. “Leave off. I’ve had a rough night.”

  “You had a run in with some reddish liquid.”

  “Actually, I collided with a companion to Lady Orion, who carried a glass of ratafia.”

  “Well, that makes it so much better, doesn’t it? Those stains will be far more understanding of my attempts to remove them since a young lady was involved.” Tristan ducked as a boot sailed over his head. “You need to work on your throwing arm. Even in bowling you were never very good at the pitch.” Tristan grabbed the boot and its pair and headed to the adjoining room before any more items could be tossed his way.

  Sir Michael rubbed a hand over his face and went to the mirror above the dresser on the far side of the room. He grabbed a cloth and dampened it to remove the lip color from his lips and cheek. Dropping the fabric, he placed both hands on the dresser and stared at himself. He appeared older than his eight and twenty years. Frown lines had grown between his eyes and on his forehead. Crinkles from laughter bracketed his eyes and mouth. Tints of silver began to show in his sideburns he kept shorter than his peers.

  Peers? There was really no peer for him, was there? He possessed friends, true. But being born on the wrong side of the blanket left him in a social no man’s land most of the time. A comfortable income, but no property. A mother from the beau monde tinted with scandal and a father whose name she took with her to the grave. T’was the reason he engaged in the risky business of espionage. He needn’t worry about providing an heir to some trumped up lineage. He had no real family name to live up to, although his grandfather begrudgingly gave him his. Because of that, loneliness warred with despair. He didn’t want to die, but he didn’t fear it either. It didn’t really matter to him either way.

  His friends, Marcus, and Phillip, made it clear it did matter. They were under the firm belief that were he to die without Jesus, he would be damned to hell for eternity. Maybe so. Wasn’t hell really here on earth anyway? Where people exchanged power for money and lives for land? Where deceit and betrayal were stock and trade of almost every man? Maybe that’s why he liked Marcus, Phillip, and Theo. They were honest. They didn’t let class or an accident of birth hinder their expressions of concern for his life. He dropped his head and moved away to find the brandy decanter. He poured a drink and gazed into the warm, bronzed liquid.

  A small creature jumped from the bed to the table to Michael’s shoulders and sniffed at the drink before turning to lick Michael’s face.

  “Well met, Fidget. Keeping out of mischief, are you? Tristan didn’t complain about you tonight at least.” This was met with some quick clicking noises from the brown, white, and black ferret that scampered down his arm, jumping back to the bed. The rodent turned in a circle three times, almost as if chasing his fluffy tail, before curling up and focusing his beady black eyes on Michael.

  Michael grinned before glancing at his drink. The image of another face sprang to mind, that of a delectable young woman who courageously and mysteriously saved his skin tonight.

  What color were her eyes? He hadn’t been able to tell. Why would her kisses affect him so? He’d kissed many women through the years. Some to gain information, or to merely stave off the loneliness that crouched at the door of his heart. He shook his head. Mouse. What kind of name was that? He chuckled to himself and took a swallow of the brandy, allowing it to burn all the way down and savoring every inch. Ironic that his code name was ‘Cat,’ so named because of his reputation for stealth and nocturnal work. Was Mouse a code name? She was aware of the meeting and his contact’s injury. She arrived to save him. Had Lord Hughes involved her in this case somehow?

  Anger welled up inside. He drank the rest of his drink and picking up Fidget, Michael threw back the covers to his bed. He set the ferret down next to his pillow. First thing in the morning Michael would be pounding on the doors of the Ministry of Defense at Whitehall to demand an audience and find out what was going on. He didn’t need a woman interfering in his work.

  Soon the ferret was wrapped around his head. Well, thought Michael, at least someone loved him, even if it was only an elongated, fuzzy rat.

  ~*~

  Katrina sneaked up the servants’ stairs for the second time that night. With the blonde wig in a bag by her side, she managed to gain entry to her room, unnoticed. Something she seemed to be able to accomplish too easily. The space was cold and she rushed through changing and washing the rouge and lip color off her face. As the towel brushed her lips, she recalled Sir Michael’s kisses. How many years had she longed and waited for him to notice her as a woman? For him to kiss and desire her. Tonight, it appeared she got her wish, but he didn’t even realize it was her. Only a nameless woman who catapulted herself into his lap. The heat of a blush rose up her neck at the memory of her audacity in throwing herself at him at the Ox and Rooster.

  It was only acting. Even on his part. Wasn’t it? Perhaps not. From what she understood, there were certain signs a man was interested. She took note of that at the table and in the alley. But men could be physically attracted to almost anyone, so that meant nothing. It was merely physical. So why had that first kiss seemed so magical to her? Was it just the danger of the moment and the thrill of being observed and passing off her role with such success?

  Maybe if being a companion didn’t work out after this case was resolved, she should try the stage. She grinned as she brushed out her hair and braided it. She climbed into bed and hugged her pillow close, recalling the sense of security and passion she experienced in Michael’s arms. Things he would never offer a mere companion by the name of Katrina Shepherd. Still, a heart in love didn’t always listen to reason, did it?

