She told herself it was because she needed her reticule, pelisse, and hat.
But it wasn’t the first lie she had ever told herself, and she had a feeling it would not be the last.
Chapter Nine
Felix was inthe devil of a muddle.
“Tell me this again,” commanded Lucien, Duke of Arden and leader of the Special League. “I am sure I must have misheard you, because it sounded as if you just told me the actress Rose Beaumont is Drummond McKenna’s sister, that she has a trunk full of dynamite hidden in her hotel room, and that she is currently staying at the townhome where you keep your mistresses, along with your daughter. Surely none of that is what you said just now.”
They were seated in Lucien’s study, accompanied by his duchess, the former co-leader of the Special League who was taking a step back from her duties since she was now with child. Once a Pinkerton agent, the duchess had been hired several months ago by Felix himself to aid Arden in his task. Using a ruse, she had infiltrated McKenna’s inner circle in New York City, posing as a servant.
That, more than anything, was the reason Felix had made the duke and duchess his first stop after seeing to the addition of guards at his townhome to ensure Verity—and Johanna too—were safe. He trusted the duchess implicitly and respected her greatly. Her case history spoke for itself. No one had been closer to McKenna than she had.
Except, it would seem, for the woman he was now harboring beneath his own roof.
Therein lay the muddle.
Because he believed Johanna. Everything within him wanted what she had revealed to him to be true. Needed it to be true. Because his feelings for Johanna McKenna were murky. He had been intimate with her. Kissed her. He desired her.
Bloody, sodding hell.
“I believe you heard Winchelsea correctly, Arden,” the duchess said, fixing Felix with a solemn but searching look. “Winchelsea, have you gone to Scotland Yard with this information yet, or to the rest of the Home Office?”
“I have not,” he admitted. “It is a breach of protocol not to inform them, I know. But given the sensitive nature of my relationship with the lady in question, I deemed it best.”
The Home Office was aware of his plan to obtain information from Johanna, but as far as they were concerned, she was Rose Beaumont, mistress to Drummond McKenna. Not Johanna, sister to the devil, woman who had smuggled lignin dynamite into London.
Ye Gods.
That bitter fact still sent a knife of fear twisting into his gut.
“I never saw Mademoiselle Beaumont in the Emerald Club during my covert operations there,” the duchess said then.
Her words chased the fear with a burst of relief. He was aware, of course that “Rose Beaumont” had been seen in McKenna’s presence on innumerable occasions about New York City. That she had interacted with known Fenians within McKenna’s circle on a regular basis. But it stood to reason that if she had not been within the club, what she had told him about her brother using her as a courier of sorts made sense.
“MissMcKenna,” he corrected softly. “I am inclined to believe her when she tells me she is McKenna’s sister. I do not believe she had a reason to dissemble. Not about that, anyway.”
Of course, she had every reason to deceive him about an endless list of things. If she had any hope of saving herself and remaining free from prison, she would have to win his trust. But he was still determined to rely upon his instincts.
For if he could not, then he had kissed a viper and taken her beneath his roof. She was sleeping three doors down the hall from his own daughter. Such folly did not merit contemplation.
“Good God, Winchelsea,” Arden interrupted then. “There is dynamite at this female’s hotel. In her trunk? Lignin, you say?”
“Yes.” He sighed, for that was the most damning fact of all in Johanna’s entire, convoluted tale. “Although, to be precise, therewasdynamite at her hotel. I have since had it moved to another location, lest McKenna discover that his sister will be turning Queen’s Evidence against him.”
He had arranged for the trunk to be brought to his townhome, fearing McKenna’s men would catch wind of what was afoot and attempt to confiscate it. It would seem they were already aware of Johanna’s connection to him, hence the bombs which had been laid at Halford House. Either that, or they had merely targeted him because of his work with the Home Office, the Special League, and Scotland Yard. The investigation was in its infancy, and it was far too early to tell.
“Christ, now you are telling me you are harboring dynamite?” Arden demanded. “Have you lost your bloody mind, man?”
“I have not,” he denied calmly, even as part of him inwardly suspected he had. For he had certainly never gone to such great lengths for a female before. “I am keeping the evidence safe. I need to arrange for the colonel to confiscate it and conduct tests. He will be able to determine the veracity of Miss McKenna’s claims in regard to the lignin. It will be important to take note of whether or not the material has come from the same source. He should be able to use the samples he retained from other bombs as comparison.”
“Why did you not go to the colonel first?” Arden asked, his expression a mask of implacability.
Felix was acutely aware of how easily their fortunes had changed. Months ago, he had come down upon Arden with ruthless precision for a lapse in his judgment as leader of the Special League, forcing him to take on a partner. And now, it would appear—to outside observers, at least—that Felix himself had made the gravest error of all.
“Because I am concerned about the manner in which Miss McKenna will be treated,” he answered honestly, aware of how it sounded.
As if he had tender feelings for her. As if he wanted her in his bed. And much to his shame, both of those things were true. Truer by the day, the hour, the minute, the second.
