“Nor you,” Leander said. “The ton would notice if we suddenly started residing permanently in the slums and rumors neither of us would like would start.”
“True,” he said. “So where do we begin?”
“With the renovations,” Leander said. “And in the meantime, we will start recruiting. I have a few people in mind already and I was hoping you would have suggestions as well.” He handed the list of prospects to Dash.
He glanced over the list and nodded. “I might have a few additions we can add to this,” Dash said.
Leander could not wait to start building their team. Each recruit would need the skills, secrets, and motives to make his new agency a success. This warehouse would be their base of operations. Where he would address everyone as a whole or individually. A slight nod from him here, a word of instruction there, and they would all move with the precision of well-trained operatives—a solid unit with the same goal in mind. Leadership was not a mere title; it was the invisible hand guiding each movement, each choice, each dangerous gambit. Leander had no illusions about the stakes. He intended to be that leader, and he would make a difference.
“Now that I have agreed to your master plan,” Dash said in a light tone. “Does this new venture of yours have a name?”
Leander grinned. “I thought about this at length. We can’t advertise who we are, but I do like a good name.”
“This I know.” Dash’s grin was mischievous. “Which is why I asked.”
“The Lion Watch,” Leander said without preamble.
“Even predators wear crowns in the court of the bold,” Dash nodded. “A regal choice indeed. Nothing will escape our notice.” Then his grin widened. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that has a slight play on your title. Arrogant of you, but bold as I said. We will need to be for this to work.”
He agreed. Leander started to reply but then paused, listening. The faintest whisper of movement at the far door—too soft to be noticed by someone not as trained as he had been. It made him tighten his grip on the edge of the table. His mind raced through contingencies.
Could it be the informant he had placed in the area last week? The one whose reports had been invaluable, yet whose presence in London had become increasingly precarious? He was only one of a number of individuals he had secured to help him with the start of his new agency. The Lion Watch was no longer a plan; it would be a living network, that stretched across the country and beyond, poised to act against threats both seen and unseen. And Leander would ensure that every thread remained untangled, every move anticipated.
“What was that,” he murmured, mostly to himself, “Someone is outside...”
Even here, in the heart of England, danger crept silently. Leander’s jaw set. Every measure taken now, every recruit placed, and every contact confirmed, would be tested. And he would be ready. The night had only just begun, and already the shadows whispered of peril. But Leander would meet that peril with the sharp mind, unyielding resolve, and ruthless precision that had earned him his reputation. And somewhere in the dark, he knew the game had only just started.
“Then we should definitely investigate,” Dash replied equally as quiet as Leander had been. This was not their first skirmish, and it would unlikely be there last. They had worked together often enough that no more words were needed. They just nodded at each other and went to work.
Lady Sabrina Fairfax moved with the careful precision of one determined not to be noticed, her frame low and lean beneath the rough, ill-fitting clothing she had hastily donned. A coarse, dark jacket hung slightly too long from her shoulders, the sleeves rolled to fit her arms, and trousers of muted brown tucked clumsily into worn boots completed the masculine guise. A wide-brimmed hat sat low upon her head, shadowing the dirt-streaked blonde hair tucked beneath it, strands matted and soiled to hide their natural shimmer. Her fair complexion, usually a point of pride, had been smudged with soot and dirt to blur the delicate features that might betray her identity. Even her hands were smudged with grime, fingers that appeared roughened from the handling of ropes, doors, and fences. Though as in all things, appearances could be deceiving. No one would ever mistake her for the lady she was in polite society looking as she did.
The effect was startling. She could pass, at a glance, for a boy not yet come of age, a common lad lost to the streets or fields. Her movements—slightly hunched were agile and purposeful and help to complete the illusion. As she slinked from shadow to shadow, she kept her gaze sharp, and she listened intently. She was prepared to catch any whisper or glance that might reveal her target. Every line of her body, every cautious step, screamed of the life she was willing to risk for the sake of her family. The secret she carried could not be revealed. If anyone realized that beneath the dirt, the disguise, and the borrowed garments that she was very much a lady… It was a dangerous game of her own making, and one wrong move might prove fatal.
But she had to do this. She would risk everything for her family and her foolhardy brother had embroiled himself in a mess that could ruin them all. If she had not found that letter… She had to discover the identity of the man that was blackmailing Basil. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She could do this. She could…
That blasted letter had led her to this. She could still picture it and the words that had struck terror into her heart…
My Esteemed Lord Whitley,
It has come to my attention through certain channels that your recent actions and your private correspondences have placed you in a position of delicate vulnerability. You, of all men, should recognize the weight of discretion in matters concerning the Crown. Your father would be most distressed to discover your proclivities… He is most active in parliament, is he not?
I am inclined to offer you a choice most advantageous to yourself. Either you comply with the directions I shall provide in the enclosed instructions, ensuring that your influence and continued position remain unchallenged, or the particulars of your involvement in correspondence with foreign interests—interests inimical to His Majesty’s Government—shall be made public. Such revelations, as you must know, would be construed as treasonous in the highest degree.
I trust you understand the gravity of this situation. Any attempt to dismiss or defy my entreaty will result in consequences most dire, both for your reputation and your liberty. Consider carefully the steps you take, my lord, and remember that prudence in these matters is not merely advisable—it is imperative.
I await your acquiescence, and I assure you that time is of the essence.
Yours in mutual understanding,
A Friend Concerned with Your Interests
The instructions had not been with the letter. She still did not know what her brother had involved himself in. All she knew for certain was that it was not good, and it would shame their father. She had followed Basil when he left home earlier that evening. She had prepared herself to blend in after she overheard him tell his valet he was going to a seedier part of London. She could not appear in such a location in her usual attire. She would be a sure target if she had…
The problem… She had lost sight of her brother, and she would have to go back the way she had come. This had proved to be a futile endeavor. A door opened nearby and she froze. Moonlight filled the alleyway, and she had almost nowhere to hide. She hid behind a large crate and prayed. Sabrina glanced through a crack and stared at the two individuals that had stepped outside. She held her breath as recognition took hold.
The man stood with the commanding presence of someone accustomed to attention without ever seeking it. His dark hair, glossy and thick, fell in deliberate disarray that somehow only added to his appeal. Deep green eyes, the color of freshly sprung leaves in spring, held both mischief and intensity, seeming to pierce right through to the heart of anyone he regarded—and Sabrina knew this with a certainty she shouldn’t. His broad shoulders tapered into a lean, muscular frame that hinted at strength honed through both discipline and purpose. Tall and well-proportioned, he moved with the ease of a predator, confident in both his physicality and the quiet magnetism he exuded. There was a sensuality to him that was impossible to ignore yet tempered by a certain restraint—a promise that one would have to earn to uncover what lay beneath the surface. It was Leander—her Leander. The one man she had always loved and had never truly been hers. He had treated her as inconsequential and had run off to war. He had never looked back and never apologized for anything. He owned her heart and didn’t even know it.
If he found her here… It would all be over. She could not allow him to find her. She held her breath and waited, praying the entire time that he would not walk in her direction. A noise in the distance caught his attention and he turned toward it. His companion followed after him as they went to investigate. Sabrina took that opportunity to slink away in the opposite direction. It was time to return home. Perhaps her best course of action would be to confront her brother. Perhaps then she could find a way out of their current dilemma.
