“Sit down, please, Fortescue.” Lord Parnham motioned him down again. “You can send word that you are ill.”
Guy shook his head as visions of Hetty banging on Strathairn’s door swam into his head. “That wouldn’t keep Miss Cavendish away.”
“I’m afraid my orders come from Viscount Sidmouth, the Home Secretary. I must insist,” Parnham said. “The future of England far outweighs the demands of one young lady.”
“This is preposterous. You cannot insist.” Guy swung around to look at John. But he shifted in his seat and wouldn’t meet Guy’s eyes.
“These saboteurs plan to strike here in London. Would you prefer to allow them to continue to work against England? To assassinate the prime minister or the Prince of Wales? To stir the masses to riot and work against the Crown?”
“I would not,” Guy said with heat. His love of England was deeply ingrained. “What do these Frenchmen hope to gain by this?”
“They are not all French, some are Englishmen. But the delusional souls are united in their quest to free Napoleon,” Parnham said with a tight-lipped smile. “Their reasoning being that as he escaped from Elba, he can do so again. Destabilizing this country’s government and stirring up the mood of the people will aid them in their cause. The present unrest plays into their hands. There’s revolution in the air and some of these Englishmen prefer England to revolt instead of–in their opinion–remaining enslaved. They hate Liverpool’s Tory government. They hate the Regent and his reckless spending and intend to ferment trouble wherever they can. There are organized societies with the same aim.
“What concerns us most is a new threat to the regent’s life. We have prevented one attempt recently. He’s unpopular, but to lose him would prove disastrous for England.”
Parnham held out his hands, palms up. “Your life has been badly affected by revolution, has it not? You do understand why England needs you to do your duty, Lord Fortescue?”
Guy released a long breath. “I’m quite prepared to do as you wish. But only if I can visit Hetty. She must be told the truth. I know she can be trusted.”
Parnham’s clever brown eyes assessed him. “On reflection, it might seem odd if you stopped courting Miss Cavendish. You may tell her about your brother if you wish. Continue as you were, but she must not learn of your mission. It would be too dangerous. Do I have your word?”
Guy had to agree. The last thing he wanted was Hetty involving herself in this, and he was sure she would. “You have it.”
Parnham rose, came around the desk, and shook Guy’s hand. “Then it is done. You are to infiltrate the group to discover their plans. Best you don’t come here again. I expect to learn something from you in the coming days. We’ll keep in touch through Strathairn.”
“And the scar?” Guy traced a line down his cheek.
“We might give you a fake one, but the count has already seen you so that won’t serve.” Parnham tapped the desk with a quill. “We shall have to trust no one has met Vincent.”
Guy crossed Whitehall with John to the carriage. “Hetty and I will marry as soon as my sister arrives in London to identify me,” he said. “Should I die, I want Hetty to inherit all my unentailed property.”
John eyed him as he settled back on the squabs. “You French are a pessimistic lot, aren’t you?”
Guy shrugged. “It would be foolish to be anything else, would it not?”
“I have your back, Guy. Remember that.”
“I’m not likely to forget it,” Guy said with a rueful smile.
Chapter Twenty
Hetty beat themaid to the door. She threw it open, and all but fell into Guy’s arms. He looked so weary and sad that she stilled. His cheek was bruised and there was a cut on his chin. Her questions fell away as shock dried her mouth.
He greeted her aunt in a sober voice, then sank onto the sofa.
Hetty sat beside him, her concern and curiosity getting the better of her. “What happened?”
Guy held up a hand. “I shall tell you.”
She swallowed, not knowing what to expect and fearful of what he might say. She was sure it wasn’t good.
Guy’s voice was strained as he related the happenings of the last week.
When his voice fell away, Hetty, horrified and confused, rubbed her arms, and tried to sort through what he just told her. His twin brother whom he had thought dead in France was a veritable monster. He’d tried to kill Guy and take his place at Rosecroft Hall.
“Vincent accused Papa of deserting him when the fire engulfed our chateau. But he did not. I couldn’t make him believe it. He hated us.” He sounded so bitter it made her yearn to try to soothe him. “Life is cruel. Fate has cheated me of a brother.”
When Guy lapsed into silence, her aunt offered her heartfelt sympathy and excused herself.