  ~*~

  The next morning Katrina made herself scarce, begging off being alongside her employer for the round of visitors sure to come. She sat by a window doing mending and with a view to the street to observe who visited. When Sir Tidley arrived, she grinned. He would not discover her identity yet.

  2

  Sir Michael was escorted into a lavish drawing room and bent over Lady Orion’s hand. “My lady, as stunning as always, you would make the sun jealous.”

  “Cheeky devil,” she riposted, as she patted the seat next to her, indicating he should sit. She was dressed in yellow, the dress and style were obviously meant for a much younger woman. Still, she grinned at him appreciatively. “Sir Tidley, what brings you to my door this fine day?”

  “I came to inquire after your companion. To ensure she did not suffer any harm as a result of our collision last night.”

  “I regret to say she is not home to visitors today, but when we spoke earlier, she seemed none the worse for wear. I cannot speak for her wardrobe, but with what I pay her she can probably purchase a new dress or make one up herself. I don’t understand her penchant for grey. She appears mousy in that color with her hair.”

  “Mousy?”

  “Well, you met her, didn’t you?”

  “Only for a brief moment, my lady.”

  “So you were not formally introduced, and she fled before any more conversation could take place as a proper lady of virtue should.”

  Michael nodded and grinned. Proper would definitely be an apt description of the young lady he’d collided with. Images of another young woman, not quite so proper, inserted themselves at the forefront of his mind, and he reluctantly shoved thoughts of her aside to focus o
n the older matron before him. “You’re correct.”

  “I always am, Sir Tidley, and you would do well to never forget that. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Mousy. Wears gray all the time. Muddy brown hair pulled back so tight it makes me hurt to look at her. Quiet. So quiet I rarely realize she’s around until she’s almost upon me. I cannot complain, she is related and definitely works hard to earn her room and board here. I indulge in some of those novels once in a while to pass the time, with her lovely, soft voice reading them to me. I am glad that I agreed to take her in.”

  “She sounds like the perfect companion for you.”

  Lady Orion’s eyes narrowed and she tapped her right forefinger against her lips. “I was going to ask you how your friend, Lord Remington, and his lovely Viscountess are doing. It seems an age since they’ve been in town.”

  “It is early in the season, and I expect them within the month. They are at Rose Hill. Their daughter is a few months old now, so I expect they will all descend to town together. Marcus has work to do in Parliament.”

  “And what about Lord Westcombe? Now that marriage was a fishy business that seems to have come out smelling quite nice.” She preened. Had she anything to do with all that?

  “He arrived a week hence with Lady Westcombe and their son.”

  “And Lord Harrow, he was also a part of your convivial group, wasn’t he?”

  “He was, but is currently in the country. I am not certain when to expect him.”

  “So, there is no one to ensure you stay out of trouble?” Lady Orion winked. “I’ll need to keep an eye on you.”

  Sir Michael grinned. “You go right ahead. As a man of leisure, I can assure you that trouble is my middle name.”

  Lady Orion chuckled and rapped his knuckles gently with her fan. “You are a scamp. I hope you will do me the honor of visiting again.” She rose and so did Sir Tidley, who gave a bow and departed as his fifteen minutes of allotted time had elapsed.

  ~*~

  Katrina placed her sewing on her lap. Michael took the reins of his horse and leapt into the saddle in one flawless movement. She sighed as he rode away, so lost in thought she did not hear Lady Orion enter the room.

  “So, Miss Shepherd, you observed Sir Tidley? Were you embarrassed to meet him after your clumsiness last night?” Lady Orion sat down in a chair across from her.

  Katrina grew warm as she picked up her mending again and tried to focus on making the nice even stitches that were required of a lady of quality. “I suppose so.”

  “He inquired after you.” Lady Orion’s comment was met with silence as Katrina focused on her stitches. “He would be a good catch. Given your father’s reputation, you’ll never garner a titled gentleman, and you are a bit older than most women going through their season, but at five and twenty, you would be a suitable age for a man such as Sir Michael.”

  Katrina’s heart sped up. She accidently struck herself with the needle. “Oh!” She pulled the finger up and stuck it in her mouth, before glancing at her employer with wide eyes.

  “He does impact your sensibilities. Good. And why not? He is a fine figure of a man, even if of shorter stature. He has noble blood in his veins as well, but that should be of no importance to you.” This was said with an air of finality, but before Lady Orion rose she added, “Make him work for it.” With that parting salvo, she left Katrina in peace.

  Make him work for it? He doesn’t even realize I’m alive. Katrina ignored the pain in her heart, sighed, and resumed her work.

  ~*~

  Michael presented himself at the Ministry of Defense at Whitehall and was forced to cool his heels in the anteroom. He wondered if it was a deliberate ploy to keep him on edge. After a half an hour, he was escorted into Lord Hughes’s inner sanctum.

  “Sir Tidley.” Lord Hughes sat at his desk scattered with papers. He didn’t glance up, but motioned with his fountain pen for Michael to sit, and continued writing for a few minutes.

  Michael chose to stand with his arms crossed in front of his chest, waiting.

