Page 62 of Scandalous: Family Ties and Spies

Even if she did, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to forgive himself for hurting her. Only second to his sin of not defending her that day in Rules was how long it had taken him to realize his wife was the woman who’d fled the restaurant. He’d even acknowledged how unique her scent was as he’d stood beside the table Amalie had knocked out of position in her hasty retreat. Worse, his wife had worn her unusual perfume more than once since their engagement.

Every time he had breathed in her fragrance, he’d known there was something familiar about it. Yet it had taken him weeks to connect his wife to the unknown woman in Rules. He truly was an eejit, as Amalie was fond of calling him. If he’d realized the truth sooner, he would be well out in front when it came to convincing his wife he wasn’t the man she believed him to be. Valeran would have apologized and done whatever it took to atone for his failure to eviscerate Miriam as he’d wanted to that day.

Shifting his posture slightly, Valeran leaned his left shoulder against the doorway’s frame, then released a soft grunt of irritation for being such a half-wit. Tonight’s foray into the East End wasn’t helping his mood, either. He’d spent more than an hour in the Black Horse Inn waiting for Ellerbie to show his face.

Eventually, Valeran had tired of the bar keep’s rambling and tossed a couple of coins on the bar. Stumbling his way out of the pub as if halfway to inebriation, he’d maintained the pretense for more than a block. Reasonably certain he wasn’t being followed, but still playing the role of a drunk, Valeran had staggered into a side alley. Erring on the cautious side, he’d waited several minutes before he’d made his way through the mews to Prescot Street.

The howling screeches from a cat fight a short distance away distracted him for a brief second, before a stream of light suddenly spilled out into the street as the Princess of Prussia’s door opened. Instantly, his body grew taut with expectation at the sight of a man and woman. There were three women Ellerbie bedded on a regular basis, and this was one of them.

A moment later, the man spoke to the woman, and Valeran’s shoulders sagged with disappointment. Although the stranger spoke softly, he’d easily discerned it wasn’t Ellerbie. As the couple walked in the opposite direction of his observation, Valeran released a soft oath. The sound of Big Ben chiming the twelfth hour reached his ears, and he grimaced.

He’d been standing watch for more than an hour, and Ellerbie’s loud voice still hadn’t floated out into the night air. Clearly, the man wasn’t going to show tonight. Muttering another oath of frustration, Valeran, keeping to the shadows, made his way along Prescott to St. Marks Street. He’d just passed Scarborough Street when he heard the soft sound of footsteps. Quickly pressing his back into a nearby doorway, he waited for whoever was behind him to appear.

“Mr. Trotter?”

Cautious and hesitant, Billy softly called out to Valeran. It was one of a couple of names he used while working in the less than savory parts of London. The tension holding his limbs taut eased, but didn’t completely vanish as he stepped out of the doorway into the still shadowy edge of the street. The short figure a few feet away moved forward quickly.

“I thought that was ye, Mr. Trotter,” his informant said cheerfully in a quiet voice. “I’ve been looking fer ye.”

“You have some new information?”

“Yes, sir,” Billy said, dropping his voice even lower. “I seen the bloke ye’ve been following come out of The Black Horse the other night with that same stranger again. The man don’t wanna be seen none. It’s hard enough to see in the dark, but the bloke keeps ‘is hat brim low over his eyes, so unless yer up close ye can’t see ‘is face.”

“That’s not much different from what you shared the last time we met,” Valeran said with frustration, irritated the boy was wasting his time with old information.

“But this time I was fast enough to follow ‘im. The bloke don’t live here.”

“What do you mean? Is he a sailor?”

“The bloke ain’t no sailor, Mr. Trotter. ‘e’s gentry.”

“Gentry?”

Stunned, Valeran stared that the boy’s shadowy figure in disbelief. Billy immediately straightened to his full height and nodded his head.

“Aye, Mr. Trotter. ‘e’s gentry right enough. I followed the bloke all the way to Leadenhall Market, where he caught a hackney.”

“And what makes you think the man is a member of the peerage?”

“Cuz ‘e talks all pretty like, just like ye do. I didn’t ‘ear the street address ‘e gave the driver, but I ‘eard him tell the driver Marylebone.” Billy straightened to his full height while his chest pushed outward. The lad’s posture was one of supreme satisfaction and prideful.

“Are you sure it was the same man, Billy? Could you have maybe lost him, and then picked up the trail of another man?”

“No, it was ‘im, Mr. Trotter. I didn’t lose ‘im once the whole way from the Princess of Prussia to Leadenhall. The bloke’s English, the sorry traitorous fuck.”

The boy spit into the street as if he’d just bit into something rotten, his voice filled with hate and disgust. Valeran understood the feeling. While it was disgusting to deal with a man like Ellerbie who was a traitor, a member of the peerage was something altogether different.

The notion of a peer betraying the Empire had never occurred to him. If Billy was right, and the man he saw truly was a peer, it changed everything. Not only was the thought of one of his own class being a traitor staggering, it was almost impossible to be believed. The thought of such an unbelievable betrayal made his stomach lurch even worse than the thought of Ellerbie’s betrayal.

While Ellerbie’s actions disgusted him, Valeran understood why the man had taken the path he had. Money talked, and men of Ellerbie’s ilk had little, and the promise of big rewards would prove too enticing to pass up. But a peer? It was unfathomable. Still stunned, Valeran reached into his pocket and pulled out two shillings.

“Here, lad. You’ve more than earned it,” Valeran said as he handed the boy the coins. Billy uttered a quiet sound of amazement and quickly shoved them into a pocket inside his coat.

“Thank ye, Mr. Trotter, yer a good bloke.”

“I’m glad I meet with your approval, Billy.” The chuckle rumbling out of him made the boy laugh as well. “There’s more where that came from if you can find out the man’s address.”

“I’ll do me best, Mr. Trotter.”