Page 41 of Scandalous: Family Ties and Spies

“You were saying you didn’t believe my bride could keep a secret, and I disagreed.”

“And I asked how do you intend to juggle a bride and Lady Chattfield?” C’s irritation emphasized he knew Valeran hadn’t been listening.

“Westbury and I have a solution for that problem.”

Sir Cummings’s dark shadow sank down into the chair behind his desk, and Valeran heard the man’s fingers begin to drum against the surface with obvious impatience.

“Explain.”

“Miriam will be far from happy to hear I’m to be married. We intend to use her anger to our advantage.”

Far from happy was an understatement. Miriam would be livid, especially when she learned who he was marrying. She’d made her contempt for Amalie quite clear almost a month ago. Once more, an elusive memory danced in the darkness just beyond his reach.

“Westbury is going to comfort Lady Chattfield in her hour of need.”

“You seem quite confident in Westbury’s ability to take the woman off your hands.”

“Miriam’s vanity would never allow anyone to believe she wasn’t the one to end our relationship. She’ll tell everyone we parted ways before I left for Callendar.” Valeran rolled his shoulders in a slight shrug. “Jamie’s younger than her, and his interest will appeal to her vanity. She won’t hesitate to encourage him.”

Valeran couldn’t deny being relieved Miriam would no longer be his concern. He was weary of dodging blatant invitations to bed her. Sir Cummings muttered something beneath his breath before he pushed himself up from his chair and turned toward the window behind his desk.

It had been raining when Valeran had arrived at the nondescript building which served as the Secret Intelligence Service foreign section’s headquarters. The dismal weather had dimmed the light in C’s office significantly. As he focused his attention on his superior, the low lighting made the naval officer’s form little more than a dark mass. Several minutes passed before C expelled a harsh breath and turned to face him.

“Well, other than what you and Westbury have arranged, I’m unable to think of anything else to do to salvage the situation.” Disgruntled, C sat down at his desk.

“I’m confident our plan will work, sir. I also believe Westbury will come to the same conclusion I have. Lady Chattfield knows nothing about her husband’s activities.”

“And these nightly excursions of yours into the East End? I tolerated your refusal to explain your reasons before Featherstone’s murder. But I distinctly remember issuing an order two days after the man’s death that no one, not even you, was allowed to work without a partner. Orders you’ve disobeyed.”

“My business in the East End is personal,” Valeran said quietly.

“So you’ve said, but I think it’s time you explained yourself.”

Valeran stiffened at the indirect order. Like a bull dog, C had been tenaciously hounding him ever since the man had learned about his activities in the East End. To his superior’s surprise and frustration, Valeran had doggedly refused to share his reasons. When Valeran remained silent, C uttered a sound of frustration.

“Damn it, Sommerville, I lost Featherstone to these Prussian bastards. I don’t want to lose another operative.” The officer’s words were sharp and filled with worried frustration. “You’ve disobeyed a direct order, and I expect an explanation.”

“I do not recall your order including personal business.”

“Then allow me to expand the order,” C snarled. “No more visits into the East End without a partner for any reason.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I can’t do that.”

“Do you mean to tell me you’re refusing a direct order?” The naval officer slammed a fist down onto the surface of his desk.

“When it’s related to personal business, yes,” Valeran said through clenched teeth. Clearly, he needed to give his superior officer something if only to stop the naval commander from asking questions. Vague, cryptic answers were no longer working. “My reasons for going to the East End concern my family.”

“Your family,” C said with astonishment.

“Yes, sir.” It wasn’t an outright lie, but it was the best he could do at the moment.

“I don’t understand, Sommerville. Isn’t your family dead?” The man’s tone was gruff, as if he regretted mentioning Valeran’s loss.

“Yes, sir. However, I recently came across some information about one of the men responsible for their deaths.”

“I see.” The older man’s fingers once again began to drum a quiet rhythm on his desk. “What sort of information?”

“Information unrelated to our work or Featherstone’s murder.”