  Finally, Lord Hughes raised his white-haired head. Seeing Michael’s stance, he leaned back in his chair. “Out with it.”

  “The contact failed.”

  “You got the message?”

  “I’m not sure how, but yes, I did.”

  “Good, good. I’m delighted about that. The messenger was new, and it was a test. Glad to see it went flawlessly.” He grinned broadly.

  “Flawlessly? Apparently the informant I was to dine with met with violence. Did he survive?” Michael’s tone was quiet with a hint of menace.

  “He’ll recover. That was unfortunate, but it was the location he chose, so he will live with his choice.”

  “And what of the girl?”

  “Girl?”

  “The young woman who helped me escape that same fate.”

  “I didn’t send a girl. Describe her to me.”

  “Petite, blonde, heavy rouge and a great…” Michael coughed, “imagination.”

  Lord Hughes supported his elbows on the arms of his chair with his fingers steepled in front of his face. He tapped his nose a few times. “Did she give you a name?”

  “Mouse.”

  Lord Hughes’s eyebrows rose.

  “You know of her then, but you didn’t send her?” Michael frowned. “Yet she was aware of the mission.”

  Lord Hughes pulled his hands away from his face. “She acted on her own initiative, and trust me, she will receive a severe tongue lashing—after I thank her for saving you. Since when did you need a partner, Michael?”

  “I don’t. I might have escaped on my own with minimal harm, but she appeared and took over. I want her stopped. I’m fine with Tristan. I most especially do not need a meddlesome chit butting her head into my business.”

  “You mean the government’s business?”

  “Of course,” Michael sighed. “But what next? I can’t decipher without that code. We are running out of time.”

  “What if I told you that Mouse may be the very person to help you?”

  “I would say you are lying.”

  Lord Hughes stood up and leaned forward on the desk. “I bet this young woman could run circles around you with this one.”

  “I gave up gambling, Lord Hughes. You can keep your girl. I’ll figure this out on my own.”

  “No, you will follow orders. Tonight, at half past midnight, Mouse will be at your home to assist you. But I warn you, Michael. She is quality, and I will not have her reputation compromised. Act the gentleman.” He paused. “And accept her help.”

  Sir Michael swallowed hard and ground out “Yes, my lord” between gritted teeth. A muscle in his jaw moved furiously as he contained his anger. “Will that be all?”

  “No. Protect those documents. Until we get them deciphered, we cannot risk them being stolen.”

  “You doubt my ability to perform my job?” Michael’s left eyebrow rose slightly.

  “I never doubted your ability, Michael. But don’t underestimate your enemy.” With that, Lord Hughes resumed his seat. He picked up his quill , dipped it in the ink and continued his writing.

  Taking this as a dismissal, Michael departed.

  ~*~

  Katrina received a missive later that afternoon. She made her excuses to Lady Orion, grabbed a dark cloak with a hood to shield her face, left the property through the mews, and walked three blocks before finding a hackney. She arrived at the Ministry of Defense and was without delay escorted into Lord Hughes’s office. She seated herself, with her hands tightly folded in her lap and her back rigid, not touching the chair.

  Lord Hughes considered her for a few moments. “You disobeyed orders, Katrina.”

  She held her gaze steady. She would not be cowed by this great man.

  “However, I cannot be too angry since you saved the life of one of my most valuable agents.”

  She gave a terse nod.

  “At half-past midnight present yourself at Sir Tidley’s to help him with a docume
nt. Do you really believe you can decipher it?”

  “Based on notes from my father’s journal, yes.”

  “You seem certain that your father was not a traitor. Lives could be at stake if you are wrong, including yours and Sir Michael’s.”

  “I am unafraid,” Katrina said.

  “He still doesn’t realize who you are?” Lord Hughes asked.

  “No.”

  “Working side by side, how long do you think you can conceal your identity? You cannot afford to be discovered or Lord Remington will interfere. He won’t stand for a female family member engaging in these kinds of activities. You understand the risk I am taking by giving into your whim here?” His forehead wrinkled. He reached up with his left hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I worry for you, Katrina.”

  “I can take care of myself. You have no need to fear.” Katrina gave this assertion while trying to hide a shiver that unexpectedly coursed through her.

  “Go, then. This evening. Keep me apprised.” Lord Hughes went back to sorting some papers on his desk.

  Katrina rose, left, and returned home. When she got to the safety of her room she gave a subdued “Yes!” She didn’t want Lady Orion to know the reason for her happiness.

  ~*~

  Sir Tidley arrived home to find Tristan cleaning up a mess in the dining room.

  “Tris, have we been invaded once again, or did Fidget do this?” Michael leaned against the doorway with his arms folded and a frown on his face as he surveyed the broken dishes and silverware strewn about. The ferret was nowhere to be seen.

  “It would appear we were intruded upon, sir.” Tristan rose to a standing position. “Twice in less than twenty-four hours. I question the safety of staying here this evening.”

  “Is this one of your premonitions?” Michael raised his right eyebrow as he gazed at his former batman.

  Tristan nodded, his eyes darkened. “I cannot explain it, but I believe it would behoove us to move to rooms at the Savoy.”