Alister snorted. “Well, I suppose I should be relieved you don’t mix up the two. That may have made our working relationship rather strained when I turned you down.”
Drayven merely threw back his head and laughed richly. “I don’t think you have to worry on that score, Your Grace. As much as I admire our friendship, I’ve never been known to frequent the Molly Houses. I prefer the lovely, willing, andtrueladies of London, as I know you do.” With a roguish grin, he finally sobered. “Now, what is so urgent that you had to bring me in so early on a Saturday morning?”
Alister frowned as he walked over to his desk, quickly falling into the role he was so familiar with. “I do apologize for any inconvenience, Sussex, but the department has reason to believe that the Prince Regent may be in mortal danger, especially now that his father is on the brink of death.”
Drayven’s careless pose didn’t alter, but there was a new sharpness to his gaze. Alister knew this was the sort of intrigue the man lived for. He didn’t know what drove Drayven to such reckless abandon, but it was that very asset which made him such a good addition to the Home Office. He was a master agent in the field.
“This sounds serious,” he murmured. “Have there been new threats?”
“As of now we have no hard evidence, merely the usual conjecture and hearsay,” Alister said. “But it is concerning enough for Lord Liverpool to ask for our assistance to quell the matter.”
Drayven gave a low whistle at the mention of the Prime Minister, although he allowed Alister to continue.
“Although the national debt after the Napoleonic Wars was nearly crippling for the country, finances have approved somewhat with the passing of the Corn Laws a few years ago. However, unrest in Parliament among the Whigs and Tories, along with the general populace, has not. After the uprising in Manchester a few months ago that resulted in the unfortunate ‘Peterloo Massacre’ led by that radical, Henry Hunt, it is believed that a new attempt may be made to restore ‘order’ to the English people.” The emphasis Alister put on that word showed his distaste of the whole affair.
“So where do we begin?” Drayven asked.
This is where it got tricky for Alister on a personal level, but the marquess didn’t know that. No one did.
After managing a tight smile, he said, “Lord Weston’s name was mentioned in association with a growing group of radicals, but with his death shortly after the Massacre, it’s rather difficult to ascertain whether we are facing a new threat or not.” He paused. “Of course, there is speculation that his widow might be of particular interest—”
Drayven shot to his feet. “Then I daresay the timing couldn’t be more ideal.” When Alister frowned, the marquess explained. “Lady Weston was arrested just this morning for the murder of her husband. She is being held at the Tower as we speak.”
Alister suddenly felt as if he’d been thoroughly kicked in the nether regions. However, he was careful to conceal his inner turmoil. “I suppose her imprisonment might make it easier to question her—”
“No, no.” Drayven shook his head emphatically. “Don’t you see? She’s not doing us any good sequestered in a cell when she would be more of a benefit to us on the outside. We could gain full access to Weston House and possibly locate something incriminating regarding these new accusations. We might even find that Lady Weston is a radical as well.”
Alister realized the marquess made a valid point, and although he seriously doubted that Lyra was involved in anything nefarious, he couldn’t allow his emotions to overrule his judgment. “I suppose I could petition Lord Liverpool to have her released under strict house arrest, but who would—”
“Why, you, of course! Liverpool would have no qualms whatsoever about allowing her a temporary reprieve so long as you promised—”
Alister held up a hand. “Stop right there. Are you actually suggesting that she be released undermyprotection?”
The marquess merely cocked his head to the side as if Alister truly was a bit dimwitted. “Isn’t that what I just said?”
Alister tried to ignore the panic starting to well up within him. “What about you? You are just as competent—”
“Me?” Drayven’s brows lifted in surprise before he gave a bark of laughter. “Surely you haven’t forgotten my reputation so easily? You know the Crown would never release her into my custody.” He shrugged. “Besides, I’m a field agent.”
In the end, Alister had to admit that Drayven was right. Liverpool would likely only release Lyra under hiscustody, but could he actually concentrate on such a delicate mission whenshewas directly involved? If he agreed to this asinine plane, he would be staying at Weston House; sharing the same meals, the same roof, the same—
He refused to finishthatthought.
Surely after working with any number of criminals on countless other cases over the years, he could manage to restrain himself when it came toonewoman. His objective was to serve his country effectively.
And that’s what he would do.
Pushing off of the desk, he announced, “In that case, we’re only wasting valuable time sitting here discussing the matter. Shall we be off?”
* * *
Lyra hastily wiped at her cheeks when she heard that familiar jangle of keys. She had only been incarcerated for a few hours, but already it felt like an eternity as her spirits sank further with each passing minute. Since Roarke, her brother, was out of the country, she had been wracking her brain trying to figure out whom she might appeal to for legal assistance.
Not a single name had sprung forth, for while she might be a countess, her husband had not encouraged friendships when he had been alive. She could count on one hand the number of times he’d asked her to organize a dinner party and play the part of hostess. Granted, they had done their part and attended a few ton events, but it was only for show when the rumors of his exploits had become too much to ignore.
Now, as the door opened, she jumped to her feet, anticipating any number of terrifying scenarios to walk across that threshold, not the least of which included a hooded executioner with a handful of sharp instruments.
She certainly hadn’t been expecting the Duke of Albright to come to her aid.
