“I am afraid he and his cronies believe it does,” Arden said, his tone grim. “I have suspected them of keeping the League and the Home Office out of their circle of information, but this move confirms it.”
The insubordination of Ravenhurst and Scotland Yard’s Criminal Investigation Department was a matter he would be forced to address, but it would have to wait until later. For now, Felix’s chief concern was Johanna and how he could best procure the means to see her freed.
The mere thought of her confined in prison was enough to rob him of breath. It was not to be borne.
“We will pursue that matter as we must,” Felix said. “For now, I am most worried about what we can do for Johanna.”
“Your feelings for her run deeper than you previously suggested,” Arden observed shrewdly.
“I am in love with her,” he said baldly. “There is no point in denying it. If loving her means I must step down from my position in the Home Office, I will. But not before doing everything in my power to see her released and freed of any charges the CID is attempting to lay against her.”
“Damn it all, Winchelsea,” Arden said, releasing a weary-sounding sigh. “I thought no one could muck up matters more than I could, first with the Duke of Strathmore, then with the duchess. A fine pair we make, do we not?”
“I suppose love will do that to a man.” He paused, still acquainting himself to the notion that he had fallen hopelessly in love with Johanna. “I confess, I do not recall being so tied up in knots the first time.”
“Undoubtedly, that is because you did not fall in love with an American actress with ties to the Fenian cause,” Arden observed wryly. “I cannot say I blame you, however, having fallen prey to an American woman myself. Albeit, not one with a violent criminal for a brother. Or one who smuggled lignin dynamite into England.”
“Enough,” Felix bit out. “Johanna is an innocent pawn in her brother’s games.”
“Time will tell,” Arden quipped.
Felix could not blame him, for he had been hard on the duke in the wake of the scandal he had created by nearly having a League agent wrongly incarcerated on charges of treason. By his own admission, Johanna’s story sounded damning indeed. Part of him could not fault anyone for thinking her guilty.
But he knew her.
He knew her heart.
He had been closer to her than anyone. Inside her, for God’s sake.
“Time can sod off,” he told Arden. “I am telling you now. Johanna is innocent of all charges. She did not commit conspiracy and nor did she willingly smuggle the dynamite. She was forced to by McKenna, who has been waging a private campaign of terror upon her for years.”
“We can agree upon one fact, at least,” Arden observed. “McKenna must be stopped.”
But not at the expense of Johanna. Felix would not allow her to become a casualty in the war on Fenians.
He was about to say as much when a quick rap sounded on the study door.
“Enter,” Arden called.
“This just arrived for Your Grace,” said his butler, bearing a missive Felix instantly recognized as being a League communication.
“Thank you,” Arden said, striding forward and accepting the message from his butler. “That will be all.”
He scarcely waited for the door to close before tearing open the missive and hastily scanning the contents. Felix’s stomach was weighed with dread as he watched Arden’s expression change.
“What is it?” he demanded, praying silently that the message was not somehow about Johanna.
“Explosions are being reported,” Arden said grimly. “One in St. James’s Square, another at the home of an MP, another at Scotland Yard.”
“Scotland Yard,” he repeated, everything inside him freezing.
One word, one face filled his desperate thoughts.
Johanna.
Dear God, Johanna.
“Johanna was taken there,” he said. “My God, Arden. Is there word of the damages? Are there injuries?”
